#you and your beautiful brain win at tumblr forever and ever!

[oblivious-aro]

Guess Who's next? I'll start! Does your character have a hat?

:D

My character does NOT have a hat.

Okay, um... does your have facial hair?

[merakiui]

Hello! It is me, the anon that asked where you are in Penacony. I am also Amethyst Anon! I’ve sent ideas and stuff before about other stuff, mostly TWST, through anon cause I’m shy, but I want to be more involved with my blog so here I am off anon :3

Anyways, Sunday has officially rotted my brain. I lost interest in HSR because the Luofu storyline was kinda…meh to me, but seeing all this stuff about Sunday on tumblr made me go 👀 While I did have some things spoiled for me, playing it was still sooooo fun and every time he was on screen I was blushing hehe

Anyways, he has so much yandere potential that I came up with so many ideas that I might (?) want to pursue with writing once I muster up the courage to start writing again (I’ve got a difficult relationship with it rn 😫). I jotted them down in my phone and I just have to share them lest I explode. Dw there won’t be anything that spoils past where you said you’re at!

Okay, so there’s that ability that Halovians have that he referred to as tuning. When he used it to interrogate Aventurine I was scared and horny, and thought about Sunday using it on his darling. I don’t remember exactly how it works so this is at the top of my head but! everyday he’ll ask “Question: do you love me?” and of course you say no. It’s easy to answer that because it’s the truth. But one day when you say “no” you feel a searing pain in your head, like you’re being torn apart, and you’re horrified to realize that for the first time since he used his tuning ability on you, you’re lying. It doesn’t hurt to admit the truth (literally - the pain instantly goes away) but you feel your heart breaking forever…

I think that little diorama of Golden Hour he has in the pavilion technically belongs to every head in the family, but I like to think Sunday is fixated on it the most. Imagine he puts you there as punishment. Okay, you don’t want to spend time with him? (And he has so little free time, how could you be so cruel?) Into the makeshift doll house you go! He’ll loom over you like a giant and you can try to run and hide from his sight, but he can easily pick you up like you’re a little mouse, gently laying you on the palm of your hand. I think he’d like to undress and dress you while you’re so tiny, you’re his little delicate doll >:3c

So the part where the crew win the Soulglad competition and Sunday makes them answer three questions based on his life experiences, I felt like I was being personally targeted 😫 The fact that I had to choose one option or the other, with no room for nuance, and that for the first two I actually AGREED with him made me feel like he was psychologically tormenting me. Self aware Sunday who knows he’s in a video game??? I don’t think he’d need his tuning ability to manipulate you. All he has to do is talk in order to get you questioning yourself.

And perhaps my most unhinged idea…Sunday using tuning to make you cum without even having to touch you :3c

Hehe…those are my thots! I have so much more but they have to do with rest of the Penacony story! Btw the photo of him in the confessional…I instantly saved on my phone. Have you ever seen a man more beautiful?…And I also saved a screen shot of what Himeko said about him…

…Dom!Sunday aksiejskakakwnsnqjnan

( ˶°ㅁ°) !! Amethyst anon, hello!!!!!!! It is lovely to chat with you off anon!! I must thank you for always sending such wonderful thoughts hehe. <3

I am officially trapped in the Sunday pit. It's like Kikuo's Hole-Dwelling, only this is the Sunday-Dwelling, an inescapable pit in which all are destined to love him forever. Every day is Sunday if you're obsessed like me. OTL hsr cooked such an exquisite meal. I fear no character can compete with Sunday,,,, he is perfect. ✨

I'm happy you could enjoy Penacony despite being spoiled! The entirety of the Luofu storyline was spoiled for me, but I still enjoyed it because I got to fight Phantylia. She's so pretty uuwuwaaa. >w< that aside, I was also blushing whenever there was a scene with Sunday. I've taken so many screenshots of him,,, it's crazy how one man can rot my brain so intensely, but this is no different than my adoration for Scara and Azul. orz

The tuning ability AAAAAAAAAAA. That entire scene was so tense. I loved it. Poor Aventurine really didn't stand a chance. T_T Sunday plays 4D chess; it's impossible to beat him. That's such a brilliant idea,,,, Sunday using his tuning ability on you. The way you slowly but surely adopt different thoughts as your brain feels like it's burning. Inevitably, just as birds crash to their deaths, you will love him.

The Golden Hour model..... omg I had the same thought when Aventurine was shrunk and put inside it. Sunday who peers down at you and you're nothing more than a tiny ant from his perspective, perfectly palm-sized. He would treat you like a little doll and put you in all kinds of outfits, and you have no choice but to remain still because he could crush you between two fingers if he so pleases. Maybe he builds a small cage for you so that he can keep you at his bedside when he sleeps. :D

THOSE QUESTIONS!!!! I couldn't believe it, but I was also agreeing with him. It was a moment of, "Hold on. Let him keep talking." When Sunday also said that all days should be rest days (Sundays), I realized he may have been cooking with that one. ;;;;; self-aware Sunday is such a yummy thought... he's not asking the Trailblazer these questions; he's asking you, the person behind the Trailblazer. aaaaa it really is psychological torment. >_<

Tuning to make you cum without even lifting a finger or touching you...... omg that's genius. The way he'd be so coy and self-satisfied,,, smiling at you... maybe even doing that cute, sinister chuckle of his under his breath. He would be so mischievous with that once he realizes just how wonderful it is seeing you come apart from something like this. Sunday who becomes a little too attached to teasing you!!!!

AAAAAA your thoughts are all so scrumptious...... orz orz I'm eating them up like they're to be my last meal. The confessional scene is burned into my brain forever. Even now, I'm still shocked that such a beautiful character like Sunday exists. Nothing can ever surpass the greatness that is the confessional scene and all of Sunday's religious symbolism!!!!! >:D

AND THAT HIMEKO QUOTE!!!!! I also saved it as soon as I read it,,,, the "strong conviction and a desire for dominance." Himeko, you cannot do this to me.... making such an observation like that!!!!! It's dangerous for my heart. (๑﹏๑//) dom Sunday........... AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[gluion]

recommend us some of your fav sunwoo fics!! both sfw & nsfw :))))

hi anon! thank you for shooting this message to me <3 for starters, i do have a lot! however, I'll try to keep this list at a reasonable length :DD pls just keep in mind of the tags!!! & this is not listed in any particular order

I KNOW THESE DESCRIPTIONS ARENT DOING THESE FICS JUSTICE BUT PLS KNOW I LEFT REVIEWS FOR MOST OF THESE SO LIKE I HAVE SAID SM ALREADY

from my mutuals!!

gravity (is the distance between you and me) by @wuahae (sfw)

remember when i first read this before going to sleep and just feeling so seen (idk reader just felt so me T__T). cat's words are genuinely so beautiful. also just really love how this whole thing is set up </3 if ur up for some angst and also minimal fluff, this is for you!

rhapsody anonymous by @sungbeam (sfw)

this is just a fluffy read!!! personally just love the more shy nature of sunwoo in this fic & the dynamic between reader and sunwoo is so cute!! also reader is just very me in terms of the whole podcasting :3

far from home by @sungbeam (sfw)

UGH IF U KNOW ME. I AM A BIG FAN OF FUCKING SPIDERMAN!!! SO FOR THIS TO COME TO ME IS THE BEST THING EVER!!! I'M LITERALLY SO HAPPY I LOVE THIS ONE SHOT SO MUCH </3

Bad boy good girl by @haet-sal (nsfw)

read this when i wasn't even mutuals with lacey. i am still a big fan of this idgaf

win over your heart (goal!) by @cupidjyu (sfw)

another fluffy read! it has shy sunwoo and i just love the dynamic between sunwoo and reader + reader and eric !!

from others! (if some don't have messages just know that i still love them </3 it's just 3 am T___T and most of these are from when i didnt use my tumblr acc!)

This is how we fall by @jeongjaebae (sfw)

ugh you guys have no clue this is one of my all time favorite fics on tumblr like. i read this maybe around a year ago? and it still lives in my mind. so much lines from this fic is like forever imprinted on my BRAIN!!! like it gen means so much to me.

The Boy by @milfgyuu (nsfw)

YALL HAVE NO CLUE!!! FOREVER A FAVORITE LIKE HANDS DOWN WILL ALWAYS REMEMBER THIS TIL I DIE LIKE I AM IN LOVE WITH SUNWOO'S CHARACTER. PLUS THE WHOLE DYNAMIC BETWEEN HIM AND READER FML I AM A FAN.

from my moon to yours & under our stars by @mieohmy (sfw)

i'm a big fan of hotel del luna so these two works REALLY did it for me </3 idk i just love the whole THEIR WHOLE DYNAMIC!! PLUS ITS JUST HOW SUNWOO IS WRITTEN WHEN HE INTERACTS WITH READER THAT MAKES ME WANT TO CLAW ON THE WALLS!

break your rules by @sankyeom (sfw)

pose by @sankyeom (sfw)

what type of cheese are you by @hwaflms (sfw)

walking on sunshine by @mavericsohn (sfw)

yugen by @mae-gi-writes (sfw)

The Girl I Haven’t Met by @mae-gi-writes (sfw)

Just Like The Real Thing by @daisyvisions (nsfw)

lacking in subtlety by @strayed-quokka (nsfw)

a little TMI between friends by @dontflailmenow (nsfw)

heartbreak hotel by @hongism (nsfw)

so much for self-control by @dontflailmenow (nsfw)

Insanity by @sparkvn (nsfw)

sorry about that LONG list. that's not even everything i like i'm p sure </3 but i hope you enjoy these fics anon!!!

[souliluta]

study girls. please, do it for yourself. save this text and read when you feeling depressive, bad, struggling or fighting with a mental war. if you don't have any of these, okay then read it anyway. you have to be strong to win. but trust me, when you see that you win, the best feeling ever. today is creating your future. no instagram, snapchat or tumblr. you are building your future and please, when you grow up don't regret whatever you did. you can do it. just believe this and live with this motto forever. do manifests. think positive. don't be negative. if you do, you will take the baddest things to your life. you are a successful woman. show your best side. it's time. after read this, i desire you will stand up and going to study. believe me, trust me i promise you won't regret from these. you are free, you can do it whatever you want. you are healthy. you are smart. you are the moment. enjoy it, be successful, be proud of yourself, let your soul be proud of you. never give up if you're doing mistakes. try again, try again and try again until success. take a break, take a deep breathe. feed your soul. feed your brain. think about your the most beautiful future. you will win. please, believe my pretty girl. never care people. if you do, you will lose. do whatever you want. what being good to your soul. live whatever you like, you love. this is your life. in university, you will live crazy. but you have to study for this. go and try. i'm going too, i love you my little angel.

again, remember it.

you will win.

💕

[hotchley]

where he's been

I did it!

I wrote the happy ending/second part, in which he makes the deliberate choice to show her and there is healing and there is joy and there is love <3

Everyone say thank you to the anon on tumblr that asked me about this when I did the WIP game, because without them we wouldn't have gotten here...

But we did! I finished a multi-chapter thing!

Trigger Warnings: scars, intrusive thoughts, trauma, references to the events of the Foyet and Doyle arcs, mild sexual content, surgery, medical things (Route 66 references mostly)

read on ao3!

previously: part one

Part Two: He Shows

The first time Aaron shows Emily his scars, she smiles.

He shows her deliberately. Because he wants to. Because he loves her, and he loves himself. Because he trusts her. He wants to be vulnerable with her in a way he could only ever be with Haley. He wants to do this, for her, and for himself. He knows they are not beautiful, that she may flinch at the sight of his humanity as everyone seems to do, but he needs her to see them. Properly. In a way that is right.

His body feels more like his with every day that passes now. He will never forget the pain his fathers emotions brought, or how he felt completely paralysed and pinned in place by George Foyet and his knife. His mind may never recover. But he's been making progress, and despite the emergency surgery, his body is recovering and he's proud of it. He's proud of himself.

And he's proud of Emily too. When she was in Paris, and he was too consumed by grief to do much more than look through the files they had on Doyle, he would feel a sense of pride in her, and all she had overcome. In all she had accomplished. In all she had survived, and continued to survive. But most of all, he was proud that she never let Doyle win.

Even when he tried to scar her body forever as a punishment for everything she had done, even though she had been right, she had always been right, she didn't let him win. She wore that scar with the same pride everyone on the team did. Because those scars made them human. They reminded him they weren't untouchable, but they were stronger than anyone gave them credit for.

It took a while for her to get there. There were still days where she would scrub the area till the skin went red, as though enough force would remove it. There were days where she would think of how far plastic surgery had come, and wonder- if she was given the chance- whether she would keep the marks. But there are other days, where she doesn't even hesitate before wearing shorts. Before wearing something with a lower neckline.

It's different for Aaron. Not for any real reason, he's just a different person. The scars that cover his torso, the scars that match the killer of his first love, of the first woman to teach him that when the poets said love hurt, they did not mean like the pain that came with smashed glass or belt marks, they meant a pleasant hurt, were almost impossible for him to accept.

The ones on his back became easier with time. Because they healed, and they faded to silver lines. He can still feel it, and can still tell when someone has touched him there. He no longer flinches, as the touches placed there are warm and gentle. Neutral. And he was a child, who deserved to be safe. A child, who shouldn't have known how to fight.

The ones left by Foyet were harder to come to terms with. He cannot feel there properly. The few times Emily has touched him- over his shirt, only ever over his shirt- he has either winced at a phantom twinge of pain or stared at her blankly because the area was numb.

He used to feel like he should've fought back. Properly. His gun was on the table, he could've grabbed it. He knows he could've because he dreams of that night more times than he doesn't. Being exhausted wasn't an excuse. Elle told him it was, but he remembers how she was- so unforgiving of herself. He wouldn't extend himself the courtesy she hadn't.

Foyet’s scars were just different. He hated having the same marks as a killer. He hated how, every time he walked into his apartment, he would remember. Vividly. The moments from his childhood still haunted him, but some of them were starting to blur together. But the feeling of the knife plunging in- he would always remember each and every single one.

The stitches tore during his thirty-four days off. He had sent everyone away, not wanting them to see just how much he needed them, because he needed to convince himself they still believed in his invincibility. The irony of his situation, especially as Derek held his hand from the bed to the wheelchair, was not lost on him. But then he regained his independence.

Then the damage done almost became irreversible. Collapsing in the conference room had been terrifying for everyone, but waking up had been the hardest thing he'd ever made himself do. During one of his brief moments of consciousness, he realised it was the damage Foyet had done when he scarred him that had led him to the abyss he'd visited once, and only once before.

When he finally gained the courage to look in the mirror, he broke. The scars were never going to heal properly, he'd realised that right before the pain became overwhelming. Foyet's hadn't. No matter how careful he may have been the second time round, the scars were never going to fade. They were still red, just less angry.

Seeing them after the surgery, in the same apartment, with the same mirror, sent him back in time. They were too red. They were too deep, too much and he couldn't look at himself, couldn't go through the pain of realising just how strong one man's hold on him was. Not for a second time.

Emily found him like that. She didn't walk in, knowing he would never recover if she did. But when he emerged thirty minutes later, wearing Haley's college hoodie that had always fit him perfectly, she took his hand. She kissed his forehead, and played with his hair as they watched one of Jack's cartoons. A part of her felt guilty for not saying something, but he felt more grateful for that than she would ever know.

They had sat on the couch until they fell asleep then. They were sitting on the couch when she touched the biggest scar, causing him to wince and run out, leading to her seeing them for the first time.

Because sometimes, the world is cyclical, they're sitting on the couch when he shows her.

This time, Jack is at a sleepover. There had been a gala, and he had looked so happy as he accepted his reward. Shocked beyond belief when Strauss announced her retirement. But so incredibly happy when she named him her successor, especially when he realised there was no reason he had to become a paper-pusher. There was no reason for him to change.

He looks so perfect, cheeks glowing and genuine smile overpowering everything else about him that she can't help but kiss him the moment they get in the car. If they seemed like love-struck teenagers to everyone that drove past then so be it. He looked handsome in his suit, but happiness suited him even more and she wouldn't let anyone dampen it.

So they're sitting on the couch, and his hands are running up and down her arms like he still can't quite believe she wants him. Her dress matches his tie- of course it does, because Aaron pouted and stared at her till she told him the colour- and she looks so beautiful that all he wants to do is watch her. She doesn't even have to do anything, so long as he can admire her.

Just like before, she touches his torso. Before he looks down, she pulls her hand away like he burnt it. A silent apology starts to pass her lips, but he kisses it away before it gets the chance to escape. Tonight, there will be no apologies. There will be no sadness.

Only them and the love they fought so hard for.

"Aaron," she says. "What's going on?"

He cannot tell her, his heart suddenly racing. He knows that he's ready to do this. He knows he wants to. He knows that there will be no shame or judgement if he suddenly stops halfway through. He knows all of that, but the traitorous, self-sabotaging part of his brain wants nothing more than to throw her out.

Before she sees his humanity. Before she gets too close and gets hurt. Before she decides that he is too damaged, and too messy, and too ruined for her to love.

But there is a piece of his brain that is stronger than that. A piece that knows she has seen his humanity every moment since she met him, all those years ago. That knows she has already gotten too close, but with her eyes wide open to all the danger that could come. She loves him. She loves him knowingly and deliberately.

He isn't ruined. He never has been. And yes, he is messy, but everyone is. She knows him. Perhaps better than he does. So she won't leave. Not this time.

He's not said anything for a while, and she's starting to worry. Then he takes her hand, as he has done a thousand times before, and the weight of it grounds her. She trusts him. Whatever he is going to do, he will do because they both want it.

"Close your eyes. Please? I'm not going to touch you, but I can't- if I say it, I'll back out," he whispers.

She realises suddenly, randomly, that the lights are still on. "Okay," she whispers, and complies. Talking feels too loud.

"You can open them now," he says, a few minutes later.

She does. And for a moment, she has no idea what's happening.

And then she sees. Properly. He's taken his shirt off, and his scars are completely visible to her. All of them. She's never loved him more. For trusting her enough to show her who he is. For loving her enough to be so vulnerable without fear. For being so brave that she no longer feels afraid of anything.

"My darling," she says, because Aaron feels too casual. But she has no words.

He takes her hand again, and presses it against his chest. She can feel his heart racing underneath it.

"This belongs to you. Whatever is left of it, however long it may beat for, it all belongs to you. Because I love you. And I trust you. So break it if you must, but carry the pieces with you because they are yours, now and forever."

Emily can't help the tears that start pooling in her eyes. She understands where this is coming from. He thought that this would be the thing that made her hesitate. One day, he will realise that this is the thing that convinced her that it was right. She had known for a while that she was going to spend whatever portion of her life that he wanted her for with him, but now she was so sure that the thought didn't fill her with dread.

There are no words in a language she speaks to tell him how much this means to her. So she settles for the ones that will do. "It won't be the pieces that I carry. It will be the whole thing. For as long as you will allow me to. I love you, Aaron Hotchner. I love you, I love you, I love you." She smiles as she says the words, not once moving away from him.

He smiles, as he always does, before he kisses her. He smiles through the kiss.

It is perfect. It is beautiful. Standing there, with him so vulnerable and her so irreversibly in love, it is hard to believe that the place they are creating their happy ending, is the same space where he was once stabbed in. The place where she set off that chain of events not so long ago.

They go to sleep, in the same bed, wrapped in each others' warmth. It feels perfect. The photo of Haley they keep on the dresser seems to glow even brighter, like she too is so proud of who they have become.

The first time Aaron shows Emily his scars, she smiles.

And Aaron does too. Because now he's shown her. Properly. And he saw her face, full of love and admiration and pride in how far he has come. She's seen them. But it was his decision. And that, more than anything, heals the final piece of his soul that Foyet destroyed.

[fatoujallovv]

fanfiction writer appreciation: skamverse edition

thank you @yasminaselamrani for starting this lil tag 🥺 i read and write elu so that’s what you’re in for here but i’m sending a kiss on the forehead to any writer or reader of anything for being the best 🥺💛

if you’re a writer:

a fic that you’re really proud of:

i know i’m sitting here while i haven’t even finished the fic but close to you just makes me really happy 🥺 it’s obviously not oscar winning movie adaptation worthy in the slightest but i think it’s turned out to be a really fun story and i’ve enjoyed writing it and messing around with social media 🤪

a fic that you were nervous to post:

my lil mental health oneshots rotten work and not to me, not if it’s you (incredibly original titles i know skfjfj) were literally . an excuse for a cathartic feelings dump via my emotional support projection character monsieur lucas lallemant and i felt like i was being to dramatic or insensitive or portraying things badly (even though it was literally my own experiences adskljg idk don’t ask what i was thinking) or being too personal so i was kind of nervous 🥺 but i got a lovely response and being able to share them was really healing for me so i’m so glad i did it 🥺

a fic you wished got more hits/kudos/comments:

i’m super happy with every bit of response i’ve gotten from my writing 🥺 i love all of my comments so so much and all i want to use this space for is to say thank you guys for being the best 🥺

one of your favorite tropes to write:

i think it’s obvious that it’s childhood best friends because both of my chaptered fics have been that sjdjfjsj but i also love myself some fake dating hence my current best friends fake dating au akdjfj

another ship that you don’t write but you’d like to write:

i wish i could write kieutou but i struggle to relate to kieu my’s perspective to be able to write her from an honest and accurate place bc as much as i adore her she is so so different from me and i feel like i can’t get in her head 🤧🤧

one of your abandoned wip you never wrote but wish you did:

i only ever abandoned one thing and it was gonna be a long oneshot where they met in the laundry room of their dorm and then dumbassery ensued and it was gonna be very silly but then i forgot about it so akdjfj mayhaps i should return to her this summer if i have the time

another writer you would love to collaborate with:

@luxandobscurus @lucasotteli and i have literally. planned to collab before and just never made it happen .... besties let’s get on that summer 2021

i would LOVE to do some sort of sm au or something with a cool unique format with miss @vexedtonightmares the queen of sm and galaxy brain concepts!!!!! i would basically be dead weight but i would be like beyond honored to assist her in making magic with her big beautiful brain

if you’re a reader:

a fic (or more) that you love to reread:

i looooove rereading if i can recognize real by @tawmlinsun (i’m linking part two i think oops) i have said it before but it gives me butterflies every time it is the peeeeerfect lil first kiss/getting together fic omg omg

the reread value of all mixed up by @lucasotteli and online love by @vexedtonightmares !!!!! unmatched !!!!! social media au supremacy lichrally go tos when i need a Laff

tag an author you always love reading:

@clairdelalune i know ur movin away from the fandom queen so soz to bring u into this but everything you’ve ever written makes me happy 🥺🥺 ur style and vibes are so . good and heartwarming

@lumierelovers is just an absolutely gorgeous writer and everything she touches is magical 🥺

recommend a story to your followers:

i will recommend lots 😌 (vaguely in order of length from like 1k to like 100k+)

when you kill the lights (and kiss my eyes) by @blanxkey (zaira i frickin miss u pls write more pure poetry 🤧)

thoughts of you aren’t enough by cgsf on ao3 (i think they might be on tumblr but it didn’t let me tag 😔)

open your heart (and let me know you want me here) by @demaury

save us by @luxandobscurus

last dance by @vexedtonightmares (i linked the chap 2 post bc it has the ao3 link but 😌)

maybe it starts now by @lepetitepeach (first part of the series is linked on ao3 bc i don’t think there’s a ficpost)

tag an author you discovered recently:

@fireflysxx is kinda new to writing and i’m so proud of herrrrrr 🤧🤧🤧 i would like to direct your attention to the fic she wrote for me about eliott basically being grumpy lucas’s personal shopper for the day akdjdh: new style

spread the love!

tag someone who inspires you to write:

@yasminaselamrani you literally never stop like i am so impressed you just always have new stories to tell i admire that so much even if i don’t read wtfock i’m sorry 🤧🤧🤧

tag someone who you’ve admired forever:

i don’t want to bother people and i feel like many of the people i’ve had longstanding Big Admiration for i already tagged or isn’t really here anymore 🥺 so just like . everyone i’ve mentioned i admire so much? that’s cheating but idc

tag your writing support:

@luxandobscurus and @lucasotteli the only ones who care as much about elu in 2021 as me and i don’t feel guilty making them help me with my fics KAJDJDJD and @fireflysxx my biggest cheerleader and self proclaimed number one fan you’re always there wanting to see what i’ve made and it’s so encouraging 🥺💛 also @thenerd10 bc u always leave me the sweetest comments EVER and you literally singlehandedly make posting worth it 🤧🤧💛💓💗💓

ok i’m tagging everyone i mentioned 🥺 and i would tag more people but i haven’t seen a lot of my writer friends around in a while and i don’t want to be bothering anyone so please just do this if you see it and want to!!!

[theyearsiturnedintoaghost]

Hello, Is This Thing On?

Hi! (as mentioned above). Do people still use this thing? I have no idea. Years ago, and I do mean YEARS ago, I had one of these. I didn’t use it for much, just reposting things, following humans I’d met in online communities, a ‘celebrity’ here or there, sometimes screaming about shit I couldn’t control into the void that is the endless scrolling interweb, and being pointless in wasting my time between classes, work, and twenty-something. Regardless, my previous tumblr had minimal followers, made minimal impact, and that was okay. It was honestly just a nice place to sort of hide in plain sight. Still be part of a social world without actually having to do much. This was also pre a billion other apps and social media outlets to express yourself or scroll mindlessly at a million other pointless things that people were posting to make you giggle or even just stop for a second and think.  

Clearly, the point of this, back then, felt like something I would use to help propel my writing career. Turns out, it did not. I did not write much, if at all. And most of the time I think it was because I was scared nothing was as good as any of the other stuff I was reading from people I liked, and thought were so much cooler and smarter than me; I still feel this way all of the time, but I do realize this was me being nervous, small minded about myself, and completely unconfident.  

Unfortunately, I am still most of these things a lot of the time, but recently, after getting fired from a job, having my heart broken by pretty much everyone on the planet, especially a few specific people, cancelled by all of my friends (?) - this is a thing btw. (It’s not as awful as being cancelled publicly, but it does still ruin your life, mindset, confidence, and overall physical and mental wellbeing) Getting a new job, hating it and feeling like I was going no where, and missing out on living a life I felt proud of and that I was actively participating in, I decided maybe I should just try to write it all out and see what happens. 

To be frank, I expect nothing of this. I can’t fathom a world where anything I have to say truly matters to people because lets be real - everyone has this own shit and everyone is going through so much all of the time.  And we all think we have something new, quirky, interesting, and important to say.  And in a world that constantly shoves perfection down our throats and works so hard to make each of us feel completely inadequate to every Kardashian, Beyonce, Grande, etc., it’s hard to really think that anything I have to say will matter to anyone; at all. 

(I also hate that all of my ‘perfectionist’ people were female, but maybe it’s harder to compare to Golden Boys when you are a female. Either way, there are many boys/men/theys/thems that are put on a pedestal and made out to be perfect out there, as well, and they deserve that notation as well. I just have no points of reference off the top of my head, so please forgive me; I am trying to do this in a stream of consciousness type thing.)

I mean, the truth is, I’m a fucking mess. I’m 33, single, living at home, afraid of my own shadow most of the time, and spend about 98% of my time alone. I pay for a phone plan that I literally only use to send memes to my two sisters, and that’s about it. I rarely receive texts, invites out, or even calls to make plans for something.  And while a lot of this is my own doing - again, I did cut off most of the world after I realized I was sort of the joke to a lot of people - it’s still kind of pathetic, and entirely uncool.  I am not a socialite, or someone cool and trendy, and to be honest, I kind of never want to be.  

Which is a semi-false statement, because years ago, when I had one of these previously, I sort of hoped it would work out and that I could write and be ‘cool.’ Whatever the fuck that means.  But now, years later, I’m honestly beyond glad I am not cool; not in the slightest. Maybe that’s making it to your 30s? Maybe the trade for having to create a daily routine of lathering up my body with like 9 different versions of FDA-Approved-Vampire-Juice on my skin to prevent me from looking any older than I already do, you in turn get to have a brain that finally realizes... having a ‘normal’ life is honestly pretty cool? Normal is clearly subjective here as everyone is normal, famous, notoriety, or not; They’re all still humans and people with feelings, thoughts, and emotions. This is a hard thing to realize when you see stadiums full of people screaming at Harry Styles (Boom! found a male perfect in this scatterbrain) or hundreds of paparazzi lined up to take photos of every person on a red carpet wearing clothing that costs as much as my student loan debt (Which sidenote, is VERYYYYYY much). It’s hard to fully realize that maybe some of those people who became ‘icons’ never really knew what they were getting into when they signed that deal with the Devil to make them seemingly immortal; especially in a world with the internet where everything can exist forever (or until the world explodes, clearly).  But maybe getting into my 30s and removing myself from most social media outlets, even listening to the news, or caring about whatever fucking popular haircut was in this season (it’s always bangs, and I’ve already made that mistake. No thanks), that I learned to realize - the truly most important people in your life are the ones that stick with you when it’s tough. When getting out of bed is so hard your limbs ache and you cry every morning on your way to work, at your desk behind your computer screen hidden in a corner, or in a bathroom stall during your lunch break. The normalcy that comes with realizing your prayers to ‘just make it to five o’clock,’ are heard and that you are just so thankful for that that you don’t even desire the innate feeling in most of our egos to stand out, be seen, ‘Make it’ in a way that lets people notice we ‘succeeded.’ Maybe this only comes with the realization of how nice it is to go to a grocery store braless and unnoticed. 

Maybe this is also something I, and so many of us in this point and shoot viral world, are trying to still learn. 

Sure, a lot of days I still crave being able to make a perfect Pintrest project, practice my Late Night interview with Letterman where I sound funny, charming, and likeable to all walks of life, or recreate a recipe from the New York Times website so great that The Barefoot Contessa finds out through word of mouth, and comes to my basement hide out, and offers to give me, a fellow barefoot loving bitch, her title and crown along with a glass of wine and a kiss from her husband, Jeffery. We’ll both laugh at how lovely it feels to be Barefoot ladies who understand that wanting ‘fame’ or ‘recognition’ in your twenties is only really a pathway to destruction by your 30s. 

And this is not exactly something that I learned easy.  In fact, I spent most of my twenties destroying my body with drugs - plenty of hard ones - and alcohol - various kinds of the same things - in order to numb my brain from the sadness that is just... being young, lonely, scared, unsure of yourself, and nervous that all of your hopes and expectations for yourself in your ‘dream life’ are too much for what you and your actual self will ever be capable of ever becoming. That I would never become the comedian I dreamed of being, or sing the perfect song in front of a crowd of admirers, or write that best selling book to tell everyone who thought I was nothing they could go fuck themselves. It’s something I still have to remind myself, and my brain and ego, that are most likely things I will never do because those are lottery dreams.  And people you know don’t actually win the lottery. And at the end of the day, I am people you know. And sometimes it breaks my own heart to realize I may never feel that rush of making a crowd laugh, or creating a piece of art that makes someone feel seen, but as Pam, from The Office said, and I am paraphrasing, ‘there is beauty in ordinary things.’ And I think reminding myself of that as I sat on the beach this summer and watched a dad teach his son to surf, and how happy they both were when he got up, gave me that brief feeling of... being okay. I won’t lie, I did cry a little at this realization at that moment, and I am slightly teary now as I write it, but I think I’m not ashamed of that because being normal means I get to feel things as I do, in that moment, and that is something I think I lacked in my desiring-bigger-flashier- twenties; actually being present in the world and your place in it. Even if that is just as small as being kind to a random person on the street.

I think that is why everything I felt I wanted to write never came out correct.  It never came out ‘Perfect.’ And that was my problem for most of my life, even up until today, I’m afraid that I am a perfectionist in the ways that are preventing me from becoming... me. I’m still fearful that I am too late in ever ‘accomplishing’ anything I ever dreamed. I doubt I will ever actually write a book. I’m unsure I’ll ever make a decent living. I am beyond doubtful I am ever going to be loveable to someone whom I also want to love back. And maybe I’m a little scared that I’ll never have a kid, or that if I do have a kid, I’ll never be a decent parent. And I’m still working on breaking the cycle of thinking something has to ‘sound’ or ‘be seen as important’ to be meaningful. There is beauty in the ordinary. I’ve started to make it my mantra. Spoken in my head every time I see a teenage couple holding hands walking in town, a father holding their baby close to his chest, a woman dressed in a power suit striding through an office building or city on their way to make their own careers or push equality further. I’ve started to dream of how actual normalcy makes the real changes. How every 4th grade teacher has a chance to change some kids life.

Clearly, a lot of these personal fears I have about myself not being ‘enough,’ or doing something good enough to become successful at it and build a life out of it, are monotonous fears and privileged middle-class complaints. I’m aware they may not resonate with anyone, anything, or mean much more than just being an online public diary entry to my own meandering thoughts, but, still - I finally felt like I had to try.  

So here it is, the whole truth on how I let myself become a ghost for years. 

I hope someone will stick around while I just... try to explain it all, figure it all out, and hopefully make sense out of even being whatever a human who is hoping to grow even means. Hopefully, something here will resonate with someone else and we can create our own little weirdo corner of the world where we’re not seeking more than just trying to be honest with ourselves and what it means to be human.  Even if that means just posting a recipe for banana bread (thank you Gwen Steffani for keeping me able to spell Banana), reposting random memes about how we all want to scream for 30 seconds and feel better, or sad-girl diary entry posts about how I ruined my own life a million times over.  Oh, and maybe I’ll give you tips on how to stain your wood deck, because I spent my day doing that yesterday and basically, Home Depot is calling me to be in their ADs. 

But at the core of it all, lets be very real, it’s hard to be human in so many ways. And I’m just hoping this connects with anyone. Especially any of us who wished we were different - in any way.

xoxo

-K

[let-it-raines]

Catch Me If You Can (37/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: A thanks to all of you for genuinely being the most wonderful people who are so kind in however you do or do not interact with me, and a special thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke​ for being my beta and @imagnifika​ for making this cover ❤️

Found on AO3: Beginning | Current

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A car horn blares ten floors down before the sound of two more follow, and Emma groans before twisting her head and burying her face in her pillow, hoping to drown out the noise. It’s the middle of the night, darkness surrounding everyone and everything, and the only sounds Emma should be able to hear are the quick turn of the ceiling fan above Killian’s bed and the steady pace of Killian’s breathing behind her as his hand flexes over her stomach while his breath comes out warmly against the nape of her neck.

Instead of those noises, however, she hears the sound of cars blaring outside, and while this place unfortunately has the moniker of the City That Never Sleeps, Emma certainly wishes to.

Groaning at the reverberation of yet another horn sounding, Emma tucks her face further into the softness of the pillow, hoping that her mind can somehow will the noise to go away, and she puts all of her energy and focus into falling back asleep since there are still hours until the sun will rise high into the sky and her alarm will blare much like the horns outside to tell her that the day ahead of her as finally arrived.

Rough fingers press into the skin of her stomach once more, stretching out before coming back together, and Emma shifts back into Killian’s embrace from where they had separated while sleeping. He twitches slightly, and since she’s not sure if it was unconscious or not, Emma tentatively rolls her hips back into Killian’s so that his hardened length settles between her ass while heat begins to flicker across her body. Killian’s fingers flinch once more, but this time they tug her body back into him while his hot breath once again brushes over her neck to cause her skin to break out in goosebumps.

And then there’s the soft kiss right over her pulse point.

“Bloody car horn,” Killian grumbles into her skin, kissing her again. “What could possibly be that annoying that they have to wake everyone in the building?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

His nails start tracing along her stomach underneath her sweater that she put on before bed to combat the chill that always moves through Killian’s apartment, even more so now that it’s cold outside and there’s no escape from the crisp late October air. The patterns are nonsense, and Emma smiles to herself at the thought of Killian and his usual penchant for writing his love for her into her own skin.

He’s stupid romantic.

“We should go back to bed.”

Emma rolls her hips again, her eyes adjusting to the dimness of the room that is only lit by the moon and the lights of the buildings across from the apartment, and she wakes up that little bit more at the feeling of Killian moving behind her.

“Are you sure about that?” she teases.

“Oh, absolutely,” Killian says even as his hand moves up her stomach to lazily fondle her breast while his scruff scratches across the cords of her neck. “We’ve got a bit of a big day today.”

“And what’s that?”

Emma can practically feel the smile in Killian’s kiss on her shoulder, and she twists the slightest bit so that the back of her head rests against her pillow while Killian adjusts to press his hips further into her. His cheek rests against the palm of his hand that’s propped up by his elbow so that he’s looking down at her, a ghost of light flickering across him so that she can clearly see half of his face and the grin on his lips as his hand still continues to palm her breast.

“Well, you know what it is, my beautiful darling.”

Emma feigns innocence. “Do I?”

“You do.” His head dips down to lazily guide his mouth over hers, and Emma could practically melt and become one with this bed for Killian to keep kissing her like this.

“It’s the beginning of the World Series, I know.”

Killian’s brow arches high on his forehead, those little lines in the middle appearing. “Well, that is true, but it’s not why I think today is a big day.”

“You’re a shitty baseball player then.”

Killian chuckles and pinches her nipple, and heat continues to curl between her thighs so that there’s a growing ache there. “It’s your birthday, my love,” he whispers as he smiles down at her before giving her a tender kiss. “I know you haven’t forgotten about that.”

“I haven’t, no. I’m simply a bit more concerned about the game than me getting older.”

Killian hums before he’s kissing her again, his tongue beyond sinful, and by the time that he pulls back she can scarcely breathe. He’s always been able to have her panting and wanting more within minutes, and suddenly the teasing isn’t enough. Suddenly she needs much more of him, every bit of him, and she needs it soon.

The cars beeping their horns outside don’t seem so bad now.

“Let me make you forget for a little while, yeah?” he whispers as his hand trails down from her breast to beneath the elastic waistband of her pajama pants so that his fingers are running over where she’s slick with want for him. His voice is still gritty and hoarse as it always is when he’s just woken up, and Emma will forever be fond of him in the mornings with his deep voice and sleep-rumpled hair. “Fuck, Emma,” he groans as his fingers continue to move exactly where she wants him. “It’s ridiculous how much the thought of you wanting me still drives me insane.”

Her hand reaches back to cup the back of his head, fingers curling into the soft strands so that she can push his face a little bit closer to hers. “You must be on the verge of going insane then because I always want you.”

The heel of Killian’s hand presses into her bundle of nerves, and Emma lets out a pathetic whine. She doesn’t care though. She’s long stopped caring about any awkward noises or ungraceful movements that come when she’s with Killian. It’s part of life and being human, and there’s no one in the world who she is more comfortable with than Killian.

No one.

And she knows that he enjoys the noises she makes in response to his touch even if it’s a groan from him elbowing her.

“You’re right,” he mumbles, as his fingers continue to work at her, the deftness of them causing a heat more sweltering than the summer to move over her skin in waves as her brain begins to float away with thoughts of anything other than how good Killian makes her feel. “I’m simply mad about you.”

Killian pulls his hand back, and the whine Emma releases is even more pathetic. “What the hell are you doing?”

He shifts behind her as his hands pull down her pajama pants. Emma has to help, tilting her hips up and kicking away the material so that nothing separates her from the blanket resting over her. Soon, though, the heat of Killian’s skin and the trickle of the hair on his legs is pressing into her, and Emma bites her bottom lip as she feels the smooth heat of his cock press into the slickness of her folds.

Killian’s grin is wicked, and Emma’s stomach muscles quiver in anticipation of what’s coming next. She loves him so damn much that it’s ridiculous.

A year ago, he was nothing more than a cocky baseball player inadvertently determined to ruin her life. No part of her could have imagined that this is where they’d be now. She would have laughed and resisted and done everything possible to be as far away from Killian Jones as possible.

Now, though, she wants to be joined with him in every single way so that they are as close as humanly possible.

There’s a roll of his hips behind her, his heavy length teasing her, and her moan is nothing compared to the gruntled groan that Killian lets out behind her. Killian’s hand comes to wrap around her stomach over the metal of her ring once more while the other rests behind her head to bring her more comfort while her back is pressed to Killian’s front, and he nuzzles his cheek into her neck while his lips move just behind the lobe of her ear as she lifts her leg over his hip so that he can slowly push inside of her, settling deep inside of her with a pleasurable stretch that has her heartbeat quickening and her breath catching at how good the drag of him feels.

“Fuck,” she whispers, the sound escaping into the swirl of air from the ceiling fan. “You feel so good.”

“Not as good as you. I can assure you of that.”

“It doesn’t have to be a competition.”

“Oh, darling,” he sighs with a deep chuckle into her ear, “you do know that I like winning.”

And then he’s rocking his hips into her, pressing himself as deep inside of Emma as he possibly can, and Emma’s stomach flips while sweat forms at her temple and emotion lodges itself in her throat.

It’s a funny, over-emotional thing, but nights like this are her favorite. It’s the middle of the night, most of the world asleep despite the people outside who woke them up, and no one exists outside of the two of them. It’s them against the world, two people who are undeniably different and yet certainly well-matched, and as Killian moves within her, Emma wonders if she’s ever felt so entirely whole in her life.

Her blood thrums hotly within her while Killian finds a rhythm that might as well be the most beautiful music ever written, and Emma listens to it as heat and need and that continuing want pools between her thighs and over her entire body. Emma shifts her leg once more, letting Killian thrust deeper inside of her so that he is hitting the spot that would allow her to see stars even in the middle of Manhattan, and she loses any sort of composure that was hanging on by a string.

Killian is going achingly slowly, taking his time as if seconds are truly minutes and minutes are hours, and she’s perfectly fine with that until his tongue starts moving hotly against the crook between her shoulder and neck and she’s desperate for more.

“Beautiful,” he groans into her ear. “You are so beautiful. I could stay joined with you for hours if our bodies would let us.”

A shudder runs through her, and she imagines through Killian as well if the way that his movements falter is any indication, and she’s that much closer to the edge. Then Killian’s hand is moving from where it’s pressed against her stomach and down to where they’re joined, and she loses it, tumbling over the edge with a sigh that Killian captures in a fierce kiss once she’s craned her head to the side.

“I love you,” she gasps out against his breath. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

His movements inside of her still for only for him to start thrusting again with purpose, obviously ready to chase his high as well now that she’s found hers. Nothing truly seems real, everything blurred except for what she feels with him, and there’s another dizzying rush of heat that comes with an overwhelming sense of love as Killian heavily pulses between her thighs while his mouth still against hers.

“I love you more than anyone I’ve ever known.”

The words are spoken into her mouth, but they settle down in her heart. Emma is so incandescently happy in this moment that she cannot help the smile that lazily stretches from one side of her lips to the other. His chest is still pressed into her back, hair coated with sweat that sticks to her skin, and she’s pretty sure that she can feel his heartbeat with the rise and fall of his chest. That may be her own. At this point, she’s not sure where she ends and Killian begins.

“Hi,” she giggles when her eyes flicker open and she’s struck by blue.

“Hello, love,” he sighs in response, holding her close a little longer as she feels him begin to soften within her. “Happy birthday.”

“Hmm, happy World Series day.”

“I see that our priorities are still vastly different.”

“However will we make this thing between us work?”

Killian chuckles before regretfully pulling out of her, and she misses the heat of him immediately before he’s rolling to the side and opening his bedside drawer. Then there’s a cool touch as he cleans her up, and Emma snuggles back into her pillow, sated and happy and not at all caring that she’s wearing a sweater and nothing else.

Emma turns around so that she can tuck her feet between Killian’s calves and wrap her arms around his stomach while his hand curves around her waist to rest on her ass, fingers playfully squeezing like he hasn’t gotten enough of her.

She can understand that.

“I think,” he sighs in response to her question, “that we will figure that out. Remind me to find whoever it was that blared their bloody horn in the middle of the night and thank them for that.”

“It may be a bit difficult to track them down.”

“I am up to the task because I think I may be walking around with a goofy smile all day after that.”

Emma tilts her head up and rests her chin on his chest as she stares up at him, the lights from outside catching the blue in his eyes. That blue will never not be ridiculous.

There is, indeed, the goofiest smile on his face. She imagines it matches the one on hers.

“We should probably go back to sleep.”

“Eh.”

“What?”

His hand moves from her ass up to her back, tracing those patterns again. “I’m not playing today. It’s all on Rob. I can stay awake with you as long as I want. I want to soak in as much time with the darling Emma Swan as I can as she begins her twenty-eighth year.”

She scrunches up her nose. “Please tell me you’re not going to make a big deal out of today. Like, I want as lowkey as possible.”

“Damn. I’ll cancel the one hundred bouquets of roses and the crowd-wide singing to you.”

“Shut up. I’m serious.”

“As am I, love. I know that you don’t want a big deal out of today, so no big deal will be made. However, I do know that Mary Margaret did not get the memo, and she’s arranged for everyone to meet in a suite before the game so that you can have a cake and not be forgotten among the mess of today.”

Emma curls her finger around the hair on Killian’s chest that’s matted together with sweat. “Are you going to be able to be there?”

“Maybe,” he shrugs. “It depends on if Al lets any of us go. He’s a little bit more high strung than usual, and I don’t think even him having a new girlfriend is calming him down.”

“He probably wants to impress her by winning the World Series two years in a row.”

“Well, I can certainly understand that.”

Emma quirks a brow while her finger continues swirling around. “Do you try to impress me, twenty-nine?”

Killian’s smile falters before it’s back, and his hand falls back down to her ass. “Every damn day.”

Emma chuckles as she presses forward to kiss his collarbone before shifting once more to lazily kiss Killian so that she can taste his warmth. “You do a very good job at impressing me even though you definitely don’t have to.”

“It does come rather naturally to me. I’m a pretty impressive guy.”

Emma rolls her eyes and rests her head against her shoulder as sleep starts to catch up with her again, the lids of her eyes clothing. “There’s the Killian I know and love.”

“At your service, milady.”

When she wakes, Emma knows that it’s hours later from the way that sunlight filters through the windows. The shades have been pulled down since the middle of the night, but only halfway as the glow of the late October sun reaches through the room. Emma’s thighs ache, something, she notices immediately, but it’s a pleasant soreness that makes her mind flashback to a few hours ago. Immediately, she turns to seek out Killian in bed, but he’s not there. In his place are simply a card and a small box that has her heart pounding in her chest so loudly that she’s surprised all of Manhattan cannot hear it.

Emma reaches over and grabs the card first, her name written out in Killian’s sprawling script, and she smiles to herself as she reads his message.

Happiest of birthdays, my love.

Leaving you a card and a gift (and it is not your only gift, I promise) on the bed while you sleep does not count as “making a big deal out of things” so you best not complain. It’s been quite the year for you, a rollercoaster without a seatbelt some would say, and the only thing I can wish is that this year is somehow better for you than the last and that a smile continues to grace your lips.

You are the best part of my day every day, even on the ones where we’re arguing, and I cannot thank you enough for loving me even though I am the man who pressed start on last year’s rollercoaster ride.

I am where I am today because of you, Emma Swan. You are everything.

All of my love,

Killian.

Sweet, stupid, sentimental fool.

Emma sits up in bed and adjusts the plush comforter over her legs. She needs to put pants back on, the chill in the room too much for her, but she’s far too curious as to what’s in this box. Slowly, she opens it, and inside rests a slim silver chain that glistens in the sunlight with a small circular pendant at the bottom that has the number twenty-nine inscribed into it.

“Elsa assured me that it wasn’t an asshole move to give you a pendant with my number on it.” She looks up to where he’s standing in the archway of his bedroom, already dressed in his clothes for practice and holding a mug of coffee in his hand. “I probably asked her at least sixty-seven times. And it’s also, you know, for the ring. The chain you have it on now is a chunky old thing, and you deserve something a little more delicate.”

Her hand drops reaches down into her sweater and pulls out the chain so that it and the ring rests on top of her sweater. “There is nothing wrong with this chain.”

“Yeah,” Killian smiles, “there is. You deserve a nicer one.”

Emma doesn’t know what to say to that, so instead of speaking, she pulls the chain off of her neck and undoes the clasp before hooking the ring onto the new chain so that it falls down next to the pendant. “Can you put it on me?”

Killian nods in affirmation before walking toward her and putting the mug of coffee on the side table before gathering her hair up and moving it to the side so that it’s not covering her neck. He softly smiles at her, obviously nervous over his gift, before his hand brushes over hers to take the chain so that he can wrap it around her neck and clasp it together so that the ring and pendant fall just between her breast. Then there’s a soft, lingering kiss against the nape of her neck, and all Emma can do is smile.

“Thank you, Killian. I love this.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” she confirms, kissing his cheek. “It’s perfect.”

The smile that stretches across his face warms her heart, and she swears that she sees blush gracing his cheeks. “I didn’t want to wake you since you don’t have to be at the fields until three, but I’ve got to go to practice.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to pay the fine and stay in bed with me? I’m feeling very motivated for a repeat of earlier.”

Killian groans and moves to rest his forehead against her shoulder, his intake of breath audible. “Please don’t tempt me like that. I have paid the fine many a time before for you, but I can’t do it today.”

“I know,” she soothes, squeezing his bicep. “I know. Go to practice. It’s a big day for you and the guys, and I don’t want anything to come between that.”

“I know. I love you, and I’ll text you later, yeah?”

“Absolutely. I love you too.” Killian kisses her shoulder before pulling up and standing from the bed so that he can walk over to his bedroom doorway. “Aren’t you forgetting your coffee?”

“That’s for you, love.”

Emma groans in appreciation. “You are the best man in the world.”

“I can’t wait to tell Dave that he’s lost his title.”

And then he’s gone and she’s left in the glorious softness of this bed with a new chain around her neck and a warm cup of coffee in her hand.

It’s day one of the World Series, and there’s absolutely nothing better than this.

Nothing.

-/-

Emma adjusts the faux leather of her skirt as she walks down the hallway to the suite where Mary Margaret’s text instructed her to go. Apparently, she didn’t think through her outfit choice today because no matter how cute she looks in a tight skirt with high suede boots and a black sweater, it’s a little bit difficult to walk at her normal pace. Jeans would have been a better choice, but she was saving that for tomorrow since the temperatures are dipping down a little further despite it being a day game.

ObviouslyObviously, all of the choices she has to make on a daily basis are the most difficult.

Regardless of her limited movement, Emma keeps walking, flashing her ID badge to the guard, and steps inside where she’s immediately bombarded by blue and white balloons as well as two giant gold ones of the numbers “two” and “eight.”

This is exactly what Killian meant when he had no control over whatever it is that Mary Margaret was doing to celebrate today.

“Happy birthday, Emma,” Addison squeals as she runs through the balloons to reach Emma, her arms going around Emma’s waist and squeezing so hard that Emma’s intestines likely shift.

“Thank you, sweetie,” she laughs, hugging Addy back and taking a deep breath when she lets go. “Did you get me all of these balloons?”

“Nope. Mommy and Mriss s. Mary Margaret did.”

“Oh, well, that is certainly nice of them.” Emma awkwardly bends down and picks Addy up even if Addy is getting far too big for her to do that, before walking through the balloons to where everyone Emma knows who doesn’t play baseball is waiting for her with bright smiles on their faces. “Hi, everyone. Thank you for the balloons and the cake that I’m sure is in the fridge and will make it hard for me to stay in this skirt.”

“It’s your birthday,” Mary Margaret sighs as she walks forward to give Emma a hug. “Calories don’t count. You look fantastic, by the way.”

“Thank you, Marg. You’re so sweet.”

Emma has to put Addison down before she makes the rounds to hug everyone in the room. Anna and Elsa squeeze her far too tightly, while Liam and Kris hug her like a normal person. Leo gives her a half-hearted hug, too distracted by watching TV to pay too much attention to her, and David hugs her like he always hugs her with his hand cupping the back of her head as he wishes her a happy birthday and shares just how much he loves her.

She hates that Ruby is downstairs working and that Graham is still at the precinct, but she’ll see both of them later today. She still can’t believe they’re getting married.

“Has Killian given you your present yet, Emma?” Elsa asks her once they’ve all settled down on the couches, plates of cake in all of their laps.

“Yeah, he has.” Emma pulls the chain out from underneath her shirt and shows Elsa. “Did you help him pick it out?”

“No, it was all on him. He asked my advice on it, though, because he wasn’t sure if it was an appropriate gift.”

“I love it. It’s very me, I think.”

“Killian too,” Anna sighs as her hand reaches over to touch the chain. “He’s never been one for big gifts, even for himself. His apartment is the most extravagant thing that he owns. This is so pretty. I think I might have to steal it from you.”

“Over Emma’s dead body,” David laughs. “She misplaced that ring last week, and I have never seen her so frantic. She’s not letting anyone touch it.”

Her cheeks flame up. “It’s not something that can exactly be replaced. Need I remind you of the time we had to do some special plumbing to get your wedding rink back from the sink in the men’s bathroom at the office.”

“You had to do what now?” Mary Margaret asks, a high-pitched squeak to her voice.

“Nothing, honey,” David promises even as he cuts his eyes at Emma. “I’ve still got my ring, and that’s all that matters.”

“If it makes everyone feel better,” Kris adds in, “I’m on what hast has to be my fifth wedding ring. I swear I lose one every Christmas season when I’m working.”

“The guy at the jewelry store has the information on file so that it’s always the same ring.” Anna shrugs her shoulders, like she’s used to it. “I have no idea how he loses them like that because it’s, like, pretty much glued to his fingers.”

“I’m a man of many talents.”

“Losing your ring doesn’t qualify as a talent, Kris.”

“Shut up, Liam.”

“That’s not a nice word,” Lucy yells out, chocolate icing spread across her lips. “You’re not supposed to say that. You’re supposed to ask him to please lower his voice.”

“Yeah, Kris,” Emma teases as she scoops up another bite of cake. “Ask Liam to lower his voice.”

“You get too much joy out of this.”

“I just like that the four-year-old is in charge of you.”

“I have been married to Anna for five years. You have been dating Killian for half a year. And yet you’re the one with the girls wrapped around your finger.”

Emma waggles her fingers in the air and winks over at Kris. “I learned all the best tricks at how to make children like me with Leo.”

“And by that,” David explains, “she means that she gave him candy even when we told her not to.”

“I think it really started when I gave him icing when he was ten months old. Leo’s never looked back. Right, kid?”

“Yep,” he sighs. He’s got icing all over his lips too, and it makes Emma laugh. “And now I get really cool seats at baseball games.”

“Hey,” David scoffs. “I have taken you to baseball games for years.”

“It’s not the same.”

“Ungrateful, I tell you. Completely and totally ungrateful.”

“Last week,” Liam starts, “I braided Addy’s hair, as I do quite frequently so I’m not a novice, and there was a small loop out of place that she went on about until I dropped her at school. I swear, sometimes it’s like life really is paying me back for every dumb thing I’ve done through the kids.”

Emma’s phone beeps, and she looks down at it to see a message from Ruby that she needs to come downstairs and get prepped for the game day introduction. Emma closes down the screen on her phone and takes several quick bites of her cake before standing up from the couch and placing her plate down on the coffee table.

“Thank you guysyou, guys. I love you, but I’ve got to go to work. Do your magic and pull the guys through, okay? If not for our sakes, do it for Killian so we don’t have to deal with him being all moody.”

“Amen,” they all echo from around her.

They all know Killian far too well.

-/-

There’s a roar in the stadium, one that Emma doesn’t hear that often, and it sends chills down her spine and over every inch of her skin so that each individual hair is raised on pebbled skin.

That’s the thing about starting the Series with the home field advantage. The entire crowd is around you, cheering on your successes and bemoaning your mistakes, and that momentum doesn’t just stick around for the home game. It stays with the players when they inevitably have to travel to California and have their every movement booed and their every breath criticized. Killian has told her time and time again that when it gets to be too much out there, the lights to bright and the jeers too loud, he closes his eyes and thinks to one of those moments where he was floating on cloud nine lifted by the fans so that he can remember that what’s happening right now isn’t going to be what’s happening every single time.

Each game is different, and sometimes it takes looking back on a good moment to have things be a little less lonesome out there.

For as much as these guys are a part of a team, they’re also standing in solidarity with thousands upon thousands of eyes on them, each person waiting with baited breath.

Emma’s heart has nearly burst from her chest fifteen times tonight alone, and she doesn’t know how she’s going to make it through more games than this.

How is she going to make it through Killian pitching tomorrow when he’s only pitched two games in two months?

This was easier when she was simply a reporter and not a girlfriend.

Damn.

“You look like you’re about to hyperventilate,” Ruby says through her earpiece.

“Rubes, you have spent this entire game commentating the fact that I look like I’m going to hyperventilate or pass out or do something else equally ridiculous.”

“Some people are entertained by the game. I’m entertained by you.”

Jeff rolls his eyes next to Emma, obviously listening in to Ruby talking too. That poor man did not sign up for the two of them when he applied to be a job as a cameraman. He probably thought he’d just get to film a few baseball games.

“It’s sad how little you can be entertained by.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t hear you over the sound of this huge ass diamond ring on my finger.”

“Oh my God,” Emma mutters under her breath, and now Jeff is the one who looks like he’s about to hyperventilate. “Are you ever going to stop saying that?”

“Nope,” Ruby sighs. “I’m engaged and in love, and it’s only been three days. I have at least two weeks to be an obnoxious bride-to-be, remember?”

“Okay, but after two weeks, you’re done.”

“Please, in two weeks you and Jones are going to be holed up in his apartment fucking each other’s brains out because neither of you are smothered with work for the first time since you started dating. Baseball mating season in its truest form.”

“Ruby,” Emma shrieks, and some of the other reporters that are sitting next to her back behind the bullpen look over to her. “You can’t say that over the earpiece.”

“I’m sure Jeff doesn’t mind.”

“I mind,” he pipes in. “I definitely mind.”

“Strike three,” the umpire says, flashing the signal as Lorenzo walks off the field and back to the Dodgers’ dugout.

And game one goes to the Yankees.

“Go ahead and get ready to do interviews, you guys,” Ruby instructs them, her voice mellowing out back to the voice she uses when she’s seriously working. “Roseman has done a hell of a job closing out the game, but they want you to interview Scarlet and King.”

“Are you serious?” Emma groans.

“I know, I know. King is an asshole, but he hit the triple that gave us the lead. You’ve just got to do it.”

Emma would release a breath of relief, but she doesn’t even get a chance. She’s too busy trying to navigate the field that’s full of players and coaches and even a few family members that have somehow stuck around. Then it’s a mess of interviews, and thankfully, Will and Arthur do a joint one so that she doesn’t have to interview Arthur alone. Their voices are giddy, Will’s Boston accent far thicker than usual, and it’s infectious seeing the joy in their faces and hearing the cheer of the crowd as Frank Sinatra’s voice plays over the stadium.

They really did just win.

One game down. Hopefully only three more to go.

“Swan,” Killian yells out, and she turns around on the field to see him walking toward her. He’s changed clothes since she last saw him, and she had no idea that he was still even near the field. She kind of figured that he would have gone up to the suite after practice.

The smile on his face is huge, his eyes crinkling, and she fully expects him to pick her up in his hug when he gets to her.

He does.

“We won,” she laughs into his embrace while he slowly spins her around the field.

“YesYes, we fucking did,” Killian chuckles right back as he puts her on the ground and moves his hands to cup her cheeks before fiercely kissing her. She guesses him kissing her during the last game kind of blew their policy on separating work and home in public. “I have no idea how I’m going to go to sleep tonight.”

“Yeah, well, you better. You have to pitch tomorrow. This isn’t over yet.”

“I know, I know, but I can feel it in my bones. We’ve got this.”

“Yeah,” she smiles as hope starts building up in her chest, “we do.”

Or at least she hopes so.

-/-

-/-

Tag list: @authorarsinoe​ @stunningswan​ @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury​ @superchocovian​ @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog​ @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings​ @carpedzem​ @tornadoamy​

[holylulusworld]

Married overnight

Summary: You and Dean investigate unusual deaths in a casino in Las Vegas only to wake up to an unpleasant surprise.

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: light angst, drunk marriage, alcohol abuse, implied smut, fun, smut, unprotected sex, hair pulling

“God, how could we not see it was the bartender.” You groan as Dean plops down next to you onto a bar stool. “Come on, it was fun pretending we are here to marry.” Dean chuckles and you roll your eyes.

“Barely. You were busy looking at everyone else’s ass than mine, Winchester. I doubt you will ever have the guts to marry me. I’m too hard to handle for you, my friend.” You tease poking your finger into his biceps.

“I bet I could handle you perfectly fine, in any situation.” Dean talks back and you lick your lips tilting your head. “I would not make a bet I cannot win, Deano. How about having some drinks, and room service on Mr. Marino’s credit card?” You whisper leaning close to Dean, smelling his cologne.

“Count me in, Sweetheart. I could drink you under the table any day of the week. What’s your poison?” Dean challenges.

“You want to make a bet? Fine. Tequila…a lot of Tequila, Winchester. Do not forget the salt and lemon. Let’s do this.”

—-

Your head is pounding and you wonder who shit into your mouth as you open your blinds and daylight is hurting your eyes.

Body sore, thighs aching and the worst completely bare you lie underneath the thin blankets. What the heck did you do last night? You were drinking…Tequila…too much Tequila…with Dean…

“Fuck…” Cursing you turn around to find Dean passed out onto the bed, right next to you, bare and unconscious. He’s not even covered by a blanket so you can admire his naked backside and a moan leaves your lips.

Your eyes linger at his butt as you see a bite mark…oh…shit…what did you do? The sticky feeling between your thighs tells you something stupid.

The ring on your finger tells another story. “HOLY SHIT!!!! DEAN!!! Wake up!” You scream and the hunter almost pounces on you gun aimed toward the door he admires your revealed breasts and a grin appears on his lips.

“Damn, way to wake me up, Y/N.” Dean groans and you glare at the hunter.

“What the fuck did we do last night?” You grunt showing Dean your ring. Panting he glances at his hand, wearing a matching golden band.

“Fuck, I think I found the guts to marry you.” Dean states and you toss a pillow into his face. “Idiot! I think we did more than marrying. We are both naked and according to the stickiness between my thighs we fucked!” You groan falling back onto the bed…frustrated.

“Hmm…finally. How about round two?” Dean suggests still grinning he eyes your naked form, lazily licking his lips. “Could devour you, rock your world, ya know.”

His eyes linger at your lips as you flip him the bird. “Shut up for a second. We are married, Dean, that’s not funny.” Groaning you get out of the bed to move into the bathroom.

That’s not the way you imagined marrying someone…especially Dean. Not that he ever wanted to marry you…

Glancing at the mirror you try to straighten your hair. The door of the bathroom opens and a very naked Dean stalks toward you. Cock already hard he looks at you with hungry eyes.

“You are my sexy wife now. I want to show you what you missed out last night…” He rasps and your eyes drift toward his length, standing tall and proud.

“We need an annulment, Dean. Let’s stop fooling around. This should’ve never happened. We are friends, partners and you are for sure not interested in me. Tequila makes everyone’s brain go mush…” You sigh closing your eyes for a moment.

—-

Gasps escape your lips feeling Dean’s mouth sucking at your shoulder. His tongue tastes your salty skin and his firm chest presses into your back.

“I want you, always wanted you. Now you are mine I will for sure not let you slip through my fingers. I’m greedy and I will not share you ever again. Mine.” Dean growls as his hands grasp your waist to bring you closer to him.

Lips nipping at your neck Dean grinds against you as he tries to wait for your consent. “Dean…” It’s more a wail than a word leaving your lips but it tells him all he needs to know.

Playfully sliding his hard dick through your slick folds, he gasps as he pushes the tip in. There’s a moment of silence before a low growl leaves his lips and he snaps his hips forward, entering you in one go. You cry out. Moan. Gasp. Digging your fingertips into the washbasin to watch Dean behind you.

Darkened emerald eyes stare back at you as he works his cock into your cunt. He pulls back out, slamming back in, bottoming out every time to get as deep as possible. His right hand fists your hair, pushing you down, holding you in place.

Not only lust is driving Dean on, he also wants to show you how good he can take care of your needs. Last night you admitted you miss intimacy, sex…a connection. This is his chance of giving you everything at once.

“So sexy, so beautiful for me.” Dean praises and you mewl in response.

Your mouth hangs open as you try to meet his rhythm but it’s almost impossible to compare to his speed. The hunter is relentlessly thrusting into you. Hard shaft plunging into you in abandon Dean makes almost pornographic noises. Your legs are about to give in as the coil tightens. Dean is hitting your secret spot again and again until you cry out in ecstasy.

Body shuddering you writhe underneath the tall hunter who’s fucking you through your high with quick and sharp thrusts, still burying himself to the hilt every time.

Your nails scratch alone the washbasin to release some pressure. Another high is approaching and you can’t hold back your needy whines. Pleas along with his name leave your lips as he slams into you without mercy.

Dean is a panting mess, sweat is dripping down his chest but he wants to get one more out of you so he pushes and pulls, slams and grinds against you to finally hear his name leaving your lips like a prayer and he let go. Filling you with hot ropes of cum Dean moans your name, his wife’s name, slipping out of you.

“Fuck…” You whimper at the loss, but Dean is right back on you. Carefully picking you up he carries you toward the large bathtub.

“Now I’m having a hot bath with my wife and then we are going to call Sammy, telling him to buy champagne. I’m bringing Mrs. Y/N Winchester home…” Dean states not accepting any argument.

“Uh, I think it’s rather I’m bringing Dean Y/L/N home…” You tease and he gives you a cocky grin.

“Let’s see…I bet you won’t survive another round with me.” Dean threatens.

“I bet you can’t make me cum again only using one finger…” You challenge and Dean’s eyes darkened.

“One finger…ten minutes and you are mine.” Your husband states and you shake his hand to accept the bet.

… five minutes later you scream his name, bucking against his finger…you lost the bet but won so much more…

Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22, @sister-winchesters99​, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @strayrosesbloom​, @thewinchesterco​, @hobby27​, @kittycatlover18, @gh0stgurl​, @marvelfansworld​ , @sandlee44​, @hawaiianohana31​, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt​, @katpatrova17​, @notyourtypicalrose​ , @heyitscam99​, @onethingthatkeepsmealive, @natura1phenomenon​, @flamencodiva​, @echoesofpassion​, @cocklesbelli​, @voltage-my2dlove​, @fandom-princess-forevermore​, @thenamelesschibi​, @lauravic​, @fandomsrourlives​, @wittysunflower​, @drakelover78​, @lemondropirwin​, @lonewolf471​, @wronglanemendes​, @electraphygelectraphyng , @spnhollis​, @void-imaginations​, @jay-and-dean​, @shatteredabby​ , @juniorhuntersam​, @helpmeluci​, @neii3n​, @goodgodimaweirdperson​, @alltimesamantha​, @chonisberonica​, @supernaturalonice​ @stuckys-whore​, @shadowkat-83​, @officialmarvelwhore​, @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel, @wecantgiggleitsafandom​, @meganywinchester​, @shikshinkwon​, @miraclesoflove​, @yolobloggers​,@guardian-tn, @lu-sullivan​, @maniacproffesor​, @hollymac79​, @straycuties9​, @destieladdict-221b​, @kayla-2000​, @ilovefanfic86, @gracefultrenchcoat494​, @babygirls-fav​, @sadn0va​, @spnwoman​ @amiquette​, @linki-locks11​, @geekofmanyforms​

If your name is crossed out Tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason. Sorry.

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags     

@spnfamily-j2​, @supernatural-bellawinchester​, @butifulsoul125​, @lyinginthegingerlocks​, @deans-baby-momma​, @hawaiianohana31​, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester​, @20gayneen​, @janicho88​, @thefaithfulwriter​, @dreaminemz​, @negans-lucille-tblr​ @sadwaywardkid​, @akshi8278​, @hhiggs​, @midnightsilver16830​, @mrspeacem1nusone​, @ria132love​, @caligraphee​, @the-witch-in-silence​, @multisuperfandom​, @deansgirl-1968​, @justanotherwinchester​, @jadesupernatural​

[the-hilda-librarians-wife]

Family Fights - Chapter Eighteen

Summary:  Even the strongest bond, the most loving family, can be broken by nightmares, and the librarian is soon to learn this. As she learns sinister things about a person who she had thought was lost forever, she realizes she will need the help of another witch to get her family back.

Notes: Can’t believe I’m finally finishing the first Hilda fanfic I ever began writing. A huge thank you to everyone who kept up with this fic, and for being so incredibly supportive all along!

(Also, if you read the fic on tumblr, take a second to read the first notes i put on ao3. They’re kind of important)

(chpt1) (chpt2) (chpt3) (chpt4) (chpt5) (chpt6) (chpt7) (chpt8) (chpt9) (chpt10) (chpt11) (chpt12) (chpt13) (chpt14) (chpt15) (chpt16) (chpt17) (chpt18)

“What do you want this time?”

Maven heard the angry hiss before she even saw her, standing at the edge of the bushes that delimited her back garden. Myra’s fists were clenched, and she looked like she was ready to attack her at any moment, which was probably true. It didn’t matter that she didn’t want to be there, though. The summoning spell also bound her to stay with the summoner for a few minutes, Maven only had to win her attention in that time so she wouldn’t run away. She just had no idea of how to do that

“I…” Maven stared at her, struggling to find words. She’d imagined this moment many times before, but the conversations she’d made up in her mind never felt quite right. Truth was, she wasn’t sure what would feel right. She’d never been taught what to do in a situation like this, and to her exhausted brain the thought of a confrontation felt even more out of her lane. “I’m not really sure, sweetie. I’ve done a lot to try to save you. But it’s all the same to you, isn’t it?”

Myra frowned. Her sister didn’t sound angry, just tired and resigned. She could not bring a single memory to mind where Maven hadn’t tried her greatest to be in control of the situation.

“Very complicated spell setup you have here.” She said, avoiding the question in favor of looking at the casting circle, colourful with all the crystals. “What are you trying to do?”

Leaving Myra’s old comb on the ground and picking up the jar instead, Maven lifted it for her to see. Her sister’s eyes widened as she realized what it was. The puff of smoke inside the jar was exactly like the one she saw leave her body the night she sealed her deal with the Marra. It was clear to her, then, why she had been summoned, and her breath caught on her throat though she didn’t let it show.

Myra knew no spell capable of doing that, but she remembered enough about witchcraft to know it could only have been possible if Maven had had the aid of a powerful witch. Her hands went to her waist as she looked around.

“You can’t possibly have done this on your own. So, where’s mum?”

Maven was hit by her question like a train, and she inhaled sharply at the realization that Myra didn’t know. She’d assumed her sister had taken a look at them often enough for her to know what had happened, but it seemed she really was clueless. Not missing the shock that overtook Maven’s face, Myra crossed her arms in front of herself.

Patting the ground beside her, Maven silently invited her sister to sit down with her but was not at all surprised when it only made Myra stare at her harder. She sighed and looked up at the sky.

“Mum is gone, Myra. She died more than an year ago.”

After a beat of silence, she could feel her sister walk closer and finally kneel by her side , even though her eyes were focused on the stars.

“How did she go?” Her voice was small and her words tentative. When Maven looked at her again, her heart squeezed with pain. That was already a healed wound for her, but she could only imagine the impact it was having on her sister. She found that she prefered Myra’s confrontational tone which she had been using seconds before to this sudden melancholy.

“Peacefully.” Maven lied. She knew a great part of her mother’s health complications had been aggravated by the stress and worry of thinking her youngest daughter had been in danger, and she took that agony to her grave. But Myra didn’t need to know that. Maven was not trying to guilt trip her into accepting her help.

“Myra, I am going to be straightforward with you.” She said when her sister remained in silence. “Mother and I have been trying to find you ever since you left, and ever since I found out what had happened to you, I’ve been working to be able to get you this.”

Her sister lifted her eyes briefly to look at the jar, but returned her gaze down immediately after. She was avoiding looking at her face, Maven noticed.

“Up to this point, you’ve refused my help and made it very clear you didn’t want me in your life anymore. But when it comes to this.” She lifted the jar. “I am no longer asking. I am begging you. If you want to take this and join the circus or the mafia, I won't care. If you want to take this and look for a vampire to bite you or a faerie to abduct you, it’s okay. I’ve already accepted that I can’t make you be something you don’t want to. But please, even if you don’t want to be a human, let me help you not be a puppet.”

For seconds, there was no answer, until Myra’s shoulders started shaking and Maven realized that she was sobbing. Figuring her affection wouldn’t be well received, Maven kept her hands to herself, even as she felt helpless to comfort her sister.

“I never wanted to become this.” Myra wined, making Maven sit up straighter. “I didn’t want to become one of these creatures.”

She hadn’t expected much more than a fight with her sister, so to find her explaining anything at all was a surprise. A very pleasant one, even if the moment was too tense for her to register any joy. Having decided to push her luck, Maven scooted closer to her.

“Then why did you do it?” She asked, monitoring her voice so that it wouldn’t come across as accusing. “And don’t even think about bringing up those kids who gave you a hard time. They were awful and you know we recognize how terrible your situation was. You know we did our best, and you also know that suffering isn’t an excuse to hurt people. So why did you it?”

“You’re right. That whole situation at school is just not what made me lose it. It was what I told myself when I questioned what I was doing. But it’s.. deeper than that. You wouldn’t understand.”

They let the words hang in the air, carving a rift between them even though they were only centimeters apart. But Maven was determined not to lose her again without a fight.

“No, I don’t think I would have understood either. But it’s been a long time, sweetie. I’ve grown.”

Tears still streaming down her eyes, Myra looked at her in askance as she took the necklace she was wearing over her head and then opened the pendant, revealing it to be a locker. Inside it, Myra saw a small picture of her sister standing next to a blue haired girl, who was smiling brightly. By her side, there was an enormous sunflower.

“This is my apprentice, Hilda, and that was the first spell she cast on her own. She made that flower grow overnight after just few months of training, can you believe it?”

Myra’s curiosity was piqued at the knowledge that her sister had taken a student. It didn’t sound like Maven at all to spend her time with a protégée, especially one so young. But what really called her attention was the plant.

“A hastened growth spell? You think those are-“

“A waste of magic on something that nature would already provide with, a disrespect for the spirit of the plant and a trick used by inpatient and sloppy witches to achieve their ends.” Maven completed. “Yes, I used to think all that. But Hilda… nothing matters as much to her as taking care of things. She never misses the opportunity of helping someone… grow. And she’s a green witch, on top of that. I knew she would love that spell. And she did.”

Staring at the girl’s grin in the photography, Myra tried to wrap her mind around the change that seemed to have overcome her sister. She didn’t sound like she only beared that her student’s first big accomplishment in magic was something she used to frown upon. She sounded genuinely proud.

“So I know where you’re coming from, Myra. I’ve had many chances to realize how I come short as a person. I’m trying every day to be a better mentor, and if you just give me another chance I promise I’ll do all I can to be a better sister. Please, sweetie, try to make me understand.”

Myra fixed her gaze on her like she’d grown a second head. Though she was looking at her sister, before her eyes was a person different than that she’d known. Or perhaps, she wondered, this Maven always been there but she’d been too caught in her mental image of her to notice.

It took her a lot of strength to speak again, but once she did the words flew easily. Her heart had become tired of storing so much bitterness inside of itself.

“I’ve always felt so weak.” She revealed, still with teary eyes and low voice. “We were raised as we were born. Like witches. And I grew up seeing all of you being so strong and confident about your powers, but… I’ve never felt that way. I do recognize that magic is powerful, sister. But it has never felt like my power. I never found comfort and beauty in it like you and our mother, and I spent so long thinking that… that I was broken. I think the Marra have felt this in me since I was a child, but they will usually wait until a person is older to attack. Children usually have too much compassion to take on their offer, you see. And when they did come for me, I accepted. Letting go of witchcraft and of being human gave me a chance to believe that it was you that were broken, not me, and to finally feel like I wasn’t weak. To finally feel like I wasn’t nothing.”

Myra’s voice weakened and became thinner with each word, the tears threatening to choke her. Maven wrapped her arms around herself and her bottom lip trembled at her confession. Never, in a thousand years, had they meant to make her feel that way. It made everything worse to know the part she’d played in her sister’s decision.

“Why did you need to feel powerful, Myra?” She whispered, knowing their only chance at evolving was communicating like they should have done long before. “You had a family that did all they could to protect you, you knew that bullying situation would eventually get solved with all the pressure we were doing, didn’t you? You had love. Why wasn’t it enough?”

“I don’t know! It used to make sense in my head. And I need you to try and see my point, too. You were doing your best to protect me, but your best just wasn’t enough!”

Maven took a deep breath and nodded. It was reasonable.

“I do see your point. But what changed you? You don’t sound that certain on the choice you made anymore.”

“I’m not.” As she admitted it, her shoulders relaxed like a heavy burden had been lifted off of them. “I used to think I needed power. But now I have power, and I lost everything else. I feel hollow with the Marra, Mavey. There’s nothing left to me but this magic and this wish to harm people that I know wasn’t here before. And you know what’s worse? I don’t think it’s the Marra that are responsible for this second part. I think I did this to myself.”

Before she could think much about it, Maven closed her arms around her sister, just in time for Myra to begin sobbing again into her neck.

“It’s not just your fault.” She said. “We didn’t look at you enough to see how you were different. But I promise you, we never meant to make you feel like you had to change, or like you had to accept the hurtful things people did to you. Can you forgive us?”

Myra nodded, the movement limited since her head was in the crook of Maven’s neck. “Only if you can forgive me.”

They held each other for long moments, until the librarian realized that not all was solved yet. She drew back from the hug and reached for her right side, where the jar still was.

“You need to take this, if you’re going to stay.” She said, handing it to her sister. “It will make you human again.”

Her heart beat was loud on her ears as her younger sister picked the jar from her hands carefully, staring at it with an unreadable expression.

“The choice must be yours.”

Then, Myra unscrewed the cork and the cloud that had been inside went flying to her, entering through her nostrils, her mouth, her ears and her eyes. It was a terrifying sight to watch, and for a moment Maven was scared as the soul entered the body completely, leaving Myra breathing deeply with her eyes closed.

But the fear only lasted until her sister opened her eyes again. There was a new light in them, and she smiled and hugged her sister again, free at last.

_#_#_#_

Myra stood awkwardly by her side, shifting her weight between her feet, as she waited for either Hilda or Johanna to open the door for her. Maven had had to pay them a visit to let them know how things turned out, but she couldn’t even consider the thought of leaving her sister alone at their house after everything that had happened. Luckily, Myra seemed to think that she owned it to Maven to at least accompany her.

The door opened just enough for Johanna to peek through, and when she saw who it was she opened it wider.

“Maven!” She exclaimed, and then gasped upon noticing the teenager by her side.

“It’s okay! She’s with us, it worked.”

“Oh.” Johanna moved out of the way so they could come in. “That’s lovely news!”

She recognized the woman. It was the same that had come to her in her tent to defend her sister. As she watched with avid curiosity, the woman hugged Maven and said how happy she was for her. Embarrassed as she felt standing by the door of someone that not only she didn’t know, but also who was aware of what she had been just minutes before, she couldn’t help want to laugh when she realized that her sister was blushing.

“Hilda’s resting in her room. You should go there, she’s worried sick for you.”

There was no need to go anywhere, however, because Hilda heard them coming in and ran out of her room to meet them. She stopped when she noticed Myra, staring wide eyed at her, and then looked up at Maven.

“It worked?”

Maven nodded, smiling. “Thanks to you it did.”

As Maven kneeled down to Hilda’s height, the girl swung her arms around her neck and chuckled.

“I only helped you cast a spell, Mave.”

“You did a lot more than that.”

Hilda was about to ask her what she meant when she remembered that Myra was listening. She took a step back.

“So, ugh, how are you feeling?” It was as good a thing to say as any. The teenager was clearly not very comfortable with the situation, but she managed to open a small smile.

“Better than I have in a long time. I suppose I should thank you as well. Sorry for the trouble.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Hilda said. The girl looked tired, but truly happy for her. Myra had forgotten how uplifting the innocence of a child could be, having spent so long only seeing it as the weakness that the Marra exploited. “So, you’ll be a witch again?”

It wasn’t an accusation, just a genuine question, and Myra kept that in mind as she tried not to feel like she had to defend herself. She rubbed her neck, looking at the ground.

“No, I don’t think i will. Just not what I want, I guess. Plus, I don’t think my sister will have much time to spare teaching me since she already has a dedicated apprentice.”

She threw the words hoping that they’d lighten the atmosphere, but doubted whether or not she should have said them when Hilda gasped and turned to her sister.

“You’ll keep teaching me magic?” There was amazement in her voice, and Myra wondered if perhaps Maven had just trained the girl to help her with this one particular ritual. But instead of saying so, Maven held Hilda’s hands on her own and squeezed gently.

“I’d be honored to. We can learn many new things together.”

Hilda looked like she wanted to hug her mentor again, but instead she just smiled at her as Maven got up again. Johanna touched Maven on her shoulder to catch her attention.

“Would the two of you like anything? I had just given Hilda some cocoa when you arrived.”

“Thank you, but I think we’re fine.” Maven answered after looking at her sister to make sure she didn’t feel like taking up the invitation either. “Hilda needs to sleep and honestly, I do too. But thank you for the offer.”

“Not for that. Sleep well and tell us if you need anything. I’ll try to pay you a visit at the library during the week, if that’s okay.”

Seemingly without her realizing it, Johanna’s hand slid down from Maven’s shoulder to hold her hand. The librarian tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear.

“I’d love that. Good night for the two of you.”

_#_#_#_

“Why are you smiling like that?” Maven asked as soon as they stepped out into the street, holding her coat tighter around herself to shield her skin from the cold.

“I’ve just been reunited with my beloved sister and met her darling friends, why wouldn’t I be smiling?” She let the corners of her mouth lift up higher, delighting in the knowledge she now had.

“You know what I mean. You’ve got your evil plotting smile on.”

“Well… I need to admit I am having fun.”

Maven squinted at her sister with suspicion. Nightmare spirit or not, she’d always been mischievous, and Maven could remember quite a few pranks she’d pulled. Never mind that Maven herself had admittedly been complicit in some of them.

“Fun with what?”

“You like that woman, don’t you, Mavey?”

For a moment the librarian thought she’d fall, tripping almost imperceptibly. She hoped Myra wouldn’t have realized it, and that she would brush off the sudden blush on her cheeks as due to the cold, but judging from the look of satisfaction on her face it was clear that Maven had had no such luck.

“Of course I don’t! Johanna is just a friend.”

“Aha!” Myra pointed at her older sister accusingly. “I never said what kind of ‘like’ I meant!”

“Myra, that is stupid!”

“Oh man, I just have to get the two of you together!” She clasped her hands in front of herself, giggling as Maven tried to look angry to hide her embarrassment.

“You’ll do no such thing, you hear me?”

“Mavey, please! I have nearly three years of bothering you to catch up with, I can’t just let this opportunity go!”

Maven groaned, but they both knew it was fake. As they continued their way home, she couldn’t help but wear a smile. Her sister was finally home, safe and willing to work to mend their relationship, and she had even more people who cared for her.

She had never thought it would happen, but she had even more family than she knew what to do with, now. And she would do everything in her reach to not let any of those ties break ever again.

[werevulvi]

At this point I feel like I'm just floating between two identities. Like what does it really matter what I decide to call myself? Says the desperate and jaded. I feel like I need to juggle my two different perspectives for a while. I will mostly use tumblr for it when I lean more gender critical, and probably use fb instead when I lean more towards trans thinking, until I figure this shit out for sure. Thus, I will keep being a dysphoric woman here on tumblr, and nonbinary on my fb account. That way I can juggle my two conflicting sides without feeling too much pressure to "just make sense already."

To clarify, my views are mainly gender critical, but it wouldn't be wrong to say that I'm still flirting with TRA views on gender, dysphoria and transition. Essentially, bio sex is the only actually scientifically proven and tangible thing about this all. Laws etc should be based on sex. Sexual attraction is based on sex. Then dysphoria is also a real medical condition, like it's an actual distress and I don't think it's solely caused by social factors. There are lots of different types of dysphoria, alright. As for gender, however... I don't believe in it, but... basically I just respect that other people have an inner sense of gender (like that's their interpretation of their feelings) while I'm still highly critical of WHY they have that interpretation. And I can’t fit myself into my old thinking of gender at all anymore. It is completely alien to me. The spell has broken and I cannot cast it again.

As for my dysphoria, basically what I'm dealing with is (a probably very rare kind of) atypical dysphoria. I like some aspects of female on my body, but not all. I like some aspects of male on my body, but not all. I feel like I should look like a hybrid of male and female, and I feel both belonging and disconnect to/from womanhood and manhood. It is a constant push and pull in both directions, uncomfortably kneading me into a serene middle-ground. That middle-ground is not a compromise; it is a very peaceful and harmonic place for me to be. It's where I'm relieved of my dysphoria. I used to avoid it my whole life, until I finally stopped fighting myself. There is tranquility here, at this inbetween, that I didn't know existed. I'm clearly dysphoric, but I am not FtM - I'm FtX. I do not give a single fuck if you think nonbinary is real or not. What I'm telling you now is: this is my dysphoria and it simply is what it is. Then what you wish to call it and what I wish to call it does not matter.

Anyhow. I just wanted to give that little debrief of my dysphoria so that you'd hopefully understand why I'm struggling so much with labels, because it's not so straight-forward. Another thing I very much want to clarify is that labels are means of communication for me - NOT identity. Just like I use the label lesbian to communicate what my sexual orientation is. That has a clear purpose. For the same reason we call ourselves men or women: it has a clear purpose. Then my question to myself, my oh so eternal question, is: what is the best label for me to communicate to others what I am and/or how I wish to be perceived?

Problem 1: What I wish to communicate (that I'm a bio female person who's happily transitioned) is not the same as what I wish to be seen as (person of indeterminate gender.)

I don't know how to feel about that what I'm mostly assumed to be a male who identifies as a woman. Do I feel bad, ashamed or guilty, for looking like a bad stereotype of trans women? Yes. I think I fear that I will come across as mocking trans women, because my looks are deliberate. I feel bad for copying gnc men. My affinity for feminine stuff like lipstick and dresses, and my absolute refusal to let go of those things, makes me feel guilty in a feminist sense. I don't believe that the way I use femininity is harmful for myself, because I've adapted it to fit my needs of comfort as well as my social goals with it. It is not sexual, it is not restraining or hindering. It is not adhering to societal standards of beauty - if anything it's mocking that.

Yes, I am mocking femininity, but I also use it because it makes me feel less naked, and more expressive. I'm always accompanying my femininity with strong masculine features such as deliberately visible facial hair and body hair, etc. My femininity is not my womanhood, but it is a highly important way for me to express my personality, symbolically. I do not want for people to oogle my naked body, or a careless sack of clothing that I've rushed into - I want for them to see my personality, so that they'll get an idea of who I am before talking to me. But despite all that... I still feel guilty for being genuinely feminine. How can I be authentic, if no matter where I turn, I feel guilt, shame, or fear?

Problem 2: As soon as I claim the nonbinary label I miss calling myself a woman, and as soon as I claim myself as a woman, I miss calling myself nonbinary.

Do I have a gender? Yes and no. It depends on how I look at it. Do I need to have a gender? Not really, but it's easier in most aspects of socialising if I do, because of my appearance. Do I want to have a gender? Sometimes I do, sometimes I don't.

I feel like I went into the gender store and bought too many. Now I sit here with a useless pile of trash that cost a fortune. I am terrified to get rid of it. There will be consequences if I do. I've been building up to this moment for almost two years. I am still building up to it. The pile is stinking and I need to take it out to the garbage disposal, but I can't make myself do it. What if I'll need it later? I'm too nostalgic for my own good.

Problem 3: When I don't want to have a gender I'm a proud woman based on my sex, but when I do want a gender, nonbinary feels more right. I can't really make a gender in my brain and then stick to it. I keep picking it up, then tossing it away, then picking it up, then tossing it away, and so on. I want to have the gender cake and eat it at the same time. Sometimes I feel proud to be woman, who takes testosterone and loves her lesbian pussy. But then it gets increasingly uncomfortable and I'd just rather not be anything specific. Then I flip to view myself as a hybrid of man and woman and that feels comfortable and uplifting. Until it doesn't anymore and I miss taking pride in being a woman, and I just don't know what the fuck is up with that.

Perhaps my "identity" is split off from my dysphoria? I dunno what I meant with that thought. Perhaps it came from my lack of social dysphoria. It's just social anxiety over looking weird.

Oh I wish I could try living in a perfect society with no sexism, and see if I'd then always be comfortable with calling myself a woman and freely be this bearded, deep-voiced, charming lady in a gothy dress, wine red lipstick and a pearl necklace, with no need to beat myself up for not being "woman enough." Because I worry that is why I keep reaching for the nonbinary label. Maybe it is out of fear? Maybe the reason I feel good about calling myself nonbinary is rooted in just wanting to be left alone to be a beautifully virilized woman, because I'm never given the chance to be that kinda woman.

It breaks my heart. You know that? You should.

No matter how much testosterone I take and no matter how much I love the effects of it... I am forever female and I love that too. No way in this despicable hell... would I ever want my sex erased. It's profoundly important to me, and such is my transition. I think that is why I stand with one foot in self-loving and the other in the medical result of dysphoria. My body is a cocktail of this and that, a little bit tit for tat, and I revel in its strange combination of exquisite flavours.

I feel like I have transcended the concept of gender, but as a happily transitioned, dysphoric woman, I have a very hard time conveying that to the rest of my little world, and the world at large. What is a woman who is happily transitioned to a goal that falsely mimmics the visual effects of certain intersex and hormonal conditions? Who am I to glorify the visual results of others' suffering? Oh I dunno, but I probably have more respect for them than I do for myself, if that counts as an excuse.

What am I? And how do I move forward in society, as honestly as possible?

What I am... is in the eye of the beholder. Depending on your ideology, you will have a different opinion (boldly assuming that you'd even care at all) but what I think is... there is no one correct answer. Thus, in my desperate search for that one true answer, I cannot win. All I can do is pick whatever makes me the most comfortable, but the only thing that would soothe me is the ultimate truth. (No, that's not it. Keep scrambling.)

I have become a biologist obsessed with finding the truth of God with a microscope. No wonder people are beginning to question my sanity.

("Are you okay?" Uhm no, I don't think so.)

What I need to figure out, is if gender serves me, and if "woman" serves me. But they both do, and I have to make a choice. There I stand, finding that they both serve me, unable to make a choice.

(Somewhere around here, I started going off on a tangent and lost myself in the endless whirls of my heart and mind. So I rolled back the tape, and here I am again. The rest in an over-write.)

How do I see myself? I see myself both as a woman and as nonbinary. Sometimes I need my gender, sometimes I don't. What I am is still the same, but there are many different ways to label me correctly, and THAT is what chafes at me.

Problem 4: I do not want to have a politically charged label. Woman has become a political statement for me, because of my appearance contradicting that statement, and the statement contradicts my dysphoria. It being so politically charged makes me uncomfortable. I wish to just exist as a woman, not declare myself as one. Nonbinary is equally a political statement, of rejecting gender norms which are harmful to everyone. Nonbinary strips the bearer of their sex, and releases the pressure on them to conform. There is the catch. Woman, instead strips the bearer of the freedom to not conform, but releases the pressure of gender. And there I think I've hit the nail on the head. What I wish for... is a label which does not strip me of my sex, nor forces me into conformity to look like my sex. Woman should be that label, but the only way it can ever be... is to put on that armour and fight for it, which I don't want to.

The label woman is too heavy for me, as a male-passing female, to bear in this gender-obsessed world - while nonbinary feels like a betrayal, both to myself and all other women. Nonbinary feels like a happy fantasy, until it shatters upon my realisation that it is not real. Woman feels like the powerful authenticity from the bottom of my chromosomes, until reality hits that it's a very difficult label for me to wear. Then I run away scared into my happy fantasy, but I am tired of continuously shattering and rebuilding myself.

What I want is to fully embrace my womanhood, without running back to the trans community again and again, to cry about how cruel reality is, and please validate my special trans feelings, which of course... the zombies do. I feel like I have Stockholm Syndrome for the trans community. I feel hurt by its sexism and homophobia, which is aimed directly at me as a gender-breaking woman and as a female-exclusive lesbian, yet I keep running back to it, pleading for validation as the utter coward I am! Because I am terrified of being a woman and a lesbian in the real world... while looking like this. I love the way I look, but I am scared and I am ashamed of facing my reflection with pride, as a woman. Because that means something more. It doesn't "just" mean that I'm female, it also means that when I with pride call myself a woman... I am reclaiming the one thing which I ought not to. No one shames a trans man or dysphoric enby for wanting a beard and loving taking testosterone... but the second a "cis" woman does? You know that is different. Cis is a lie, but I am real. I'm a woman, and I love testosterone flowing through my veins. My true beliefs... lie with radfem, and I'm only "making space" for gender in those beliefs to not hurt my loved ones' feelings.

How am I supposed to handle and move beyond this? Will it ever get easier?

Problem 5: It's not the nonbinary bush I have been beating around... it's the radfem bush. I have not been honest about my sense of self, anywhere else than here on tumblr. I do not want a gender label on my feelings. Gender is so harmful and I need to stop being its martyr. Can I accept and respect other people for having genders? Sure, whatever, I don't particularly care what people choose to call their feelings, as long as laws aren't being built around those feelings. But I can't for the life of me stop squirming at the idea of ME having a gender again. It is uncomfortable. Get the fucking parasite off me! Gender has been poisoning me again lately. It was a mistake to look into it again. It has been clouding my vision, because I forgot what truly matters: To look like whichever gender expression I wish, to act out whichever gender role I want, to treat my dysphoria however I see fit for myself, but not to lie about what I am: female=woman.

Problem 6: I am free without gender, but I am also incredibly vulnerable. As if I was completely naked before the whole world. Then even wearing a clown suit feels better in comparison.

Solution: I need to break up with the trans community. That toxic relationship has been going on for way too long now. I don't care if I lose all of my friends over it. I need to break free, and liberate my womanhood, because I have been shackling her. No matter how hard it is. I need to face my fear, guilt and shame. I need to tell myself that it's okay to hurt, but that it will get better. I need to stop reaching for nonbinary whenever I feel scared and ashamed to be a woman. I can cry about how hard it is... but never give up.

My dysphoria does not define me, and I refuse to let it.

[harry-leroy]

the give you a character meme: Henry V and Henry VI. (it's lisa btw)

“Hi! Thank you so much for this:) (And I hope your tumblr gets fixed soon because that is no fun :/ ). 

Henry V will be above the cut and Henry VI below! 

HENRY V 

do I like them:

Like… what a man yes I love him. 

5 good qualities:

strong, spiritual, knows when to be jocund and when to get down to business, excellent politician, unyielding 

3 bad qualities:

anxious, sometimes harshly brutal, also like if you’re going to conquer France then learn some French my sweet summer child (if we’re using Shakespeare’s version hehehe) 

favourite episode/etc:

I love him in Henry IV, Part I the most. But any Hal is wonderful. (I am so excited for The King though ahhhh) 

otp:

Hal x Catherine (otp: take a soldier) I just have so many feelings about these two. The Hal Survives AU is like one of my favorite AUs of all time because I love these two so much - and their son is such a sweet summer boy and I love that entire family dynamic. Also, best wooing scene in Shakespeare’s canon, hands down. 

brotp:

Hal x Poins (Will I ever get over the fact that Poins calls Hal “my sweet honey lord”? Absolutely not.) 

Hal x Falstaff (one of the most beautiful and heartbreaking friendships in the canon) 

ot3:

Hal x Henry IV x Richard II (every fic I read where these three are in it is just an absolute joy. Sometimes a little angsty, but I love this dynamic more than words.) 

Hal x Catherine x Henry VI (I would absolutely adore more fics with these three because again, the Hal Survives AU gives me so much life. Like, it waters my crops and clears my skin. Hal and little Henry have so much in common - even though they have a world of differences between them too - but what they share is so so powerful and ahhhhh I just need more of them in my life). 

notp:

I don’t think I have a notp for him?? At least, not one that I can think of off of the top of my head. 

best quote(s):

“If I could win a lady at leapfrog or by vaulting into my saddle with my armor on my back, under the correction of bragging be it spoken, I should quickly leap into a wife.” - Henry V; Henry V (5.2.) - conquer France that’s all fine, but get to conquering a woman’s heart? Now we’re stumped, we’re speaking in prose, we don’t know what the heck is going on. She doesn’t know what the heck is going on and if only she could understand me! Ahhhh you didn’t think this through, did you Hal? 

“Shall not thou and I, between Saint Denis and Saint George, compound a boy, half French, half English, that shall go to Constantinople and take the Turk by the beard? Shall we not?” - Henry V; Henry V (5.2.) - one of the many reasons why I think Henry VI would make a wonderfully heartbreaking Chorus to this play, especially if you’re going to stage the histories in a marathon. This moment is so pure, there is so much hope in this statement. Not only hope for these lovers, but for these two countries, and how quickly it is all lost is just absolutely heartbreaking. But at that point, you see that Henry VI, our Chorus, is that boy. Though he and Constantinople fell in the same year, and how much guilt lies on him then would be utterly, and uncomfortably palpable. 

“Francis!” x 15 - Hal; Henry IV, Part I (2.4.) - this was the scene that made me fall in love with the histories. 

head canon:

Hal Lives AU because I’ve been hyping it this whole post 

(Also possibly modern AU too - when his son gets into a highly prestigious university, Hal is probably more excited than Catherine is. They’re both proud as heck of course, that’s their boy, but Catherine was totally expecting it. And of course, Henry is a shy bean about it.) 

HENRY VI  

do I like them:

I LOVE him ahhh protect this darling boy 

5 good qualities:

wicked intelligent, sweet, just needs the people he loves, modest, honest (I could go on…) 

3 bad qualities:

anxious (just like his dad - but it’s like ten times worse), sometimes sacrificial of others for his own self-preservation, doesn’t always think through the consequences of his actions 

favourite episode/etc:

Henry VI, Part II is my favorite play of the H6 cycle, but like I adore him in everything he’s in. (Except TV shows that are really Yorkist centric… cough, cough The White Queen hehehe) 

otp:

Henry VI x Margaret of Anjou (otp: fit for none but for a king) - again, can you imagine how powerful these two would be in a modern AU?? I get chills just thinking about it. All Henry really needs is Margaret, Edward, some of his favorite books, and some animals to take care of and he is 100% content and at peace. And Margaret (especially in the modern AU) totally knows that. Ugh just… I love them so much. 

brotp:

Henry VI x Humphrey of Gloucester - just let these two be happy please ahhh 

(also poor darling boy he needs more human friends >-

ot3:

Henry VI x Margaret of Anjou x Edward of Westminster (aka my favorite family ever. This little family will always and forever end me. I adore the AU where nothing bad happens to Henry and he and his family just live happily ever after because it’s what they deserve.) 

notp:

Again, I don’t think I have one? Maybe like Henry VI x Richard III because bad things happened, but also like give me an AU where these two become friends and Henry is like, ‘no Richard, killing is not the answer’ >-

best quote:

“Whether it be through force of your report,My noble Lord of Suffolk, or for thatMy tender youth was never yet attaintWith any passion of inflaming love,I cannot tell; but this I am assured,I feel such sharp dissension in my breast,Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear,As I am sick with working of my thoughts.” - Henry VI; Henry VI, Part I (5.5.) 

This for me is actually such a gorgeous passage and if you ask any of my irl friends it’s my entire personality (especially those last three lines). Whenever my friends and I are like ‘tag urself’ with a TV show or play or anything really, I’m always the precocious, anxious one who thinks too much for his own good and most importantly, is trying his absolute best (and it’s usually a guy - which I find interesting). I got told just last week by two different people in my playwriting class that they wanted to “spend an hour in my brain” and like big yike >-

head canon:

(modern Plantagenet AU) 

Coffee makes Henry wayy too jittery, so he doesn’t drink it (there was that one time, and mistakes were made), but Margaret loves coffee, so Henry spends an insane amount of time learning how she likes her coffee, but also just learns an insane amount of coffee knowledge in general this boy could probably write a book. 

[newdougg]

The Challenge

A/N: So I literally woke up this morning and this idea for a drabble just popped in my head. But this ended up being way longer than I intended so I guess it’s a oneshot? Hopefully when I get this out of my brain I can get some inspiration for the next part of Prague. Also I’m not putting any links on this because of tumblr’s fucked that up for everyone, so if you want to check out my masterlist, which only has two stories right now, please go directly to my blog and click on the link there! Reblogs will be greatly appreciated!

Warnings: Just all the fluff. A swear or two.

“How about you? Any luck lately?”

“Not at all. It seems I’ve hit a dry spell on the dating front,” You sigh heavily and take a long swig of wine. You’re about to put your glass back down on the counter when you see the pity written all over Wanda’s face. Another healthy gulp held your annoyance at bay. It wasn’t Wanda’s fault you weren’t seeing anyone and couldn’t seem to get past the first date. But listening to her gush about Vision for the past few minutes was too much to bear. “I’m just tired of putting myself out there all the time. I just want a guy to like... do all the work. Just ask me the fuck out. And to like be cute about it too. Make the first time he asks me out memorable.”

“I think you’re expecting too much,” Wanda said, raising a brow.

Sighing, you nod in agreement, “I’ve come to the conclusion that all men suck and I’m doomed to be single forever.” 

“That’s the spirit,” the faux cheeriness in Bucky’s voice was not lost on you. He strode around the corner, clad in grey sweatpants and a black tee that was annoyingly too tight. Not that you cared to notice. A hair tie kept those chestnut locks in place low on his head, though he always looked better with his hair hanging free, framing his face. Not that it mattered to you anyway. 

“I don’t recall inviting you to this conversation,” you huffed. Bucky ignored you. He opened the fridge, grabbed the milk, and drank a third of it straight from the carton. You and Wanda watched, horrified. “You’re proving my point y’know.”

“You can’t use a glass?”

Bucky rolled his eyes, “Relax, I bought this for myself,” he turned the carton to the side where in big, bold letters was written BUCKY. The smaller script underneath read Wilson if you even look at this milk you’re dead. He wiped his perfect lips- not that you thought they were perfect, nope- with the back of his hand, and sat on the island, right next to your glass, “What point am I proving again?”

You rolled your eyes, “Just that all men are terri-”

“... terrible and you’ll be single forever. Right.” His smirk was so slappable. Yet so dreamy. Bucky threw his hands up when he caught sight of your death glare, “Hey, I’m just repeating what you said.”

“Still unnecessary,” you grumbled, “Anyways, I don’t see you bringing home any... what’s the term you like to use? Dames, lately.”

“You keeping track of my dating habits?” His eyebrows waggle suggestively and his mouth curves back into that fucking smirk and you want to die a little bit. 

“I’m observant, it’s part of the job,” you take a long gulp of your wine, hoping the glass hides the blush that was hot on your face. You finally put the glass down, maybe a little too forcefully. Some precious wine spills from the glass and it takes every fiber of your being not to whine aloud at the loss, “Doesn’t change the fact that you’re in the same boat as me.”

“Well,” he begins, hopping off the island and standing far too close, “First of all, I’m just biding my time, waiting for the opportune moment and the right girl. Quality is more important than quantity. Which means,” He smugly refills your glass for you, only he can pour smugly, “I’m in this boat by choice, As are you. Because your choice of men, if you can call them that, is absolutely horrible.”

Your mouth hangs open for just second as you realize what that means, “So  you’re keeping track of my dating life?” The tick in his jaw barely visible. His cocky demeanor falters ever so slightly and the feeling of making Bucky Barnes squirm, even just the tiniest bit, is glorious. 

“Besides,” Wanda pipes up, coming to your defense. You almost had forgotten she was even there, “Her taste in men isn’t horrible. What about that field agent...what’s his name... Nick!”

“See, now you’re proving my point,” Bucky crosses his arms, “Nick is an asshole.”

“What makes him an asshole?”

“He’s a shitty tipper, not a fan of animals of any kind, stares at himself in the mirror while he’s working out,” Bucky is listing all the traits off on his fingers, “But the most telling thing is his ‘locker room talk’. Disgusting. Steve and I used to kick guys’ asses for talking like that. Well, Steve tried to anyway.”

You distinctly remember Nick showing up for dinner with a black eye once. He refused to tell you what happened. It was incredibly hard to bite back your smile, so more wine it was, “Well that’s just one guy. I am perfectly capable of getting a quality guy to ask me out. You, on the other hand,” pointing at him at him with the same hand that was holding your glass, “might have a hard time getting a date acting all presumptuous and shit.”

Bucky’s beautiful blue eyes- not that you really find them beautiful, they were objectively pretty of course, but blue eyes always are, right?- look you up and down, a look of delight crosses his face, “Is that a challenge?”

“You know what? Yeah, it is,” A sudden confidence overwhelms you, (wine’ll do that to you) and you dared to take a step forward, practically toe to toe with the super soldier, “I know I can get a quality guy to ask me out before you can get a girl to agree to go on a date with you.”

“We’ll see about that.” You’re too busy polishing off the last of your wine to notice, but Bucky shifted uncomfortably. Worry clouds his features extremely briefly; it’s gone before you put your glass back down.

“Oh we will,” you begin to strut away, alcohol-induced confidence evident with every step, “Better get to work Barnes.”

Bucky huffed sharply, then called, “Hey, Y/N?”

“What,” You spin around on your heel, “Don’t tell me you’re chickening out al-”

“You free for dinner tomorrow?”

You mouth hung open. Wanda’s brows were at her hairline. Everything all of a sudden seemed far too quiet. Bucky’s arms were crossed, his shoulders slightly hunched, and his lips were pressed into a thin line. 

You couldn’t decide what was more unbelievable to you; the fact that Bucky Barnes had just asked you to dinner, or that he seemed nervous to hear your answer.

“Um, what?” was all you could manage.

“You wanna go to dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“What are you doing?” a dumb question, but you couldn’t stop yourself from asking it.

“I’m asking you the fuck out. Doing all the work. Trying to make it memorable,” He answered plainly. Jerk.

“I... yeah, I do. Sure.” You looked to Wanda to affirm that this actually just happened, but she was typing away on her phone, no doubt texting Nat what had just transpired.

“Great,” the nervousness has disappeared, and he was back to his normal, irritatingly cocky self, “I know a place you’ll like. Does seven work for you?”

“Yeah,” you were still dazed.

“See you then,” he treated you to one last smirk as he walked past you to his room. You couldn’t move. The last minute was a complete whirlwind that you were still trying to process, and the wine wasn’t helping. The first time it had let you down. As you watched him walk down the hall, and watching him go was pretty great, you had a thought. Good for you.

“This better not be because you just want to win some stupid chall-”

“Like I said earlier,” He turned to you, hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, “I’ve been biding my time, waiting for the opportune moment and the right girl. Quality.”

Smooth.

“Doesn’t mean you win,” You didn’t know what else to say. If he couldn’t see you were blushing before, he had to have noticed now.

“Actually,” Wanda clarified, “He got a girl to agree to go out with him and you got a guy to ask you out, so it’s a tie.”

“Whatever,” Bucky called over his shoulder as he continued to make his way to his room, “Got what I wanted anyway.”

You didn’t see it, but he was sporting the biggest, cheesiest, giddiest grin ever.

A/N: Please, please, please reblog and let me know what you think!

[heartcravings]

50 Questions Tag!

@jongin-be-my-jagi​ tagged me for this a while ago, but I took my sweet time to answer. Here is my secret intel if you want to know me a little bit more!! Check hers as well, she’s an amazing writer and friend. 1. What takes up too much of your time? Tumblr, my stupid procrastination prone brain and my thesis. 

2. What makes your day better? Friends and loved ones, music and these absolute dorks (Channie especially) 

3. What’s the best thing that happened to you today? I hopped on the mat today in the early hours of the morning, rain on my window and the neighbours cat peeking at me from his window across the street.

4. What fictional place would you like to go to? Wonderland, bacause it’s “curiouser and curiouser!”

'Who are you?' said the Caterpillar.  Alice replied, rather shyly, 'I — I hardly know, sir, just at present — at least I know who I was when I got up this morning, but I think I must have been changed several times since then.'

5. Are you good at giving advice? I think so. Not so good at following my own advice though.  I do always consider where the other is standing and if I don’t know how to proceed then I’ll just be honest and say I can’t help. But i’ll always listen with my heart. 

 6. Do you have any mental illnesses? Not diagnosed. I do think i might be going through something now. 

7. Have you ever experienced sleep paralysis? No, but i have a recurring nightmare: the world is made of black and white paper thin layers. I am a paper thin person walking along a street surrounded by paper thin buildings. I walk for a long time, looking up at the white sky. Until the street ends, there is no more building and i fall into the abyss of a blank page.  I have had this dream since the age of 8 or 9 years old. Fear of not being good enough, you say?! Ding, ding, ding!! We got a winner in the back!  8. What musician inspired you the most? I get inspired by music all the time!! One of my all time favourite songs is Spanish Sahara by Foals. Its sublime!

So I’d say I’m mainly inspired by these artists: Queen, Arctic Monkeys, Foals, Radiohead, Bowie, Daughter, Bob Dylan, Beirut, Yeah yeah yeahs, Arcade Fire, The National, Joy Division, Blur, Warpaint, Gorillaz, Sufjan Stevens, Bon Iver, Chet Baker, The Cure, Courtney Barnett, The Maccabees, Car Seat Headrest, Florence + The Machine, Editors, Kasabian, Crystal Fighters, Death Cab for a cutie, The Doors, Efterklang, Explosions in the Sky, Franz Ferdinand, The Horrors, James Blake, José Gonzalez, Los Campesinos!,  Metronomy, Nick Cave, Nina Simone, Patrick Watson,  Phoenix, Sharon Van Etten, The Shins, Simon & Garfunkel, The Smiths, St.Vincent, The Strokes, Toro y Moi, tricot, Tune-Yards, TV on the radio, Unknown Mortal Orchestra, The Vaccines, Vampire Weekend, The Velvet Underground, The War on Drugs, Wild Beasts and Yo La Tengo.

And the electro, pop and hip-hop groves of my heart: EXO, 2NE1, Janelle Monáe, Big Bang, Kris Wu,LCD soundsystem, SBTRKT, Childish Gambino, Frank Ocean, Kendrick Lamar and Daft Punk. 

And special mentions to the portuguese ones (learning from yixing and promoting when i can :P): Capicua, Joana Espadinha, The Legendary Tigerman, Linda Martini, Mayra Andrade, Noiserv, Ornatos Violeta, Paus, Samuel Uria, You Can’t Win Charlie Brown and The Silence 4. I know, tldr right? Sorry folks! 9. Have you ever fallen in love? Yes I have. I have mistaken a crush for love too. But i have definitely been very deeply in love. A wrecked kintsugi heart over here people! 10. What’s your dream date? I don’t think I have one. I’d love to do something unique with that someone special, something special for the two of us. It could be as simple as riding the subway while sharing earphones & listening to our playlist or walking the dogs out! Idk, I’m easy to please. But right now it would have to be with this handsome man :D pretty please?!

11. What do others notice about you? I am very kind and warm hearted, so I think that’s what people first notice when meeting me. Although I maintain good eye contact, I am also timid and will be quieter if there are very energetic people in the group. When alone, I usually take the first step and try to meet people, but only if i really must.  12. What’s an annoying habit you have? It’s really hard for me to ask for help. I also like to tell detailed descriptions of everything... Couldn’t you tell? 13. Do you still talk to your first love? I’ll text him on his birthday and he does the same to me. We met when we were 10 years old and that childhood friendship remains. But regarding my one and truly deep relationship, no we do not talk, unless we randomly meet.

14. How many exes do you have? I have three exes. The first love who was just an idealized crush on my childhood friend: we dated for 2 weeks during summer break xD Then my first real boyfriend, we met in my first year at university, dated for quite some time, he really loved me and made me love myself a little more. Finally the one i loved too much. I mended his wounds and made him love himself as much as I did. I always say all the love we feel makes our hearts grow bigger. I do not regret loving any of them, I am me now due to them and I would not change it if I could. 15. How many songs are in your playlist? I have way too many playlists for each and every mood... But my favourite songs list on spotify has about 1500 songs! uwu!  16. What instruments can you play? Triangles and flute?! I had mandatory music classes in school... so in reality I can’t really play a instrument...

17. Who do you have the most pictures of? Probably my cat, Sushi. With a second close of my doodles and sketches. 

18. Where would you like to go before you die? EVERY WHERE!!! But I really want to go to Japan and Scotland and Iceland and South Korea and New Zealand and i’ll shut up. 19. What’s your zodiac? Capricorn. 20. Do you relate to it? Sort of.

21. What is happiness to you? You know when it’s really cold outside in the winter and you manage to find a sheltered place where no wind can hit you and you still get to feel the warm rays of the winter suns on your skin? You hear the birds outside and you are contempt in that moment, at peace. That is happiness to me.   22. Are you going through anything right now? Yes, I am a bit lost. Trying to finish my thesis and trying to find what I want to do after. It’s liberating but also pretty scary. 23. What’s the worst decision you ever made? It’s a series of small decisions really. It started with going for a phd with the same people i worked in my msc. Should have gone to a different place. Then deciding to come home after a traumatic loss in the family. Should have kept my life going but I stalled it then. (I don’t regret helping my loved ones though).

24. What’s your favourite store? Probably Wishtrend for beauty stuff. Other than that I don’t have any favourite brands/stores. 25. (HALFWAY!) What’s your opinion on abortion? I think everyone is free to decide what they want or need to do. I couldn’t possible judge. If I would it? Probably not.

27. Do you have a favourite album? I don’t think so, I have favourite tunes for different moods and moments in my life. But if threatened with my life, I’d maybe say Total Life Forever from Foals.

28. What do you want for your birthday? It’s such a long time until my birthday comes! But maybe a real EXO ot9 reunion as a goodbye to Minseok?

29. What is most people’s first impression of you? Friendly and easy to open up to, i think.

30. What age do you seem according to most people? In real life, people usually think I am way younger than I am.  31. Where do you keep your phone when you’re sleeping? In the crook of my bed, between the mattress and the bed frame.

32. What word do you say the most? No idea really! 33. What’s the oldest age you’d date? 40s? I don’t think too much about age actually. 

34. What’s the youngest age you’d date? 20s? Again not very important to me. Love is love, whomever, whenever and wherever <3

35. What job / career do most people say would suit you? I don’t know! People always say i don’t totally fit in anything... so there’s that. If you have an idea please let me know! 36. What’s your favourite music genre? Go back to question 8. I listen to everything! :D 37. If you could live in any country in the world where would it be? I’d like to live around the world, every few months a different place and get to know different cultures.

38. What is your current favourite song? I’ve been obsessed with RM’s intro/teaser song, Map of the Soul: Persona. (I’m not even a bts fan, but this music and lyrics just touched me a lot.)

39. How long have you had this blog for? I think for about 6 years? It’s my personal space, where I dump all my obsessions.  

40. What are you excited for? I’m visiting some friends in Granada in a couple of weeks. Yay, tapas!

41. Are you a better talker or listener? Normally I am a better listener. But there are a few people to whom i open like a book. Either words flow right out of me without even thinking or they see throw me. Those truly are my people.

42. What is the last productive thing you did? Prepped meals and cleaned the kitchen. Open the folder and file of my thesis. Read the latest chapter I wrote.  43. What do you want for Christmas? Well, just like for my birthday, there is still such a long time to it! But let’s say i want to have already finish this part of my life and want to find my next adventure.

44. What class do you get the best grades in? No more exams! Ehehe! But I used to have good grades at everything. Physical Education was my lowest mark i think.

45. On a scale of 1-10 how do you feel right now? Right now, a 4? I have a headache.

46. What can you see yourself doing in 10 years? Smiling? :D I want to be happy in my own skin. To feel contempt in my life, doing something that gives me a sense of purpose and having time to share and enjoy with my friends and family. 47. When did you get your first heartbreak? Oh my kintsugi heart has been broken quiet a lot. By friends and lovers and even by myself. I keep patching it up with gold dreams though.  48. At what age do you wanna be married? I will only want to be married if i find the one. So until then I guess. 

49. What career did you want to have as a child? I wanted to be an astronaut and a ballerina. Preferably both!

50. What do you crave right now? Just sitting somewhere and listening to Yeol play the guitar.

Well i finished it! :D I’ll tag @thedeviousdo @ohsenhun @hongseok and @paepsi. I’d love to read yours! Feel free to dismiss it though, it is quite a lot.  Lots of love everyone!! <3 <3 <3

[imagine-loki]

Long And Lost

TITLE: Long And Lost

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 16

AUTHOR: FadingCoast

PROMT/ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine being Loki’s old friend/Lover in Asgard, but you left for Earth a long time ago. For all he knows, you might be dead, but you’re still alive and you’ve been working with SHIELD and/or the Avengers.

PAIRING: Loki/Sigyn

RATING: Mature.

NOTES/WARNINGS: Sexual innuendos (no explicit sex) / mentions of torture and brainwashing. The prologue is set right before Avengers. The first chapters are set after Civil War. Chapter 4 and on, are all during Ragnarok.

Also on Ao3 Tumblr masterlist

Feedback is always appreciated

.-

Ch.16: No more dreaming of the dead

Thor hadn’t spent half a day in Sakaar and already he has been attacked, shot at, electrocuted, microwaved, tortured and sold as a slave.

His father was dead, his hammer destroyed. Asgard was under the control of his evil sister and he was stuck on this planet on the edge of the universe. At least Loki was alive, but right now he doubted he could be of any help.

He knelt in the cell, facing the wall. He thought of his parents. He had lost them both in such a short time. Frigga’s death was still fresh and painful, no matter how beautiful her ceremony was, her death was untimely. His father at least had chosen to go on his own terms, but he had been away from home.

“Odin…” Thor started, doing the only thing he could do at the moment to honor his father’s memory and to bring some relief to himself. “I bid you take your place in the halls of Valhalla… Where the brave shall live forever. Nor shall we mourn but rejoice,” he breathed out. “…for those that have died the glorious death.”

“…for those that have died the glorious death.” Loki finished the prayer with his brother.

Thor turned around and sat against the wall, staring daggers at Loki.

“It hurts, doesn’t it?” Loki said. “Being lied to. Being told you’re one thing and then learning it’s all a fiction.”

Thor picked up some of the stones that littered the floor and threw them at his brother. They went right through. It made Thor rolls his eyes. Loki groaned.

“You didn’t think I’d really come and see you, did you? This place is disgusting.”

Thor still said nothing, and kept throwing stones to a less than amused Loki.

“Does this mean you don’t want my help?” Loki taunted him. “Look, I couldn’t jeopardize my position with Grandmaster, it took me time to win his trust. He’s a lunatic, but he can be amenable.” Loki put his hands behind his back and studied Thor. He knew Thor wanted to go back, and whether he liked it or not, he also had to go. “I know you’re thinking of going back.” Thor looked at Loki curiously this time. “I’m just trying to make sure you understand what it is we’re up against here: Our sister destroyed your hammer like a piece of glass. That makes her stronger than both of us. As you are, you don’t stand a chance. Do you understand what I’m saying to you? You aren’t in a position of kicking your way back.”

Thor just scowled. Maybe he does understand what Loki is saying, but plotting and scheming weren’t things Thor was inclined to do in any situation.

“Fine.” Loki said, sort of defeated. “If we are going back to Asgard–”

“You want to go back?” Thor finally spoke. Loki just raised an eyebrow. “After all you did?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Let me see… You faked your own death, you stole the throne, stripped Odin of his power, stranded him on Earth to die, releasing the Goddess of Death.” Thor said. “Have I said enough, or do you do you want me to go further back than the past two days?” He buffed. “All of this is your fault, as usual.”

Loki’s eyes burned. For once, he wished he was in that disgusting cell, just to punch Thor in the face. Thor stared coldly at him.

“Of course you’d say that.” Loki said, composing himself. “Anyway… I’ve tried to find out about this champion you’re supposed to fight. But the only information I’ve gathered is that he is massive, deadly and savage. Do me a favor and don’t die.”

Thor hurled a particularly big stone at Loki’s head. The illusion disappeared as the rock sank on the opposite wall.

“You do have anger management issues.”

“For Bor’s sake!” Thor said, terribly frustrated, and looked at the woman that had materialized by his side.

“Relax, Thor. I’m just here to pay my respects. I know how hard it is to lose one’s family.” Sigyn said. Thor sighed in defeat. In his grief, he hadn’t stopped to think about the extended family they had lost.

“Thank you.” Thor muttered.

“ And by that I meant Frigga, by the way.” Sigyn pointed out, Thor scoffed.

“Well, after everything I cannot expect you to have any love for Odin.”

“I never did.” She shrugged. “Not after the way he treated Loki his whole life. So I cannot exactly say that his passing saddens me.”

Thor shifted uncomfortably. “Why come back when you found him then? You could’ve killed him… Loki’s spells would’ve been nothing to you.”

“Loki could’ve killed him too, you know? But he didn’t.” Sigyn said, Thor hung his head. “I came back because of who else could find him.” She added. “Hela is the most immediate of your problems, but you know is not the only one.”

“One crisis at the time, sister.” Thor said with a sad smile. “Think Loki will actually help?”

“Loki always does what he wants.” She rolled her eyes. “It would be stupid to try and change his mind.” She took a deep breath. “But right now, he has to go back to Asgard. So he needs you, and you need him.”

“Sometimes I feel like I don’t know him.” Thor said with a sigh. “How do I know if I can trust him?” It wasn’t a question Thor wanted answered, so Sigyn kept silent. “Why does he need to go back?”

Sigyn smirked. “He has his reasons.”

“But you know.”

“Of course I do.”

Thor half smiled. “How will I ever deal with the two of you again?”

“The same way you did for 600 years on Asgard.” Sigyn said with a smile of her own.

Thor sat quietly for a moment, pondering on Loki’s words. He didn’t like it, but Loki was right. He wasn’t going to admit it, but he felt a little jealous of Sigyn’s relationship with his brother. “You always knew what to do with him.” He added. “Since we were kids, you just– get each other.”

“That’s because I took the time to get him. You never wanted to get him.” She said. “You were happy with your role and the privileges attached to them, so you grew blind to what was going on with Loki.” Her illusion shifted to be sitting in front of Thor. “Odin was never a great father to him, and you know why.”

“Cause he wasn’t his son.” He muttered.

“Loki had to perform to your level without any of the rewards. And if he did succeed, it didn’t matter. You were always going to have the upper hand.” Sigyn bit her lip. “Now, you get to feel a little bit of what he felt when he found out, and you still blame him.”

Thor stiffened a bit, feeling a faint blush on his cheeks. “Well, he has done some stupid things…”

“Haven’t we all?” Sigyn smirked.

Thor exhaled loudly and leaned back. “Is he going to take me out of here?”

“Thor, I might be a witch, but I can only see like 30 seconds into the future.” She said. “I think you’ll have to get yourself out of here.”

“Will he be able to get us back to Asgard?”

“That I know he will. Maybe even with some friends.” She added, looking at a confused Thor. “Look around you, Thor. You’re not alone in here.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“That you use that you’re good at. Punch your way out of this and win.”

.-

Back in the training room, Sigyn sparred with Bucky.

The time difference she and Loki had made it hard to keep up with everything that was happening in Sakaar. Training with Bucky gave her something to keep her head clear.

So far she had learned through Loki that the Hulk was the famous Sakaar champion everyone was afraid of (she even made a mental note to tell Steve about it). Thor had fought him and won. The Grandmaster didn’t keep his promise to release him, so Thor escaped. Loki was desperate, and the Grandmaster wasn’t very happy with him.

If I can’t find that stupid oaf…

Relax, you will find him.

Sigyn and Bucky took a break. His arm needed some minor adjustments. She allowed herself to enjoy a cup of tea, until she felt an exhilaration that wasn’t hers. Loki was fighting someone.

I found a Valkyrie!

What?

This woman I’m fighting! She’s a Valkyrie!

Get inside her head!

Loki was a bit thrown off by Sigyn’s suggestion. This allowed the Valkyrie to knock him off balance and catch him against the wall.

“I thought the Valkyrie all died gruesome deaths?” He said with a hint of a smirk.

“Choose your next words wisely” The woman pressed her knee against his chest.

“I’m terribly sorry… Must be a painful memory.”

Using one of his favorite tricks, Loki put his hand on the Valkyrie’s head and focused his power on her. Her eyes went blank and her mind showed him her worst memories. A whole army of Valkyries attacking Hela. The goddess destroying them one by one. Their white horses slain. The floor flooded with blood. The sacrifice of one of her own to push her back home. The shame of being the only one left alive, and nothing left to lose.

Hmm, she might be of some use. Lose.

What?

Did you not see all that? She might help you. Let her beat you.

You do know how to improve my selfconfidence.

She has a better chance of finding Thor as well.

I am going to regret this.

He didn’t like it, but Sigyn had a point. As soon as the Valkyrie recovered from Loki’s attack on her brain, she turned even more aggressive. With only a couple of moves, she was overpowering him. Accepting defeat, Loki let her knock him out.

.-

Skimming through Ragnarok like 80% of that movie did not happen! xDD

[drxgonfly]

Happy Thanksgiving

Wanted to give a little shoutout to some of my favorite people, I’m still going to post my ‘follow forever’ list at the end of the year but these people are extra special to me.

*Jimmy Fallon voice* THANK YOU

@frozeninfire - William, 2 years ago you came to me with the idea of starting a network and because of that we got super close and I’m so happy! Thanks for the occasional slumber parties, even though we haven’t played two truths and a lie in awhile, I’m still winning 79-42 (let’s pretend that was the score :) ) When I come to visit someday we’re going to have an irl slumber party okay? okay.

@ponderation - Sara!!! you’re my long lost blonde twin! We’ve known eachother for so long and practically ‘grew up’ together on here. Even though we never talked much we kinda just skipped the small talk and went on venting to eachother and I love it. You’re one of the sweetest people I’ve never met <3

@noizzex -  Alexa, my side hoe, my little lady, thanks for sending me all of the memes! All of the inappropriate jokes, the dumb vines, the videos of your cat that is always asleep or destroying things. You’re one of my only friends on here that’s brave enough to get through american horror story without wanting to turn it off after the first 30 seconds and for that you deserve an award. To be honest, I’m not even sure how we became friends, I don’t remember ever having that first conversation, we just went straight to sending memes and I think we’ve built a solid friendship from it.

@de-preciated / @henrybakerartwork - Henry! I’ve known you for forever now, and though we don’t talk as much, I appreciate all of our random silly chats and our mini bonding moments over ed sheeran. It’s nice to find another person who’s shy and introverted and all that, we get eachother.. and it’s nice. I’ve watched your little art journey on here since the beginning and I’m amazed at the progress you’ve made. Thank you for sharing your beautiful pieces with us. I’m super happy to own some of your prints. I wish you all the success with your art <3

@love-abia - Abi, though you’re no longer active on here I hope you’ll still get a notification for this. You’ve always been like an older sister to me and I can’t thank you enough for that, you’re the older sister I never had. Thank you for listening to my endless stories (you’re still gonna turn them into a book and publish it and make millions off it right?) and for  recommending me books (about alien porn). I miss you and your moon photos, I hope you come back to tumblr soon!

@te5seract - Isaac, where do I start.. we only became friends less than 2 years ago but it feels like I’ve known you a lifetime. You have no idea how much it means to me that you took the time to teach me how to code, that you didn’t let me give up when I felt like pulling my hair out, you’re so patient with me and I’m so very grateful for that. I’m very lost in the world when it comes to finding things I enjoy, and for you to find something that sparks my interest, that’s something I’ll cherish forever. Thank you for keeping me sane when I come to you panicking because webmd says the spot on my arm means i’m dying of brain cancer and for keeping me company when I can’t sleep at 3am because I watched a scary movie. I have so much more to say but I’ll keep this short and sweet. Who knew that a simple get to know you tag post would lead to such a great friendship? I hope we meet someday. <3

@novice-at-play - Angie, I’m convinced that you are my long lost mom.  You’re the coolest internet mama could ever ask for, I hope you chose to adopt me into your family someday, if not I’m adopting you into mine. I love that you’re not afraid to laugh at inappropriate sexual jokes and poop jokes. The stories you share with me, the way you word them always makes me laugh and it brightens my day 

@dennybitte - Denny, you’re extremely humble and have probably sent me a very sweet message after every photo I’ve ever reblogged for the past.. 2 or 3 years, that’s dedication! Thank you for putting up with all of my photo editing questions and helping me decide on which photos to post after I send you 38924238492 different choices. And thank you for all of the scary movie recommendations! It’s always lovely to have new movies to look forward to!

@landscapeexposurenetwork- Thank you to all of the members and followers for keeping this page running! Two years ago it was just an idea William came to me with and I’m amazed at how well it’s been doing and how many of you are dedicated to supporting photographers.

💖 Ashley