#yes this is almost 2000 words long and yes i wrote it instead of my english hw

[richkidcityfriends]

your opinion on 2022 winter Olympics

okay so im assuming this is only about figure skating and i mean oml there was so much going on. below the cut bc i think this is gonna be long.

okay so FIRST OF ALL the kamila valieva situation. where to begin. (as a note: none of this is a statement on her except in relation to the 2022 olys)

the positive test being from rusnats and only being found out in february is weird. idk if we ever found out exactly why that happened? but i can only assume it was meddling from the russian end.

i think the media response was cruel, and i think part of that was a lot of people were trying to talk about it without knowing the full situation, but the amount of vicious hate and blame kamila received was unjustified. she was fifteen years old and in an abusive situation, to what extent she knew about the doping is irrelevant in my mind, the blame falls on the adults in power (mainly her coaches). eteri tutberidze is notoriously controlling and abusive, and there is no way any of that was happening without her being responsible. she controls the amount of WATER her skaters can drink. skating at that level, especially in russia, your coach is practically your primary guardian; if eteri told her to dope then there was pretty much nothing she could do. only eteri girls were ever going to go to the olympics, if she switched coaches that would have ended her life's goal (and the way they train is so all-consuming that to not get to the olympics at all would have felt life shattering).

should she have been been allowed to skate? i dont think so. at least partially bc it essentially proves to coaches that you can "get away with" doping as long as the people you are drugging are children. obviously having an athlete who has taken performance enhancing drugs is unfair to everyone else, but that goes without saying. HOWEVER i do understand the worry that the test could have been wrong or she might not have known, either way it would have been unfair to her. (the "irreparable harm" quote is always taken out of context - they meant that if she skated and was found guilty they could strip her of the medal, but if she was banned and found innocent there was no fixing it). ultimately though i think letting her skate was the wrong decision (especially since the case STILL hasnt been settled).

i dont think eteri told her to throw the free to make sure the others got their medals, because she looked so traumatised afterwards and eteri reacted so badly (ive never understood this theory tbh)

that was the first scandal from the olys but oml it was definitely not the last. there was so much going on. olympics from hell. lets talk about the womens podium.

(but first a note on ultra c elements: do i think the sport is suffering because of the increased value placed on jumps? yes. do i think artistry is important? absolutely. do i think there is a conversation to be had about the morals of training young children (especially girls) to do dangerous jumps that cause permanent damage to their bodies? one hundred fucking percent. things need to change in this sport. however. i will make repeated references to whether or not someone is jumping ultra c when discussing the podium, because that is how its scored atm, and i do think that they aren’t irrelevant (it is a sport, athletic feats are also important) just please please know that i am also taking artistry into account its just harder to objectively phrase in a short paragraph and this is already long enough). okay caveat over. please no one attack me. lets go.

look i KNOW the most pressing question is do i think anna deserved gold HOWEVER. have you considered. did anna deserve to be sent to the olympics at all. and this makes me insane because like?? skating like she did at the olys?? yeah she probably deserved to be there!! so it kinda seems mean to talk about this but ALSO i feel like we definitely have to not forget it so. the russian olympic team was pretty much based off of the podium for rusnats, which that year was kamila, sasha, anna. but anna in third place was veryyy controversial bc like. she had no ultra c elements at all (and her tech is DODGY so without them it gets even harder to justify her high scores) but elizaveta had a triple axel (and better tech) so a LOT of people thought that she should have come third, but rusfed just wanted to send anna to the olys instead (which i pretty much agree with).

but okay whether you like it or not she DID make the olympic team so. womens olympic podium. a grenade of a question. everyone is allowed their own opinions on it im not saying anyone is wrong if they think differently!!!!! also im only going to talk about the top five bc this is already wayyy too long.

i know on tiktok a while back the popular opinion was that wakaba should’ve been gold, which i don’t really agree with, however she absolutely should not have been fifth. no doubt in my mind she should have been at LEAST fourth, if not third. kamila should have been behind her i don’t care how many quads she was attempting, she fell like five times. she got through on reputation and the eteri bonus alone. kaori did skate cleanly, but with no triple c, and her tech isn’t great on some of her jumps, so wakaba (who fell on a jump, but had a triple axel, and generally better tech and artistry imo) could have come third and i would have been happy. anna i go back and forth on, because her artistry is alright, and technically she does jump quads, but her tech skills are SO questionable (her quad lutz is neither a quad nor a lutz). the tech bar for quads is lower than for triples, and i do kinda think that makes sense, but her quad tech is worse than most of the other quad jumping girls so it’s a fair comparison. i don’t think she deserved gold, but im never fully sure about silver either. honestly her, wakaba, and kaori can fight it out for second/third/fourth. in terms of actual skaters i like wakaba best, in terms of who performed best on the day i think you could make a compelling argument for any order.

that of course leaves sasha in first place. i know she fell on her triple axel in the short, but the only people who didn’t fall at all were anna (i’ll talk about her last) and kaori, and while triple c elements aren’t the only important thing, the skater who fell on one and landed five kind of has to be above the skater who attempted none at all, imo, so that puts kaori out of the running. wakaba fell once as well, and she definitely has the edge on artistry, but i don’t think sashas artistry was as bad as a lot of people say, especially in her short, so i don’t think thats quite enough to put wakaba ahead of sasha overall. sasha’s tech skills were so much higher than the rest of the skaters that i think it would be almost impossible to bridge that gap with artistry alone. lastly theres anna, who ofc actually won the ogm. two clean skates, slightly better artistry, much worse tech (i know sasha’s tech isn’t perfect either, but she’s definitely better – id say thanks to plushenko). annas tech should have been called, if not her edges then at least for prerotation. sasha fell on a triple axel and anna landed a double in the short, sasha landed five quads and anna landed two in the free. taking into account how poor her quad tech is, i don’t think that her artisty is enough to pass sasha.

however!!!! again i want to reiterate!!!!! everyone is allowed their own opinions on this!!! i do not give a damn if you think that anastasiia shabotova should have come first!!!! go you!!! to each their own <3

now for something that i do think you can wrong about. the reaction to sashas reaction to the scores was appalling. she was seventeen years old (a CHILD) in an extremely high stress situation and had been told by her (abusive, manipulative) coaches that if she landed all five quads she would win, and when this turned out to be untrue she got upset and had what was clearly a panic attack, asked not to be filmed and was ignored by every cameraman in the area, had to immediately go in front of millions of people while still being a mess, and was then attacked from all angles for being “ungrateful” and “showing bad sportsmanship.” show some empathy. (especially ppl who are still giving out about it now “on behalf of anna” when they seemed to be at least friendly again as soon as the very next day)

OKAY WE’RE ALMOST DONE i mostly only follow women’s so the rest of this is going to be brief

sui/han deserved ogm, my sister and i were rooting for miura/kihara to do well but we knew there was no chance for a medal. loving seeing them do so well rn.

nathan chen’s costume was ridiculous. last time i said my nathan chen take i got eaten alive on tiktok so im not gonna say much about him. he did deserve gold tho.

scoring felt harsh on yuzuru. wish he’d gotten another ogm but it wasn’t meant to be. im glad he got to attempt the quadruple axel at the olympics at least.

papadakis/cizeron ogm deserved.

oh MY god i forgot about the team event. pls someone save me. im so sorry i know no one wants this much. this isn’t even the worst i can do. i have talked at my friends for hours straight before about figure skating. i cant help it i have no control. we are going to ignore the team event okay. Just give them their medals. pls. i beg. they still don’t have their medals. i know it sucks for the rest of the russian team if they lose the gold bc kamila was stripped but you have to give the rest of them their medals.

anyway if you made it until the end here is a gold star ⭐ i don’t know how you did it.

[katsudondom]

I need to vent, sorry

long post incoming :)

↓

Yeah, I feel that I was born in the wrong generation

And no, I don't think I'm special or anything for saying that.

Like, do people think I want to feel like an outcast whenever I'm around a group of people that are the same age as me? Because I'd trade my interests and niches any day if it meant I could finally feel what it's like to have a group of friends by my side, or a partner holding my hand.

And yes, I do have many criticisms about certain aspects of modern technology and social media, but I don't downright hate it or dismiss the good that came from modern technology/the Internet entirely. If anything, I'd love to be born when the Internet was just starting to walk, when it wasn't as popular yet and when you were considered a nerd for even owning a computer. That'd be an amazing time to be alive, until "normies" (cant find a better word sorry I know it's cringe) started making the Internet more mainstream and later on it being the #1 reason why Americans are more stupid and self-centered then ever (in my personal opinion).

I'm more so disconnected with my generation because of the culture, not modern technology.. A generation where we believe in anything without doing any research or seeing different perspectives first, a generation that's easily brainwashed into believing anything, a generation that's so sure that their opinion is right that they'll even ruin someone else's life or ridicule them into oblivion just because the other person thinks differently. That's the reason why I feel like I don't belong with my generation, not because "ew social media".

Actually, that's not the whole reason why-

I also really just love the grunge/rock culture of the 90's, and the scene/emo culture of the early 2000's. It all felt like a community back then, like wherever you were at there'd be people accepting you with open arms, no matter who you were or what you looked like, ready to have you join their clique people that just liked the same shit as you do.

Nowadays, there doesn't even feel like a community anymore, even within your own culture. Everyone's divided, everyone's prejudice, and everyone can't put their differences aside and at least co-exist with each other. This "you're with me or against me" mentality is getting old real fast. Instead, let's have thoughtful and provoking conversations with each other, instead of being quick to go on social media and wishing ill to the white kid in your History class just because he wore a red hat that you happened to disagree with.

Idk, it's all just really silly.

I was just scrolling down watching YouTube when I saw a video calling people like me who think they're in the wrong generation "annoying" and I had to vent since it actually triggered me a bit, ngl, because just by looking at the thumbnail where they put a bunch of modern technologies and had "modern" in bold letters with the word being crossed out, I knew what points they were going to make, and I just needed to vent about how not everyone who feels like an outcast is trying so hard to be different.... It's 99% the complete opposite and I just always hated that stereotype from people who obviously have it way better in life, from people who clearly don't understand what it's like to be almost invisible even when you try so hard to be liked/seen to the point where you fantasize about a time you weren't even born in because "what if?".

Shit, I'm done, needed to get that off my chest and the only way I'd feel good about it is by posting it online. Scared to put tags on this because half of the criticisms about Gen Z that I wrote about relate to about 99% of Tumblr users, so I might piss someone off but fuck it, I want my voice to be heard and no one will probably care to read this anyway.

And yes, I know there's other teens/young adults out there like me, who has the same mindset as I do. I don't think that I'm the only special snowflake that feels this way, but it's so fucking hard finding someone who sees the world the same way as I do, that it does make me feel a bit like I am the only one.

Anyway,

Goodnight 🖤

[treba-neco-napise]

(apologizing to the person I'm reblogging this post from for this) So, I don't know if it was what op was aiming at but I saw some people mentioning HPMOR in the comments and I really don't want to start an argument but I keep seeing posts shitting on Harry Poter and The Methods of Rationality (HPMOR) in my recommendations and I'm pretty sure most of the people have never read it or even actually tried looking it up so I'm going to say something.

It was recommended to me two years ago by a few of my 30yo scientist friends (all of them really amazing people) because they loved Yudkowsky's work and when they found HPMOR, they decided to read it. And they devoured it. I'm currently, after two years, halfway through, because yes, it is huge, probably more than 2k pages if it was in paper (122 chapters and about 660k words), and some chapters are so long I'm in a cycle of giving up and picking it up again after a month. But as a fanfiction writer (and a writer in general), it's incredible writing. And so funny, there were lines I kept laughing at for minutes straight. You have no idea how skilled he is and he wrote this entire book, bordering with perfection in technique, in five years. There's a reason why it was translated into 11 languages, recorded as an audiobook and had a crowdfunding campaign to get published in paper.

I got interested in this so I did some short research instead of paying attention in a maths class and I'll be using resources mainly from Wikipedia because I couldn't find any other resource about him as a person and at least it has citations, I'm not claiming I'm right in any way so feel free to correct if you have more information. (information not being "a friend of a friend said he's an asshole")

LessWrong was a community blog he founded, "devoted to refining the art of human rationality" in February 2009 and where, about a month later in March, he wrote an article You're Calling *Who* A Cult Leader?, which I think speaks for itself in a way. In 2005 already, he interacted in a discussion under a Wikipedia article about himself, you can read it here. Of course, I guess nobody can testify if it was actually him and not someone pretending to be him. But from his writing generally and the fact that his work very much revolves around rationality - which is the last thing one needs to successfully lead a cult - he didn't seem to exactly revel in the image of having a cult dedicated to him. I didn't look into his current work but I presume the "cult era" was supposed to be early 2000s - 2015s when he was publishing HPMOR.

Yes, there are apparently thousands or more people loving his work and the strongly rational attitude towards life almost religiously and it could be called a cult of a persona. That doesn't mean he himself created it. He simply wrote things he wanted to write and people were interested in it, just like with many, many other creators. I don't think we should attribute the actions of fans to the author, fans are their own people with their own initiative.

If I had a nickel for every big name Harry Potter fanfic writer who started their own cult, I’d have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice.

[yandere-daze]

2000 followers celebration

(please read the entire post! I know it´s long but it´s important ^^ In short: requests open again, yippie! notes on that below. especially read the parts in bold!)

I´ve mentioned it before but WAAAAH

We´ve officially hit over 2000 followers! That´s just insane no matter how you think about it!! 😭

I made this blog about 2 years ago for the sole purpose of wanting to share something small I wrote with some friends on the internet and being annoyed because I hit the discord word limit so I thought it would be easier to just make a blog on tumblr and then share the link.

Back then I never thought writing would be something that I´d enjoy doing for so long and I especially never imagined that there might be people out there that enjoy what I´m putting on here.

It´s been a long journey to get here and I´m very grateful for all the cool people I met on here and all the nice messages I have gotten over time. They really do all mean a lot to me and I´m just so happy to have come so far 💕 

And that is all thanks to you guys and your support!

Which is why, after what feels like an eternity...

I´m opening up my requests again!

Yes, I can hardly believe it myself! How long has it been now since the last time? Has my askbox really been closed since the 1400 followers celebration? Whoops 😳

I´m now down to 30 requests ( that I haven´t forgotten about by the way!) and so I thought it would be a good idea to allow you guys to send in some new requests! Get some fresh and new ideas!

Honestly it´s kind of crazy to think about the fact that there must be people on this blog that have literally never seen requests being open skjfbskf

Please read the rules here before sending in a request! Requests that are against my rules will be deleted immediately!

One rule that might be a bit unusual and that I want you to keep in mind is that my maximum for characters is two per ask. Only 1 if it is a oneshot. This also applies to certain groups like an entire unit in enstars or dorm leaders/ vice dorm leaders/ first years in twisted wonderland.

This is just due to the fact that I´ve found that I find it easier if I do very few characters at a time because I have the tendency to write longer posts for every character and it just gets too much if I do that for like 6 characters in a post.

The only exception to this limit is if there are several characters together in a single scenario or headcanon.

For example it´s okay to ask for something like : “Can I have a scenario where reader celebrates their birthday with Heartslabyul?”

It´s not okay to ask: “Can you write a scenario for reader celebrating their birthday with the Heartslabyul boys (separate)?”

This might sound like almost the same request but with the first example I only have to think of one scenario in which I can include every character and I also don´t have to write long paragraphs for every single character and can instead just divide that word count between all of the characters.

Whereas for the second example, I would have to come up with a unique situation for each of the five boys and write something separate for each of them, all of them being of decent length too because I feel bad when I think I wrote too little kjdlabjfk

I hope that clears this up a bit!

Anyway yes, that´s the basics! Once again, please carefully read throught the rules before sending in a request but otherwise go ham!!!

I´m thinking of keeping my inbox open for about a week ( it´s the 18th of June right now) but I´ll have to see if I need to change the deadline depending on how many asks I get

All I can say now is thank you guys once again and please be patient for your request to be done! 😉

[liquid-luck-00]

Queen Marinette

Queen Marinette

Here is a ~2000 word song fic that I wrote in place of working on my ongoing fics hope you guys like it.

I saw a post a while ago where Damian would call Mari Queen/Your Majesty as she was a princess, but i cant find the post anymore but the idea stuck so here we are.

~~~~~~~~~~

The League of Assassins also known as the League of Shadows is one of the Earth's best kept secret society second to Themiscyra home of the Amazons and Atlantis of the Atlantans. However there is one that only a handful know and whispers of their existence are mythical in the cosmos. Only known to the head families, or rulers, of Themiscyra, Atlantis, and the League of Assassins.

That would be the Kingdom at Miraculi.

Marinette is anything but a normal girl. She is the crowned princess of Miraculi as well as being the reincarnation of the goddess Tikki. She is creation herself, but on top of that she was blessed by the other gods as well, meaning she is able to wield their gifts as well. She is Princess Marinette Dawntreader of Miraculi.

But right now she wants to be anywhere but the palace. At the age of eight she just met her betrothed and let's just say he did not make a good first impression.

In front of her stood Damian Al Ghul the heir of Demons and next head of the league of shadows. The league is the guard of Miraculi, ensuring that the existence of the Kingdom remains peaceful and in turn the Kingdom of Miraculi supplies the magic of the Lazarus Pit. The concealment of Themiscyra and Atlantans able to survive under water are other blessings provided by Miraculi. But back to the pain on hand, Damian Al Ghul.

"Tt. you really do look the part of a princess" she was in a long flowing dress with long sleeves as she had finished her classes for the day. "Fragile and helpless."

"Yes and you appear as a demon" she shot back. "self-absorbed and arrogant" she turned on her heel "keep up little Prince" she called over her shoulder.

They got to know each other better but he was always so cold and distant. But they grew to love each other. Damian left to be with his father when they were 10, but they still stayed in contact. Then when they were 13 she got news that broke her heart, Damian was dead.

She couldn't stay in the Kingdom without remembering him. She needed distance and new scenery wouldn’t hurt. So she brought it up to her parents, and they were reluctant, but Diana Princess of Themiscyra brought up the solution Marinette would be staying with Sabine Cheng, an Amazon who was granted leave of Themiscyra , and her husband Tom Dupain.

That was how she found herself in Paris as an 8th year introducing herself as Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

That was how she also met Adrien Agreste. He was kind and sweet. He was new to school life just as she was new to life outside of Miraculi.

But not long afterwards did Lila Rossi enroll at Du Ponte.

With a quick search on google revealed most of her tales to be just that, fiction.

Adrien and Mari dated for two years before he ended the relationship. It was because she

wouldn't stop trying to reveal Lila's lies. That it was hurting his image that he was seen with her. That if only they knew the truth it would be enough. Well, fine, goodbye Adrien was her only thought. Her head held high.

Cross my heart and hope to die

I don't need another guy

To fight my battles, to overshadow me

Don't ya know I'm dangerous?

Fire burnin' in my blood

I got this handled, I don't need rescuin'

Unfortunately for him she didn't stop trying to get her class to see the truth.

A side effect of the liar's influence was that she was ostracized from the rest of the class.

But that wasn't a priority. Miraculi was going to become public. So she had a revealing ceremony to prepare for.

But before that she was asked to join as a joint member of the Teen Titians and Young Justice.

She was to meet with the two teams at Mt. Justice so she was looking for Kaldur, Aqualad, as she exited the building.

She was making her way towards him when she heard it.

"Princess" Adrien called and pulled her to look at him.

You can call me a princess all you like

'Cause you love to keep me helpless by your side

But that ain't what I want, I'ma show you

"Can I do something for you Agreste?" she asked as calmly as she could. "Because if not I am meeting a friend I haven't seen in ages."

"Just make up with Lila" he started "she isn't hurting anyone. And when you do everyone will be your friend again."

She smiled and noticed Kaldur closer than before. "Kaldur good to see you again how was your flight?" Adrien turned to see who she was talking to, and Kaldur after a second of shock responded.

"Uneventful, is everything set?" he asked giving her a way out.

"Yes" Mari answered "Sorry Adrien, another time"

"B- 02 Aqualad, B- 34 Omni"

She was in a black formfitting sleeveless top that rose to form a mask covering her face to her nose. Dark red combat boots that were tucked into black motorbike pants. A red belt with a forest green sash that faintly resembled a skirt just under it. Her gloves and arm guards were black and grey, and all over were golden accents. Her hair was cut short and was pitch black and her eyes were a golden color with flecks of green. (Outfit)

After quick introductions she noticed him, Robin of the Teen Titians, was standoffish but was familiar oh so familiar. Then she saw his hand twitch towards his sword and tapped the butt of the hilt twice before dropping his hand.

That was all the confirmation she needed. As everything fell into place.

That little jerk.

Batman asked for her to spar, to assess her combat skills. As she predicted Robin stepped in to be her partner.

She pulled two red batons from the small of her back and they began. Yes they were evenly matched but then she decided to mess with him. She turned back time to feign a right but ducked and swept his legs from under him. With him distracted she created a Mirage of herself and another to make herself invisible. She snuck up behind him used venom to freeze him and flip his cape over his head while her Mirage took his sword.

"Tt. unfreeze me" he practically growled she noticed almost everyone flinch and took a step back.

"You sure that's what you want, while I have your sword?" she taunted. She noticed a few shot her looks of sympathy. Odd. As Robin stayed quiet. "Fine" she dropped venom and he charged "Have it your way little Prince."

She jumped and he seemed to freeze mid charge but she didn't. She created a shell-ter around him.

Which he crashed into. He stood up and was gaping at her.

She dropped shell-ter and was making a few final decisions with Batman, while Robin still hadn't moved 30 minutes later and his mouth still agape. By this time Nightwing had come over.

"I think you broke little wing" he chuckled.

"You think so." she responded with a slight question. "Close your mouth your going to catch flies Al Ghul."

"Yes, Your Majesty" he finally snapped out of his stupor.

She saw Nightwing and Batman share a look and then look between the two of them.

I'ma show you

How to treat me like a queen (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Boy, you better bow down on your knees

Can I get a "Yes, your majesty?"

So treat me like a queen (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Boy, you better bow down on your knees

Can I get a "Yes, your majesty?"

They explained the role of Miraculi in the world. How they had met and knew one another. Their engagement and finally the reopening of the Kingdom to the world. By now she dropped her transformation, meaning her eyes were back to bluebell and her hair was a midnight blue, and the bats had taken off their masks.

Then an idea hit.

"Your plotting something" Damian snapped her out of her planning.

"Plotting makes it seem malicious" she paused "I'm planning."

"I'll bite, what are you planning?" Nightwing, Dick as he introduced, asked.

"How would you like to come to my coronation and be some of the first outsiders in Miraculi?" she responded.

Eyes on me like I'm a prize

But you better recognize

I'm not your angel 'cause I belong to me

You can call me a princess all you like

'Cause you love to keep me helpless by your side

But that ain't what I want, I'ma show you

As she guessed the news of Miraculi opening up was all the news was covering. The hidden Kingdom known only by the Amazons and Atlantans, officially, was all everyone was talking about.

The fact that the opening was set for the coronation of the princess added to the suspense.

About a month before our teacher had news. "Due to a special invitation our class has been invited to attend the Princess’ coronation in Miraculi" that was when the class erupted.

In a week Lila convinced everyone she personally asked the Princess to invite the class as a favor to her. That she grew up in the castle with her and was made a lady in waiting. Two weeks until the coronation, she asked Damian to tweet that 'he can't wait to see his best friend again in Miraculi.’ Which caused a small discourse with a boy called Jon Kent of how he was Damian's best friend. Where he answered with 'female best friend. Better Kent' That Lila used to say it was her, and that he only used best friend instead of girlfriend.

I'ma show you

How to treat me like a queen (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Boy, you better bow down on your knees

Can I get a "Yes, your majesty?"

So treat me like a queen (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Boy, you better bow down on your knees

Can I get a "Yes, your majesty?"

The week before they left to Miraculi, in order to show them around. Before landing Mari changed into an emerald green dress with a mandarin collar. A jacket and belt with a duster in a dark silver trimmed with gold and matching gloves. Her hair was in a side braid and a thin golden circlet on her brow. A few of her classmates glared at her but she didn't pay them any attention. (Outfit)

She was the last out of the airport and you could feel the tension in the air. Lila was spouting some nonsense to the guards that were sent to retrieve them. Then they noticed her, every guard formed a straight line to the captain as they dropped onto one knee and bowed their heads. As she passed them they stood up.

"Captain Chase it is good to see you again” she smiled as he also rose.

"The honor is mine Princess" he bowed again.

You can call me a princess all you like

'Cause you love to keep me helpless by your side

But that ain't what I want,

She turned back to face the class. "Welcome to Miraculi, I am Princess Marinette Dawntreader. I hope you enjoy your stay. The guards will escort you in these carriages to the castle for your stay." she mounted Yin (Silver), who Captain Chase brought for her. "I will ride ahead, as they are in capable hands." She smiled and rode off towards home.

The next week was amazing. Between tours of the Kingdom her classmates were part of an honorary court, to glimpse into the Royal life.

Damian almost cut off Lila's head the first time they met. Most of the class realized that if Lila lied about knowing Marinette, well the Princess but Lila hated Mari, and dating Damian, what else had she lied about. Turns out they can use google and Mari received several apologies and offers to be friends. She accepted the apologies but not their offers.

"Why?" was a consensus of the group.

"You realize that you were deceived, but that does not excuse your actions. As I am also assuming you wish to be friends because of my status." That seemed to force them to think, thank Kwami.

I'ma show you

How to treat me like a queen (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Boy, you better bow down on your knees

Can I get a "Yes, your majesty?"

So treat me like a queen (Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

(Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah)

Boy, you better bow down on your knees

Can I get a "Yes, your majesty?"

But the best part of this week was after the apologies was hearing them all, Lila included, only address her with 'Your Majesty’.

[olderthannetfic]

It's really surprising that you're so well versed in older fandoms and yet participate in new popular ones (that cdrama, kpop) is this by design? Im in my twenties and my interest turnover is already way slower than it used to be

You know, that’s a really interesting question. I wouldn’t say it’s by design exactly in that I do tend to just follow what strikes my fancy, and I can’t force myself to want to write fic for just anything. (I find it easier to like reading fic without serious involuntary emotional investment, but writing takes more. Vidding I can do on command most of the time, but I don’t usually bother unless I have a lot of feels or I’m fulfilling someone’s prompt.)

However, me getting into BTS was 100% due to me wanting to understand BTS enough to explain to people who weren’t very interested but wanted to know what was going on in fandom lately. Under normal circumstances, I run the dance party at Escapade, the oldest extant slash con. We borrowed vividcon’s thing of playing fanvids on the wall--all of them set to dance music--as the soundtrack for the dance party. This means I’m creating a 3-hour mixtape of fannishness, which has amazing potential to make people feel in the know about Fandom Today... and equal potential to make them feel alienated if nothing they care about shows up. Only about 100-150 people attend the con, so it really is possible to make a playlist that feels inclusive yet informative--it just takes a huge amount of work.

Every year, I do a lot of research on which fandoms are getting big and look for vids from vidders people won’t have heard of, so there is an element of consciously trying to keep up with things. Generally, I only get into these fandoms myself if I had no idea what they were and then suddenly, oops, they’re my kryptonite, like the buddy cop android plot in Detroit: Become Human, which sucked me in hard for like 6 months on the basis of a vid.

(So if you’re into cross-fandom meta and associated stuff as one of your fannish interests, you tend to have broader knowledge of different fandoms, old and new, than if you’re just looking for the next place you’ll read fic. It’s also easier to love vids for unfamiliar things than fic.)

But though I was only looking for a basic primer on BTS, BTS has 7 members with multiple names and no clear juggernaut pairing, not to mention that AU that runs through the music videos and lots of other context to explain. The barrier to understanding WTF was going on at all was high enough that to know enough to explain, I had to be thoroughly exposed... And once I was over that hurdle, oops, I had a fandom.

--

In terms of old vs. new, here’s the thing: kpop fandoms in English and c-drama fandoms in English right now feel a lot like anime fandom in English did in the early 00s. I had a Buddy Cops of the 70s phase in the middle, but my current fannishness is actually a return to my older fannishness in many ways.

What do I mean about them being similar?

Yes, I know some wanker will show up to say I think China, Korea, and Japan are indistinguishable, but that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the way that I used to routinely meet Italian and French and German fans, Argentinian and Mexican, Malaysian and Indonesian and Filipino too. English-language fandom of SPN or MCU may have all those fans from all those countries, but it feels very American most of the time. English-language fandom of a non-English-language canon is more overtly about using English as a lingua franca.

It also tends to attract people who as a sideline to their fannishness are getting into language learning and translation, which are my other passion in life after fanworks fandom. (I speak only English and Spanish and a bit of Japanese, but I’ve studied German, French, Russian, Mandarin, Old English, and now Korean.)

Nerds arguing about methods of language learning and which textbooks are good and why is my jam. This is all over the place in English-language fandoms of Chinese, Japanese, and Korean media. Those fandoms also tend to be full of speakers coming from a Germanic or Romance languages background who face similar hurdles in learning these languages. (In other words, if you’re a native Japanese speaker trying to learn Korean, the parts that will be hard for you are different than if you’re an English speaker, but you’re also usually not doing fandom in English.)

There’s also an element of scarcity and difficulty of access and a communal attempt to construct a canon (in the other sense) of stuff from that country that pertains to one’s fannishness. So, for example, a primer explaining the genre of xianxia is highly relevant to being a n00b Untamed fan, but just any old thing about China is not. A c-drama adapted from a danmei webnovel is perhaps part of the new pantheon of Chinese shit we’re all getting into, but just any old drama from decades ago is probably not... unless it’s a genre precursor to something else we care about. Another aspect here is that while Stuff I Can Access As A N00b Who Doesn’t Speak The Language may be relatively scarce, there’s a vast, vast wealth of stuff that exists.

This is what it felt like to be an anime fan in the US in 2000. As translation got more commercial and more crappy series were licensed and dumped onto an already glutted market, the vibe changed. No longer were fans desperately trying to learn enough of the language to translate or spending their time cataloguing what existed or making fanworks about a show they stuck with for a bit: the overall community focus turned to an endless race of consumption to keep up with all of the latest releases. That’s a perfectly valid way of being fannish, but if I wanted that, I’d binge US television 24/7.

Anime fandom got bigger, but what I liked about anime fandom in English died, and I moved on. (Okay, I first moved on to Onmyouji, which is a live action Japanese thing, but still.)

Hardcore weeaboos and now fans of Chinese and Korean stuff don’t stop at language: people get excited about cooking, my other other great passion. Times a thousand if the canon is something like The Sleuth of the Ming Dynasty, which is full of loving shots of food preparation. People get excited about history! Mandarin and Japanese may share almost nothing in terms of grammar or phonology, but all of East Asia has influence from specific Chinese power centers historically, and there are commonalities to historical architecture and clothing that I love.

I fell out of love with the popular anime art styles as they changed, and I’m not that into animation in general these days. (I still own a shitton of manga in art styles I like, like Okano Reiko’s Onmyouji series.) I’ve become a filmmaker over the last decade, and I’m very excited about beautiful cinematography and editing. With one thing and another, I’m probably not going to get back into anime fandom, but it’s lovely to revisit the cultural aspects I enjoyed about it via live-action media.

BTS surprised me too, to be honest. I really dislike that early 90s R&B ballad style that infests idol music (not just Korean--believe me, I resisted many rounds of “But Johnny’s Entertainment though!” back in the day). While I like some of the dance pop, I just don’t care. But OH NO, BTS turn out to be massive conscious hip hop fanboys, and their music sounds different. I have some tl;dr about my reactions in the meta I wrote about one of my fanvids, which you can find on Dreamwidth here.

--

But back to your comment about turnover: I know fans from the 70s who’ve had one great fannish love and that’s it and more who were like that but eventually moved on to a second or third. They’re... really fannishly monogamous in a way I find hard to comprehend. It was the norm long ago, but even by the 90s when far more people were getting into fandom, it was seen as a little weird. By now, with exponentially more people in fandom, it’s almost unheard of. I think those fans still exist, even as new people joining, but we don’t notice them. They were always rare, but in the past, only people like that had the stamina to get over the barriers to entry and actually become the people who made zines or were willing to be visibly into fanfic in eras when that was seen as really weird. On top of that, there’s an element of me, us, judging the past by what’s left: only people with an intense and often single passion are visible because other people either drifted away or have seamlessly disappeared into some modern fandom. They don’t say they’re 80 or 60 or 40 instead of 20, so nobody knows.

In general, I’m a small fandoms and rare ships person. My brain will do its best to thwart me by liking whatever has no fic even in a big fic fandom... (Except BTS because there is literally fic for any combination of them, like even more than for the likes of MCU. Wow. Best fandom evar!) So I have an incentive to not get complacent and just stick with one fandom because I would very soon have no ability to be in fandom at all.

My appetite for Consuming All The Things has slowed way down, but it also goes in waves, and a lot of what I’m consuming is what I did back in 2000: journal articles and the limited range of English-language books on the history of m/m sex and romance in East Asia. It’s not so much that I have a million fandoms as that I’m watching a few shows as an expression of my interest in East Asian costume dramas and East Asian history generally.

I do like to sit with one thing and experience it deeply rather than moving on quickly, but the surface expression of this has changed depending on whether I’m more into writing fic or more into doing research or something else.

But yes, I do do a certain amount of trying to stay current, often as a part of research for fandom meta or to help other people know what’s going on. Having a sense of what’s big doesn’t automatically mean getting into all those things, but I think some fans who are older-in-fandom and/or older-in-years stop being open to even hearing what’s new. And if you’ve never heard of it, you’ll never know if you might have liked it.

[isthatbloodonhisshirt]

(This will probably be a 3-4 part ask, fyi) So I skimmed through Alpha Beta Omega when that post with the photoset popped up, mainly to remember if I've read it before. (I have a lot of opinions on the actions and stuff in that, and that's definitely a fic I can never re-read, but that's not what this ask is mainly about). But anyway: how soon after the video incident did Scott meet & become friends with Stiles? I can't imagine he would know what was happening and not mention it or say (1/3?)

anything, even if they were only acquaintances at that point. Like Scott knew who some of the pledges were, but did he know who the "targets" were (besides his own)? Because maybe I just read way too many 'true alpha' style fics but I can't imagine him not trying to warn people. (But then again I'm also basing some of this off of my college experience, which was a tiny campus (<2000 students) so warning people is probably easier said than done when you add a huge campus & class size) (2/3?) Also, no rush on getting back to my messages. I know you didn't actually say names with that comment but I'll out myself as one of them. I know I'm bad about sending literal essays sometimes (and then adding more later)   . I know I've told you but one of my best friends also doesn't always have enough spoons to actually respond to me with words, so sometimes our messages are only gifs & memes for weeks. But I still love you both just as much no matter how frequently or what style we talk with ❤

Okay listen. Listen. I can’t remember what I had for dinner yesterday, and I almost always eat the same thing (creature of habit + cheap + lazy) and you’re asking me to remember a fic I wrote when I just started in the TW fandom |D LOL I barely remember any of the fics in the Sterek New Year’s Extravaganza except the ones people seem to always bring up (Quickest Way to a Man’s heart, Not so Beauty, It’s Happening, Your Pain is my Pain, etc.). 

All I really remember from Alpha Beta Omega is that the prompt requirement for that day was Fraternities and I know exactly 0% about frats because 1) Girl, 2) Canadian, and 3) Not involved whatsoever with Greek row at my uni. Like, I’m 80% sure we had frats and sororities at my university --  I just Googled it, we did -- but I know nothing about any of that outside of movies |D AND MOVIES ALWAYS MAKE FRATS SEEM LIKE TRASH!!! So I had to go with what I knew (and sadly if I recall from the comments, a lot of people said most frats are like that. Not all! But most, which is depressing tbh). 

Anyway, in answer to your question remembering like, basically nothing about this fic, I would assume Scott and Stiles didn’t meet until way later. Scott definitely would’ve told Stiles about everything with Derek considering I’m pretty sure (if memory serves) that he left the frat specifically because it was trash and... he fell for his target right? It was Allison or something I think? I DON’T REMEMBER OKAY LOL. But yeah, Scott would’ve 100% told Stiles about the whole thing so they would’ve met after Scott had already left and Derek had already done his part. 

There’s a lot of fics in that entire series I’m honestly not super happy with because again, that was when I first started, didn’t really have a handle on the characters, and a lot of the prompts were things I would never write (frats being one of them, another being the friends with benefits, crossovers, etc.). On top of that, I rushed like, basically all of them because I was trying to get a fic out a day and some of them are LONG |D (I legit remember writing Not So Beauty on the fucking bus on my way home from work for a week because it was the only time I had to write it, and my brain was like “IMAGINE HOW GOOD THIS COULDA BEEN WITH YOUR COMPUTER!” because I defo cut corners. And we’re not gonna talk about the Human prompt because I hate that one and legit wrote it the same day it went up. Mistakes were made during that event, I am not proud, but you learn and grow from things, right? |D 

Anyway, not what we were talking about. Yes, Scott would’ve told him. 

And thank you ;~; AND SORRY! I just... need to do it. I keep watching the number go up and instead of doing something about it, I just hide from it |D But I know some people probably think I’m a bitch for not replying to them, or think I’ve like, idk, died? I WILL REPLY THOUGH! Maybe I should give myself a goal of like, 10 messages per week minimum or something |D I’LL REPLY TO YOU SOON THOUGH I PROMISE FORGIVE ME!!!!! <3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3 

[adie-dee]

Your OC’s Backstory December Special

Yep, my entry is 5 days late, but I’m just happy I got it done. I’m also posting all four prompts in one post, as I wrote 2000 words total.

This is from before Bethany was cursed. For those who have read my previous backstory pieces, Bethany’s brother Harrison is no longer a baby. Instead, he’s now her adult older brother. She still finds him dead a few months before she’s cursed, though

HOME

My pink crayon was missing.

I searched through the drawing room, trying really hard to find it, as without it I couldn’t finish my picture.

“Are you meant to be in here?” Harrison asked just as I stuck my head under the sofa. 

“No,” I replied, sitting back up. “But I needed to do some drawings and this is the drawing room and I’ve lost my pink crayon!”

“It’s a different type of drawing in ‘drawing room’,” he said with a smile.

“Daddy said that too, but I don’t understand!” I whined. If it was really just a living room, why didn’t they call it that? 

Harrison kneeled down at the coffee table. “So what are you drawing?”

“It’s our house,” I said, joining him. “And that’s Mummy, and Daddy, and you, and me!” I pointed to each bit as I spoke. “But I need my pink crayon to finish Mummy’s garden and I can’t find it!”

“And what about this?” He pointed at a scratch on the table.

I covered it with my drawing, which he immediately removed.

“It was an accident,” I mumbled. “But I can fix it.”

I didn’t understand why Harrison laughed when I picked up my brown crayon.

“Allow me,” he said, taking it from me. He placed his hand on the scratch and whispered something magical, and when he lifted his hand the scratch was gone. 

“Wow!” I wished I could do magic, but Mummy said I didn’t have the spark. “Can you use it to find my crayon?”

“I don’t have that kind of magic,” he told me. “But why do you need the pink? The picture looks finished to me.”

I looked at the drawing again. It was obviously not finished, why did he think it was? “The flowers are missing,” I said slowly.

“Oh. Well, could you do orange flowers? Or red? Purple, maybe?”

“That is a good idea!” I picked up the purple crayon and added in the flowers, then handed the picture to Harrison. “This is for you. For when you leave so you don’t forget me.”

“What makes you think I’m leaving?”

“I heard you,” I mumbled. “When you were on the phone--”

“In my room,” he finished for me. “Which is eavesdropping. Hasn’t Dad told you that’s a bad thing to do?”

I thought for a moment. “Yes. Five times,” I said, holding up five fingers.

“Well you don’t need to worry: I’ll be back a lot. And I’m not going to forget you!” He hugged me. “How could I ever forget my baby sis? Especially with this amazing artwork.” He held it up again. 

“It’s upside down,” I giggled, turning it. “See?”

“Ah yes, I see now.” He stared at it a moment longer. “This needs to be our secret though, ok? I won’t be moving until next year, and I haven’t told anyone I’m going yet.”

I did a big nod. “I can keep a secret!”

“We both know that’s not true.”

“I can keep your secrets!” I corrected. “And when I’m grown up I can live with you too! And our home won’t have rules about eating vegetables. Or making my bed every day. And I can have a drawing room of my own!”

“Sounds good, kiddo,” Harrison said, cleaning up my crayons. “Now let's get out of here before Mum finds us and you get in trouble again.”

HOLIDAY

Dear Diary,

Last night was the shortest night of the year! 

We had a party to celebrate, and Mummy and Daddy didn’t even make me go to bed at seven. I got to stay up all night! 

There was lots of yummy foods that I got to eat that I don’t normally get to eat, like jelly babies and cake and ice cream, and Harrison even gave me something called cordial, which is like a lolly but it’s a drink! I wanted to taste what he was drinking too but he said it was grownup cordial and I wouldn’t like it. 

I got to play with other kids too which was really really fun! And I didn’t even get in trouble when I got dirt on my dress from when Brett threw it at me.

After everyone went home, me and Mummy and Daddy and Harrison took the stairs behind the gate up to the roof. Daddy called it a puppet, I think. It was a nice flat bit on the edge of the roof with a wall around it, and we were up there to wait for the sun to rise! I didn’t have to go to bed at all!

I fell asleep anyway, even though I tried real hard. But then Harrison woke me up and I got to see the sunrise, and WOW! The sky was orange and yellow and pink and it was so pretty.

I’m really really tired now. I even fell asleep at the breakfast table and had to clean milk off my face, which made Daddy laugh and Mummy frown. Harrison wasn’t there but he would have laughed too. 

Mummy has put me to bed and wants me to have a nap. And I will, diary, I will, but not before I tell you a secret. I found the bag of jelly babies and hid it in my dollhouse. I don’t get many lollies so they’re my secret and I’m going to eat them all.

Once I have my nap. Night, Diary!

GIFT

Bethany…

I pulled the blanket over my head, hoping that was enough to make the monster go away. 

Bethany…

The monster started scratching on the floorboards too and I pressed my hands to my ears. “Go away!” I yelled, the way Mummy and Daddy had told me to. “Daddy says you have to!”

BETHANY!

My mattress jumped under me, making me scream. I stood up on my bed and did my biggest jump, but I landed closer to the bed than I wanted to.

I’m going to get you!

I screamed again and ran for my bedroom door, pulling it open and running down the hallway until I reached Mummy and Daddy’s room. 

“Daddy daddy daddy!” I yelled, banging on the door. “The monster won’t go away!”

As soon as the door opened I ran into their room and threw myself on their bed. 

“Can I sleep here?” I asked Daddy, “Pleasssseeeee? I told the monster to go away and he didn’t listen and I’m scared!!” 

“The monster cannot hurt you,” Mummy said, joining Daddy at the door. “He will leave if you ignore him. Now please, Beth, go back to bed.”

I burst into tears. “But he’s scary!”

Daddy sighed and sat on the bad next to me. “What did you say to it?” He asked. 

“That… that… that you said he had to go away!”

“Oh Beth,” Daddy said with a small smile. “You have to tell him you don’t want him there. Then he will leave you alone.”

“But what if he doesn’t listen?!”

“He is trying to scare you, nothing more. As your mother says, he will not harm you. I promise. Do you believe me?”

Still crying, I nodded.

Daddy lifted me off the bed and carried me to the door. “Run along to bed, princess,” he said, putting me down. “We will talk more in the morning.”

I dawdled down the hallway, wanting to be anywhere but in my room.

Suddenly, a large monster appeared at the end of the hall and I screamed again.

“Bethany!” The monster yelled, stepping out of the shadows.

I started to giggle. That wasn’t a monster, it was Harrison. The monster never came out from under my bed, anyway.

“What are you doing up?” He asked me.

I told him about the monster.

“Wait here,” he said, then disappeared into his room. When he returned, he was holding a brown teddy bear. “I bought you this,” he said, handing it to me. “I was going to give him to you earlier, but you were already in bed when I came home.”

The teddy bear was soft and fluffy and cuddly, and I hugged him to my face. 

“This is a very special bear,” Harrison continued, crouching down next to me. “I gave him magic. So when the monsters make you scared, just hold him tight and he’ll make them go away.”

“Really?”

“Really really.”

I beamed at him. “Thank you!”

“But he needs a name.”

I looked at the bear again. Mummy had told me names were important, and I wanted to make sure I got it right. “Boris!” I announced. 

“Boris it is.” Harrison ruffled my hair then stood up. “Come on, kiddo, let’s get you back into bed.”

“Why aren’t you in bed?” I asked. He was still in his daytime clothes too, which was strange.

“Because I’m a grownup.”

“Mummy and Daddy are grownups too.”

He picked me up and smiled. “They’re old grownups,” he said, carrying me back to my room. “And grownups can go to bed whenever they want.”

“I can’t wait to be a grownup!”

“It’s a long way away.” He tucked me into bed. “Goodnight, Bethany.”

“Night, Harrison.”

He pulled the door closed behind him.

Bethany…

I hugged Boris tight, just like Harrison told me to. “Go away!”

The monster didn’t reply. 

NEW YEAR

A hand touched my shoulder. 

“Boris!” I cried, hugging him tight. The monster was back, he was going to grab me and eat me and—

“Bethany,” a voice hissed, clearly not that of the monster. 

“Harrison!”

“Shh!” He switched on my bedside light. “I want to show you something,” he whispered, “but you have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“I can do that,” I said, sitting up. “I haven’t told anyone you’re leaving. I nearly told Daddy but I didn’t.”

He held his pinky out to me. “Pinkie swear?”

“Pinky swear,” I repeated, hooking mine onto his. “Now can I see?”

“Yes. But get your slippers.”

Holding Boris tight I jumped out of bed and ran over to my wardrobe. My slippers were nowhere to be seen so I pulled on my gumboots instead. I liked my gumboots. They weren’t boring colours like all the clothes Mummy bought me; instead they were pink and purple and had flashing lights in the bottoms. Harrison always got me nice things, and wearing them with my nightie made me feel like a princess.

“Can you be quiet in those?” he asked once I came out of my wardrobe. “We don’t want anyone to hear.”

I replied with a big nod.

He led me out of my room and into the drawing room, pausing to pick up one of my crayons off the floor. “Cover your eyes,” he whispered.

I did as he asked, and heard something go click.

When I uncovered them, the back of the fireplace was missing, and there was a rickety staircase instead.

I almost squealed with excitement. A secret passage! 

Harrison ducked into the fireplace and I followed him, climbing the stairs, and suddenly we were on the roof. 

But not the nice flat part where I got to watch the sunrise. This bit was steep and covered in thick red tiles.

“Why are we--”

Harrison shushed me again. “Mum and Dad are on the parapet,” he whispered, pointing to where the nice bit was. “They wanted you to stay in bed but you’re five now, and a big girl, and I wanted you to see.”

“See what?” 

Just as I spoke there was a big explosion overhead, one made of purple and green sparkles. Then red, and blue, and silver. Some were big circles and others shot up like rockets, and even the bridge was covered in sparkles. It was so pretty. Not as pretty as the sunrise, but still really really pretty.

Harrison picked me up and I reached out, trying to catch the falling lights.

“Happy new year,” he whispered.

Suddenly I gasped. “Does this mean you’re leaving me now?” I don’t want you to go!” Tears formed in my eyes and I rubbed my face onto his shoulder to wipe them away.

“Not yet. I have a few more things to organise, so I’ll be here for the rest of summer. And when it’s time, you’ll be the first to know.”

[fangirlxwritesx67]

Samhain

Christmas Tea (3000 words) NYE Bubbly (1500 words) Valentine’s Day Chocolate (2100 words) Happy Birthday Sam (2000 words)  Samhain (3600 words) 

Sam X Rowena A/N: did anyone ask for 3600 words of Samwitch Witch!Sam? No? Well, I still wrote it. Also managed to delete the first posting, so trying again. 

Tags: sex, so much consensual sex, oral sex, finger banging, discussion of edging, some language, mild dirty talk, fisting, magic sex and/or sex pollen, alcohol, Rowena being irresistible, size kink, hand kink 

It had been almost a year since the first time that an invitation to Rowena’s apartment turned into a sizzling night of sex for her and Sam. Since then, they had celebrated several holidays and spent many more visits just enjoying one another. 

While their relationship grew, Sam’s understanding and practice of magic had grown, too. Before, he had assisted Rowena with a few spells when needed, but had never studied spellwork for any purpose other than undoing the results. Now, he was gradually learning the rhythms of magic, the phases of the moon, and the cycle of a witch’s calendar. 

He might light an occasional candle, or burn some herbs - really, nothing he hadn’t been doing as a hunter for years. Although Dean teased him about being Rowena’s protege, he certainly wouldn’t consider himself a witch. 

He did notice, from time to time, that he felt increasingly aware of Rowena’s power. At first, he brushed it off as just the intense physical attraction between them, or his interested attention to her every word and move. But there were moments, he could swear, where he actually saw her manipulate the forces of magic, like light around her body. 

He understood more than ever how important Samhain was to Rowena. He knew that it was the most powerful Sabbat for a witch, the starting point for the Wheel of the Year. Still he was surprised when she told him she wanted - no, needed - to join her that night.  He couldn’t imagine what she had in mind. But she had called, so he went to her. 

He didn’t know what she was planning, but he also didn’t want to come unprepared. He found a bottle of wine called Witches’ Brew, so he bought it. Rowena had very specific tastes, so she might hate it, but at least he wouldn’t arrive empty handed. 

On October 31, Sam knocked at Rowena’s door. She greeted him wearing black from head to toe, sheer black, some kind of shimmery thin robe that clung to her curves and swirled around her every motion.   

She took the wine and led him to the kitchen. He watched her hips sway as she walked, taking in the fact that her underwear was little more than bits of lace and lacing across the cleft of her ass. The room was aglow with banks of white candles casting a warm light over everything. 

She uncorked the bottle and then turned to face him. “This wine is better heated.” He watched as swirls of light coiled upwards from her hand around the bottle, and was not surprised when the glass she poured him was hot. He took a sip. It reminded him of her kisses, that spicy sweetness that he could never get enough of.

She seemed to know it, too, as she met his gaze with a smirk. She raised her glass and he followed suit. For a long moment, the two of them sat and sipped in comfortable silence. Finally, she spoke again.

“There is a spell a witch can only perform when she has another witch for a lover, one who is true of heart and same of soul.” 

She reached for a wide shallow bowl at the other end of the table, one Sam had not noticed before. 

“What-” She silenced him with the press of her fingers on his lips. Without thinking, he kissed them. She smiled to herself and dipped those fingertips into the water that filled the bowl. 

“Look,” she commanded. 

He watched as the water rippled and clouded, and then faded into a scene of the woods. Between the trees he could just barely make out - Rowena, walking on and on. At first it was almost too dark to see, but the moon rose, growing and grew full and heavy as she continued her journey onward.

The moon in the scrying bowl was pearly bright when the image of Rowena reached a broad slab of stone, an altar, he supposed. She was not alone, there was a taller figure there, and as he peered more closely, he saw that it was him. He watched in the water as they joined hands before it rippled again, a glow covering the water, and the scene disappeared.

“I need you, Samuel. For days now, since the new moon, I have been - denying myself the pleasure of sexual release. Saving, so to speak, for tonight, for you. ���My power will increase immeasurably if you will complete this cycle with me.”

“So you want me to -?”

“Perform this spell with me. Pleasure me, satisfy me, make love to me all night long.” 

Her green eyes were wide and bright, the words spilling like stars from her glossy lips. 

He didn’t have to think twice before nodding. “For you, yes, whatever you ask.” 

The smile that crossed her face was smug, as if she had no doubt that he would agree. She stood and gathered a few things before taking a seat again.  

“Oh, and one more thing. Once the spell is cast, it must be satisfied. I am trusting you with this.” 

He nodded again, unsure how to answer. 

Rowena sprinkled herbs over the surface of the water before reaching out. Sam took her hand in his and allowed her to weave a broad ribbon between their joined fingers and then around their wrists. He helped her tie it in a knot, binding his intention with hers. She murmured words in a voice too low for him to hear and the ribbon dissolved into a ring of light, tiny sparks sizzling downward.

She stood up, and he stood with her. Their lips met as she sank into his arms with a sigh, and he savored the flavor of dark wine and spices in her mouth. More than ever, her kisses felt magical, lips pressing, sucking, tasting, exploring, all hot and slippery and close.

Sam was so lost in her, in the warmth of her body in his hands, that it took him a little while to realize that she was whimpering, grinding against him shamelessly like a cat in heat. She was always open with her desire, but this was something new. 

“What do you want?” he murmured as his lips pressed down the column of her neck. “Tell me, my queen, tell me exactly what you want.”

“Take me to bed, my love.” she begged. 

He raised one eyebrow and looked around. The couch, the table - plenty of times in the past, they hadn’t made it to the bedroom. 

She followed his gaze and shook her head, her eyes wide and imploring, “Bed, now.” As if to make her point, she pulled away, tugging on his hand, nearly dragging him down the hall. 

The bedroom, like the kitchen, was arrayed with candles on every side. Sam drew in a deep breath of the air, heavy with incense. In the flickering flames, he saw goddesses, crystals, and cards, the shadowy light making everything seem more arcane and fantastic. 

Rowena lay back against the bank of pillows on the bed, her hair like coiled vines against the silky dark sheets. She reached for him, hands curling with need. He stripped off his clothes before kneeling on the bed at her feet. 

Instead of leaning into her grasp, he sat back, sliding his hands along her pale legs, pushing the sheer cloth of her gown up in voluminous folds. His hands settled around her waist, thumbs stroking the dip of her hip bones. He pulled down, fingers spreading to cup the swell of her ass as he slipped off the bits of lace and ribbon that made up her panties.

She was bare before him but still he took his time, pressing kisses to her creamy thighs as she whimpered and sighed. 

“Don’t tease,” she murmured.

There was nothing he loved more than to tease her, to hear her beg. But he had promised to do whatever she asked. He lowered his face into the copper curls over her sex. The taste of her was better than the best wine, warm and wet. 

He had barely begun with his lips and tongue before she bucked up against his face, the softest sighs falling from her lip as her legs shook around him. He paused, took a breath, and then pressed in again. He slipped one finger, then another into her. Her entire body drew up, quaking under his attention, before she let go with a cry. 

“Samuel,” she panted. “I’ve waited long enough. I need you, inside me, now.” 

It was the easiest command he had ever obeyed. He slid up, over her, meeting her mouth with the taste of her still on his lips. She was whimpering again, begging, her hips rising up to grind against him. 

He looked at her and saw her eyes were glazed with desire. “Are you sure-?” 

“Please,” she cried, her fingers scrambling for purchase on his shoulders. 

Sliding into her was like coming home, the tight wet heat of her so close and perfect. Sam heard himself moaning, unexpected and needy.

“Yes,” Rowena panted. “Please, I need you to, goddess, fuck, Sam, I- you-” 

It was nonsense, the broken curses falling from her lips, but watching her mouth was enough, the contrast between her beauty and the profanities. Sam trailed his lips and tongue down around her breasts as she tilted her head back, gasping and panting. 

He felt her clench around him and he groaned her name. For one long moment, he was lost- in the woods, under the light of the moon - and then he slammed back into his body. He came hot and helpless inside of Rowena as she cried and tightened and let loose underneath him. 

For one long breathless moment they clung to one another, sweaty and shattered. Sam could just see stray sparks of magic trailing off Rowena’s skin, into the dim light around them. Finally he rolled onto his side. Rowena made a soft sound of loss before he turned her into his embrace. He trailed his fingers softly over her hair, feeling her racing heart next to his. Finally her breath slowed and settled. 

“Shower?” Sam asked gently. She nodded in response. Sam stood up and held out both hands, pulling her to her feet. He helped her out of her gown and guided her to the bathroom, where he turned on the water steaming hot, the way he knew she liked it, as she twisted up her hair. They stepped into the shower together, bodies pressed together, slippery wet in the close space. 

Sam took Rowena’s body wash and lathered it over her shoulders, caressing her skin with open palms. He rubbed her back in broad circles before she spun to face him. He took his time, fingers following the trail of the water over her body, across her collarbones and down her ribs before he pressed up, farther, cupping her small high breasts in both hands. He circled her nipples, watching them rise and harden under the creamy bubbles of body wash. 

Her mouth dropped open, lips curving as her hands groped for his waist, tugging him against her. She shifted, pressing her thighs together. “You can’t just- I need- more, please.”

“Ok, hang on.” He murmured, “Let me, we’ve gotta take care of the soap.” He spun until she was under the shower, spray bouncing off her shoulders as the water sluiced down her skin. Once the last bubble swirled down the drain, he turned again so her back was pressed against the end of the shower. 

He knelt in front of her and looked up to meet her gaze. Her face was expectant, her chest rising and falling with quick breaths. He lifted one of her legs, hooking her knee over his shoulder. He steadied her with his hands around her waist as he dipped between her thighs. Her soft whines and panting moans echoed off the walls of the shower as he pleasured her until she came again, going limp in his grasp, trusting his grip to hold her up and not let her fall. 

Once she could stand on her own two feet again, Sam turned off the water. He grabbed one of the luxurious fluffy towels and patted her dry from head to toe. Her pale skin was already pink from water and pleasure. The shower had washed off her makeup, leaving her face bare. She looked younger like this, softer. He covered the freckles on her cheeks with whisper-light kisses, and her eyes widened, pools of green framed by her wet red lashes. 

“Come back to bed with me,” she murmured, holding out one hand. He reached for her, let her lead him, following her every wish. Back in the bedroom, in the wash of candlelight, her skin seemed luminous, lit with a glow from within.

They lay on the bed together, facing one another, lips meeting and parting and meeting again. Sam’s hands roamed her bare body, over every curve and angle. He knew her, this was familiar, but he never tired of touching her, holding her. As his hand strayed lower, pressing into the dip of her hips, she whimpered. 

Her fingers closed around his, drawing his hand up to cup her face, nuzzling her cheek into his palm.

“Your hands, goddess,” she murmured. “I think about them all the time, think about all the things you can do. I want you so much, want your hand inside me.”

“I know you love my fingers, love how you come on them for me,” he whispered with a kiss. 

“No.” She pulled back and looked at him, green eyes wide and hot with lust. “Your hand, your whole hand.”

He sat up, running one hand through his tangled chestnut hair. She followed his movement with a glance, unable to stop the whimper that fell from her lips, watching the way his fingers slipped through the silky strands. 

“Are you sure?” His brow furrowed with doubt. 

“Have I ever lied to you or been anything other than completely honest with my desires?” Her voice was low, breathy and utterly convincing. 

She was, as always, right. He slicked his hand with lube before slipping two fingers into her, working her over with his thumb as he pumped his fingers in and out. This was familiar for them, from their very first time. 

“More,” she gasped, and he obeyed, adding a third finger, curling up against her as she clenched down around him. He kept up his pace, whispering endearments and encouragement until she came with a high whine. 

“You still want this?” he stopped to check. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, I know you won’t. Please, do as I ask.” 

He nodded and tucked his thumb against his palm, pressing into her slow and steady, giving her time to stretch around him. When his knuckles slipped into her, she hissed sharply. He paused, waiting, until she drew a deep breath and nodded. 

He rocked his hand, taking his cues from her increasingly frantic groans of pleasure. Her head tipped back, slim fingers fisting handfuls of the sheets. 

When he heard her first low curse, he knew she was close to letting go. He smiled as he lowered his mouth to her, lips ghosting over her clit with the lightest of kisses as he turned his knuckles again inside her. 

Her back bowed up, arching off the bed, hips tipping toward him, her entire body taut and quivering. Her breath tore into ragged moans and her thighs shook around his ears. This time he was waiting, watching, and saw light envelop her entire body in a wash of iridescent color. She cried his name in ecstasy as she came. 

He eased his hand out slowly, stroking her through the aftershocks that left her trembling and flushed, little bursts of magic still sparkling off her skin. When her body was fully relaxed, he stretched out next to her and pressed his lips to hers. Her cheeks were blushed pink, little curls sticking damply to her temples. 

The sheer amount of pleasure they had enjoyed together was incredible, to say nothing of the magical power she had revealed. He could’ve kept going, was aroused and wanted so much more. But he could see that, for now, she was done. He would wait. 

He went to the bathroom to wash up and returned with a damp cloth and a towel. Her eyes were closed, heavy lashes fluttering open under his touch. She watched lazily as he wiped her skin with strong sure strokes. 

Then he slid into bed behind her, pulling the covers up over her and tugging her back against his chest. She nuzzled against him, her movements slow and sated. He slipped one arm around her, holding her, keeping her close. He didn’t quite catch her words as she drifted off to sleep, but it sounded like she called him, “...my witch, Sam.” 

The full moon shined through the bedroom window, casting a pale beam over Rowena’s alabaster skin. He watched her for a long moment, wondering not for the first time at her reckless vulnerable beauty. 

He didn’t feel worthy of being her lover, much less her partner in magic. He didn’t deserve to work a spell with her, not even one as wonderful as this one. But she had chosen him. And with that thought in his mind, he fell asleep too. 

That night, Sam dreamed of the scene Rowena had shown him in the scrying bowl, picking up where the vision had left off. He saw himself with her on the broad stone altar, naked in the glow of the moon. He caught glimpses of some of the things they had done together. As the moon grew low just before dawn, Rowena lay back in his arms. Her magic was visible in bands of light circling her body, weaving between them, sigils sparking off into the trees. 

“Samuel,” he heard her whisper his name softly, and his eyes slowly opened. He saw Rowena in his arms, just as he had dreamed, but without the forest or the magic. Just holding her, loving her, was magic enough for him. As their lips met, he let his hands slowly roam her body, her beautiful generous body that had given him so much pleasure. 

He could tell the spell had been satisfied by her response, by the way she hummed lazily, without the desperate desire that had driven their sex the night before. Still he had to ask-

“Did it work? Are you so much more powerful now?”

She threw back her head and laughed, full throated and free, before fixing him with an intense stare. “You saw it, didn’t you, in your dreams?” 

He knew better than to ask how she had seen it too, and instead just nodded. 

“You did so well, took such good care of me.” Her hand cupped his face, thumb easing across his bottom lip. “Thank you, my love.”

“Not like it was difficult, not with you.” Their lips met again and again, slow and seeking and deep. Rowena pressed closer to him, movements languid, pulling his body towards hers. He followed her lead, caressing her with strong sure hands, even as the touch of her fingertips left shivers on his skin. 

She pushed his shoulder back, not that she could move him, but showing him wordlessly what she wanted. He rolled back, tugging her with him. She sat up, shaking her hair back from her face as she straddled him. She planted both hands on his chest and ground down, drawing a sigh from his lips. 

His hands circled her waist as she took him in one hand and guided him into her. He saw her bite her lip as she sank down around him slowly. He let her set the pace, content to watch the way she moved, her endless sensual grace. 

Finally he tugged her shoulders down, so she lay atop him. One of his arms slipped around her back, embracing her, while the other settled over the small of her back, fingers splaying over the curve of her ass. She moved in a slow sinuous wave, rolling against him until a groan punched from his lips. 

“Come for me, one more time.” His voice was low and ragged, his hands sliding down over her thighs to pull her knees up around his waist. She rocked from side to side as he went deeper, hitting that perfect spot inside of her. 

Her mouth dropped open in a long moan, her hands curling into fists against his chest, and he felt her clamp tight around him. He gripped her waist, swiveling her down, grinding their bodies together as he thrust up over and over until finally she cried out, high and breathless. Only then did he let himself go, too. His vision went dark as his release hit him, and he glimpsed stars out of the corners of his eyes. 

For a long moment the two of them just lay like that, as close as two people could get to becoming one. The moment stretched, curved around them, the only sound the beating of their hearts. 

Sam didn’t want to break the silence, but when he glanced down, Rowena was looking up at him, her gaze bright and hopeful. 

“I’ll always do whatever you ask,” he promised softly. She nodded just once before their lips met again, sealing his words with a kiss. 

Thanks to @mskathywriteswords​ for the preread. @songofthecagedmoose​ made the graphic of Rowena in the sheer gown. 

SPN First Last and Always: @boondoctorwho​ @dawnie1988​ @deanwanddamons​ @defenderrosetyler​ @divadinag​ @emoryhemsworth​ @fookinghelljensensthighs​ @idreamofplaid​ @kalesrebellion​ @kickingitwithkirk​ @maddiepants​ @magssteenkamp​ @onethirstyunicorn​   @there-must-be-a-lock​ @tloveswriting​

Sam Girl For Life: @awesomesusiebstuff​ @lilsylvia​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​

Rowena My Queen: @delightfullykrispypeach​ @lilsylvia​ @marril96​ @pansexualdarling @songofthecagedmoose​

Dean Curious:@adoptdontshoppets​ @awesomesusiebstuff​ @deangirl7695​ @deans-baby-momma​  @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @stoneyggirl​ @wayward-gypsy​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​

[satans-helper]

Wait

Pairing: Joe Elliott x Rick Savage

Word Count: ~2000

Warnings: none, apart from mentions of alcohol 

Just a sweet little thing I wrote the other day...what can I say? I’m a sap & I’ve been feeling especially sappy lately. I hope you enjoy ~

---

Sav sank down easily into the chair next to Joe, his sort of crumpled form at the end of the table coveting a cup of steaming tea, knuckles curled around the ceramic, bangs hanging in his eyes. No cream in the tea, Sav noted, but a big slice of lemon was floating in it, drifting off to one side. “So, we’re just going to ignore the fact that you drunk-dialed me last night to tell me you love me?” he asked, his eyes scanning over Joe as he groaned.

“Yes, as a matter of fact, we are.” Joe whipped his hair back then grimaced, letting his head drop a bit, shoulders slumped.

“I’m miffed you got so sloshed without me,” Sav went on, crossing his arms over his chest. “Then you decided to call me anyway--you could have just invited me.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to join me here, at home,” Joe said with a slight wave of his arm, sweeping over the kitchen. “Me, drinking alone, I mean. Fuckin’ depressing.”

“Why were you drinking alone?” 

Joe frowned a bit, took a sip of the tea, then said, “Just a bad day, Sav.”

Sav frowned too. He almost reached over to place his hand over Joe’s forearm but thought better of it. Drunken declarations of love were just that--inebriated ramblings, nothing more. He and Joe were friends--nothing more. Right? 

It wasn’t until Sav got that call that he ever had any hope that there might be something else there. He’d been waiting for Joe to notice but notice what? Sav couldn’t do anything about the feelings that bubbled and swirled inside his belly and chest when he looked at Joe, the swirling hot and cold that had become more intense and hard to ignore with each passing month, each passing year--even broaching the subject would mean an end to their friendship, he was sure of it. He wouldn’t risk it. 

“Sav, I love you. I love you soooo much--no, no, wait, I have to tell you. I really fuckin’ love you.”

Joe had said he loved a few things and other people in that phone call, but most of it was spent with him gushing over Sav--Sav’s bass skills, Sav’s hair, the faces Sav makes when he thinks no one is looking at him (“Don’t think I never notice, Sav”), Sav’s voice, Sav’s tight pants. Tight pants? That one had thrown Sav for a loop when he heard it, the thought of Joe checking him out sending a shiver of both hope and--he had to admit it--arousal down his spine. That, somewhat unfortunately, was quickly superseded by his rational brain telling him, no, never. Joe would never.

“You can talk to me if you’re having a bad day, you know,” Sav said, stating the obvious. Joe usually did--why didn’t he last night, instead of getting wasted alone? He added, with a touch of bitterness, “If you love me so much, you should know that.”

Joe smiled a little. “I know. I just--I just didn’t want to put this on you.”

Sav nodded. “Okay.” Perhaps it was better to let Joe tell him in time. He wasn’t going to pressure him. And he was going to try his damndest not to let the juvenile, naïve hope that this really was somehow about him get the better of him.

Joe glanced over at Sav’s empty hands and suddenly stood up, wobbling slightly. “I didn’t even make you a cup.” 

“Joe, it’s fine,” Sav said, getting up and following him to the stove. “You’re the one who’s hungover. I can make my own tea. How much did you drink anyway?” 

The hangover didn’t stop Joe from clanging away with the tea kettle and cups and Sav saw him wince at the abrupt, sharp sounds; he grabbed his hands away from the kettle and Joe teetered backwards with a huff. “Fine, I’ll let you.” He went to the sink and ran the tap, cupped one hand under cold water and then brought it to his face. “Too much, that’s how much. I’m never drinking again, I’ll tell you that.”

Sav couldn’t help but scoff. “Right. Just don’t drink so much, and certainly not alone.” He forgot all about the tea when he looked over at Joe’s dripping face and hair. With a single tut, he grabbed a dish towel and gently pressed it over his wet skin, mopping up the water. “What is wrong with you?”

Joe tore himself backwards, swatting the dish towel and Sav’s help away. “Nothing.”

Right--nothing. Sav smacked the dish towel down onto the counter and put one hand on his hip. “I’m sympathetic to your hangover but I don’t need you to be passive-aggressive, Joe.”

Joe looked like Sav had kicked him. He went over to the stove again, pushing damp hair away from his eyes as he reached for the neglected cup. “Sorry. Just--just sit down, okay?” 

“I’m so glad we met. Really, Sav. Where would I be without you?”

Thinking of the phone call again almost made Sav want to leave. He’d dealt with these strange feelings for too long, kept them internalized and smothered for too long--how long was long enough? He’d been waiting for the feelings to go away, to leave him alone, so he could go back to viewing Joe as simply a friend. Just another man. But, as Sav obliged and sat down at the kitchen table again, he knew that he’d never viewed Joe as just that. 

Joe set the full cup of tea in front of Sav and sat back down, still so unusually quiet that Sav was beginning to feel totally unnerved. He leaned forward and scooped a spoonful of sugar, eyeing Joe from his peripheral: “Are you going to tell me why you had such a bad day?” He leaned back in his chair, stirring in the sugar, and glanced up just long enough to see Joe shift in his seat and take another sip of tea.

It took a minute--a long, uncomfortable minute--but Joe replied: “I thought I was so sure--well, that’s not even it.” He sighed and brought the cup to his lips again. “I never really thought I was sure because it wasn’t something I ever thought about, you know? It just IS. Er, I suppose, it just was.”

Sav’s heart was pounding with possibility--he’d thought the same things before, but what the hell did Joe mean? What were those abstract thoughts attached to? Sav decided just to listen, letting Joe go on, but all he ended with was, “Do you know what I mean?”

Sav wanted to throw Joe out the window. “No, Joe. I don’t think so--”

Joe sank lower in the chair, eyes dropping to his tea. “I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

Sav wanted to shout. “Brought what up?” 

There was another long minute, even heavier than the one before, and finally Joe looked up and said quietly, “I had a bad day because I couldn’t stop thinking about it. And I didn’t invite you over because I knew if I did, I’d do something bad.”

“What? Kill me?” Sav replied, trying to break his own tension more than the tension in the air, but it was false and Joe didn’t smile. 

“No. I’d never,” Joe said, lifting his chin up. Suddenly his face fell again and he looked so tired, beyond just a hangover, and Sav wanted to touch him again. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day.”

So Sav’s instincts, as irrational as he’d thought they might have been, turned out to be right. He processed that statement for a moment, looking into the cup of golden liquid in front of himself. “Well, Joe,” he started to say, trying to be careful with his words but his mind was racing. “It seems like you did what you were afraid of doing anyway. That phone call was--intense.” Out of the corner of his eye, Sav saw Joe smile a bit, just one corner of his mouth drifting upwards for a second. 

“So you’re not mad?”

God, fuck no, Sav wasn’t mad. He was relieved, overjoyed, ecstatic, excited--but also scared, scared because he’d done a lot of thinking about what he’d want in a perfect world. He wasn’t so sure Joe had. More than that, he knew there would be no way to live it out, even if they both wanted to. 

“No,” Sav said. “Not if you meant it.” 

“I meant it,” Joe said quickly, voice nearly back to its normal, nearly booming strength. “I think the booze made me mean it even more, honestly.” 

“Will you stay on for five more minutes, Sav? I like hearing your voice.”

Sav lifted his cup of tea to hide the anxious smile on his lips. In hindsight, the drunken phone conversation was so telling--it was just that neither one of them had ever thought the other could really return the feelings. Except Joe, maybe--after all, he’d taken the plunge, even if he had needed the help of half a bottle of vodka. He was lost in his own pondering and reflecting, the ceramic burning against his bottom lip, until Joe reached across the table and urged Sav’s right arm down; Joe’s fingers lightly grazed down his bare forearm then to his hand, turning it over palm facing up and grazed that soft, ticklish skin. 

It was like electricity traveling from Joe’s fingers to Sav’s palms--tiny, sharp sparks of silver that dived into his pores and the lines in his palm, danced over his fingers and flooded down into his wrist. Sav wasn’t sure if he could even move that hand with Joe touching him like that, and he had his doubts about being able to move it whenever Joe stopped touching him. Sav wished he wouldn’t. He wanted Joe’s fingers to stroke him and dance over him for as long as he could get. 

Joe caught Sav’s eye and Sav saw a wave of doubt come over his face. He took away his hand from Sav’s and started to get up from the table, cheeks flushed: “I’m gonna take a shower.” 

Without thinking, Sav groped for Joe’s hand as it lifted off the table and grabbed it. “Wait.” He bit his lip, not sure of what to say next. He’d been waiting for so long. He looked at Joe’s hand in his and focused on the warmth of it for a moment, then looked back up at Joe. “I don’t want anything to change between us.”

“If something changes, it’ll be for the better, no?” Joe replied with a slight shrug, squeezing Sav’s hand; Sav mentally prepared for the physical separation again but Joe remained where he was, their hands still clasped together over the table. 

“For the better?” Sav repeated, heart fluttering. “How?”

“I don’t know exactly how.” Joe, keeping their hands locked, pulled his chair out and forward, so close that when he sat down, his knees were touching Sav’s thigh. Sav’s breath hitched as he watched Joe’s other hand lift itself and reach, then long fingers were running over and through his hair and Joe was pulling him forward while leaning in himself; he pressed his forehead against Sav’s and blinked at him slowly. “I think whatever happens, as long as we have each other, things will always get better.”

Sav breathed in lemon and ginger, sweat and vodka, and closed his eyes. “You think so?” he asked, and felt Joe’s thumb brush over his wrist. 

“I know that much.” Joe surprised Sav with a quick, barely-there kiss to his lips, so quick Sav didn’t even pull back until Joe was standing up again. “I really should take a shower,” he said, giving Sav’s hand another squeeze before he parted them. When Sav looked up, Joe’s cheeks were rosy again, and he licked his lips quickly as he looked back at him. “You’ll wait for me?”

Sav was having trouble articulating what he was feeling in his mind and there was no chance in hell he’d be able to verbalize it, but he figured he’d have a few minutes to ponder the mess of thoughts while Joe cleaned up. He smiled up at him gently--his very best friend, whom he’d walk to the ends of the earth and back with: “I’ll wait for as long as you need me to.” 

---

Tagging: @mountainofthesunn​

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Weird, “Autograph.”

Wrote this between sporadic bouts of studying because I have the attention span of a flea and the motivation of a blob fish. So This is for those of you asking about what happened after “Movie Star.” 

He watched his shuttle hit altitude and then vanish into a pristine blue sky. The roaring of the engines faded away until there was nothing but the distant thunder of jet engines, so much quieter in comparison to the wild screaming of the spacefaring craft headed on her way back to the Harbinger, and a crew that would be captained by his second in command. It hurt him to think that someone else would be captaining his ship, that she'd be in deep space without him.

He wondered if this is what it felt like for a parent to leave their child for the first time.

It all just made his heart ache, and he had the sudden desire to call and make sure she hadn’t spontaneously combusted as soon as he had entered that shuttle leaving her on the docking port moonside.

“Yep, she totally exploded, the entire crew is dead and their ashes will forever float through space.” He turned his head to glower at Conn floating at his back and staring up into the sky with a grin.

“Shut the hell up Conn.”

“Make me.”

“Do I need to remind you that the only thing between you and a snapped spine is a gravitational chastity belt.” he snarled 

Conn adjusted the gravity field harness around his narrow-protruding hips, “Speaking of chastity belts-”

He held up a hand, “NO-no I am stopping that line of conversation right there.”

A gentle hand rested on one of his shoulders, and he turned to find Sunny standing over him her head tilted slightly to one side. The expression she had on was almost comical for an alien without human facial structures, “They’ll be fine.” Then she slapped him on the back making him stagger forward, “Now stop frowning, You should be excited.”

He straightened himself out adjusting his jacket.

To his side, Krill sighed and looked up at the sky with an almost longing expression.

“What’s your problem?” Sunny wondered 

The Vrul sighed, “The amount of time I spend on a class A death planet is really making me question my sanity.”

“You’re only now beginning to question your sanity?” Adam wondered wryly as he looked around the tarmac. Aside from a couple of baggage carriers, and people in bright orange vests, there was no one here, and no way to tell where they were supposed to go.

“Ha ha, funny ...Where are we going?”

“Guess we sort of just head towards the terminal?” He glanced towards the taxiways between them and the terminal and shook his head. That didn’t seem likely, but also…. There was no one here, “Or not…. I would expect at least someone to be here.”

Sunny crossed her arms in annoyance, “Seems kind of rude they would ask you to come and then just…. Leave you.” 

His eyes scanned over the tarmac once more, baggage carts, buggies, distant buses, a fancy black car, but nothing close by. He adjusted his bag over his shoulder, “May as well walk to those people over there and ask them. I don’t want to get in the way of the planes.”

Adam, followed by his extraterrestrial entourage slowly began heading in that direction. A bus rolled by them going the opposite direction, and the black car from earlier turned onto the same road to roll past. Adam kept walking.

“Commander!..... Commander Vir.” 

The group of them spun in a tight circle turning to face the car, which turned out to be a limousine, the front window rolled down, and a man in a dark suit leaning out.

Adam looked around like there was someone else by that name standing behind him before pointing at himself, “I ur…. Me.”

The man parked the car and stepped out reaching over to open the car door, “Mr. Ellis apologizes that he couldn’t meet you in person, but he hopes that you will find his personal car satisfactory. Adam blinked like a deer in the headlights, “Er… uh… are you sure you’ve got the right person?” He eyed the car.

“You stupid or something?” Conn wondered floating towards the door and vanishing inside the car, much to the driver’s confusion and surprise. He stared after Conn with wide eyes before turning to look at Adam.

“Believe it or not he's actually pretty tame for his species.” The commander sighed stepping forward and thanking the man awkwardly as he slid inside.

He wasn’t entirely sure if satisfaction was the word he’d use to describe how he felt. Everything, and he meant everything was extravagant and eccentric to the extreme. Crystal glasses, with the appropriate liquor, adjustable colored lights, heated seats in a fabric he couldn’t even name, the absolute definition of leg-room so that even Sunny was comfortable. There was a TV just above the far end turned to the news, a snack bar, a sun roof. He folded his hands in his lap afraid to touch anything for fear of damaging it.

Sunny scooted to sit next to him while Conn and Krill took the other side. 

Conn leaned back in his seat, “Not bad.”

“You would say that.” Adam muttered leaning a little closer to Sunny hands pinned between his knees so as not to touch anything.

Sunny had no such qualms sprawling out like she owned the place head resting back onto a fluffy set of cushions just before the window, “Now this, I could get used to.”

Adam disagreed, there was no way that he would ever be able to get used to something like this. In fact, at this moment he was wondering what he was even doing here, hanging out in famous people’s fancy cars with private drivers. He wasn’t special enough for something like that. In fact, he was a soldier, that was it, and arguably not even a very good one. He was just some lucky son of a bitch who had alien friends and a spaceship somehow by coincidence.

He should have been happy, but felt himself wilt internally as he looked around the car at all the fancy things.

Conn watched him from across the car but said nothing.

Unfortunately for him, Sunny caught the tension glancing between him and Conn. 

The were rolling out of the LAX tarmac as she spoke, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Adam interjected over Conn, who continued to speak through Adam.

“Boo hoo, oh woe is me, I’m not special enough enough to be here, I am just an average guy who's not even actually good at anything wa ... was.”

Adam snarled at Conn, “get the hell out of my head Conn.”

“You can’t just leave your mind dangling open for all your thoughts to flop out.”

“Thanks for phrasing the analogy that way Conn, I appreciate it.” he leaned back in his seat arms now crossed, “And yeah, I feel a bit out of place. I should be back up with my men doing something useful but here I am being treated all special by people who barely even know me. If they really did they wouldn’t be half as interesting. If they knew how half the stuff I did was pure dumb luck, or how i spend most of the scared out of my mind. How I’m not some kind of badass.” Sunny hummed deep in her chest, “Yes, the story of the man whose dumb lluck led him to being the most important human in the galaxy is totally boring. Yawn, I am falling asleep already.”

“You don’t even yawn.”

“Why do you think I said yawn instead of actually yawning then?” 

He growled, “My point is, I just feel out of place.”

“Welcome to being a celebrity Adam. Having dumb luck that put you in a position for people to look up to you. You think these people got here because they are ACTUALLY special. No, they got here because their parents were famous, or because they got into good acting schools when they were kids, or because they knew a guy. All of these people got lucky, aren’t actually special, and there are plenty of people out there more talented than they are, but at this point they are so famous no one cares anymore.”

Adam sat in silence contemplating the thought, “II mean…. When you put it like that.”

“You know it's because I am always right.” Sunny said smugly.

He turned his head towards the window watching the city pass by below them. LA was the largest and one of the most ancient cities on the continent. Of course it spoke nothing of a city like Rome or London, but it was still pretty impressive. The entire place was so shiny and white mixed with delicate greenery all built on the bones of the slums. Not only was LA one of the oldest cities on the continent it was also one of the richest. The further they went the nicer the already nice buildings got reaching towards the sky all shiny and white.

Massive mansions dominated the distance with high gates and private shuttle pads. 

The sky above them was dominated by flying cars, private shuttles, and the occasional jet. One mansion they passed by was so big, it seemed  as if the front facade went on for almost a mile intertwined with many decorative fountains and trimmed hedges upkeep exclusively by robots.

They turned down another street heading into the city with expensive outlet malls and large flashy brand names that probably cost as much as the warp core used to power his ship. He was both parts intimidated and stunned leaning towards the window to stare at all the strange people that walked the sidewalks.

He turned his head following a very excessively dressed man in a tailored ball gown that took up most of the sidewalk.

Where he grew up in the suburbs, there had been people who dressed according to plenty of other time periods, but the trend had been early 2000s mostly thanks to his mother who performed the modest almost utilitarian style of their clothing plus they had never been rich enough to afford new fashion. Jeans were cheap, easy to make, a staple of the poor masses. Not that they had been poor poor per say, after the war his father worked as a farmhand for Megafarm producing millions of pounds of produce, while his mother had quit teaching to pursue business in talor-making period accurate clothing for those who were into that sort of thing. As a result, his family had been middle middle class.

But this…. This was for the 1%. A place he had never even dreamed of seeing.

He looked down at himself again, shabby jeans, black T-shirt and a hand me down leather jacket from his older brother David, which had seen better days.

He sunk down in his seat.

They took another corner and pulled up to the gate. He craned his neck to look out the window glancing up to the large sign hanging over the gate which read.

HOLLYWOOD STUDIOS.

Named for the ancient strip of land which produced many of the early movies when film was in its infancy. Once famous for the land and the people who lived there, it was now famous for being the highest grossing film studio EVER. A powerhouse of film that practically monopolized the world of action. While a lot of people demonized the studio for being a monopoly on film, Adam could see why.

They made some good shit.

The gate buzzed open and they were driven inside. He HAD to get a better look rolling open the skylight and standing to look out the top of the car. Hundreds of people dressed in costumes, carrying props, cameras, equipment. Mouth open like an idiot he stared through open warehouse doors and onto virtual projected sets on which actors stood in full costume, or in motion capture suits. Camera men walked around in massive exoskeletons controlling up to ten cameras at once.

A dog trotted past with a handler, a dog that Vir recognized from plenty of movies in which she had starred tail wagging tongue lolling. He dropped back inside the car with wide eyes staring at Sunny who was also looking out the window with wide eyes.

The car came to a stop towards the end of the strip, but then picked up again rolling into one of the giant warehouses and pulling to  a stop. The engine cut, and the doors opened. He stepped out thanking the Driver.

“Commander Vir! Just who I wanted to see!” He turned just in time to catch Director Ellis, or more like be blinded by him, as he skipped up wearing his strange sequin suit and cat-eye glasses. Instead of going for the handshake the man grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, “It’s so exciting to finally have you here. You will be so excited to see what we have done. Just like you said, being as accurate as possible’ it's been a real challenge, but I assure you, you will be so proud. We have done so much research, and I have talked to experts everywhere” 

A mousy little woman scuttled after him holding two cups of coffee looking frazzled and exhausted as she tried to keep up with her boss.

Members of the crew looked up from where they were standing and a few exclamations of awe went up, and he couldn’t blame them, aliens were pretty cool. Despite Conn being a total asshole, he cut an impressive figure of billowing white ribbon and slow ethereal movement.

The man pulled back eyes widening at Conn, “You will be an absolute bitch to animate,”

“Match his personality.” Sunny quipped stepping out of the car.

She was greeted excessively by the director as well as Krill.

A sizable crowd had gathered, and Adam stepped back intending to allow his non-human friends the attention they deserved.

That’s not exactly what ended up happening. Stepping out of the circle he heard a shriek that made him nearly leap out of his skin. He turned to find a young woman with large glasses wearing a grey suit and pencil skirt. There was a pile of papers and a clipboard on the ground at her feet like she had dropped them.

Her eyes were wide as she stared at him mouth open.

“Er…… are you ok?” He ventured leaning down to pick up her papers.

When he stood back up she was still frozen her eyes wide. He offered her papers back.

That broke her from her frozen state but beginning with her hands which started to shake frantically in front of her. The shaking grew wider and wider, her expression grew more excited and she began to leap up and down squealing, “No way, no way…. No way no way no way.” That devolved  until she was simply squealing with excitement. 

Adam stepped back in shock and confusion, “It’s really you I can't believe it!”

She rushed forward arms out then paused, “Can I?” Her expression was so innocent and excited, her eyes so wide that he didn’t know how to respond.

“Er ...sure.”

She nearly broke his back wrapping her arms around him and squealing in delight again knocking her glasses askew. He grunted as the breath was crushed from his lungs. Despite being tiny she was surprisingly strong, and he felt his feet lightening upon the ground hands held out to the side still clutching her clipboard.

She stepped back after a moment with a big smile, her glasses canted at an awkward angle, “Can i get a picture with you.” She begged 

He glanced over his shoulder still not convinced that she hadn’t mistaken him for someone, “Um, Are you sure. I Maybe you have the wrong person.”

She shook her head vigorously giggling, “No, I’d know you anywhere. Commander Vir, the first man to meet sentient life, participated in the Drev war, commanding the first fleet of interstellar ships. You are my HERO.” She looked at him with eyes so wide, so innocent and starstruck that he hardly knew what to say.

He wondered if maybe he was dreaming.

“Picture?” She pleaded

“Um ... uh yeah, sure I guess.” She squealed again this time causing him to drop her clipboard as she grabbed him by the arm pulled him in and whipped out her phone snapping at least ten pictures of them before letting him go. “Mr. Vir it is such an honor.” She was saying, “I’ve read everything about you, all the declassified transmissions. Like that time you saved an alien race from extinction, or that time you ran a marathon on a A-1 death planet, or or like the three times you've saved entire planets.”

“Oh I…. really?”

She nodded, “Yes, Mr. Vir.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, “You can just call me Adam.”

He was nearly defined in the next moment as she shrieked again and hugged him.

“What’s your name?”

She put her hands over her mouth eyes wide, “S-samantha, but- but my friends call me Sammy…..You can call me Sammy.” He blinked in confused surprise and a bit of self consciousness feeling himself go a bit red.

 She may have been star struck, but he was sort of struck by her being star struck. This had to be some sort of dream, even more confusing when he realized the circle of people he assumed had been there for his alien companions had ll circled themselves around him. 

Men and women, stage crew, and actors in motion capture suits gathered around wide eyed and smiling.

He spun in a slight circle staring around at all the faces.

A man stepped from the crowd, a young guy in a motion capture suit. He held out a hand, “Commander, Ezra Hemming. I Well I guess I’m the stunt double for…. For your stunt double? Keith Jenning.” 

“So? You’ll be doing all the legwork?”

The young man blushed.” I guess you could say that.” 

Did he seriously seem nervous? It seemed so strange, and all these people were looking at him, approaching him, wanting to talk to him. It was insane, he shook so many hands learned so many names in such a short amount of time. At some point there was a hydraulic hiss, and the crowd around him parted.

A woman walked towards them elevated on a set of robotic stilt legs, wearing a motion capture suit, and an exoskeleton that gave her an extra set of arms. Vir felt his mouth drop open. Rita Ortiz… the penultimate action hero casting choice, and someone he had a boyish crush on for…. Well a couple of years now. 

In her exo suit, she was as tall as sunny, which he assumed was the point, “Commander.” She said politely.

“Ms. Ortiz…. Er…. Can I….. get your autograph.” He stammered out feeling stupid almost immediatly, but to his surprse she broke into a wide smile.

“I was about to ask you the same thing. Make it a deal and trade mine for yours.”

He choked with a rather sporadic laugh not believing her in the slightest.

Some of the crowd finally noticed his alien friends and Ms. Ortiz seemed especially interested in sunny, for obvious reasons. The two stepped up to each other examining the other with a critical eye.

Sunny seemed pleased.

Samantha lurked next to him, and he had a feeling she was trying to be discreet, but it wasn’t working. He was still wigging out about this hardly able to believe it. At some point, someone grabbed him and dragged him towards the director's chair where Ellis was was talking to some of the writers.

He turned in his chair, “Adam…. May I call you Adam, Good, the writers and I were just going over the script, and well we have run into a few snags. You gave us a pretty detailed explanation on some of the things that happened, but this part right here, the part where you lose your leg….. It's very vague.”

Adam shuffled his feet awkwardly glancing over to where Sunny was showing the actress how to more properly move like a Drev. A few of the VFX people were there as well examining her armor, its color and debating how best to reproduce that in post. 

“Well I….. It was taken off during the Drev war.”

“I mean, yeah we got that, and not to push but…. Unless you want us to cut that part out.”

He glanced again towards Sunny.

“I…. its hard to talk about.”

A hand on his shoulder, “I understand, I quite understand….”

He mulled it over for a minute while the writers were talking heart hammering in his chest. He had never told Sunny…. Never really explained about his post traumatic stress related to that incident. Never really mentioned how long it took him to trust her, and he never would. 

He'd never fess up to the nightmares.

Because he didn’t want them to matter anymore.

“I can’t explain it to you but…. I can show you.” The group of them turned almost surprised, and he was honestly surprised at himself too. What he was about to do…. It was a bigger deal than any of them might assume.

“Sunny!” he turned, and the bright blue alien trotted over humming happily the way that Drev did. She seemed so happy, nothing like the creature in his dreams, his friend, his best friend.

“Yes?”

“I…. Well I need to show them how I lost my leg, hard to explain, so I thought we might show them.”

He watched Sunny carefully, and was probably the only one who noticed the slight wilt in her shoulders. The guilt flashing in her gold eyes…. Of course the thing in his dreams would never have felt that way, “Oh ... are you sure.”

He cleared his throat waving it off, “Of course, here.” he stepped forward motioning around the room, “I remember the rocks being sort of like this. There was a shallow sort of bowl like a pocket and some rocks here. There were actually a Tesraki and a rundi soldier right there, and I was over here.”

The crew, following his words began moving around the greenscreen landscape creating the sort of space that he was talking about.

“Now I had one of those older models M-23s pieces of shit, and a knife.” He reached out for the prop weapon offered to him, “And the drev had a spear.” He glanced towards Sunny, who was looking very, very uncomfortable, but someone handed her the prop spear. She looked down at it and swivel it in her hand like the thing was an extension of her body.

She didn’t seem particularly satisfied but didn’t say anything. He moved up onto the fake terrain, and she did the same looking over at him with concern. It was almost as if she knew that even though he had never bothered to tell her. 

He came up one side of the set while she came up the other; she had the spear held out ready, and he had the gun up. Of course, he dropped it on it’s sling when it supposedly overheated, 

He remembered this like it had been yesterday, how the rock had felt under his feet, the panic he had felt for the two defenseless soldiers she was stalking. He remembered panicking when the gun malfunctioned, he remembered how he wasn’t thinking straight. He remembered making the decision that cost him his leg.

He didn’t bother trying to go easy on her, catching her around the neck and raising his hand with the collapsable knife.

The world began to spin, and before his eyes he saw the ash and fire.

He heard the gunfire felt his body moving as it once had. Saw the dark shadow, heard the screaming and felt the hot air over his body. He remembered the knife biting into her skin. He remembered being thrown to the ground.

Set lights flashed around him as he slammed into the floor, padded but still painful as he rolled to the side. Sunny’s foot came down right next to his head as he rolled to the side cutting at her heels.

The creature reached down to grab him, but he rolled to his feet cutting at the hand.

He remembered the sweat trickling down his body from the great heat of the volcanoes. He remembered how the ash had coated the stone making things strangely slippery. He remembered the poorly equipped gear and the oversized shoes.

He remembered slipping backwards landing hard on his back as the spear cut downwards.

He remembered bone cracking and flesh splitting in half.

He braced for pain but none came. The fire died, the ash vanished, and he found himself on the ground hands over his face, a spear tip lightly grazing the outer carapace of his prosthetic leg. Sunny stood over him spear held in one of her lower arms. Though her posture was ready for a fight, her eyes….. So much more expressive than that of the creature he remembered from his vision, looked at him in worry and something that looked like pain.

He lay on the ground looking up at her, at her mercy, just like he had been on that day.

And he knew she wouldn’t hurt him.

She withdrew the spear and stepped back offering one hand to him. 

He didn’t hesitate to take it, and she hauled him to his feet.

Together, they turned to look at the spectators who were looking on in awe,and shock.

Quietly sunny began, “Our orders were to remove their limbs…. In our culture Disability IS death. We thought that simply removing their limbs would stop them…. We were wrong.”

Adam tried to keep his voice light, “I don't remember much, but I crawled about ….50 feet down that hill before someone managed to find me and stabilize me. The leg was completely gone, no hope of reattaching something that’s just gone.”

“That was….. Intense.” Ellis finally cut in, “We should have had some cameras rolling dammit. Can we recreate that!” He began ordering his men around, and for a moment, the two of them were forgotten in the crowd. He stood there quietly noticing on the instant as two pairs of arms wrapped themselves around him. Enveloping him in an armored hug that almost completely encased him…. Safe.

A voice at his ear.

“Don’t EVER make me do that again.”

He placed a hand over hers, “Never, I promise.” 

[captain-emmajones]

They were at least sleeping together in Camelot. It's never outright stated, but they shared a bedroom and we know the best way to ignore the darkness in you is to get your back broke by your sexy pirate boyfriend

I seriously like how you think anon. And as usual, no one asked for it, but I wrote a smutty OS set just after 5x02. After healing Robin, Emma goes back to the room she shares with Killian. He finds her there, comforts her and things get spicy eh eh. Enjoy <3 

2000 words - Hurt/Comfort to start with and then Smut - Ao3 

Come on, Killian, one, two, three… He was standing outside of the room he shared with Emma in King Arthur’s castle, and he probably looked bloody ridiculous – feet buried in the floor of this damn corridor, forehead pressed to the door and hand fisted.  

 After the incident and Robin almost dying, Emma had fled to their room – to his greatest dismay.

 To say he was worried for her sake was a bloody understatement. He was consumed by fear, a very childish fear that gripped at his heart and weakened his knees. The fear to lose someone he loved.

 (Oh, he was very well aware of the fact that he couldn’t lose her. That it would simply be impossible for him to outlive her. Emma Swan was his happy ending and his one true love, and no one could survive that kind of love.)

 “Come on, Killian,” an angry whisper, at himself, against his petrified muscles. He couldn’t bear to see her hurt, couldn’t bear not to be able to comfort her.

 He cursed once, gathered all of the courage he had left in his heart, and gently pushed the door.

 His eyes took some time to adjust to the darkness in the room. A dim light was nonetheless diffused by a lonely candle lit by her bedside.

 Very reluctantly, his eyes shifted to discover her laying on her side on the bed, arms wrapped around her knees. He swallowed. He almost expected her to look up because of the deafening noise of his heart breaking on the floor.

 “Oh, Swan, my love,” the whisper escaped his mouth without his consent and he rushed towards her side.

 She remained still, appeared almost as a lifeless body on the mattress, and did not give any sign she had heard him. She had taken the time to undress herself and hide behind the covers, and he find comfort in that simple act of self-care.

 Very gently, he brushed a string of hair from her forehead.

 And swallowed, overcome with sadness. Shook his head. “My love, you are so cold,” but before he could search for an extra blanket, her voice echoed in their room: “I’m not cold, Killian.” A breath as she lifted her gaze towards him, “I’m just the Dark One.”

 Bitter tear came to burn his eyes. “Would you like me to hold you, love?”

 There was a shake of her shoulders and he could tell she was trying to swallow down her sadness. “Come on, captain,” she teased him, her voice hoarse, a sob hidden just behind her smile, “You don’t have to ask for permission.” 

 He quickly resumed to undress himself and put on the linen nightclothes the servant had left for them. Meanwhile, she shifted on the bed, giving him space to lay down beside her. Which he did, after having neatly folded his clothes on a chair.

 When he turned back, she was staring at him with an amused smile.

 “What?” he mumbled, raised an eyebrow.

 “Nothing,” she smiled back, and he could tell she loved this new domesticity between them.

 They hadn’t got a lot of time to themselves in Storybook, and being able to share a room was perhaps the only good side of being in Camelot.

 Something to look forward to, he thought to himself, not knowing Fate had others plans for them.

 He was very careful when he slipped into bed with her, on top of the covers – I am always hot, love – and even more gentle when he embraced her, his lips finding her forehead while his arms pulled her towards him. He heard her exhale loudly as she relaxed between his arms, her mouth coming to meet his neck just where his pulse could be felt.

 Perhaps was there some light in the darkness.

 .

 How good it felt to be against him, even after all this time. In spite of the darkness. It was easier, against him, to muffle Rumpelstiltskin’s voice in her head.  

 She was waiting for him to fall asleep, tucked safely between his arms, waiting for his breath to get deeper and his grip gentler.

 She had a smile to herself. It all brought her back to their first nights together, in Storybook.

 Her fingers found his chest, playing with his hair.

 She remembered her frustration after their first date, when it had all ended with a passionate kiss and her fingers in the silence of her room to dissipate this tension in her belly.

 She had, of course, always wanted him, from the very first moment she had laid eyes on him. Wouldn't have been caught uttering the words, though. 

 Following her thoughts, her fingers became more adventurous on his torso, and she soon heard him grunt.

 “Now, that is not very fair, Swan” he mumbled, and his voice was already full of sleep.

 She chuckled, looking up to find a grumpy, tired face staring back at her. She licked her lips, bit them.

 “Well, I am most sorry, captain,” and her words were followed by her fingers sliding dangerously down his stomach.

 She knew he would have never dared to touch her - not like this at least. He had always been very careful with her, to make sure she wanted this just as much as he did.

 To be fair, it had annoyed her a bit when she had come knocking on his door twenty-four hours after their date, unable to control herself anymore.

 She had almost hit the poor Will just out of pure sexual frustration, and if it was keeping her from doing a good job, then it was her responsibility to come knock at Captain Hook’s door and ask him to fuck her brains out.

 “Are you sure this isn’t too soon, Emma?” he had asked her once she had shut the door of his room at Granny’s behind her.

 She had furiously bitten her lower lips, eyeing him with lust. “Too soon? Are you kidding me? I’ve been holding back for far too long.”

 And with those last words, she had jumped on his lips, crashing her body against his, so desperate to feel him all over her.

 Lost in her memories, she found herself leaving chaste kisses over his neck. Chaste kisses that soon became little flames over his burning skin.

 “Emma, are you sure you want –” he exhaled, his breath already short but not daring to initiate anything she did not want.

 She paused, heart at the edge of her mouth, and lifted her face to stare at him. She saw the concern echoing in the soft waves of his eyes.

 “Yes.” A pause, her fingers finding his jaw, “I want you to touch me, Killian.” And with those last words, she kissed him passionately, her arms wrapping around his neck. He exhaled a “As you bloody wish” against her lips and furthered a kiss that left them both aching to feel the other in the closet way possible.

 And then, it seemed like he changed persona. Killian Jones and his gentle hands were replaced by the passion of Captain Hook who pined her against the bed, a moan escaping her lips.

 Oh, how she loved Captain Hook between the sheets. A little rough but with a lot of love. It reminded her of their beginnings, and how much she had wanted him when he was still her opponent and she was desperately trying to convince herself that she really wanted nothing to do with him. Denial was a nasty bitch.

 His hand found hers, tangled their fingers and pined them above her head. His kisses became quicker against her lips, her jaw, the gentle skin of her neck, in between her breasts…

 “Oh, you are wearing far too many clothes, milady,” he mumbled, seemingly disappointed, and rapidly pulled on her nightdress to reveal her breasts.

 Her breath came out in short puffs as he looked up, diving into her eyes once again. Her heart was about to burst out of her chest, she was sure of it. And when he crashed his lips against her, she could have sworn she was nearing heart failure.

 This time, his tongue came in to play with hers, and she shivered imaging it lower on her body.

 He was quick to kiss her down her chest once again, leaving wet trails behind him. He found her nipples and sucked them gently. Her toes were curling as her hands gripped on the blankets.

 He was good. Really good. Or perhaps was she completely in love. Whatever.

 He tried pulling further down her dress, but he got a little frustrated with it and before she could react he had pulled on it too hard…

 “Bloody hell, I hope Arthur wasn’t fond of these…��� he mumbled, “Although, I’ll have him know I did it for the greater good,” and it was enough to make her burst into laughter.

 The amused sparkles in his eyes found hers, “You won’t be laughing for too long” he whispered the delicious threat, and kissed her stomach.

 She bit her lips in anticipation and hold her breath. She waited for him to go lower, but he was taking his sweet time, kissing the spot just above her navel. He gently bit the side of her hips, and she moaned loudly this time, unable to stop herself.

 “Fuck,” she whispered, her eyes shut in pleasure.

 She felt him chuckle against her lower stomach, and suddenly he was spreading her legs. She waited for his touch, but he took the time to hold back. His missing fingers would be the death of hers. Frustrated, she gave a small movement of her hips that begged him to touch her again.

 He laughed, again, tempting her.

 “Impatient, are we, Swan?”

And then, very slow and lazy fingers discovered the skin of her thighs, caressing them gently. Those very same fingers traced the shape of her ass, climbed back up to trace the line where her lips met. But did not stay there, instead found the softness of her blonde curls and played gently with them.

 She groaned, “Come on, Hook,” and she knew just how wet she already was under his touch.

 But then he was kissing her, there, and she was about to combust into flames.

 She arched her back, moaning in pleasure when his tongue parted her lips to conquer her inside treasure. His movements became more assertive against her skin, and before she could prepare for it, his tongue had penetrated her in the most intimate way.

 Her heart beat loudly in her ears, her breath uneasy.

 His tongue adventured itself on hidden territories, traced all types of geometrical figures there, and then… he pulled away. She complained about it immediately. “Why are you stopping?” She sounded genuinely angry.

 How dare he…

 She opened her eyes to discover him smiling at her, and she found him so tragically handsome it shattered her.

 And then he was diving back into her. Lord, give her the strength… His tongue met her clit and very gently played with it. Up and down, up and down…Her fingers tangled in his hair as she muffled a moan against the pillow beneath her.

 Three hundred years of practice left her knees shaking when his expert tongue sent her over the edge. But then he stopped. Once again.

 “Killian!” this time she was really angry, and her shaky tone gave it all away. She pulled herself just enough together to mumble “Undress yourself and take me right now.”

 The linen clothes on his body was let down on the floor as he stripped from his modern black boxers. She was happy to discover his cock was full of blood and ready to penetrate her.

 She lifted herself to press a kiss against his lips as her hand found his length and stroke it gently. He let out a moan against her lips.

 “Come on, lay down, Swan,” and she obeyed, giving him space for him to settle between her legs.

 With one hand, he guided his cock to her wet center. She swallowed in anticipation as he gently pushed himself inside of her. She held her breath, waves of pleasure overwhelming her. After all this time, they were an easy match and her walls almost immediately adjusted to him.

 Her hands grabbed his ass as to incite him to go further into her, and he did in one lengthy movement. Feeling him completely inside of her was such a relief.

 “Come on, Hook, quicker…”

 “Your wish is my command,” he exhaled, overwhelmed by his own pleasure, and thrusted deeply into her.

 His movement became more erratic, quicker, harsher, and she loved every second of it. Her hands found his jaw as she dived into his eyes, and she loved the red hue she found on his cheeks.

 With his disheveled black hair and his rosy cheeks, her captain was irresistible under the candle light.

 .

 When they both had come, and they settled to try and sleep the few hours they had left until morning, she found a very small voice whispering in her heart that everything would be okay, so long as she had him.

 (As it were, fate cared little that there was no future for her if not with him.)

[thenugking]

anyway here’s that pre-relationship pre-campaign fic i wrote for hennie and their patron

nb orc warlock/nb archfey patron 2000 words, also they’re both autistic and the fey are welsh in this world.

cw: brief mentions of domestic abuse, sexual harrassment, alcohol, and allistic behaviour 

AO3 link

***

The locals warn to avoid the Woods. Barely more than a copse from the outside, but they say those who enter can become hopelessly lost. They say the air is thick with old magics there. They say that at the center lies a ring of mushrooms, a portal to the Feywild. They say within the Woods dwells a powerful, dangerous, beautiful Fey, whose powers of seduction are otherworldly and devastating.

Which all sounds incredibly fucking hot to Hennie.

Hennie’s been interested in the Fey since they started their apprenticeship. Or at least, from three weeks in, when Master Cornelis finally stopped making them copy shopping lists, and instead gave them a book of Folktales of the Fey. Since then, they’ve read everything about the Fey they can get their hands on. Back in their home village of Gornstad, Hennie dreamed hopelessly of adventuring in the Feywild. Accompanying Master Cornelis to the town of Arentsen to do in-person calligraphy for a very prestigious client--one Hennie should probably have remembered the name of--they’ve spoken with people who actually knew those a Fey spirited away, and for the first time, their dreams seem like they might actually be obtainable.

And the fact that this Fey makes a habit of seducing Orcs who wander into their Woods doesn’t hurt either.

It’s a little past the stroke of midnight--Hennie took a couple of wrong turns on the way--and the Woods seem unnaturally quiet around them. Guided only by the rumours of the townsfolk, and an unwavering commitment to the cause of faery sex, Hennie ventures onwards, further into the Woods. Their heart beats heavy in their chest as they notice an outline of mushrooms between the gnarled old trees, and they suck in a breath before taking that fateful step into the ring.

Nothing happens.

“Uh… hello?” Hennie looks around. “Lord…? Lady…? Sir Fey? Are you there?”

A slight wind blows through the wood as they stand there, and Hennie shivers. Maybe they should have brought a cloak, instead of the shirt thin enough to show off their chest. Or maybe they should have stayed in their warm bed in the inn, and got some sleep, instead of chasing stories. Master Cornelis isn’t going to be happy if they yawn their way through tomorrow’s lessons again. Whether Hennie’s just not pretty enough to be worth seducing, or there was never really a Fey here to begin with, no one’s coming, and Hennie’s pretty sure they’re wasting their time.

“I must say, it’s been a while since anyone sought me out,” comes a voice from behind them.

Hennie whirls around, their breath catching in their throat.

The Fey stands illuminated between the trees, the Woods somehow light around them, though they don’t carry a torch. They look almost human, except very unhuman in a way Hennie can’t quite place. Their shining white hair blows in the wind--the wind that Hennie was certain stopped before they appeared. They’re the most beautiful being Hennie’s ever seen.

“Uh,” they say.

“Eloquent,” the Fey responds, and Hennie can feel their cheeks heating. Their face is serene, yet their eyes seem to bore into Hennie. “I am here to bargain, not to give freely. If you wish another word from me, you will tell me--truthfully--your intentions in coming here.”

“Um. So it’s--it’s really nice to meet you. Amazing, actually. Hello.”

True to their word, the Fey doesn’t reply, only continues to regard them impassively.

Hennie takes a deep breath. “People said you seduce visitors to the forest?” they blurt out.

The Fey’s composure slips suddenly, and for a moment they look astonished, before they throw their head back and laugh. The sound is magical, but Hennie feels it maybe goes on a little too long.

“Is that why you came here, dynan? Seduction?” They seem to have regained their poise, but the corner of their mouth twitches upwards in a smile. “You think I desire mortals for intercourse?”

“No! I mean--that’s what people in town think! They say Orcs fall in love with you, and then you spirit them away.”

“Your people do like to think the worst of mine.”

“So… what do you really do?”

“Avoid concerning myself with the affairs of mortals, when possible.”

“But you come when called?”

“Yes.”

They answered only what asked, Hennie realised. Of course they did--they had told them they didn’t give freely. Hennie had done the same as a child, until Master Cornelis had taught them that “No” was not an adequate answer to the question of, “Have you finished copying the manuscript yet?” and they also had to give a reason why not, and an estimation of when they would be finished. It feels odd to realise Master Cornelis’ conversation style is now more familiar to them than their own. It feels comforting to return to their own with the Fey.

“So what made everyone think you seduce people away? If you know?”

“Misunderstandings.”

“Tell me about them? Please?”

“Politeness, too. How sweet. Very well then, dynan. The first came to me for help. He felt his name and his place in your realm a meager enough payment to escape his wife’s beatings. The second was a Lord who thought himself powerful enough to take whatever he wanted,” their lip curls, “That he could make an archfey bend to his whims.” They grin suddenly, their teeth gleaming, before they turn and place their hand on one of the gnarled trees. “I thought he should learn to give back to the world a little.” Shadows dance across the Woods, and for a moment, Hennie thinks they see a grimacing face staring out from the tree trunk.

“Right. Um. Sorry for... presuming. Uh.”

“Since you’re here, you could always offer me something in return for me granting you the gift of speech.”

“I know how to--hey, none of the books ever said the Fey make fun of people!”

“Didn’t they? Then perhaps it’s just me. Or perhaps it’s just you.” The Fey is smiling at them now, their eyes--somehow able to repel and draw Hennie in at the same time--glinting.

“Uh,” says Hennie again.

“Or perhaps it need not be a jest, after all.”

“No, I’m fine!” The Fey wants real answers, real explanations. “It’s just--I know I was wrong about the whole… seduction… thing, but you’re beautiful, and I’ve wanted to meet a Fey for years, and this is the most amazing thing that’s ever happened to me, so I’m sort of… overwhelmed. And intimidated. And… you know.”

“Do I?”

Hennie flushes again. “It doesn’t matter! You said you weren’t interested in mortals.”

“Did I?”

Hennie opens their mouth to respond, and then closes it again as they think back over the conversation. “No. You said you hadn’t seduced mortals here before. You didn’t… you didn’t say you wouldn’t.” The fey continues to watch them impassively. “So does that mean… could we… am I seducing you?”

They smile again, bright and sharp, and take a step closer to Hennie. They could have sworn the Fey was shorter than them--tall for a human, perhaps, but nothing to an Orc--but somehow, they tower over Hennie now. Their heart feels like it’s about to burst from their chest as the Fey reaches out to take their chin and tilt it upwards, and Hennie closes their eyes.

“I think not,” says the Fey.

Hennie’s eyes snap open. The fey has let go of their chin, and is several feet away again, without Hennie having noticed them move. “Oh. Right. I mean. Of course, that’s your right. But you were kind of leading me on there…”

“You muddle your words once again, mortal. I was most definitely leading you on.”

“Right. Yeah. So can I ask--No, I’m just asking. Why not?”

“Because I am an Archfey, the Tywysog of a realm your mortal mind cannot comprehend, I have powers that can change the very plane you walk on. You are tiny, compared to me. Make no mistake, our meeting has been delightful, but while I may tease you for my own amusement, I will not take advantage of you further, dynan.”

“Right. I mean, I’d be fine with it if you did take advantage…”

“I gathered.”

“I guess you have. Yeah.” Hennie looks down, shuffling their feet. “So, I mean, I’m still really interested in all the non-seduction related things? Can I give you my soul for a trip to the Feywild, or something?”

The Fey’s eyebrows raise. “You can.”

“That would be, uh, a much better deal on your end, wouldn’t it?”

“Quite.”

The Fey steps forward again, staring at Hennie closely, and they feel a flicker of fear. “I don’t--I’m not giving you my soul. Not for just one trip, anyway.”

Their smile now is softer than any of those they’ve given so far. “And I would not take it. I have been far kinder with you than I needed to be, dynan. Other Fey may not be. And I suspect I have done little to temper your enthusiasm to meet them. So I will offer you a deal.”

This was the moment, according to everyone Hennie had ever spoken to about the Fey, that they should start running in the opposite direction. Well, actually, most people they brought the subject up with told them not to go looking for the Fey in the first place, but everyone was pretty united on the, “Don’t take any deal they offer you,” front.

“Go on,” says Hennie.

“Give me your name. Make yourself mine. Come to me when I call, and help me when I ask. In return, I will protect you from other Fey, I shall ask no more of you than you are able to give, and I will grant you the gift of magic. All this I promise you.”

Hennie really isn’t sure there’s any downsides. “That… would be amazing. Wait, when you say you want my name, do you mean what my parents named me, or--”

“Of course not. It matters little what others call you. Your name is your own.” Their lip twitches. “At least for the next few moments.”

“All right. I accept. My name’s Hennie. Hennie Geluk.”

The Fey is holding a pendant. Hennie didn’t see them pick it up, but is sure they weren’t holding it a moment ago. They hold it up, and it shines in the moonlight. “Hennie. Take my blessing, wear my locket, and you shall have the magic of a Warlock at your fingertips.” They raise their pendant to Hennie’s neck, and then pause, their hands almost touching them again. “There is… something further I could offer you. A suggestion, rather than a deal. A bargain uncompleted. If you wished.”

“Tell me.”

“What I’m giving you is the ability to cast spells. Your skill you will have to develop by yourself, through experience. There is a town, far away, across the sea. There are mortals who will be drawn together. Travel there, seek them out, quest with them, and you will begin to gain that experience. And your power will grow. And at the end of it… I shall make you no more promises, but you would not be so tiny. Make of that what you will.”

“So… if I leave my home, and my job, and everything, and go off on a dangerous quest with strangers… you might bang me at the end of it?”

“That is one path in a stream of endless possibilities.”

“Yes! I’ll do it.”

The Fey smiles, fastening the pendant around Hennie’s neck. “You do amuse me, dynan.”

The world around Hennie glows with light, and images of strangers flash across their vision.

An aged elf wielding a greataxe, the brow of a ship behind her. A goblin working on an intricate magical construct. A human healer, set of scalpels in hand. A young woman whose ears suggest elven ancestry, but whose wax seals suggests an allegiance to the inferior human calligraphy guild. A bombillan with a swarm of smaller bees surrounding them. A dwarf playing a steel drum one handed, as she takes a swig from a bottle with the other. A port town, the name Hrip inscribing itself in Hennie’s mind.

When it’s over, the Fey is gone, and Hennie is alone in the Woods again. They shiver, the cold of the night returning as it occurs to them that this hadn’t been a problem in the Fey’s presence. They wish again that they’d brought something warmer, and then suddenly, their shirt is letting off heat. Right. Magic.

Hennie beams to themself as they start to make their way back to town. They have a long journey ahead of them. And if things go very, very well, a powerful, dangerous, beautiful Fey to bang.

[cutetinyartist]

tiny person sentence starters - 18, if you wanna write anything around that? :D

Thanks for the prompt! Sorry it took me so long to finish ^^’ Also because I’m a dumbass I didn’t think to put the prompt sentence at the start of the fic and not just in the middle of it?? So I might write another fic using this prompt soon so I can get it right >w<

Anyway tho, I wrote Scientist!Danny Sexbang inventing a Shrink Ray in this one cus I thought it’d be fun! Hope you like it ^^

Word Count: 2000 (I got a biiiit carried away while writing this ^^’)

It was a casual Saturday afternoon and Danny had invited you over to help out with one of his science projects. You were both excited and slightly nervous to see what he'd made this time, as his experiments were always very adventurous, to say the least...

As you entered his lab, you noticed that it was in its usual disorganized state and that Danny was trying to untangle a complete clusterfuck of wires that were connected to the huge device in the corner of the room. He glanced up from his work and his look of annoyance at the wires turned into a bright smile when he saw you.

He immediately stood up and speedily walked over, almost tripping over the wires in his enthusiasm.

Instead of his usual Spandex and cape, he was wearing the scientist outfit that you'd only seen him wear a few times in the past. His labcoat was long and swayed behind him as he approached you and, although he was wearing safety goggles, you could see the twinkle in his eyes. He was just wearing a Rush t-shirt and jeans under his labcoat, and you also noticed that he had blue vinyl gloves on. His curly hair was tightly tied up in a ponytail, however a few wild hairs were sticking out and some hung in front of his face.

"Hey, (Y/N)! I'm so glad you came! I can't wait to show you what I've been working on!"

He grabbed your hand and lead you towards the huge machine. It was shaped like a giant tube and looked like something out of a Sci-Fi movie you'd seen ages ago. The tube had glass walls and a silver metal base, and looked just about big enough to stand in. There were several wires connected to it and they lead to a panel with a few brightly coloured buttons and screens on it.

"What is this?" You asked curiously.

"It's a shrink ray! I saw one in a TV Show last week and thought it'd be fun to try making my own."

"No way!" You gasped, "Does it work?"

"Well... That's kinda why you're here. Could you help me do the final tests, please? I'm 99% sure that it'll work but Ninja Brian won't let me test it on him for some reason."

You stifled a giggle at the thought of the murderous Ninja being only a few inches tall, before answering Danny's question, "Sure, I'd love to. What exactly do you need me to do?"

You'd helped Danny quite a few times in the past with his experiments, so you weren't too hesitant about helping with this one. Plus, (although you were way too shy to admit it) you really wanted to be tiny, so him inventing a shrink-ray was like a dream come true. When he'd asked you to help test out the invention you'd almost squealed with excitement!

"I knew I could count on you, (Y/N)!"

He beamed, "Just step into the machine and I'll handle the rest. Oh, and DON'T touch the glass or look at the ray!"

You walked into the tube and your heart began beating faster. Although it was big enough to stand in it still felt slightly claustrophobic and now that you were about to have it tested on you, you couldn't stop trembling anxiously. The glass had a blue tinge to it and made everything outside of the tube look blurred.

"Are you okay in there?" Danny's muffled voice came from outside the glass.

"Yeah!" You shouted back.

"Are you ready for me to push the button?"

"Yeah, I'm ready!"

"Okay, good! I'll press it in three... two... one..."

Danny finished counting down and you were instantly engulfed by a blinding white flash. It felt like you were being tightly squeezed and spun around by an unseen force, and it was a sensation that made you dizzier than you'd ever been before.

Although the light disappeared almost as soon as it appeared, it took a moment longer for the dizziness to fade away.

The sound of the door sliding back open and booming footsteps coming towards you made you quickly open your eyes, and the first thing you saw was Danny. This normally wouldn't shock you too much, however he was now absolutely gigantic to you! He was looking at you with a huge smile on his face as he swiftly approached you.

"Holy shit! I can't believe it worked!" Were the first words out of his mouth as he crouched down. Even in that position he still completely towered over you, and the sight of his huge hand reaching towards you made you nervously stumble backwards.

Danny stopped moving his hand and softly smiled, "Relax, (Y/N), I won't hurt you. I do need to pick you up so I can take you out of the machine but don't worry, okay?"

You gulped, “Just remember that I’m a lot smaller than you. Be careful."

"Of course I'll be careful," He said with a smirk as he wrapped his fingers around you and lifted you up. Despite the fact that he was wearing vinyl gloves, you could still feel the warmth radiating from his skin. His fingers were like tree-trunks and the way that they enveloped you made you realise how tiny you truly were.

He walked over to his desk and adjusted his grip on you so that you were now sat in the palm of his hand. He reached towards you with his other hand, and although you were still slightly nervous you didn't flinch. The tip of his index finger was almost the same size as your chest now, and as he softly touched your tiny body you couldn't stop yourself from blushing. He was definitely trying to be gentle, but you could tell that he was far too excited about the fact that his device had worked. It was like nothing you'd ever experienced before and you were adoring every second of it. He stroked the top of your head before slowly rubbing the tip of his finger down your arm. When he reached your hand he gently held it between his thumb and forefinger.

"Wow..." He whispered, "How do you feel? What's it like, being so tiny?"

It took you a minute to find your voice because of how flustered you were, but after a moment you cleared your throat and spoke, "I- I don't really know how to describe it but being this tiny and seeing everything from this perspective is kind of daunting, but also really cool!"

Your answer made him smile and he continued to massage your hand between his fingers as he thought of his next question, "And how did it feel to be shrunk? Was being in the machine okay? I wanted to make it more of a portable ray-gun but I almost blew up the place when I was trying to do that..." He chuckled as he trailed off.

"It made me feel REALLY dizzy at first but- but it all happened so fast. One minute I was being spun around and surrounded by a bright light, the next I was standing there like nothing even happened."

"I'll have to try it later- provided that getting you back to your normal size works-" He mumbled before immediately bursting into laughter when he saw the shocked look on your face, "I'm kidding! I'm sure it'll work."

You began laughing with him too; his laughter was always so contagious!

"God, (Y/N), you're so adorable," He said softly, grinning when he saw how much that made you blush. The fact that his deep brown eyes were entirely focused on you made your heart flutter, and you were in love with his perfect smile.

...

After an hour or two (you always tended to lose track of time when you were with Danny) of hanging out and admiring how huge everything was to you now, you yawned sleepily.

"Shit, I didn't realise how late it was getting-" Danny mumbled to himself before saying to you, "Do you want me to get you back to your normal size now?"

You really wanted to say no, but instead you said yes because you knew that you should probably go home soon. Besides, you could always ask him to shrink you again in the future!

He steadily walked over to the machine and gently placed you inside before going back over to the buttons that controlled it. The gigantic door closed in what felt like slow-motion and you braced yourself for the blinding flash and dizziness...

The bright light did come, however it didn't feel like anything else was happening. You suddenly heard a loud crackling sound from high above you, and when the light faded away you screamed when you saw that the machine was filling with smoke! The door slid open and Danny quickly pulled you out of it, cupping his hands around you and swiftly moving away from the device.

"Oh god, (Y/N), are you okay?" His voice was laced with concern as he moved his hand and held you closer to his twinkling brown eyes. He stared intently at you, wanting to make sure that you hadn't been injured.

"I'm fine- what happened?" You asked.

Danny let out a sigh of relief, "Well I pushed the button and- and smoke started coming out of the machine... Sorry about picking you up so suddenly, I just panicked!"

"It's okay, I don't mind-" You bit your lip nervously. If the machine was broken then who knows how long you'd be stuck at such a tiny size...

Although you'd wanted to be tiny, you did want to at least be able to get back to normal size when you needed to!

Danny absentmindedly stroked the top of your head with his thumb as he tried to think of what to do, "I'm just gonna put you on the desk for a minute, I need to see if I can fix this..."

When he placed you on the vast surface of the desk, you immediately began to walk around and look at everything towering over you. A stack of books looked like an uneven wall that you could probably climb, and a simple water bottle was the size of a building. You looked over at Danny and the machine. The smoke had thankfully stopped coming out of it (and luckily the lab had a good ventilation system so it was pretty much gone) but it didn't seem like Danny knew how to fix the machine.

He turned to face you with a sheepish look on his face, "I- um- I'm not sure how to fix this- I might need Ninja Brian to do it... But I don't actually know where he is-"

Danny was interrupted by Ninja Brian literally appearing from nowhere.

"Oh, there he is-"

Ninja Brian took one look at you, then one look at the machine and immediately knew what to do. He moved so fast that you could hardly even see him and before you knew it, it looked like he'd fixed the shrink ray! Before you or Danny could say anything else, Brian had already disappeared.

Danny approached you and scooped you into his palm, "So, shall we get you back to normal now that it's fixed?"

You hesitantly fidgeted, as you actually wanted to stay tiny for a little while longer. You knew that it was fixed, but after everything that had just happened you were a bit apprehensive about going back into the tube.

After a brief awkward silence you asked, "Can I maybe stay like this for a bit longer?"

Danny smiled softly and nodded, "Of course you can," He began to stroke your back, "I'm actually kinda relieved that you asked that because I don't wanna stop holding you just yet."

His remark made your heart flutter, and the two of you relaxed together for the rest of the evening. You eventually fell asleep in his palm, and he decided that he could always return you to normal when you woke up the next day.

[inkinghubris]

Hemingway and Other Things You Shouldn't Talk About

Hemingway Said, You Do Not Talk About Writing

Rule number one: You do not talk about writing. Rule number two: You do NOT talk about writing! I always picture Brad Pitt walking around telling a group of authors all the rules before a furious word slinging writers event, in some dark, seedy basement covered in sweat and coffee stains.

Hemingway and Fight Club have things in common, such as rules about not talking. Obviously this is not the case. However, as writers we have a series of unwritten laws that we tend to either abide or pretend to be oblivious too. I am Jack's complete lack of interest. Writers Have Heroes, Too As writers, we have authors as heroes just as those school kids look up to athletes. Stephen King, Ernest Hemingway, Henry Miller and Stu Stein, to name a few. These authors broke the first rule of Writing Club: they all have a publication called On Writing. "Throughout Ernest Hemingway's career as a writer," says Larry W. Phillips in his introduction to Ernest Hemingway on Writing, "he maintained that it was bad luck to talk about writing." So what else are we mortal writer's, superstitious or otherwise, not supposed to do or say? There is quite a list, actually. I am Jack's bleeding heart. Rule #1 As we have established, it is bad luck to talk about writing. Thanks, Ernest. Why, though? Basically, as Hemingway explains further, it is better to just write and not speak of it. In his method of removing all the bullshit and leaving behind only the greatness. I disagree with this almost completely. Almost. I feel that we are just glorified campfire story-tellers. It is our duty to tell stories. Written down for others to enjoy at their leisure, obviously, that's why we are "writers". At the core of it all, however, we tell stories. Talking about our stories is just in our nature. I am Jack's gaping mouth. I do agree with the concept that we shouldn't brag, and we also shouldn't try to school or teach every passer-by with our knowledge of the process. Just tell the story, mate. Rule #2 Another no-no myth is that we should write perfect. I am Jack's decaying ego. As the saying goes: practice makes perfect. I disagree. I used to tell my football teams that practice does NOT make perfect, only perfect practice makes perfect. They just looked at me and nodded "yes coach".

Don't practice writing, practice perfect writing. In writing, this same method applies to an extent. If you practice writing you will get better, but only so far as you write perfect. The problem is that no one just writes perfectly out of the box. If we did, there would be no need for drafts and we would just pump out perfect final drafts day in and day out. James Patterson was said to have written over a million words before he wrote his first novel. Writing makes you write better, but to write better you don't just write words, you write better words. The one issue I have with this is that trying to write every word perfectly distracts from the art. Instead, I suggest that you just write. Worry only about perfection while editing and focus on writing perfectly whilst writing the final draft. Otherwise, just write. Rule #3 Don't write like your idols. Sigh. I have heard this over and over and over and every time it upsets me to no end. Believe it or not, there is a finite number of writing genres. We are drawn towards certain ones and turned off by others. I, for example, love thriller and horror and dislike romance and most young adult. Having authors as idols is not a bad thing and if we aspire to be an author then who should we emulate? Our idols. Exactly. So why are we told not to? The reasons vary from one mouth to another, but the main theme seems to be that we should write our own style in our own voice. I tend to believe, though, that our own style and voice will come out, anyway. We should write like our idols. I don't write romance, and would never try to emulate Nicholas Sparks. However, writing horror I see nothing wrong trying to write in similar styles of King, Koontz or Barker. Will I ever write a book and have a publisher read it and say... "Hey! did Clive Barker write this?" No. That will never happen. However, if I am trying to sell a horror book and someone compares it to Clive Barker, then I should feel overwhelmingly excited about that. Writing like your idols is never a bad thing. Rule #4 You should never ask your mom for feedback. Again, heavy sigh. Friends and family are essential for writers' feedback, especially if you are just starting out. While it is true that mom and dad will have a harder time giving you negative feedback (generally) this is not a bad thing. As a writer, you will experience enough setbacks and hardships and negativity to last five lifetimes. Eventually it will harden you, make you better, make you more fierce. In the beginning though, it's detrimental to your writing career. If you start out with negative feedback, you will eventually believe it. Having mom coo and gush over your first few works will help boost your ego and keep you going. From there, you will begin perfect practice and have thousands more words under your belt. You must seek out your mom and close friends for feedback in the beginning (and again any time you need to return to your happy place of believing you can accomplish this task). It is essential, and helpful. I am Jack's boastful pride. Rule #5

If you don't know, believe you know. Base it on natural physics or biology and readers will believe it as real, too. Write what you know. This is tricky and I agree with it to a very limited extent. Readers (and publishers alike) know when you are bullshitting them. If you are writing about car mechanics and you know nothing of repairing an engine, you will turn your readers off. Once you lose a reader because you don't know what you are talking about, they will never believe another word you write, if they even finish the book. However, just writing what you know will severely limit what you write about. And what about things that no one knows about? Aliens, vampires, deep space... if we only ever wrote what we knew, then books like Lewis' Narnia or Tolkien's ring quests and hobbits, would never exist. I take the phrase "write what you know" and change it slightly to "write what you believe." A simple change that allows the author to have a slight edge in the truthfulness in the story. I am Jack's cancer-ridden mind. We Don't Know Everything Certainly no one knows about hobbits, but Tolkien believed in them so much that what he said about them was a gospel of truth. No one doubts hobbits because Tolkien didn't doubt them. However, we can't always write absolute fantasy. So you should know your material. You need to know how wounds heal, how radios operate, or how television signals work. Otherwise, if you bull shit these small details, You won't have much success. Roald Dahl wouldn't have such success with Willy Wonka. Sure there is a great deal of fantasy in that chocolate factory, but imagine if Dahl had simply made up how television signals work? We would never believe that it was possible to travel through those television waves and might have put the book down. Believe what you write and learn what you do not know. Don't be afraid of research and get the small details right. Rule #6 Don't write cliche. The main problem I have with this "advice" is that we then have to define what is cliche. Then, further, if we don't write cliche, there wouldn't be cliche to write. The issue there is that cliche works. That is why it is cliche. Now you are asking yourself how many more times can I possibly say that word in one paragraph. The answer is 97. However, I will refrain. Yes, the works can be overworked or even trite. They are important. This is never more obvious than when you get ideas for stories. Just like Hollywood, the literary world goes around in a circle. For example, right now we have an influx of super hero movies that followed a slew of Romance and Romantic comedies. True, too, will be that the literary world will follow suit. Wizards and broom stick games followed by vampires and werewolves. It's all a Cycle Horror is popular when Young Adult is on the decline and Romance blooms when Fantasy fades. Just because you write cliche projects (96) don't worry about it. You may have to put it in a drawer and forget it for a few years, but soon and once again, the time will be right and people will be clamoring for that long-forgotten cliche (95) to be unleashed. Don't be afraid to complete a project, just because the market is currently flooded with a similar style of work doesn't mean it won't get noticed. "It's only after we've lost everything that we are free to do anything." Rule #7 You must find your unique voice. Umm. This is such a convoluted piece of advice. Yes, you do, but no, you do not. Confused? You should be. I spent too many wasted hours trying to follow this seemingly simple "fact". Hours I will never get back. Quickly (as I have other posts and pages about voice here that go into deeper detail), voice is not how you talk or the sounds that come from your characters mouths. Voice is, in essence, a style. The catch, however, is that your book's voice is unique to that book. Your voice will change from project to project. Do you need to find it? The real answer is that you will notice the voice emerging as you work. From draft to draft your project's voice will emerge and you can then focus more on it. For now, in the beginning, it isn't such a big worry. It will come and if it doesn't, then that is one tale-tell sign that perhaps that particular project isn't making the finish line. Rule #8 Finally, the old tale to ensure you write every single day. You must write X amount of words, or for X amount of hours every single day if you are going to be successful. There are so many "facts" to support this: King writes 2000 words every day and won't stop until he's done it. Or, Koontz ensures, he writes for a minimum of 2 hours each day. Yes, that method works for some, even a lot of, people. However, these famous authors are paid to write. Are you yet paid to write every day? I know that I am not. I have work, and children and family and friends and shopping to do and places to go. Let's be frank. You need to make the time to write. It does need to be a habit that you can do and get into. If it's ever a chore, then perhaps it isn't for you. It is nice to have goals. However, I will fight to the death against anyone that says I must write a certain amount or for a certain time every single day. We Have Lives I have a life. You do too. While you, like me, want to make a career from writing, you also have other obligations and other spontaneous things that appear that take our time, focus and attention away. Go with it. Get a break. Take a day or even two off. Go outside. Research. Read. Watch a movie. Get some sun on your skin. Go shopping. You do not have to write every single day. Just as long as you don't fall in the hole and make not-writing the habit. I am Jack's exhausted colon. Write. Write often. Get lost in it. Talk about it. Get positive feedback. Enjoy what you do and do it with a fervor and a vigor that rivals pure passion. Read the full article

[thejacketandthehook]

The Art of Pretending 4/?

Title: The Art of Pretending 4/?

Author: thejacketandthehook (aka everystareverywhere)

Summary:  Killian Jones needs a family and needs one now. In order to impress his boss, Killian hires a single mother and her son to pretend to be his wife and son for the weekend. Nothing can go wrong, right?

Rating: Teen (for language)

Words:  13,479

Author’s Notes: Hello all! Here is my submission for the @captainswanmoviemarathon! This is based off of the Lifetime movie, “Borrowed Hearts,” starring Eric McCormack and Roma Downey. The movie came out in 1997, and I consider it to be one of the first made-for-tv Christmas movies.

A couple of years ago I was watching it and thought this would be a fantastic scenario for our favorite Captain and Savior. I wrote it and then stopped, and then started it again, only to stop again. When I saw this movie marathon, I knew instantly this was the movie I wanted to do and I wanted to make sure that I finished it this time.

I hope you enjoy it!

A30

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3

TWO YEARS AGO

Emma laughed heartily. “No, no, no, please, Mary Margaret, please tell me you didn’t say that!”

Her best friend was laughing so hard, that she had one hand on Emma’s arm and the other on the table. “I did, Emma. I did –Oh! David’s face turned so red!”

“You threaten three guys that looked like Vikings!” Emma laughed harder. She wasn’t sure if it was the story that was so funny, or the fact that she had three glasses of rum and coke that just made the story funny. “I’m sure David saw his life flash before his eyes!”

Mary Margaret took a deep breath, trying to control her laughter. Some giggles still came through as she said, “But I told you, I’m an excellent marks—mark—marksmmm—I can hit something really well.”

Her four glasses of margaritas were certainly making it harder for Mary Margaret to get her words out, but Emma laughed anyway.

She looked down at her phone and when she noticed that Neal called again, she groaned.

“Neal?” Mary Margaret asked as she raised her (fifth) glass of margarita up to her lips.

“Yeah. Guy can’t take a hint.” I don't want to talk to him."

“Maybe you should just…I don’t know? Ignore him?” she asked in such a way that she wasn’t suggesting it.

Emma sighed. “I wish I could, but--”

“But Henry, yeah." She sobered up before asking, "I thought things were getting better, yeah? Like, I thought you kind of liked him again.”

“I did. But—”

Mary Margaret reached out and grabbed Emma’s bicep. She opened her mouth to say something, looking dead into Emma’s eyes, when she squeezed the bicep again and looked down at it. “God, girl, when do you work out? You’re toned as hell.”

“I’ve got a demanding job and a six-year-old. I work out to relieve stress.”

Mary Margaret let go of Emma’s arm before raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t Neal supposed to help relieve stress too? Or someone else, at least.” she asked with a suggestive wink. Or, at least that’s what she was going for, but it was more like a blink.

“You’d think,” Emma snorted. “I don’t even know the last time I got any ”

“And you’ve haven’t even been married for ten years for that to fizzle out.” Mary Margaret was certainly more direct when she some liberations in her. “I take it there is no spark any more.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “Sparks are from Romance novels, and movies made in the 2000s. Nobody has sparks.”

“David and I have sparks.”

“You and David are in another category that no one else will ever live up to.”

Mary Margaret shook her head, and Emma knew that she was going to give her some hope speech that, in all honestly, Emma probably heard about three hundred times already. Before she could fully launch into her speech, Emma grabbed her bag from the table and told her best friend she needed the bathroom.

She walked (more like stumbled) towards through the bar, excusing herself when she bumped into someone and shook her head as she thought about her best friend and her husband. Another category, indeed. Mary Margaret and David made falling in love (and staying in love) look so easy. And while life for Emma Swan hasn’t been easy, love has been even worse.

Just thinking about Neal made Emma so mad she was seeing red. Her thoughts on Neal and how much she currently hated him consuming her, that she stumbled once more into the bathroom door. Only it opened as she fell and a pair of strong arms grabbed her around her waist.

“Aye, watch it love,” said a voice she wasn’t sure she actually heard before. Mainly because it sounded like music to her ears, but also because whoever this man was spoke with an English accent. Kind of like the Tenth Doctor, from Doctor Who. That kind of accent.

“Sorry,” she muttered as she gathered herself. Once she was standing up (semi) straight, she flipped her hair over her shoulder and almost gagged on her spit. For standing in front of her, leaning down just a tad so he was able to look in the eye with no difficulties, was a movie star.

Okay, not really a movie star, but one that certainly looked like he should have been on the main guy in a rom-com. With piercing blue eyes, dark hair, and a five o’clock shadow she was sure would be rough to the touch, he might as well have just walked off of a set.

Emma hadn’t seen herself in a while, but she knew that her mascara was probably rubbed all over her eyes, and some of her make-up was in need of a touch up. She’d count herself lucky if her long blonde hair actually looked good, instead of looking like it needed a good brushing (like it usually did by this point in a night).

“Well, well, well,” the man smiled down at Emma, and Holy. Shit. Seriously, where did this guy come from? “What do we have here?”

“A girl who needs the bathroom,” she insisted.

The man’s smile turned more into a grin. “Of course. What kind of gentleman would I be if I blocked the lady from her destination?”

He didn’t move, and Emma wasn’t steady enough on her feet to push him. “Dude, let me pass.”

He shook his head a little, as though he was lost in thought, and said, “Right. Of course,” and step aside.

Emma walked towards the door and as she went to close it, realized he was still standing there. “What? Are you going to protect me from any dragons?”

He laughed. “Dragons? Lass, what kind of bar do you think this is?”

“Well, you never really know,” she retaliated. “Some dude might be standing in front of the bathroom so he could try to flirt with someone who needs to pee.”

He laughed, and Emma swore she heard bells ringing. “I believe that, yes.”

Who is this guy, Emma thought to herself. She shook her head as she closed the door. A part of her hoped the guy would still be there when she opened it, while the other part of her hoped he was long gone. She didn’t know which side was winning.

When she was finished and opened the door with a paper towel, sure enough the guy was still standing there.

“My hero,” she joked as she took a step into the hallway, holding onto the wall for good measure.

He grinned again, and Emma wished her heart didn’t pound at the sight. Good Lord, this man just grins at her and her heart beats faster than when Neal actually touched her.

“I’m a gentleman,” he retorts.

Emma chuckles. “Sure. Right. A gentleman.”

His grin falters as he asks, “You doubt me, love?”

Leaning a little closer, almost pointing her finger in his face – she might actually be in his face, her equilibrium is completely off right now –she mutters, “You look more like a pirate than a dashing prince.”

She leans back, taking in his whole body, and good Lord, what has she gotten herself into? Wearing a dark button-down shirt with a navy (could be black too, it’s hard to tell in this hallway that isn’t too well lit) vest over it, and dark jeans, this man certainly looks like he walked right out of romance novel. Only, he’s the bad-boy-mama-warned-you-about.

Emma licked her lips. The fact that she herself didn’t have a “mama” who could warn her about anything didn’t faze her right now, like it usually does. This man (and the alcohol) seem to have that effect on her.

“I prefer a dashing rapscallion,” he smirked, a small dimple appearing on his cheek.

And he has dimples?! Emma’s mind screamed.

She shook her head at him, “You’re something else, I tell you.”

He smiled at her, and she was sure that the room tilted just a tad. “I get that a lot.” Looking at her lips before looking back into her eyes, he commented, “Don’t I get something for protecting you against the dragons?”

Her mind was foggy, but now it was crystal clear. It was her turn to smirk. “Really? You ‘protect’ me against imaginary dragons, and you want a favor? What kind of gentleman are you?”

“We discussed this, love,” he said, taking a step closer to her and almost whispering. “A dashing rapscallion.”

Emma could feel the heat in her cheeks, and her heart was pounding in her ears. She didn’t want to admit that this man (whatever his name was), has gotten her more excited in the last ten minutes than Neal has in the last few years.

“You couldn’t handle it,” she flirted.

He raised an eyebrow and watched her carefully. “Perhaps you’re the one who couldn’t handle it,” he whispered back.

Looking him in the eyes before looking at his lips, Emma made up her mind before she could fully register it. Grabbing his shirt tightly, she pulled him closer to her and smashed her lips against his. And as much as she wanted to admit that he was all talk, he most certainly was not. His lips moved with hers in a rhythm that she has never been able to establish with any other guy she has been with. It was almost like he knew she wanted, which was impossible, because they never even met before.

She kissed him harder, her hands letting go of his shirt to work their way around his neck. He, too, was busy, his hands first around her waist before one hand went into her hair and gently, oh so gently, held onto her golden locks like they were his life-line.

He went to pull back, but Emma took a step closer to him (any closer, honestly, and she would actually be in his pants) and pulled him back in. He didn’t protest, but instead kissed her back even harder.

Finally, the need for air was too great and Emma leaned back, her forehead just grazing his. He was breathing just as deeply as she was, his hands running smoothly though her hair.

“That was—” he started before Emma’s phone rang.

She let go of him and pulled back completely before taking her phone out of her back pocket. It was her babysitter.

“Shit,” she muttered, reading the text. Henry had a nightmare and was crying and calling out for his mother. She looked back up at him, and, though she couldn’t fully tell thanks to the darken hallway, he certainly looked rumpled and a bit…well, almost dazed. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”

“I—” he started, but she was already backing away.

“Sorry, I don’t usually—This is an emergency.”

Before he could say another word, she was out of his arms and turned back towards the bar. She located Mary Margaret and told her what happened (about Henry, not about the guy she kissed passionately a few minutes ago), before leaving the bar altogether.

She never saw the guy again.

Until now.

Emma shook her head, trying with all of her might to move on from that night. Because, while Killian was…quite something, it was obviously a one-time thing, and she needed to just…forget it.

Unfortunately, it would pop into her mind at the most inconvenient times, like when she was in the shower, making breakfast, or –

“It’s overflowing.”

Quickly looking down, Emma realized that this person’s water glass was most certainly overflowing. Grabbing napkins from the table adjacent to it, she soaped up as much as she could before telling the patron that she was going to get a towel. Once she returned and cleaned up the mess, with more apologizes, she turned back to the kitchen.

“You’ve been awfully distracted lately. Something on your mind?”

Giving a quick glance her way, Emma saw the wolfish grin. Shaking her head, and focusing (seriously focusing) on measuring the correct amount of sugar into the containers, she replied, “No.”

Ruby chuckled. “Oh, Emma. You might be able to tell when people are lying to you, but you are a horrible liar yourself. Girl, just talk to me. I know you want to.”

“And I know that I want you to do the job that I pay you to do,” Granny said from behind them. Emma almost kissed her for saving her from this conversation. “Get back to work, Ruby.”

“Yes ma’am,” she replied in a huff, obviously disappointed that she’s not getting the information she clearly wanted.

Emma shook her head before muttering to the older woman, “Did you tell her?”

“It slipped out. I’m sorry. The second it came out of my mouth, I knew that I made a huge mistake.”

Of course, Emma had to tell Granny why she wouldn’t be working on her two busiest days of the week. She tried to make it sound classier than it truly was, because Emma wasn’t thrilled with the idea of being paid to pretend to be married to some dude.

Though, people do pretend to be other people for money. It’s called acting. Still, it made Emma a bit uncomfortable. Though, it might have something to do with the fact that she’s kind of, in a small way, attracted to Killian.

But she wasn’t too worried about that part. Because it would only be for 48 hours – less than that really, when you take into account that for 16 hours of that they will be asleep. In different bedrooms. Like it should be.

Emma was walking into a disaster.

“Think nothing of it,” Emma insisted to calm the woman’s nerves. “I’m sure that it would have come out sooner or later.”

“You need Friday, Saturday, and Sunday?”

Emma sighed. “Well, Friday afternoon. Closer to evening. I’m taking Henry over right after I pick him up from school.”

“Can I ask why?”

“Um,” Emma bit her lip, unsure of how to even continue. “We need to prepare. I…Henry and I need to get outfits ready and bring some things from the apartment to make it look…Well, to make his house look like home, if that makes any sense.”

Granny nodded. “Makes perfect sense, actually. Though they better not ruin that hair,” she said, gently touching Emma’s golden locks.

She gave a small laugh. “I don’t think they’re going to change that. No, I know he’s hiring some people to dress me and Henry up, for a lack of better term. So it looks like…”

“Like you come from money?”

“Or at least married into it, yeah.” Emma put down the sugar container and the cup she was using to measure it, and whispered to Granny something that has been bothering her. “It’s just…Granny, I don’t think I can act. You know, like I have money. I have been barely able to get by with what I make here. Tips included. I don’t think—”

“Emma Swan, you don’t need to act like anyone else other than yourself. If Kevin –”

“Killian,” Emma corrected.

But Granny ignored her and kept talking. “—Doesn’t appreciate that your saving his ass from whatever the hell it is that he got himself swept up in, honey, you march right out of that house and don’t you dare look back.”  

Emma laughed. “I’ll do exactly that.”

~*~

“David, what in bloody hell is going on?”

Killian came home to find…well, just about everything in his house was gone. His expensive couch, gone. His formal dining room, gone. All of his old books, gone. Instead there was a couch that was probably expensive, but it looked worn in, with two winged chairs on either side of it different colors, but still kind of looking like a set. His long table gone, instead there a slightly smaller table with chairs that aren’t in perfect condition. His books (he hopes were put into storage) are replaced with books that range from Jane Austen to J.M. Barrie along with some pictures of Emma and Henry, Henry growing up, and one photo that was photoshopped of Emma, Henry, and Killian all smiling on the beach. Killian picks that photo up and if you look at it really closely, you can see that it’s a fake, but otherwise he might have thought this actually happened.

“Hey!” David said, coming out of kitchen with a bag of chips. “Yeah, we’re just moving the furniture around, trying to make it look like a family.”

“And where is my actual furniture?”

“In storage.  Don’t worry, I didn’t throw out your precious First Edition of Moby Dick.”

“I don’t have a –” Killian looked at the huge pile of toys in the corner of the room and gestured to it. “David?”

He looked at Killian before shrugging. “Dude, you’re supposed to have an eight-year-old boy. Just be glad if it actually stays in that pile.”

Killian shook his head before putting both hands on the sofa in front of him (and damn it, it’s actually really soft). David wrapped the bag in of itself before placing it on the table behind the couch and asking, “Just what did you think this weekend was going to entail? We need to make it look real. So why do you have a stick up your butt?”

“I don’t know. I just…I thought I was living a good life, you know, and then…I realized it was, how did you say it? Cool.”

“You know that I love your house,” David defended.

But he waved him off. “Aye, I know. It’s not that. It’s just…maybe I haven’t been living my life the way I expected. Bloody hell, I’m almost thirty-five and I have to pretend to be married with a kid. I’m not even dating anyone to make it seem real.”

“Look I know you and Emma just met—”

“We met two years ago.”

David was silent before saying softly, “That’s right. And I don’t want to know, right?”

“I didn’t sleep with her, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, I definitely heard enough,” David said, getting up from the couch. He moved to grab the bag of chips off the table before he said, “You know that if you hurt her, I’m going to hurt you, yeah?”

Killian nodded. “Understood.” Putting his hands in his pockets, he rocked on his heels once, twice, three times before stopping and crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Okay, mate, when will this be done?”

David had a box of his own on the coffee table that was labeled Photos in a handwriting that was very much not David’s. He didn’t recognize it, though it did look feminine. If he had to wager, he would bet that it was Emma’s box.

Taking a picture frame out of the box, David sat down on the couch before putting his hand back into the box and taking out a smaller one. Once that was opened, he pulled out a stack of photos and Killian almost groaned at the thought that now they were going to have to go through that bloody pile of photos so it would look like Emma and Henry lived in the house and weren’t just visiting.

“Not sure,” David responded distractedly. He was looking through the pile, one by one, before finding one that seemed to appease him. Flipping the six by four frame over, David opened it up before placing the photo in it. Once he was securing it, he continued. “The movers said they only needed a couple of hours, and Regina claims they should have everything in place by ten o’clock.”

“Tonight?” Killian looked at his watch. It was barely past five. That means they were going to be in his house for another five hours? Bloody hell.

Getting up and taking the frame with him, David placed the photo on the bookshelf before going back to the couch to take out another frame and pick out another photo. Killian wished that he had a glass of rum on him, or anything really that had alcohol in it, because holy hell, this was going to be a process, wasn’t it?

“Why do you seem so shocked?” David asked as he sat back down. “They’re trying to make it look like a family lives here, especially one with a kid. Do you really not know that children have a lot of things?”

Killian walked over towards the photo David placed on the shelf. “I’m sure I did—Bloody hell!”

“What?!”

Killian turned back towards David, the picture frame in his hand. “Why is there a photo of Emma, Henry, and myself standing in front of Cinderella’s Castle?”

“Oh,” David sighed, relieved that that was all it was. Killian was just about to loose it, but luckily his friend was eerily calm. “They photoshopped that. To make it look like you took vacations together. You know, as a family.”  David stopped what he was doing and focused on his friend. “Are you sure you’re alright? You seem sort of…jumpy.”

“I’m not jumpy,” he yelled, but when the response was only a raised eyebrow, Killian decided to answer a little more truthfully. “I kind of am, I guess. It’s just…mate this is a big deal. One that might not come around again, and I…I don’t like being dishonest. It’s one thing to win your battles, but it’s another to win fairly.”

“You think that just because you’re pretending to have a family that you have a leg up over the competition?”

“Maybe? I don’t know. I think it’s also that I don’t really know Emma or Henry, so how can I--?”

“Oh!” David sat up straight, his eyes wide, an idea forming in his mind. “We should have you three sit around.” Before he could explain further, David grabbed his phone and began typing something rapidly.

When his friend got up off the couch, his phone still glued to his hand, Killian sighed and sat down on the vacate seat. He leaned over the box and saw a picture that must have been a real one. It was Emma and a much younger Henry, probably not even four-years-old, sitting in front of a Christmas tree. Emma was smiling down at the boy who was grinning at the camera with a missing tooth and a toy car held tightly in his lap. Killian focused on Emma’s face, the loving way she was looking at her son and sighed.

He knew, without a doubt, that he was in way over his head.