#i do not care if this post flops because it's edited horribly
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Going into season 5 like
#i do not care if this post flops because it's edited horribly#these are my true feelings#if anything happens to my boy I'm burning this show down#stranger things#jonathan byers#st meme
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Imperfect | Lee Jeno
Summary: You and Jeno make a list of everything you don’t like about each other.
Genre: Established relationship AU, angst
Word count: 1k
“You don’t believe in soulmates?” Jeno says, as you lie with your head on his chest. His fingers freeze in your hair, showing his shock.
“I mean, you’re not gonna like everything about your partner,” you say.
“You don’t like – things about me?” Jeno says. “Like what?”
Your breath falls short.
“Not big things!” you say, struggling to dig yourself out of this hole. “Your aftershave! It’s a little… intense.” You suppress a grin. “Like I’m drowning.”
Jeno flops back onto the pillow. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“You’ve gotta have things you don’t like about me too!” you insist.
“I can’t think of any,” Jeno groans. “I’m too busy trying to smell myself!”
You hug Jeno tightly, savouring the feeling of his tight muscles beneath your hands.
“Let’s just make a list, okay? Whenever something bothers us, we’ll write it down, then at the end of the week, we’ll share. No fights.”
Jeno smiles. “Good idea.”
-- One week later --
Jeno tries to snatch the piece of paper from you. “Just show me! It’s been ages...”
You wrestle the paper out of his hands. Your heart is racing. “One sec! Just making some – last minute – edits.”
You are desperately scratching half of your list out with a pencil – because you realised that Jeno’s list was just a tiny post-it note, whereas you had a full sheet.
Jeno snatches the paper from your fingers. “A-ha!” Jeno says.
He clears his throat dramatically. “Mis-matching socks. Too afraid to talk to the people at the store.” He sits down on the bed, a frown growing on his face. “Kind of ugly… laugh.” The paper starts to shake in his hands. “Sort of – a – crybaby.”
Jeno tries to fling the paper on the floor, but it just wafts slowly down. His chest is rising and falling fast. He scrubs his eyes furiously.
“Hey! Don’t be mad!” you say, sitting next to him. “You wrote a list about me too. Oh, Jeno, please don’t be upset.”
Jeno glares at you, his eyes red. “I’m not upset. Because that would make me a huge crybaby, and you hate that.”
He storms out of the room.
You scramble to the floor and pick up Jeno’s list, on its yellow Post-it. You read what is written on it.
You sink slowly to the floor. You feel like a horrible person. You wish you had never been born. You finally found a good guy, and you stamped on his heart like it was nothing.
List of things wrong with Y/n:
Nothing
You’re perfect
---
You are crouched outside the bathroom door. Jeno has been in there for an hour.
“Jeno, honey, please talk to me,” you say.
“Get out!” Jeno yells.
“You didn’t read the end of the list!” you say. “It says – none of this matters, because you’re the kindest, most passionate, most caring man I’ve ever met.”
You hear the lock clicking, and jump to your feet.
Jeno opens the door, just a crack. “You don’t get it, do you?” His stare is ice-cold. “All my life, I was told that I wasn’t tough enough, brave enough, man enough. Until I met you, and you told me I was enough.” He shakes his head. “But you were lying.”
He closes the door in your face. Through the door, you hear him say, “You know what hurts? The fact that I truly thought you were perfect. I was wrong. You’re mean, Y/n.”
---
For the next two weeks, you spend every day reminding Jeno all the reasons that you love him - but he still gives you the silent treatment.
One day, when you and Jeno are eating dinner in silence, Jeno slapped a piece of paper onto the table.
“What is that?” you say.
“It’s my list.” Jeno says. “For you.” He picks it up and reads aloud. “Wears too much makeup. Judgemental. Mean. Can never take responsibility in arguments…”
Each word feels like a slap in the face. You thought that Jeno was too sweet to notice any of that stuff, but you were wrong.
You clasp his hand, as tears start to fall. “I’m sorry, Jeno. I’m gonna treat you better, I promise.”
Jeno frowns. “Wait. You’re not… mad?”
You shake your head.
Jeno’s eyebrows rise. “You’re not gonna deny it? Or fight back?”
You shake your head. “No. These past few weeks, I’ve realised that I – I don’t like looking at who I really am. Because who I am is… ugly. But I’m gonna change.”
Jeno clasps both your hands in his. “Oh, Y/n.”
He comes round the table and pulls you into a tight, warm hug. You have been craving his touch for so long that that hug restores you to life.
“I love you, you stupid idiot,” Jeno says.
“I love you, too,” you squeak.
“Now who’s the crybaby?” Jeno says, chuckling.
You laugh through your tears. “Shut up.”
Jeno’s smile is warm, all signs of anger completely gone. But you have a niggling feeling you can't quite shake.
“Do you really think I wear too much make up?” you ask, too embarrassed to meet his gaze.
Jeno scratches his head. “Maybe… I dunno, I think I was just lashing out.”
You stay silent.
“Y/n, I think you’re gorgeous, inside and out. Smoking hot. Ten out of ten. Definitely would bang.”
You snort.
Jeno smiles, eyes crinkling. “I’m sorry, baby. I hate it when we fight.”
You bury your head in Jeno’s neck, touching your lips against his soft skin. You can feel his soft sighs against your ear. Heaven.
—
MAIN MASTERLIST
Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋
#nct dream#jeno#jeno smut#jeno imagines#nct imagines#nct dream smut#nct dream fluff#nct dream imagines#nct dream reactions#nct reactions#nct x reader#nct fanfiction#nct fluff#nct angst#jeno fluff#lee jeno smut#jeno angst#nct 00 line#nct 00 line smut#nct drabbles
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I made it onto the Indie Bestseller list by posting on TikTok. Don’t do what I did.
IDK how to use tumblr but here are some thoughts
Maybe I should wait to write this, to have a little distance from publishing my book. When I see authors who are at the same place I am — a week and a day out from publication — their captions often sing the praises of their publishers. They’ll mention how grateful they are that all their hard work paid off, that the years of writing and editing and blood, sweat, tears, or whatever other bodily fluids they put into their manuscript were worth it for the moment the book came out.
For me, it wasn’t.
#
The writing process for How to Excavate a Heart was liberating. I came up with the idea while driving to a Long Island Panera (where all good ideas are formed), and started outlining it while eating their dubiously-sourced mac-and-cheese.
I then proceeded to, as I texted verbatim to at least three close friends, “fart out the novel.” I wrote it in about six weeks while on a train trip visiting family and friends, and I cherished every moment of the process.
That was in late 2019/early 2020, and it was the last time my feelings about the book were purely positive.
How to Excavate a Heart (HTEAH) sold in the late summer of 2020, to be published in Fall 2022. I was more focused on my debut novel, Almost Flying, that was slated to come out in the summer of 2021. Which it did, though if you didn’t know it existed you certainly wouldn’t be alone. It earned a Stonewall Honor from the American Library Association, and I think the week that happened it crested to a new high of 20 copies nation-wide or something depressing like that.
Needless to say, I was frustrated by what I saw as lack of support from my publisher, and was determined to not let the same fate befall HTEAH. I was already fairly active on TikTok after originating the Laura Dern Sitting Challenge (my one true claim to fame), but I had heard that TikTok was generally not a fruitful platform for authors, or that, even if authors were popular, it didn’t translate to book sales.
So of course my first thought was, “Why don’t I push this boulder uphill and see what happens?”
So I posted my first TikTok about HTEAH in February of 2022. It flopped in an expected way, but I continued to post about it consistently, and, over time, amassed a small following. The HTEAH hashtag grew (almost all the videos on it were are still are my own), and I was thrilled that people were hearing about my book.
At the time of writing this, the hashtag has over two million views, and I can directly trace over 1,000 individual sales/preorders of my book to TikTok and TikTok alone.
Here’s the price I paid: My girlfriend has watched my mental health slowly deteriorate over this time. She’s seen me quit writing to focus on promoting this book, for the small chance that, I don’t know, someone might care. And now some people do! Hooray.
I spent nine months promoting a book to get it to the sales that it might’ve gotten if my publisher had supported it. Or maybe not — I have no way of knowing. All I know is that if I hadn’t posted about the book on TikTok, you wouldn’t be reading this. It wouldn’t have gotten on the Indie Bestseller list. It wouldn’t have made the Indie Next list. It wouldn’t be a book box pick.
And I wouldn’t be so burnt out I can barely get up from the couch. I wouldn’t be depressed from staring at my phone all day.
Maybe if I hadn’t done all this, I’d be able to write again, to turn in work on time. To live each day without the fear that I’m not doing enough because if I don’t post a TikTok my book will sell horribly like my last one and then that’s it, I’ll be a failed author before my 25th birthday.
What a healthy mindset, huh?
So sure, if you post consistently on TikTok for nine months before your book comes out, enough people will buy your book that you might make it onto a list. But please, I beg of you, don’t. If your publisher doesn’t support you enough to give you marketing, don’t do it yourself. You cannot be an entire team. You cannot be your own publicist.
I am one person. And now I’m done.
Anyway, you can buy my book at excavateyourheart.com and you cannot find me on social media anymore (except maybe tumblr apparently). Stream Loneliest Time by CRJ.
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wait what did disney do?? well i mean they done tons of stuff so what did they do this time
amphibia, which has been airing consecutively for the past two months, had its season finale scheduled for tomorrow. it’s been scheduled for months and pretty hyped up and promoted by the crew, and there’s been a lot of buildup in the show itself.
a couple hours ago (less than twelve hours before true colors would debut) disney announced that true colors would not premiere tomorrow and it would be suspended indefinitely.
this is a pretty awful move on its own, because with the show’s weekly consecutive airing, it’s a lot easier to get ratings up and audiences excited as opposed to dropping an episode in the middle of nowhere. the dedicated fans are going to pay attention, of course, but casual fans who like watching amphibia on saturday mornings might not. and it’s also the season finale. they had all this buildup and now we have to wait. i also heard something offhand about international/streaming releases on may 9th that could cause the episode to leak, resulting a lower view count and fan reactions on the actual airdate. disney also has a history of not promoting amphibia as much as they’ve promoted some of their more popular shows (and fucking over all of their shows in general, but that’s a whole other can of worms).
the crew most likely didn’t know either until or right before we did, because they’ve been posting all kinds of promotional art for weeks now, and it hasn’t stopped today. they’ve put a lot of time and energy into both the season/show as a whole and this culminating episode, so it’s a really shitty experience for them too.
we don’t know why disney suddenly postponed true colors. at first, we thought it was a scheduling issue, and they dropped it to focus on another event airing that day - a “halfway to halloween” special event to promote an upcoming show called the ghost and molly mcgee. but multiple crew members both inside and out of amphibia have confirmed that’s not the case at all. it’s also unrelated to next saturday’s big city greens marathon (since some speculated it might air next week). i’ve also seen a couple angry comments putting down molly mcgee because it ousted amphibia, which is completely unfair. it’s disney’s fault, not molly mcgee’s. i’m worried it might not get the audience it deserves because something out of both of the crews’ control.
dana terrace mentioned on twitter that it was something about “cowardice”. this is pretty vague, but i think it basically means the amphibicrew went above and beyond with this episodes and pushed the boundaries of animation. i accidentally saw a spoiler (:/) so i thiiiiiink i know what she meant and it’s probably not what you’re thinking but it’s still not something you’d expect to see from disney at all. so that’s probably why they panicked and pulled the plug all of a sudden - but if they had problems with true colors’ content, they should have told the crew when they pitched the episode. and lord knows disney monitors their shows’ content meticulously. i mean what they should be doing is allowing their shows to flourish and animation as a medium to grow, but maybe that’s too much.
this is completely horrible on its own, but unfortunately, the saga continues.
i’m editing this post as of 5/2/21 (original was posted on 4/30) to change some information that’s now been debunked by the crew. sometime this morning, before i woke up, true colors leaked. itunes apparently didn’t get the memo that it wasn’t airing yet (whether disney didn’t tell them or their releases are automated is up in the air) and a couple people put it on youtube. this is basically a nightmare for the crew. leaks are pretty dangerous for ratings and could cause the actual airing to flop. the best thing to do is not to watch it, but a bunch of people already have, and some of them have posted spoilers. so be careful and block spoiler tags! i’d generally avoid the main tags too, just in case.
they also switched the 9:30 slot true colors would air in for an amphibia rerun, which means the timeslot is still available. i’ve seen a couple people speculate the episode might not be finished, but the crew’s been promoting it tirelessly, so i don’t really think so. it’s just such an odd decision and i’m worried it’s going to mess up multiple shows. what the fuck disney.
#amphibia#wavey speaks#my asks#anons#there's not much we can do but support amphibia and molly mcgee
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nct 127 + the “worst songs to have sex to” playlist (m)
genre: smut, fluff, crack
pairing: nct 127 x gender neutral reader (no mention of gender specific anatomy, but the reader is the one getting, uhhh.... penetrated)
warnings: explicit sex, language
a/n: this was inspired by a haikyuu reaction (which if i have the time, i’ll come back to edit in). i wrote this at two in the morning while i couldn’t sleep, and it shows. also, i’m not sure if johnny’s is in poor taste or not. i honestly mean no disrespect, but if people get upset, then i’ll take down this post and reupload it with something for him.
here is the playlist, if anyone is curious.
"hey, babe?" your boyfriend sat down on your bed, and you looked up from your phone to meet his eyes.
"what's up?"
"so, i just found this and, uh..." he showed you a spotify playlist, and you stifled a laugh at the title. "oh my god. do you wanna try?"
"well... how bad could it be?"
nsfw under the cut
𝐭 𝐚 𝐞 𝐲 𝐨 𝐧 𝐠
honestly, you weren't sure what you were expecting. you both did your best to try and ignore the music. which was going perfectly fine, until one song faded out and the sound of trumpets filled the room, amidst the sound of taeyong's groans, your whining, and the sound of skin on skin.
soon enough, you realized you heard lionel richie's voice, then stevie wonder's... then tina turner's... then...
"hold on, hold on." taeyong stopped the movement of his hips, and you stared up at him, frustrated. you had been so close, and now, he asked, "is this we are the world?"
you looked to the side for a second. "uhh, i'm pretty sure it is."
taeyong gulped, and right as the chorus hit with a bittersweet, "we are the world, we are the children..." he made a face, and promptly pulled out of you. you winced, watching as he stood. "tae, what the hell?"
"i'm sorry!" he called, leaving the bedroom, "i need to go make a donation to unicef, or something!"
𝐭 𝐚 𝐞 𝐢 𝐥
to be frank, if someone had said that one of you would start crying during sex, you expected it to be you, not taeil.
he had been pounding you into the mattress, sucking dark bruises into your neck, not paying heed to the songs. he was doing a pretty bang up job at keeping you distracted from the songs also.
then circle of life from the lion king started playing.
a few moments later, taeil lifted his head from your collarbone, and his eyes welled with tears... because what person born after 1994 didn't cry with the lion king?
and so, the night ended with you patting taeil on the shoulder, as he cried softly into your neck because of how tragic and unfair mufasa's death scene had been.
𝐣 𝐨 𝐡 𝐧 𝐧 𝐲
sex with johnny was rarely serious, contrary to popular belief. his carefree and upbeat attitude always meant you were in for playful, mind-blowing sex.
which was why it came as a shock to you when, amidst the both of you bumping noses and giggling into kisses at how silly the songs were, johnny's face fell when a single trumpet blared a single, sad note from the speaker.
you thought for a moment, panting from pleasure, at what song it was. but then you realized that the song, taps, was the song played at american military funerals. johnny, an american first and foremost, had already realized that.
"john? are you okay...?"
"i can't do this," he mumbled in a daze, before getting up, muttering to himself about showing some respect.
you don't have sex for another two weeks because johnny refuses to look you in the eye.
𝐝 𝐨 𝐲 𝐨 𝐮 𝐧 𝐠
surely, doyoung would be able to ignore the songs. he does... to an extent. you don't even make it past foreplay until the sound of violins and funky disco music fill the room. doyoung lets out a laugh as he shoves a second finger, realizing that the playlist has bestowed dancing queen upon you both. "abba? really?"
you both laugh a little, but continue anyway. your head falls onto the mattress, whining as doyoung's long fingers twist and turn inside of you. you could feel something bubbling in the pit of your stomach...
could. key word.
then you realized that doyoung was humming and bopping his head along to the melody as he did so, and you broke out into laughter. doyoung froze, wide eyed as he watched you lose your shit, not even realizing he'd been what had caused you to.
"y-you were humming and moving along to the beat!" you said in between cackles, curling up on yourself.
"it's catchy..." doyoung mumbled, "i couldn't help myself..."
𝐲 𝐮 𝐭 𝐚
you were so, so close. yuta had slung your legs over his shoulders in an effort to hit deeper, and it was doing wonders.
you were whining his name when a familiar synth beat caught your ear, and evidently, it caught your boyfriend's attention as well. he stopped moving, and you pouted, your orgasm creeping away from you.
you looked up at him, low key pissed to see him bopping along to what is love. no, not twice's what is love, unfortunately. the corny, meme-worthy, 90s what is love by haddaway.
"baby, don't hurt me," he sang teasingly, "don't hurt me, no more,"
you glowered at him from underneath him. "i was so close," you grumbled, slapping him lightly on the arm. he gasped in mock indignation, lifting an arm to his forehead as if he were about to faint.
"you hurt me!" he said dramatically, "after i specifically told you not to!"
needless to say, no one orgasms that night.
𝐣 𝐚 𝐞 𝐡 𝐲 𝐮 𝐧
jaehyun's ability to reduce you to a moaning mess during sex never failed to impress you.
what did fail, though, was his reaction to the law and order: svu theme song playing while you were sucking him off. you were on your knees, bobbing your head along his dick and digging your nails into the defined v-line of his hipbones when the distinct first notes of the tv show's theme song interrupted his deep groans of satisfaction.
"law and order?" he says with a breathy chuckle, "man, my mom loves that show."
you pull off a second later, looking a bit perplexed. "please, don't ever, ever mention your mom while i'm sucking your dick again."
his smile falls. "shit, i made it weird, didn't i?"
"no shit."
the next time jaehyun's mom swings by your shared apartment for a visit, she's a bit confused as to why neither of you can hold eye contact for more than five seconds.
𝐣 𝐮 𝐧 𝐠 𝐰 𝐨 𝐨
you don't know what to say. one minute you're clinging to your boyfriend, whimpering into his ear as he hits a spot that has you seeing stars. your eyes are screwed shut and your hips are bucking against his as you cry out his name.
then, axel f (known to most as crazy frog) blares through the speaker, and the both of you stop moving as you're both reminded of the badly animated, obnoxious, purple frog from the music video.
you stare at jungwoo, whose sour expression matches yours. he meets your gaze, and seconds later, the two of you are cracking up at the continuous "ding! ding!" noises coming from the song.
"this was a horrible idea," he mumbles, and you nod in agreement. "you don't say."
he gets up and turns off the music, and somehow, you both manage to finish without thinking about it.
but then jungwoo boops your nose twice while the two of you are cuddling and goes, "ding, ding," and you both promptly lose your shit again.
𝐦 𝐚 𝐫 𝐤
your thighs are starting to burn, but you don't care. you ride mark like you have something to prove, doing your best to ignore the obnoxious playlist in the background.
mark is having the time of his life, groaning loudly, eyes screwed shut, head fallen back against the pillows and gripping your hips while he ruts up into you.
then the previous song ends, and suddenly the next song starts with an exciting swell of violins, and the next thing you know, you hear a choir sing, "o canada, our home and native land..."
mark's eyes snap open and he freezes inside of you at the realization. you stare at him for a few moments and somehow, just by the sound of the canadian national anthem, you literally feel mark's dick start to go soft inside of you.
your face morphs from confusion, then horror, and finally, dissatisfaction.
you flop down next to mark, and turn to face him.
"you okay?" you ask, and try your best not to laugh when mark turns a deep shade of red.
"let's never mention this again."
𝐡 𝐚 𝐞 𝐜 𝐡 𝐚 𝐧
good god, donghyuck doesn't even make it past the first song.
see, he pounces on you before you can press shuffle, pressing needy kisses against your mouth. you kiss him back for a few moments, moaning when he slips his tongue into your mouth.
when he pulls you into his lap to grind against him, you pull away and giggle. "hyuck, aren't we gonna listen to the music?"
"huh? oh yeah, baby, sorry. just press play."
you do, meeting donghyuck's eyes as you wait for the first song to play, and you both jump when a loud, raspy voice yells, "i'm a goofy goober! ROCK!"
You purse your lips, wondering whether to laugh or not. you look at hyuck, who is trying to hold back laughter as goofy goober rock continues to ruin the mood.
"so..."
"i changed my mind," donghyuck says, probably thinking of spongebob, "i don't wanna do this anymore."
so, you find an easier solution. you turn off the music, and awkwardly cuddle for the rest of the night, occasionally breaking into fits of laughter at the absurdity of having almost fucked to spongebob music.
#kpop smut#kpop scenarios#kpop imagines#kpop x reader#nct smut#nct 127 smut#nct 127 x reader#nct x reader#nct 127 scenarios#nct scenarios#taeyong x reader#taeil x reader#johnny x reader#johnny seo x reader#doyoung x reader#yuta x reader#jaehyun x reader#jungwoo x reader#mark lee x reader#mark lee smut#haechan x reader
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This Blog is for me. I make collages when I feel like it. I post when I feel like it. I reblog as much as I want. I post what I want. I put my own limits. I stay within my own comfort zone. I share things that I like. I ignore things I don't agree with... I don't have anyone who I depend on to support me. I am not a I support you if you support me person.
But I am glad. If I depended on people I would be Disappointed. Online has showed me. People can turn on you like that. At this point its happened so much I am not surprised. No one is being forced to like my stuff. I don't ask for people to give my stuff attention. When I barley do it in return. When I only reblog things I actually like. Not because I am a friend with someone. No one gets a free pass. I reblog/like what I want to.
I am beyond thankful for those who do support me. It does help me get a little in the mood to make more. But it's all for me. People have the choice to like it. to reblog to leave a comment/ opinion. To send an ask.
Not gonna lie. My ask box has been bone dry. I get barley anything. I don't get those asks that say " love your work" or asking my opinions. I barley get asks games. But I am okay. I know I don't depend on anyone to tell me I am doing great keep going. The amount of support I get on my posts speak a thousand words. I read the hashtags the reblogs. I know I get the few in there. It's helped built me up. To not rely on anyone.
If I am not up to making edits I don't. If it's days that's okay. If I post something after being slower and barley anyone likes it. it's okay. Some things don't do as well. I am not posting it in hopes I will get 100 likes/reblogs/comments. No I put my stuff out there for my own enjoyment. And just happen to be very lucky and greatful a few people like it.
I don't post or share anything I am not comfortable with. I have my limits. I have filtered. I have blocked. I do everything in my power to make sure I don't see stuff I don't want to. It's easy to ignore. I don't want anyone to change because they post things outside my comfort zone. I don't expect anyone to. But when the thing you are trying to avoid is everywhere. Thank god for filtering and Blocking. ( Blocking Is only if I literally cannot get away from things. or toxic people who have stepped over my line. Don't need to go on ).
I don't make a fuss or go on about things I don't like outside my comfort zone. I scroll right by. Most of the time it's easy to ignore.
I also don't go on getting worked about anything I don't agree with. I might only rant in private. But those are to let out some fire. We all do that. But I don't make a deal publicly. I would look like an idiot and prob have left months ago if I let everything get to me. Honestly not much gets to me on here.
I am at a good place on here. I might not have 100 likes comments reblogs on each post. I might not have many at all. I might not have people to hype me up. I might not get asks. I might not have people I depend on. I might not ask people to give me attention.
But I don't want that. I am way more happy because I know when I get attention it's the choice people made. It's more earned felt. Like if I asked for attention and all I would feel like I didn't earn it. I would feel like oh you are only liking because I asked.
This is all a one women show. And I am beyond proud of it. I am at a better place then I have been.
At one point the pressure of oh I see you supporting everyone but me got to me. I used to care how much attention my stuff got. I am like well so and so is doing the same thing and yet gets more attention. I was like why do I bother posting when no one will pay attention. When no one will like. When no one cares. Nothing was good enough. Thankfully I snapped back to me. Thankfully those who were making me feel like that showed themselfs to the door. I am a way better person now. I am not perfect still working on things. I smile looking at my notes and see that people are supporting might not be the thing I want them to but at least it's something.
I am beyond thankful for anyone who ever showed me support. This blog might be a broken mirror I am trying to put pieces back together. But I go in with my head held high and the I don't give a fuck attitude. Sometimes I am whats the point. But it's not long lasting. I realized my blog does a lot better then many. My following has proven that. The amount of support I get proves that. I know damn well that some people are sruggling to get any attention. I always say thankful even if just one. But I am lucky to normally get more then that. On 99.9% of posts. Might not be like over 100 all the time but I don't go in expecting anything. I am so used to some tho that its a shock when certain posts do horrible. But again I cannot impress everyone and I know that yes some posts will flop. But my over all in all posts has proven how lucky I am and I am forever greatful for that.
#rant#personal#sorta#this is me tho#i am not perfect#this blog is for me#everyone else has a choice to show support#i dont force anyone#i dont ask#i earned it all
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Chapter Twenty-Four
*Falling In Love Through The Phone*
I got my new monitor and I finished editing this and decided to post it. TIME JUMP!!
Louis exited out to the balcony of their hotel room overlooking the Red Square and grinned.
“You know when you said we’d go to Moscow for Christmas I didn’t actually think you were serious.” Louis said looking over at Harry as he came up behind him.
“You helped plan the vacation.”
“You asked me which view I wanted of Moscow if we went. That is all I said.” Louis said point his finger at Harry who grinned.
“Alright. Fair. It was an early birthday present.” Harry said.
“This is my birthday present? What’s my Christmas present?” Louis teased wrapping his arms around Harry’s neck to press a heated kiss against his lips.
“I brought something with lace.” Harry said cheekily before he stepped away from Louis to look towards the view, “Shame you prevented me from proposing before our two-year anniversary. This would be a great spot to do it at.” He said casually.
“Don’t you even think about pulling out the ring box I spotted during travel.” Harry groaned but removed his hands from his pockets to encase them on either side of Louis trapping him against his body and the railing.
“You already know I have one so why not let me get on one knee…hell I’ll get down on two knees for this and ask the question that I think you’ll say yes to anyway.”
“I would say yes, obviously, but I…just don’t want to be engaged right now. I want to wait. You have to have patience, Love.” Harry groaned pouting slightly but dropped the topic and instead turned them around as he angled his phone for a picture. Louis looked up and over at Harry smiling widely at him before he pulled him down for a kiss. Two minutes in Moscow and Louis was already tempted to tell Harry the real reason he didn’t want him to propose…yet. Louis had been planning this ever since he had accidentally found out Harry had been planning their Moscow trip back in October. He hadn’t meant to it was just that Harry had a horrible habit of forgetting to exit out of his webpages and Louis happened to see Harry had booked them a hotel room for two weeks. So, Louis had started planning his own surprise. Tomorrow was his birthday, and he didn’t know what Harry had planned, but he knew that Harry had the entire day planned.
“Come on let’s get to sleep so we’re wide awake when we need to be. No sleeping in for this surprise.” Louis followed Harry into the bedroom and stripped down before they curled up into the bed together exhausted from their flight that they stayed up for so they could sleep during Moscow’s night cycle.
~~~~
Apparently the first thing on the list of ‘’Things to Do for Louis’ Birthday’’ was a blowjob then breakfast in bed. In that order. Then a long hot bath with expensive bubbles and scents and a warm towel wrapped around his naked body when he stepped out of the cooling water.
“Harold-“
“Shut up and let me spoil you.” Harry said as he guided Louis to their bags. He pulled out a large wooly sweater then helped him put it on. Louis grinned the entire time amused and endeared by his boyfriend as he treated him so gently.
“I’m older than you, you realize. I should by babying you.” Louis said
“You can baby me on my birthday.” Harry said as he helped Louis step into his black pants then even buttoned them for him. He then kneeled down and helped with his socks and winter boots before he stood up and pressed a kiss to his lips. “I’ll go get dressed. Stay right here.”
“I shall stay here.” Louis said sitting on the sofa and watching as he entered the bedroom. Louis waited only a few minutes for Harry to come back out in the exact same outfits making Louis laugh as he held up two of the same coats, “You’re joking.”
“I am not.” Louis stood up and let Harry put the heavy shearling lined suede winter coat on him. He put his hands in the line pockets and grinned when he pulled out gloves to match the suede.
“Are these my presents then? Louis asked with a grin as he pulled them on and adjusted the coat a bit, “Because I love them.”
“Some of them at least.” Harry said leaning in for another quick kiss. Harry then pulled on his own matching gloves and handed Louis a grey and blue wool scarf, “I have to keep you warm after all.”
“A good way to do that is to stay indoors and shag all day. I’m not opposed to that.” Louis teased.
“Well, I am opposed to it. You’ve bailed on every date night I have planned thus far since September. Our anniversary.”
“That’s because ever since that stunt your fans have been up our asses.”
“They’ve chilled out since we sat down with James Corden and explained.”
“Speak for yourself. Me yelling at you is still going around the internet.” Harry laughed as they intertwined their fingers together and left the hotel room.
“Well to be fair you are extremely cute when you yell.”
“I’m intimidating when I yell you mean.”
“No cute. I agree with the fans you’re a small bean when you yell at people. Besides half of them have no idea what the bloody hell you said.”
“My accent was not that visible. They done something to it...enhanced it.”
“No, they didn’t trust me. I barely understood you and it’s only my expertise from deciphering your vocabulary while plastered that I understood it at all.” Louis rolled his eyes as he pressed the first-floor button on the elevator.
“Whatever.”
“So, I have then entire day planned as I’m sure you know.”
“I figured. What’s the first thing on our list?”
“Zaryadye Park then we are going strolling then lunch and that’s all you need to know for now.”
***
Ice Caves, the underground museum, the media center, the river overlook, strolling down street markets decorated for Christmas, a beautiful (late) lunch by the Red Square, ice skating, and a lot of shopping later Louis was grinning widely as he flopped down on the bed. He was fairly sure his entire face was frozen, and he has had snot down his throat since early afternoon, but it was the best birthday he has had in a long time.
“Hey Haz...?”
“Yeah?” Harry asked as he untied Louis’ boots for him.
“I love you so much you know that?”
“I do. I love you too.” Harry said leaning over to kiss his leg briefly.
“Today was the best, tomorrow we’re staying indoors and shagging right?” Harry laughed pulling his boots off before crawling on top of Louis to kiss his lips.
“We’re exchanging gifts tomorrow then we will shag and then we have a tour of Kremlin and Re Square where we are taking cheesy pictures upfront of the cathedrals and Savior Tower. Then I am going to try and convince you to let me propose. It can be a long engagement. We can be engaged for ten years before we even thing about planning a wedding. I don’t care I just want to propose to you.” Harry pouted at then end whining slightly making Louis laugh as he rolled them, so Harry was laying on his back.
“Nope.” Harry pouted, but Louis didn’t budge.
“I’m still going to try. I’m taking you upfront of St. Basil's Cathedral after the tour and I’m proposing. You know that right?” Louis rolled his eyes rolling off of him and turning his back to Harry.
“Go to sleep then we can talk about it in the morning.” Harry wrapped his arms around Louis’ waist and hugged him tightly, “I love you.”
“I love you too asshole.” Harry said kissing his cheek, “I’m proposing. End of story.”
“In your dreams.”
“You bet it is.” Louis laughed elbowing him before snuggling into Harry, “Goodnight love.”
“Goodnight.”
*******
Louis grinned widely as he dragged Harry upfront of St. Basil’s Cathedral and went about adjusting him, so they were perfectly aligned with the building.
“If we’re going to get engaged upfront of the most famous landmark in Moscow we might as well get the best damn photo of it.” Louis said grinning widely at the photographer who was already set up for them. Harry laughed as Louis adjusted his stance and clothes. Louis pulled Harry’s hat off and tossed it away from them along with his own then threw some loose snow on Harry’s shoulders and hair.
“You planned my proposal to you?!” Harry asked shocked but highly amused.
“No…I planned my proposal to you.”
“What?” Harry asked taken back, his grin still in place, but falling from confusion and shock. Louis grinned and grabbed Harry’s hands before he went down on one knee and pulled out the white ring box he had kept better hidden than Harry’s black ring box. Harry stared wide eye and covering his face with his hands grinning widely when he met Louis’ eyes.
“I knew of your plans for Moscow since October and so I started planning this, you should really learn how to close your webpages.” Louis started making Harry laugh, “As I uh kneel here on one knee in cold snow I realize I never actually prepared a speech for this moment, but I’m going to wing it. I promise to support you in everything you decide to do in the future, I promise to love you no matter what happens, I promise to be there for you on your bad days and your good days. I promise to only flip off the really annoying paparazzi in Los Angeles two times a day instead of ten. I promise to listen to every song you come up with and tell you honestly what I think of them. I will love you for as long as you will have me by your side. I will love you whether you wear a dress or you wear a suit. When I look at you, I see the future and I see love and a family. I will never know why you chose me out of everyone you could ever have, but I promise to make sure it’s not a mistake. I promise to be there for you whenever you need me. I know these last few months, last year almost, have been really bad for you mentally and I am so proud of you for taking steps to see a therapist and being open about it. I am so proud to be standing by your side as you break gender norms and roles, and you express yourself more and more each day. I want to-“ Louis wasn’t able to finish because Harry kneeled upfront of him and kissed him while cupping his face making Louis laugh.
“I’m not done you needy bastard.” Louis complained pulling away from Harry laughing as he looked at him. “Fine. I was getting into it. I was on a roll.”
“Can’t I just say yes already?”
“Fine. Harry, will you marry me?” Harry kissed him harder knocking them onto ground making Louis laugh as he wrapped his free arm around Harry’s neck.
“Yes. Of course.” Harry said, his eyes shining with tears as he removed his gloves. Louis grinned as he slipped the ring on his finger, “I love it it’s-“
“As Louis Blue as I could get it.” Louis said with a smile as he kissed Harry again ignoring his cold and wet ass sitting in the snow. Harry cupped his face before pulling away and pulled out the familiar black box Louis has seen multiple times though he never actually seen the ring itself.
“It’s actually funny because…” Harry trailed off as he opened the box revealing a beautiful ring with diamonds and an emerald, “I got you an emerald.” Louis grinned widely as he removed his own gloves and watched as Harry slipped the ring on his finger, “There. Perfect. Let’s go home and celebrate.”
“Hold on. Hold on.” Louis said as Harry helped him stand up, “You go to the hotel and I’ll meet you there after I talk to the photographer. I remember you mentioning something lacey earlier?”
“Deal.” Louis watched Harry walk away staring down at his new ring on his finger.
#Larry Stylinson#larries#larry shippers#larry stylinson fanfiction#larry fanfiction#archive of our own#Wattpad#au
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With Teammates Like These, Who Needs Friends? (1/5)
Summary: Clover doesn't care what the other Ace Ops have to say, he absolutely does NOT have a crush on Huntsman Branwen. He just admires his skill on the battlefield. And the visible results of his obviously-excellent training regiment. And his gorgeous eyes. And his mysterious demeanor. And voice.
Okay, Clover might have just a little bit of a crush on Huntsman Branwen, but that doesn't matter, because if the other Ace Ops are going to tease him relentlessly for it, then he just won't pursue any relationship with the guy!
...Maybe.
Warnings: None, really, for this chapter. Death mention in the context of a joke. Gratuitous bullying of teammates. Spoilers for RWBY Volume 7.
AO3 Link: [X]
Notes: Hey, so... I haven't really written for fun in over four years. Which. Is pretty crazy to think about. But my New Year's Resolution this year is to get back into it because it used to make me really happy. With that said, I'm pretty rusty nowadays, so I'm sorry if any of this reads a little awkwardly. I'm hoping to get back to the level I used to be at with some practice, but I know it'll take time. This fic is mainly my effort at shaking the dust off with my current favorite show and favorite ship. I hope you all enjoy! Please like, reblog, and comment if you have the time to do so, I'd really appreciate some encouragement while I get back into the swing of things! FAIR GAME RIGHTS!!
---
Clover can’t say that he isn’t expecting it, but even he is a little taken by surprise when, only mere seconds after closing the door to the Ace Ops’ commons, a heavy hand lands on his shoulder and spins him around with enough force to make him dizzy.
Elm’s ecstatic face immediately fills his entire field of vision.
Oh, Brothers.
“Clover!”
He attempts to wave her off, feeling his face grow hot. “I’m trying to head to bed, Elm. Gotta be up bright and early tomorrow, you know.”
Her shit-eating grin only grows larger. Her vice-grip tightens. He will not be escaping any time soon. His death warrant is signed and hidden somewhere in the mess that Elm calls her quarters.
Elm manhandles him to the couch and shoves him down to sit, then flops down next to him and tosses her wrapped feet onto the coffee table.
He wrinkles his nose. “Elm, please. I’ve talked to you about your feet and the table.”
Ignoring him (as she so often does) Elm simply continues to grin smugly at him. “Who would’ve thought?! Our very own captain!”
Clover rolls his eyes in what he hopes to be a clear sign of his exasperation.
“Elm, what are you even talking about?” Marrow pipes up from where he is leaning against the wall. His arms are crossed over his chest in a deliberate attempt to appear uninterested, though his faintly wagging tail gives him away. Clover hadn’t even noticed him until he’d spoken.
Looking around, he realizes that all of his subordinates are standing about the room, watching the interaction with varying degrees of interest. Just great. He considers whether or not it would be worth it to attempt to preemptively write Elm up for not-yet-conducted insubordination.
Hm. He probably isn’t allowed to do that.
He startles as Elm yanks her feet off the table next to him, instead throwing herself forward so she can bang her fist against the helpless furniture to punctuate her next statement, “Our captain has a crush on Huntsman Branwen!”
“Elm,” Harriet sighs, “stop being an idiot. Again. You know that he--”
Clover pulls himself away from Elm and her interrogation couch. He stands up, straight-backed, falling into a parade rest that has his shoulders held just a little too tightly to his ears, positive that his face is red. “That’s enough,” he orders, voice as firm as he can make it, “what I do is none of your concern, Elm. Nor anyone else’s. This conversation is… unprofessional, to say the least. And it’s over.”
Rather than be appropriately cowed by his scolding, Elm only flashes him an even bigger smile. On the other side of the room, Harriet makes a choking sound and starts to sputter, “Holy shit, you are--!”
Elm jumps to her feet, swinging a muscular arm over his shoulders. “I think you mean ‘who you do,’ Captain!”
Clover shrugs her off, scowling. “Elm!” His mind races, attempting to formulate a way to escape this horrible situation, but it seems that no amount of luck is getting him out of this one.
“Well,” Vine rubs speculatively at his chin, finally deciding to contribute something to this dumpster-fire of a conversation, and Clover makes the split-second mistake of hoping that he will be the voice of reason to shut the whole thing down, “you can hardly blame our captain. Huntsman Branwen is, objectively, quite conventionally attractive. Not to mention his skill-level and renown in the field and all of the good he has done in the ongoing battle against Salem….”
Clover feels his soul die a little.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me!” Marrow throws his hands up in the air, his tail raised in visible agitation. “What are we, a buncha kids? You’ve known the guy for five minutes!”
Elm laughs uproariously, “And he stared at Huntsman Branwen for all five! Not to mention the extra twenty seconds when he was watching him walk away!”
Harriet gags. She looks incredibly annoyed and vaguely disgusted at this turn of events.
“That really is enough--!” Clover tries.
“Really?” Vine tilts his head, coming a few steps closer. He peers at Clover in a speculative manner. “It seems to me that it would be difficult to catch a glimpse of Huntsman Branwen’s posterior, considering that the cape he wears covers it quite effectively. Are you sure, Elm, that that is what Clover was doing?”
“Haha!” Elm raises her hand for a high-five, which her partner passively returns.
Clover is sure his skin-tone must faintly resemble that of the Atlas Academy mess hall’s tomato soup by now. He had not been staring at Huntsman Branwen’s ass. Even if he were interested in Qrow Branwen like that, he’s too much of a gentleman to do such a thing. Besides, there were plenty of other attractive aspects of Huntsman Branwen to focus on without having to drool over his “posterior” like some sort of mangy grimm. Like his soft vermillion eyes; or his trim waist; or his hair, which looked like the shining feathers of his namesake; or his elegant hands, undoubtedly calloused from so many years of handling his weapon so skillfully…. He swallows hard and feels his face flare up anew as he realizes what train of thought he’d been taking.
Looking up, he catches Elm smirking at him again. Marrow and Harriet have near-matching expressions of distaste. Vine is merely studying him with even more interest than before.
He opens his mouth to retaliate, only for Vine to cut him off, clasping his hands behind his back in a move so prim that it leaves Clover completely unprepared for what he says next: “I believe our captain was just lost in thought about Huntsman Branwen’s posterior again.”
Clover coughs hard, choking on his own spit. Vaguely, he registers the sound of Elm exploding into further laughter at his expense.
“Oh, ew, ew, ew!” Marrow covers his ears, baring his teeth at Vine and Elm and probably also Clover.
Harriet simply glowers at all of them, “I did not need to know that.”
After a moment, Clover pulls himself together. He glares at his attackers, “Elm,” he snarls, “Vine.”
Vine takes an even step back, cocking his head inquisitively, “I apologize, did I say something incorrect?”
Elm loops her bicep around her partner’s neck in a pseudo-chokehold that he makes no attempt to remove himself from. “No, Vine, but I believe that’s our cue to leave!” She extricates herself from him and once again brings her hand down hard on Clover’s shoulder, having apparently never learned that it isn’t wise to poke an angry bear. “Don’t worry, boss, I’ll make sure to keep an extra eye out for your little bird!” She winks and pats him a few times with enough force to jolt his entire upper torso. “Though I’m sure you’ll already have that handled!”
Then, in a blink, she has removed herself from the room, Vine following behind her at a more sedate pace.
They are going to be facing so much disciplinary action, Clover thinks furiously. They will be scrubbing the floors for months. He turns to face Harriet and Marrow, who are somehow still in the room, staring at him. He crosses his arms firmly over his chest, “Do either of you have something to add?”
Marrow merely shakes his head and turns tail to leave.
Harriet looks him over for a moment longer, then makes a sharp tsk’ing sound with her tongue. “Gross.”
She spins on her heel and walks down the hallway that leads to each of their personal rooms.
Clover sighs heavily and plops back down on the couch. It is going to be a long however-many-months with Huntsman Branwen and his students here.
Still, he can certainly make it easier on himself by avoiding working with the other man. Even if he is incredibly attractive….
(No! Bad Clover!)
Everything will go over much more smoothly if he just isn’t seen staring at or talking to or even vaguely thinking about Huntsman Branwen from here on out.
---
More Notes: So, that was the first chapter! I hope you liked it and that it made your day a little brighter :)
The first installment is already completely finished minus some light editing. Stuff from here on out will probably be formatted as oneshots rather than chaptered fics, but I wanted this first part to be a bit longer and explore the very beginnings of our boys' relationship, with particular emphasis on Clover being a Secret Gay Disaster. Is that actually my headcanon for the show? Nah. Is that what this fic turned into? Absolutely.
Anyway, I'm currently deciding whether I want to post one chapter everyday for the next four days to finish this story up or if I want to post every other day. If anyone has any opinions on that, I'd be glad to hear them.
#rwby#qrow branwen#clover ebi#fair game#qrowver#lucky charms#elm ederne#vine zeki#marrow amin#harriet bree#rwby fanfiction#my writing#rwby volume 7#rwby volume 7 spoilers#rwby v7#rwby7 spoilers#rwby7#rwby 7#fluff#fluff and humor#domestic fluff#team as family#pining
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So, coz I never get tired of this (and because I'm trying to distract myself from being hellishly hungover): What would the Wintermoon girls be like as villains? Say they joined Aszhara, or Elisande, rather than making their own way?
Ooooh interesting question.
This got extremely long and borders on being a goddamn character analysis essay I’m so sorry
I hope you feel better soon though. Hangovers are hell.
edit: (OOOF forgot the read more. Sorry to anyone who had this monster of a post take up their dash for a minute there)
Any villain Diily AU I have tends to be one where she loses Alaluria and Ladelia in a very traumatic way and just kind of..snaps. Or rather doesn’t give a fuck about anything but getting vengeance.
Completely disillusioned with everyone, heroes, villains, she doesn’t care. Get in her way and you’re cat food.
A lot of things that make her..her? Would be gone. Compassion being the most notable missing trait. It’s switched off and twisted into something much worse.
I think..cold. She’s all rage but it’s a quiet and cold rage. Calculating. Patient. Ruthless. She’s a huntress after all and she is just..hunting a different kind of prey now.
And honestly cruel because why should she continue to be kind when the world never was to them? Why should she keep giving when all fate seems to do is take and take from her until there’s nothing left.
She’s putting all that pain and rage onto her victims and it makes for..very brutal deaths. Because they deserve it, don’t they? They’re all monsters. All of them. Look what they did. Even those who had nothing to do with it?
The world is cruel so she will be too. She tried being good once and look where that got her.
Such a huge part of her identity is being that sister figure to Alaluria and Ladelia. Her life has been dedicated to protecting them for 10,000 years. And naturally that inherent kindness and compassion extends to the rest of the world too.
They’ve all got some..hm..codependency issues that have been getting better as they get older and branch out, spend time with other people but they do still exist. Ironically I’d actually say Diily has it the worst there. It’s part why her and Alaluria clashed so much. It didn’t mesh well with Alaluria’s own deep rooted issues.
And WERE ABOUT TO GET REAL DEEP INTO THEIR PSYCH because it plays a huge part in how something like this could so drastically change her
GODDDD my Diily. She’s such a mess and full of good intentions that sadly don’t always have the best results. And the saddest thing about her is that she was just as much of a traumatized, terrified child as the other two when they lost their parents.
And she was thrust into that mother role which she was of course not emotionally or mentally prepared to take. She herself is deeply traumatized and trying to cope but none of them know how.
She does know she loves them though. And so, she throws herself in that role completely. They’re her world okay. She loves them more than life itself. I can’t stress that enough.
And another thing that breaks my heart is that in becoming what is essentially their mother as a young pre-teen she gave up everything. None of them had a typical upbringing and a typical adolescence but Diily really had none of that.
She’ll starve herself before she let them go hungry (she’s done it before). She’ll sell her body before she lets them freeze or succumb to illness. (And god she wasn’t ready for that. Not at all. My poor girl.)
She’d tear her own heart from her chest herself if it meant theirs kept beating.
She gives and gives and it leaves her very empty. This doesn’t only stretch to her sisters. She’s very much..a caretaker? But she doesn’t really know how to balance that with taking care of herself. So, she lets them fall or the side because in her eyes? She’s completely unimportant in comparison.
She never got to be a teenager. None of them did but she lost her innocence in ways that she bent over backwards to protect them from.
The worst part she’ll never think she’s done enough. She’s proud of the people her sisters have become but she feels she’s failed them. They didn’t have a normal childhood. They saw and did things no child should have to see and do. (Even while she got the worst of it)
In my eyes, she’s far from perfect but here she did the best she could. (and someone truly needs to tell her that ugh 3)
They’ve been hurt and she takes them being hurt as a personal failure. Rationally she cannot keep them safe from everything but she blames herself every time. She’s her big sister after all. She’s supposed to protect them.
And that has resulted in well intentioned but ultimately unhealthy patterns of behavior such as her occasionally being overprotective or overbearing. (As she gets older she does get way better about this but there were times as a teenager she naturally had no idea how to deal with Alaluria’s confusing outbursts of rage and Ladelia’s complete dependence on her. And it did result in her trying to protect them in ways that came out more controlling then anything because she’s not an adult she’s just a kid and she has no idea how to be a mother. That and she’s their sister not their mother and it creates really confusing dynamics when Diily tries to tell Alaluria what to do for example. They will never see her as a mother figure. So..there’s some clashing there if that makes sense.
Alaluria saw her overbearing/overprotectiveness as a need to control and it clashed completely with her independent nature. She lashed out. She left. (While simultaneously craving and needing that love and affection and it used to frustrate Diily so much because she didn’t understand. Alaluria unsurprisingly couldn’t articulate what she needed (what child can?) and Diily couldn’t give her what she needed. (She’d never be able to give her everything no matter how much she tries.)
God and you know I can see the rift deepening because Alaluria keeps lashing out and driving her away and simultaneously is hurt when Diily reacts accordingly because Diily doesn’t understand why she’s acting that way. She’s a child herself so her own stubbornness and temper make her snap back which only worsens the situation.
And it results in Alaluria acting out more because Diily is naturally going to well withdraw (and probably pay more attention to Ladelia as a result which wasn’t purposeful or spiteful but its natural she’s put her energy into the sister who doesn’t keep purposefully hurting her) but whatever she does it doesn’t get her the reaction she wants.
(Alaluria doesn’t know what she want. My beautiful ball of contradictions)
Alaluria flip flops badly when it comes to affection. She craves it but will reject it when it comes her way. It’s why she sometimes reacts positively to her sisters being affectionate and other times she lashes out or pulls away. It seems like a contradiction because it is.
And you know I can’t blame either of them. It was just such a clash of personalities and most of all…shitty circumstances. And it’s the fact that they were just kids. Maybe not when Alaluria left but emotionally they’re all kind/of fucked up so it really doesn’t matter.
And on a more personal level Diily doesn’t like herself. Frankly she hates herself. Her self worth is very much dependent on her role as a caretaker and protector. Sadly? The truth of it all is that you can’t be a perfect caretaker. You can’t protect everyone from everything. And it’s something she still struggles to learn. (See: her devastation at what happened to Teldrassil and desperation to make it right) there are other reasons for it too.
Shes..got this need to be seen as strong and put together. (Which is why I enjoy taking her apart so much I think). She wants people to be able to trust and rely on her and her eyes she needs to be strong for them.
Her pain, her needs get shoved down.
She doesn’t think about. She doesn’t want to. So she focuses on others.
And really? All her personal baggage? She doesn’t know how to deal with any of it. None of them have exactly learned healthy coping mechanisms lmao.
She was a scared, hurt little girl who was forced into becoming a mother by horrible circumstance and saw and did things no child should ever have to see and do.
And she’s been trying to pretend she has it together for a very, very long time.
But she has no idea what she’s doing. She was (and still is) just as lost and scared as her sisters but she saw that they needed her and stepped up in a way..she never should have had to.
Kids are supposed to be selfish and immature. It’s a give in. It’s a part of growing up and something they’re taught to grow out of. They’re not supposed to do the things she had to do to keep them alive or give up the things she did.
What else could she do after all? They needed her. There was no other choice,
So what’s the point of the character analysis? I wanted to talk about my girls and got extremely carried away. Losing them would devastate her completely. So much of her would just..shatter. And if the circumstances are right enough it could make her snap in a way that’s really..not a pretty sight at all
She doesn’t have it together. She doesn’t know what to do with these extreme emotions. She doesn’t know what to do without someone to take care of. She doesn’t know what to with without them.
The only beings I can see her not being indifferent to is Wildheart and Brightheart of course. She loves them as loyally and unconditionally as she does her sisters. They’re family
She’s willing to do anything to get her revenge because that’s all that matters to her. The world is as dead to her as they are. Or rather..she’ll make it so it is.
-cough-
Alaluria being the most morally dubious of the three is a bit easier to figure out. It could’ve a similar situation to the above or one where the fel madness takes over. Or both.
If you want the cruelest version of her it would be the last option. Hm..Alaluria is already cynical and disillusioned with the world. Where Ladelia and Diily try to find the good she just sees the bad.
Ex; She’s distrustful while Ladelia is too trusting. Diily throws herself into helping others. Alaluria does the same but does it mainly by fighting rather than the loving, soft way Diily cares for others.
She is not bad in canon though. So let’s talk about my canon girl real quick the same way we did with Dil.
And her repressed rage issues do come from the frankly massive amounts of trauma the three of them have been through. Rage that completely stems from pain. Diily internalizes her pain mostly. Alaluria takes it out on those she deems guilty. And she’s willing to do ruthless things to achieve a greater good. Her and Illidonk has that in common.
(She was honestly a happy child before everything. She’s always had a bit of a temper but so do Diily and Ladelia lmao. It’s just..a little harder to push them to their breaking points. Unless you know where to hit them.
And what really, really killed any idealism still clinging to her?
The Illidari. Illidan. That whole shebang.
She was still..there was a still a bit of that bright eyed brave little girl in her that wanted to save the world and make it a you know..not shitty place..and that was smashed to pieces when she really saw the reality of things.
Illidan has a part to play in that but no more than the entirety of the situation. Diily blames him for it. I don’t think it’s necessarily fair to blame him too much as she made her own choice to join them and stay.
And sometimes there are glimpses of that little girl, mostly with her sisters. When she’s laughing with them or finds joy in something innocent like a saber cub batting at her tail or finding a really cool gem. (I almost said rock because that makes it sound really funny. “Wow look at this rock I found” “that’s great alaluria”)
Anyway, my point. She’s a deeply troubled woman with barely repressed rage issues and it comes from deep trauma and an all consuming pain and complete and utter disillusionment with the world..yet is she really? She’s still fighting for it. There’s some part of her that holds onto hope that it can be better.
But she’s also managed to stay a..mostly decent person. She doesn’t hurt innocents normally. She has but she feels genuine guilt for it. She might growl and grumble but she does help others. It gives her a sense of purpose that has recently been shaken with the destruction of the Legion. She feels..good. Like she’s doing something good.
The whole point of joining the Illidari was to help everyone. To help fix what she saw as the biggest problem.
She’s not the monster she thinks she is. She’s just a scared, hurting little girl in a woman’s body.
And yes, she left Diily and Ladelia but that separation (even though she did it willingly) was very traumatic and devastating for her. She was suddenly on her own for the first time in her life and more or less thrown into a den of wolves. (it says a lot about her that she came out leading the whole pack so to speak. :’) my girls are so strong I love them..why am i so mean to them)
And I think knowing Diily and Ladelia were out there even when not being with them is something entirely different from them being dead.
There was always the chance they would reconcile and I think maybe on a more unconscious level..she always thought/knew they would reconcile. It was something inevitable in her mind. She couldn’t imagine anything else.
I can see her always having this belief that after everything was done. After the Legion was defeated she would be able to see them again. And she’d say it was just to shove it in their faces that she was right but..
The world she so viciously determined to protect? She’s always been very aware they’re a part of it too. Even while she “hated” them she was trying to protect them.
So, I think losing them. Especially after reuniting with them (but even during the separation) would be especially devastating. Another thing ripped from her. More proof there’s nothing good at all in the world.
And you know she idealizes them to some degree. She sees Diily and Ladelia as inherently good and herself as bad. (Regardless of how they try to convince her otherwise)
And so she’s just full of rage because it should have been her? There’s no fairness, no sense of justice in this universe if they die and not her because they were good and kind and she’s a monster.
And they were her sisters. And she doesn’t know what to do, how to function in a world where there’s no hope of ever seeing them again.
And now she doesn’t have any fucks to give.
And an Alaluria with no moral compass is a terrifying Alaluria.
Also it would be extremely easy for the demon creeping around in her head/soul to take advantage of that completely and twist her into the perfect weapon. The weapon part.. It’s kind of what Illidan did but he did it for the purpose of destroying the legion which as an idea is a good thing but we all know his methods and morals are questionable at best (*blows a kiss towards Illidan Stormrage* love ya, you bastard)
A villain!Alaluria would be absolutely ruthless. Full of completely unleashed rage and pain. The world wants to hurt her? She’ll hurt it right back. She’ll make the whole damn thing burn.
The worst part is in this au though?
She becomes what she hates most.
As for Ladelia.
She’s the most innocent of the three. The most idealistic. Diily is kind but she’s also usually rather realistic. Ladelia is a dreamer.
A lot of this comes from Diily trying very hard to shelter her and Alaluria from the brutal reality of the world (this isn’t something she could ever do of course but she did try)
But she succeeded more with Ladelia. Alaluria lashed out where Ladelia clung to Diily. Ladelia was younger than either of them when they lost their parents. She doesn’t have the vivid memories that keep Diily and Alaluria up at night. She remembers bits and pieces but not as much.
And being the baby sister and the sister that was not only tolerant of Diily’s overbearing nature but needed it she was coddled more? Alaluria wouldn’t let herself be coddled. Ladelia needed it. She needed love and Diily is just so full of love.
(Diily never intended to create a rift between her two little sisters but she did and it still shows even now sometimes. Especially because Ladelia has been by Diily’s side when Alaluria wasn’t. That’s not a judgement on her though (it sounded too aggressive) it’s just that Alaluria feels..well, she feels left out when they talk about their adventures or they share an inside joke that she doesn’t understand. It’s a natural feeling and it makes my heart hurt for her. (They don’t mean to hurt her)
I wouldn’t call Ladelia spoiled necessarily but she is babied by Diily (and despite their differences and one sided rivalry Alaluria does baby her too..in her own way) It’s easy to see that whenever she’s in trouble she turns tail and runs to Diily. (And Maybe Alaluria resents that it’s never her that her baby sister runs too. God they’re all so complicated)
She’s become far more independent over the years but she still tends to lean very heavily on Diily which is only natural. And Diily wouldn’t dream of turning her baby sister away but she learned from Alaluria it’s important to encourage their independence instead of try to control it.
But codependency issues aside. Ladelia is a genuinely good and kind person. She has a lot of Diily’s compassion and tends to be more of a dreamer than either of them. It’s why she fell so hard for Jaina (and she hurt so much for her when Jaina lost that)
But she does have a temper. Her chosen element of choice is fire after all. (This says so much about her but I’ll tape down that essay for now. It’s especially notable when you compare her to her sisters who are not fond of fire at all and Teldrassil cemented that for them lmao) She’s..the most immature of the three. More impulsive and she wears her feelings on her sleeve unlike Diily and Alaluria. Ugh I don’t want to make her sound “weak” because she’s anything but. She’s endured horrible shit and still come out good and..soft. that’s..that’s not nothing :’)
But Diily is..generally reserved with strangers. Not aggressive or rude but she isn’t going to let them see her at anything but her best.
Ladelia an adult don’t get me wrong but she is more..immature than them? I’m not sure that’s the right word. Don’t get me wrong she has had the idealism dampened over the years by the things she’s been forced to see and do. War has a way of doing that.
But she clings to this belief that people must be mostly inherently good..because she needs to believe that.
There’s a deep sadness in her just like the other two but it manifests a bit differently.
A lot of her sadness is aimed at the world as a general thing rather than any specific entity? Diily and Alaluria hate, hate, hate the Legion and focus their rage on them. Now it’s shifted to Sylvanas and Azshara (although Azshara’s part in the Legion nonsense is something they very much are aware of and hate her for)
Ladelia does too but she doesn’t have the memories they do. Her memory is foggy (probably her mind protecting itself really)
She doesn’t understand why people do such horrible things. She doesn’t know why bad things happen to good people. And she hates that she can’t save everyone. (You’ll see that with both her and Diily)
But a villain Ladelia??
That would be someone who kills in the name of what they believe is good but I could see her sense of good being twisted if she lost Diily and Alaluria. Especially if in her grief someone like Azshara latched onto her.
She’d be very easily to manipulate in that sense.
And she is a very powerful mage. It’s something she is very proud of. Like Jaina she’s so hungry for knowledge. I think part of her thinks maybe if she understands the universe..she can “fix” it? She just has to understand first.
And that creates someone who absolutely excels in a field like magic. She’s very determined, she’s as stubborn as Diily and Alaluria are (it’s a family trait clearly) And she pushes and pulls and picks apart the mysteries of the universe and deep down a part of her just wants to understand so she can help.
And it’s just a desire to understand. She feels better when she understands things. Things aren’t as scary when you understand them after all.
She was an unbearably curious child and still has that curiosity. It’s something Diily has managed to keep alive in her.
She’s ambitious in the sense she’s always reaching for new heights in terms of skill. She takes great pride in her skill at magic. I could see that being a bad thing in certain circumstances. “Knowledge is power..but using it wisely is the key.” “control your power..or it will control you.” etc. So a villain Ladelia might have magic as a corrupting influence rather than a positive one like in..”canon”
So a villain Ladelia to me is one who has become disillusioned with the concept of good. Or maybe one who just has a twisted idea or what is good. She’s passionate and so adamant what she’s doing is right and that? Those kinds of people are some of the most dangerous. Think..Jaina snapping and trying to murder the entirety of Ogrimmar.
It’s the right thing to do? ..right? It has to be because she doesn’t know what to do if it’s not. And maybe she’s just full of rage and wants to take it out on those who are “bad” in her eyes.
But whether or not those people are truly bad..well, that’s almost always subjective isn’t it?
And maybe part of villain Ladelia knows that.
She just pretends she doesn’t.
She’s good at pretending.
——
NOW for the grand finale which is all three of them as villains together.
I’m wondering what could push them towards something so drastic. Typically it’s the death of the others that is the major catalyst in those au’s so.. (h
I think it would have to be an AU where they’re taken in by some sort of villain and manipulated.
Someone who pretends to love them and these three terrified, affection starved children eat up whatever parental attention they can get unaware they’re being manipulated.
It would have to be someone who can prey on all their individual weaknesses and bring out their best traits and then completely turn them on their head. Twist it for a bad purpose.
Diily’s capacity for unconditional love . Alaluria’s desire for revenge. Ladelia’s idealism and ambition.
I wonder if Azshara could be that person but it would have had to be when they were younger so it would have to be a pretty drastic au. They place a heavy amount of blame on her for the Legion shit. But if they were young she could probably twist it in her favor.
Maybe an old god of some sorts? (Oh dear that’s a scary thought)
I can see the Legion doing the same but through cruelty rather than faux kindness: I think it would be near impossible to make Diily and Alaluria loyal to the Legion after what they did to their home and family.
Ladelia is more..vulnerable to manipulation than them though.
BUT their captor would honestly have to be very good at psychological manipulation.
Using them against one another would be..horrifically successful. It could really work on Diily for example. It’s a very visible and glaring weakness and if someone took advantage of that. You could get her to do anything if you put them up as bargaining chips.
Hilariously I think their…hmmm captor would end up dead with that kind of behavior though. She won’t tolerate them being hurt and vice versa.
Lmao they just completely usurp their captor and..sadly take their role as villain however because it’s what they’ve been taught and groomed for.
Alaluria in particular would be willing if they really played with her arrogance and ambition. The demon in her head tries (and mostly fails since she’s very strong willed) to do that. You can do it better..just get him out of the way..you taught me to be ruthless after all.
(makes me wonder about an AU where she comes to hate and resent Illidan instead of admire and love him)
Ladelia is the most hungry for love. That’s something you could use against her if you’re an absolutely abhorrent person. She’d want to make their “parental” figure proud and please them so they love her.
Ah it just depends on the captor’s methods. Are they cruel? Are they “kind” to them? You could inspire loyalty and love from them or…hatred and ruthlessness but the latter wouldn’t end in their captor’s favor. However if they went the kindness route they would have three girls absolutely willing to do whatever they wanted.
You know if they wanted to take advantage of three traumatized children (who all have so much potential) and turn them into weapons instead of the people they are in canon (I feel weird calling it canon since obviously ocs aren’t necessarily canon to WoW lore but- nevermind. it doesn’t matter. My canon for them) because my canon girls are deeply flawed who make mistakes but are mostly good people who just want to help and take care of each other okay.
They have a creator who’s very mean to them
I will say I don’t envy the au where the three of them are villains (or separately but especially together).
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Civil Warriors- 1: Oversight
Civil Warriors Masterlist
Author’s Note: Originally posted to ao3 (This is an edited and improved version) Part Three of the Red Queen Chronicles!
Summary: Cassie Campbell refuses to sign the Sokovia Accords, but it’s not about pride, it’s about right.
Word Count: 2643
Pairing(s): Clint Barton x OFC,
Chapter Warnings: tiny bit of angst and some good fluff, foreshadowing the badness
Cassie sat on the couch in her home in Seattle, drinking coffee and reading through the newspaper. "Did you see this, babe? The United Nations drafted up a law in response to the thing that happened in Nigeria."
"Yeah? What's the new law?" Clint called from the bedroom.
"It's pretty fucking oppressive, actually. Basically, superheroes have to answer to them. Go where they say, do what they want. They decide who our villains are and what is acceptable action against them. All known superheroes are expected to sign these Sokovia Accords."
"And if we don't?" Clint walked in, a piece of pizza in his hand. "If we decide to hero without the UN's consent?"
"If we hero, we end up the next ones on the arrest warrant, hunted down by the legit heroes."
Clint took a bite of the pizza and flopped down next to her. "Good thing we're retired."
"I didn't retire. I took a break. I wanted to finish my degree." She slapped the newspaper into his lap. "This is... ridiculous. We can do things that cops can't do, that the military can't do. To dictate when and where we can go to do these things... what happened in Lagos was horrible, but all the people in that building's courtyard would've blown if she hadn't done what she did."
"Some would say that Rumlow wouldn't have activated that bomb if Steve hadn't been there."
"No, he wouldn't have. But if Steve hadn't been there, he would've gotten away with a weaponized disease that would have caused hundreds more deaths in the long-run!"
"You know an awful lot about what happened in Lagos. Have you been heroing vicariously?"
Cassie looked down. "Nat and I have been talking."
Clint sat up straight, turning to her. "You and Nat? Are good, are friends?"
"Yes. We’re good. You remember Pepper took me out for my... '9 months after conception when they took me out of the goo and let me breathe on my own for the first time' day? And we had a girl's day with Maria? Natasha came along, we had some free mimosas, got our nails and hair done. We had fun, decided we actually liked each other. She said I was good enough for you and I think that was all I really needed to hear to let go of my grudge about the cocktease comment."
Clint smiled. "So, you and Nat have been talking about everything that they've been doing? What, you wanna go back?"
"Not yet, but... we might have to."
"What do you mean?" He asked, munching on the pizza again.
"I mean this is gonna tear us apart. There are going to be heroes who find the idea just as oppressive I do, who refuse to be controlled, and they are gonna rebel. This is gonna cause in-fighting and pain."
"Yeah. And we are gonna stay out of that because we're retired."
"Bullshit," Cassie said, standing. "And get the pizza out of the bedroom, Clint. We've talked about this. Lucky gets into it if you leave it where he can-"
"It's in the side table. Lucky can't open drawers, yet."
"I don't want him scratching at the furniture, either, dude. Put the pizza in the fridge."
"I'll put you in the fridge," Clint mumbled, heading for the bedroom.
"Home, sweet home!" she called out.
"Shit! You know I didn't mean it like that," Clint said, walking out of the bedroom with a cardboard pizza box.
"I know. You just don't think before you speak sometimes," Cassie said as her phone started to ring. 'Natasha' shined up at her. "And here we go," she said, picking up the phone from the coffee table and answering it. "Yeah?"
"Is Clint with you?" Natasha asked, her voice serious.
"Of course, he is. He hasn't left since Christmas."
"Put me on speaker. I have to talk to you both."
"About the Accords?" Cassie asked, pressing the button to send the Russian's voice to speaker. "'Cause I'm not signing."
"I'm retired." Clint walked up next to Cassie.
"This is a big deal. You have to, at least, think about it, guys."
"Think about a group of men who've never been in a room with a supervillain telling me when and what I can do about those villains? Do you think those men would have let you guys come after me when I was with Loki? Do you think they would've let you come to rescue me when I was in Austria?"
"Look, we need some oversight. What happened in Lagos-"
"I'm gonna hate myself for using these words, but 'acceptable losses', Nat. Yes, a dozen people died in Lagos, but Rumlow was gonna blow up everyone in the courtyard. The amount of damage done was cut, at least, in half and these are your words. And when you add in the fact that Rumlow almost got away with a biological weapon... but you didn't know that going in. You thought he was going after the police station. You never would have gotten approval to stop him on that partial information. He would have gotten away with it. Hundreds, maybe thousands, would have died."
"Clint... talk some sense into your girl."
Clint shook his head and smiled at the younger woman. "Natasha. You are my best friend and I love you, but... I don't love you enough to go against the Queen."
"Look, I'm gonna tell Ross that you're on the fence. TBD, just like Wanda. Think about it some more."
"No need. This is an oppressive law and there will always be heroes who do the job without permission. If we wanted to be under the command of a government or governments, we'd have joined up with the Army."
"I'm telling Ross you don't have an answer. You have three days. Think about it," Natasha said, before the phone clicked off.
"Well, I really wanted to be retired, but I get the feeling you just signed us up for a war," Clint said, wrapping his arms around her.
"I didn't sign anything."
"And that's the point." Clint pressed his lips to her cheek and squeezed her. "How long, you think, before this blows up in our faces?"
"The Russian said three days, so... we'll get maybe four."
"Okay. So... head to the farm, drop off Lucky with Laura and the kids before our next big issue?"
Cassie nodded and turned to him. "I love you. You know that, right?"
"I know. We can head out tomorrow, okay?"
"Maybe we'll have time to do something fun with Lila and Cooper before things get bad."
"Ooh, water-skiing. Coop was sayin' he really wanted to give that a try."
"Yeah, but what about Lila?"
"You think she can't water-ski?"
"I think I'm nervous about the water-crash."
"Hey, if Laura goes with it, we can. Come on, we're a circus family. We ain't scared of crashin'."
Cassie laughed. "I love you, circus freak."
"I love you, Frankenstein."
***********************
"Aunt Cassie! Uncle Clint!" Lila ran in as soon as they entered the house. She wrapped her arms around Cassie's middle as Cooper walked in and went for a half hug with Clint.
"Mom and Nate are sleeping."
"Good. Babies and mommies need nappies." Clint laughed. "I don't know why I said it like that."
"Cause you're a dork. And since when am I your aunt, little girl?" Cassie looked down at the little blond girl in her arms.
"Mommy said that the only one she's ever seen Uncle Clint look at the way he looks at you was Aunt Bobbi and he's bound to put a ring on your finger soon."
"Oh, she said that, huh? Gonna have to have a talk with your mommy," Clint grumbled.
"Anyway," Cassie said, pointedly. "Lucky is out in the yard. He's begging for some fetch after that long car ride. You kids up for it?"
The kids ran for the door, excited. "Laura needs to learn to keep her mouth shut."
Cassie turned to him. "Ah, come on. I'm sure it's just more of Lila wanting cousins."
"No. It's Laura... running her big fat mouth," Clint said, putting his hand in his pocket. Cassie's eyes widened as she focused in on the ring box. "I had this whole speech planned, about second chances in life and destinies and stuff, but..."
"Clint... what are you-"
"I can get down on one knee if you want. I mean, that's not really our style, but I can go classic with it, if you-" He smiled, opening the box and bending his left leg. "If that's what it takes to get you to say 'yes' and make me the happiest cliche in the world."
"Don't you dare," Cassie said, pulling him to her and kissing him, her hands burying in his hair.
Clint pulled back and brought the ring up to her face. "It's white gold. Diamonds and sapphire inlay so you can still punch people. I know you don't think you were born, but September birthday, sapphires."
"I don't care about the ring, Clint," she breathed out.
"Yeah, I get that, what with you not looking at it, at all. Also worrisome, you haven't said 'yes', yet."
"Clint, you could have tied a string around my finger and I would have said 'yes'." She laughed. "I'm saying 'yes', Clint."
His lips crashed onto hers again as she grabbed the ring box from his hand. "About damn time. He's had that ring for two months," Laura said, walking into the living room. "So, this is how you do it, Clint? What happened to candles and a string quartet and all those reasons you gave for holding off for the last couple months?"
"Yeah, well, that's how I was gonna do it. I was even gonna ask Tony for his blessing as a funny take on the fact that he's more of a father to you than, you know, anyone else. And I kinda got Phil's blessing at Christmas, like he said there wouldn't be an issue." He shook his head. "But then a Hydra agent decided to blow himself up in Nigeria, the UN decided to make our friends sign up to be international mall cops on their payroll, which fractured us and... shit's gonna hit the fan soon and I wanted to know that, that you're with me through all of it."
"Of course, I am," Cassie said, slipping the ring on her left ring finger. She chuckled in surprise. "It fits."
"Yeah. I measured your finger in your sleep."
"If that weren't so adorable, it'd be creepy. I love you, Clint. I can't wait to be 'Cassie Barton'."
****************************
"Oh. That's not good," Cassie muttered, as the news played.
"A bomb hidden in a news van blew up in front of the UN building in Vienna. More than seventy people have been injured, at least twelve are dead, including Wakanda's King T'Chaka. Officials have released a video of the suspect, who they have identified as James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier, the infamous Hydra agent linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations. They're urging anyone with information to contact authorities."
"Clint!" Cassie called. Clint walked in from the kids' play room, a hammer in his hand. "We were discussing four days 'til excrement/fan collaboration? I was wrong." She hit rewind on the DVR and replayed the news.
"Shit. Bucky, that's... that's Steve's bestie, right?"
"Bucky was Steve's Nat. They took care of each other, since they were in school together. Bucky got grabbed by Hydra and brainwashed into being an assassin for them. Steve didn't sign, but there is no way he's gonna sit back and let this shit happen. No way he lets anyone else bring Bucky in," Cassie answered, leaning forward to grab her phone. She dialed Steve and waited. "You're about to do something stupid, aren't you?"
Steve chuckled. "It's only stupid if I get caught."
"What're the consequences if you do get caught? 'Cause I got the feeling the consequence is jail time. Captain America in jail, just seems wrong."
"Like I said... consequences are for if I get caught. If I don't, then I can bring Bucky in with minimal damage."
"Steve, when have we ever done anything with 'minimal damage'? That's the reason the Accords exist."
"I'm going to bring him in... even if someone has to arrest me for doing it."
"Look..." Cassie spun her ring on her finger. "You know Clint and I didn't sign, right? You know, if you need us, we're here."
"Well, I've got Sam on location with me. He's already... pretty much agreed to put himself on the line with me for this. But, thanks. I appreciate it. Oh, and, um, congratulations. I heard about-"
"Nat's got a big mouth. Thanks, but this isn't really the time, is it? Bigger things, that's why I didn't announce it like I'm sure a bride-to-be is supposed to." Clint smiled at her, taking her left hand in his and kissing the back of it.
"Well, I thought you were retired. This stuff shouldn't have anything to do with you."
"Come on. I went on hiatus, fully intended on coming back after graduation. Clint retired, not me. And he's not very good at being retired, either. Listen, Steve, seriously. Be careful. I don't want to have to come visit you with a piece of superhero-proof glass between us."
"I'll keep that in mind, Cass. Enjoy your... retirement."
"Not retired."
"Well, maybe you should be. I'll call you after... if I can."
"Right. Be careful."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Oi, old man. Don't 'ma'am' me."
Steve chuckled again. "I'm gonna miss being an Avenger with you."
"Sometimes, Steve, the end of one thing is the beginning of everything else."
"I'll keep that in mind. I'll call."
"You better." Cassie pulled the phone away from her head and looked at her fiance. "I think we should get our shit together. Just in case. Steve thinks he's got it pretty well in hand, but I wanna be able to hop on a plane to Europe as soon as he calls."
"Of course. I do want to try to take the kids out on the lake, though."
Cassie giggled as Cooper and Lila could be heard in the play room jumping for joy. "Water-ski! Water-ski!"
"We'll go tomorrow morning. Today, let's go out to eat. We'll mall it up today." She lowered her voice and sighed. "I need a bag so I can bring the staff along with me."
"Oh, you're gonna let the Berserker come to play?" Clint's voice was apprehensive.
"I... want that option. I mean, against a suit of armor or two... Berserker strength might be a good..."
"You're pretty strong without the-"
"Clint... I know what it does to me and it scares me, too, babe, but... Sif and Thor think I'm strong enough to deal and... I've come back from it."
"But... you slept half the day after last time and you only had it in your hands for ten minutes, and... you had some-"
"Anger issues after. I remember. It's a Berserker staff. It's not a 'cuddly, happy memories' staff."
"Well, I'd rather you fight with a regular staff. I've got that bow that turns into a bo."
"That joke wasn't funny the first time I heard it, and it isn't funny now." She ran her hand down his face, lovingly. "It'll be okay. It's adrenaline. Massive amounts of adrenaline and my body can take that."
"What about your mind? It pulls out all your worst memories and uses them as fuel for that adrenaline."
"I don't want to talk about this, anymore, Clint. I'm taking the staff. I need a long locking box or suitcase so that no one else can touch the thing."
"When this messes you up, Cassie, I'm not gonna hold back with the 'I told you so's."
"Noted, Hawk."
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25 Fucking Stupid Writing Choices OUAT Made
This post is a snarky response to Adam and Eddy’s little humble brag article that came out today:
http://ew.com/tv/2018/05/14/once-upon-time-crazy-storylines/
This is meant to be snarky and critical and if you don’t like that -- don’t read it. (MY post, not the link above.)
Look, I am a OUAT fan an there are many things I love about the show. But there are many I just DON’T LOVE and I think they’re worth discussing. If you don’t like criticism, you won’t like this post. That’s fine.
Thank you for all the suggestions! I think I got quite a bit crammed in here.
Under the cut for length and so as not to upset those who only want to ‘think lovely thoughts’ . . . . .
25. Here’s a magic doohickey thingy we’ve never heard of before but NOW we’re using this thing.
Look, I’m not gonna list all the MacGuffins this show has used, I’d be here all day and there are worse things they’ve done, and this IS a show about magic after all.
But there’s also such a thing as overkill. And there was too much MacGuffin use that we didn’t know about before in this show. It was far too convenient and usually used as a cop out in lieu of – you know – actual STORY TELLING. THAT is my MacGuffin issue. Don’t use it to replace character development. We’re not here for that.
24. The Lost Boys/The Untold Stories and Other Dropped Plots
So the Lost Boys -- Did they get homes? Did they grow up? I don’t know! Do you? Of course not – we’ll never know!
What about all those Untold Stories folks? Weren’t there a bunch of them? Are they still meandering around in Storybrooke?
Edited to add: Maleficent and Lily. SO SORRY I forgot to initially include you in this one. My bad. You are missed, ladies!
Edited once more to add: Poor Gideon. Both parents dead and his extended family doesn’t give a shit about him. Or at least I assume so because we don’t know where he is. The child of Beauty and the Beast -- treated like a disposable plot device. Nice.
OUAT is great with creating and LOUSY with follow through. I know there are many others. But there shouldn’t be. There shouldn’t be that many dropped plots on this show. If you’re not going to follow through with a story line, why add the characters AT ALL? Speaking of that . . .
23. JFC, how many new characters do we NEED on this show???
Especially since you still haven’t figured out what to do with some of the ones that are CONTRACT PLAYERS on your show! Hey, didn’t Archie and Ruby used to be those? (Waves hi to Belle! Also the Charmings post S4. More on that later.)
22. You know – Rumple is Henry’s GRANDFATHER
He is! Really!
You’d never fucking KNOW IT, would you? The erasure of any sort of familial relationship with Henry/Rumple was a damned shame. And much of that, I believe, was because if they acknowledged THAT, they’d have to mention the character they want us to forget. More on that later.
21. The Shattered Sight Hype
Remember what a BIG DEAL the whole Shattered Sight thing was gonna be in S4? OMG people say what they REALLY FEEL about each other! It’s gonna be EPIC!!!
And then it – wasn’t. We basically got some Snowing/Evil Queen snark, Henry bitching at Hook, and Belle – well, Belle was asleep – what else is new?
I think of all the things that were PROMOTED as something amazing for this show – this is the one that was a big old dud and a whole lot of NOTHING.
20. Belle’s mom/Belle is written out of her own storyline in S6
In Family Business we met Belle’s Mom for about two minutes. Then she was dead. And Belle didn’t remember what happened. And then – we never heard about it again.
I don’t know about you, but I wanted to know what happened there. Why didn’t Belle remember? Did Moe get a roofie magic thingy from Arthur? Did Belle’s mom turn into an ogre and she killed her and blocked it out?
SO MANY possibilities there. But hey – it’s just Belle. Why write a story for HER?
In the same regard -- whatever your thoughts are on Rumbelle in S6 (MHO – it was garbage and an OOC shit fest, but that’s just me) – what happened with Gideon – Belle’s SON – was because of HER CHOICE. Choices have consequences. And in GOOD WRITING – the person that MADE the choice that caused the mess is supposed to be the person to help CLEAN IT UP.
But apparently – it was a better thing for ZELENA of all people to be the one to do that. And Emma and Hook too. Because why the hell not, right? That makes all the sense.
Yes, Rumple played his part too in the whole Gideon mess. And he did get to take part in the resolution. But that was something they should have done TOGETHER (what a concept!), and overall Belle was just – not part of it. Even in the last two minutes they sidelined her with a sprained ankle. Absolutely ridiculous. Which leads me to . . . .
19. Belle being sidelined since Season Two.
OUAT brought the lovely Emilie de Ravin onto the show as a regular cast member in Season Two, and had no fucking idea what to do with her character. So she gets fridged. She gets stuck in the hospital, left behind while the rest go to Neverland, she’s very fond of naps, she’s forgotten about in Camelot, not cared about while in a sleeping curse because the “heroes” care more about “stopping” her “evil” hubby (see #17) and written out of her own damn storyline in 6B (see #20) – and then she’s dead. (More on that later.)
I love Belle. I love Rumbelle. And I will forever be resentful that for the bulk of her time on the show, the character of Belle, one of my fictional heroes, was written as nothing but a plot device. She deserved so much better.
18. The Musical Episode
I mean – if this nonsense (and it WAS nonsense) had moved the story forward, I could maybe – MAYBE – let this one slide. But it didn’t. It just rehashed the same shit that we had been talking about for 6 seasons. And then Hook married Emma and her Stepford Wife conversion therapy was complete. (More on that later.) This episode WILL NOT HOLD UP in the future. Future generations will be “WTF-ing” all over the place with this one, mark my words.
17. Rumple is a Hero – no he’s a Villain – No wait he’s a hero, nope a villain, make up your DAMN MIND WRITERS!!!!!
I got whiplash trying to follow the trajectory of Rumple’s story, as many times as they changed his characterization. He’s a villain – then in 3A he’s a hero. Then he’s the victim of a molester and kidnapper and show doesn’t address that AT ALL. Oops he’s evil again. Except now he’s not – his heart is PURE! He pulled Excalibur out of the rock, he’s a HERO! Nah – he’s dark again. Bad Rumple! Oooh now he’s REALLY DARK and his fetus with no brain stem hates him and his wife is living on a boat with his sworn ENEMY while pregnant, so he traps here there (!!!!!) and he’s macking on the Evil Queen . . . come ON. Enough already.
Rumple is a complex character. You can’t just flip/flop willy nilly with a complex character. You have to know how to write them as nuanced, and CONSISTENLY complex but never falling fully into one camp or the other of ‘good’ or ‘evil.’
Rumple is played by Robert Carlyle, one of the best actors around. And the ONLY saving grace from the horrible writing of this character over the years is the fact that Bobby knew how to play him most of the time – even when the writers didn’t know how to WRITE HIM. Which was almost ALL the time.
16. Hook is a Dark One/Resurrecting Dead Hook/Hook the Gary Stu
I toyed with ranking the dark one higher on the list and as its own thing because really, this reveal caused the biggest MID EPISODE ratings drop in the history of the show up to that point. Nobody liked it. Nobody wanted it. And it ended up being a setup to the ‘Save Hook’ trajectory because of COURSE of all the characters in the history of the show, HE was the one that deserved saving THE MOST. But I think all of these things tie together.
What this moment did was solidify the fact that Hook was officially a “Stu” character. He definitely had Gary Stu tendencies up to this point, and was basically an irritant to anyone but CS/Hook fans, but from here on? That’s pretty much all he was and all he’d ever be until he was replaced (or should I say upgraded?) by his doppelganger.
I combined the DO/Save Hook/Stu thing because it was in the Underworld that Hook’s full Stu-pification took place. There wasn’t a line of people he had murdered wanting a word with him – as there SHOULD HAVE BEEN.
And Hook still got to keep all his murder trinkets when he got resurrected and made out with his girlfriend over Robin’s grave. What a guy.
15. Regina/The Evil Queen Stay Split
I’m just saying – wouldn’t it have been better character growth for Regina to have to live with her ‘evil’ half than to split it off? And no, the ‘heart mixing’ thing doesn’t count. I get that the whole thing was really fan service to the Outlaw Queen fandom. But that doesn’t make it good writing.
14. The Wish Realm
Oh, I could write a whole post about this (and I may do that at some point) but there are so many damn holes in the whole Wish Realm mess I wouldn’t even know where to start. But so many things about it just DO NOT line up in a sensible way. And even if you find one that DOES, it’ll create three things that DON’T line up.
I’d have bought a ‘parallel universe’ over the ‘wish realm’ stuff. They could have gone with that and it would have made much more sense. But you know – they wanted dead Belle, dead Baelfire, dead Snowing, no Emma and old Hook so – Wish realm it was. I just got to a point where I didn’t care anymore. But that doesn’t negate the stupid.
13. The Timeline
The timeline in OUAT made sense – and then it didn’t. And then they just stopped trying. And I stopped caring. But for paid, professional writers – just not cool. DO YOUR JOB!!!!!
12. Will Scarlett
Do I really need to say any more here? No? Didn’t think so. Moving on.
11. Neal’s Apartment in New York City
Have you ever been to NYC? Places of residence are at a premium there. There is no way in hell that an abandoned apartment wouldn’t have been emptied and taken over by a new resident in that much time. And I’m sorry, but odds are Neal did NOT pre-pay his rent for TWO YEARS out.
10. Belle and Hook – Best Friends Forever!*
You know – no woman with a brain in her head would befriend a man who straight up tried to murder her FOUR TIMES. So, either Belle doesn’t have a brain in her head, or that’s some crap writing right there. (My vote is with the latter if you’re wondering.)
It was bad enough when Belle was just handing over the dagger to “Hook” in S4 (yes, I know it was Rumple but details shmetails, Belle didn’t know that), but a PREGNANT BELLE going to live on a boat with Hook to be ‘safe’ – come on. Who does that? I get that Adam and Eddy wanted to wave the middle finger at the Rumbelle fandom, but they could have found a way to do that without making Belle look STUPID.
*Honorable mention to Belle/Zelena being friends which was equally as stupid
9. Zelena is Marian
Come ON – they pulled that one out of their asses halfway through S4 because they wanted to find a way to bring back Bex. There was NO INDICATION of that until the reveal. Because it didn’t EXIST until the reveal. Ridiculous.
8. Making the Charmings Supporting Players
Starting with S4, Snow and David basically became secondary characters. They had MOMENTS, but overall they were on the backburner and if they left the show at any point – would it have made a difference to ANY of the trajectory they were playing out? I’d say no.
I mean – how the hell did that happen? How do you run out of ideas with the couple that you touted as THE ‘main couple’ after only three seasons? I don’t get it.
7. Golden Queen
Just no. There was never anything romantic between these two characters. It was stupid and out of character for both of them. No.
6. Queer baiting 101
If you gender-swapped either Emma or Regina – made one of them a man – they’d be banging by S2 and by the end of the series they’d be married with at least two more kids and three break-ups/reunions between them. (Hey, I watch soaps, I know how this shit works.)
The chemistry between the actors is there. They share a kid. But they’re both women. And you know – family show -- #nohomo and all. Sure.
The writers KNEW that Swan Queen was popular. Now okay – if ABC didn’t want to go there, fine. I don’t agree with that, but fine.
But don’t keep freaking queer baiting your fans every chance you get! It never stopped. In fact, it got progressively WORSE as the show went on! That’s just bullshit right there. Either do it or drop it. Because what OUAT did with Emma and Regina and the baiting of their fans was just flat out shitty.
And if that weren’t bad enough, we got the whole queer baiting with Mulan/Aurora, and THEN in S5 we’re handed Dorothy/Ruby as a token olive branch to the LGBT community and then – we never see them again!
Okay, in S7 they got on the right track with Alice and Robin. I will give them that. But after six years of baiting, it kind of rang hollow for many, and rightly so.
5. Hey, Here’s a Person of Color – Let’s Kill Them!
One of the first warnings I give to any new OUAT is ‘don’t get attached to any POC’ and with good reason. They don’t last long on OUAT.
Now I don’t want to assume or accuse any of the OUAT writers of flat out racism but . . .. . you’ve gotta admit – they don’t have the best track record there.
It’s especially obvious when they bring on a character that is compelling and portrayed by a charismatic actor that the audience enjoys. Lancelot, Merlin, and Facilier are the three best examples of that. Okay, so Lance was resurrected but – where’d he go? Is he still trying to undo dead-Arthur’s roofie on Guinevere?
And then we have an amazing hero and a compelling villain in Merlin and Facilier, respectively. Both of these characters – and their actors – were bright spots in the show. So naturally – they needed to die. Without their storylines resolved.
But it was just a coincidence that they weren’t white. Of course it was.
4. The Death of Belle
Yeah, yeah, I know, Beauty was a beautifully written episode and Bobby and Emilie loved it and we got some great moments, blah blah blah . . . . . . but was it NECESSARY? Did they REALLY NEED to kill off Belle? You’re telling me that there’s absolutely, positively, not one plausible scenario for S7 wherein Belle is in Hyperion Heights and Rumple can find a way to rid himself of the darkness WITH HER THERE???? Really? They couldn’t write even one lousy full season of Rumbelle (hello BEAUTY AND THE BEAST) happy and in love with struggles but still beating the darkness in the end? Really??? There weren’t any options for that scenario AT ALL???? Give me a break.
3. The Stepford Swan
Over the course of seven years, many of the OUAT characters suffered with out- of-character moments. It’s not uncommon and I would even venture to say that this happens on occasion on MOST television shows. But on OUAT, it was a common occurrence from Season Four onward. And NONE of the characters experienced as much of an out of character de-evolution as Emma Swan.
When we first met Emma Swan she was a badass, intelligent, independent woman. Yes, she had her issues and her inner demons and we saw her work past those as the series progressed.
And then . . . . she got a boyfriend. And he became the center of her universe. And Emma – changed. The writers (and Jennifer Morrison) will swear up and down that it was an ‘evolution’ but I’m sorry – a character that starts OUT like this:
Does not END UP like this:
That’s not evolution. That’s a shell of a woman dependent on a man for her self-worth. That’s NOT who Emma Swan is. This was THE worst character assassination on the show, and I’d say it’d be up (down?) there in the top 10 (er, bottom 10?) of worst character assassinations in all of television. What a shame.
2. Rapists – rapists everywhere!
Once Upon a Time has always been marketed as a family show. For a family show – there’s sure a heck of a lot of rape in it.
The first CANON rapist we have is Regina and her 28+ year imprisonment and repeated sexual assault of Graham. Regina came a long way as a character in the show’s 7-year run – but it would have done great service to her if this had been addressed somehow. Now, I know that Jamie Dornan is all famous and off making money playing Christian Grey but – you know, in this particular case – I’d have been good with either a recast or at the VERY least an apologetic mention. But we never got that.
And that’s the problem with every rapey issue on this show – it’s never addressed for what it is. In fact – it’s really not addressed at all. Hook’s rape jokes in S2 are treated like ‘playful banter’ by the writers, cast, and viewers alike. Zelena’s ‘Hester the Molester’ stuff with Rumple in S3 doesn’t even warrant a discussion. Hook’s rapey innuendo in the CS movie is also waved off. Then we have Zelena raping Robin in S4, Arthur magic roofie-ing Guinevere and probably raping her in S5 (Is she still roofied? Who knows!), and Mother Gothel raping Nook in S7.
That’s a hell of a lot of rape for a “family show.” And aside from the off-handed comment from Robin about lack of consent with Zelena, none of it is addressed for what it is – RAPE.
1. The Death of Baelfire/Neal Cassidy
In Season One there were three main story line arcs driving the series: Regina’s war with Snow White, Emma as The Savior, and Rumpelstiltskin’s quest to reunite with his son, Baelfire. All three stories intertwined, and it only made sense that the trajectory of the show would be that in the end, all of these characters would somehow come together, as they all were tied to one character: Henry.
Unfortunately, the writers made the foolish decision in Season Three to execute one of the main (if not THE main) driving forces on the show. Baelfire/Neal was connected to all of the aforementioned people, and his loss was a blow to everyone. At least it should have been. But that’s not what we saw.
Not only was Neal/Baelfire killed off – he was flat out ERASED from the show. His name from the point of his death on was rarely brought up. We didn’t get to see anyone truly mourn or grieve him. (Okay Rumple, but BARELY – and anyone who has lost a child understands that it’s quite possibly the deepest type of grief imaginable. I’m told you never get over it.) As the show moved forward, you could literally spot the times when the writers made deliberate dialogue choices to avoid saying the name Neal/Baelfire in places where it not only made sense, it was WARRANTED.
Let’s be REAL here – we all know the “reason” Bae/Neal was written off the show. I don’t care what the writers say. I’m not an idiot and neither are you. And I’m sorry, but if the ONLY WAY you can think of to make a “romance” happen on a show is to kill off a character that would be forever “in the way” of said romance – you’re not a skilled enough writer to be writing a television show for a major network. I mean – it works in spiteful fanfic (which I am more than guilty of writing). But for a television show? The viewers deserve better than that. NEAL/BAELFIRE and every character that ever loved him deserved better than that.
I know I probably missed a bunch but I really did try to hit the highlights and put them in the order they deserved.
Thoughts? Comments? If you think I’m missing a tag for this (I’m doing my best) let me know and I’ll add it.
#ouat criticism#anti ouat writers#anti hook#anti cs#anti stepford swan#tw: rape#anti zelena#anti golden queen
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Writing request, I'd really like to see something with Cap and Spidey interacting. There's not a whole lot of that in this fandom, and I think that the two of them could be cool. If you could put Dad!Tony and Stucky in there too, that would be awesome Thank you!
Here you go, anon!! I decided to do a post-IW ‘verse because I wanted Bucky and Peter to be friends oops :) Hope you enjoy!!
After the snap, Peter awoke to a world that was coming in and out of focus. Everything here was tinted vaguely yellow, and Peter always had a niggling thought in the back of his head that he knew where they were. but could never place it. They, of course, being the people that had been taken by the snap. Everyone seemed to be grouped together for specific reasons- however, no group was ever over the number of 5. They could talk to and see the other groups, but not touch them. That was what Peter was talking about when he said the world seemed out of focus. It was like they were in the ocean, drifting in and out with the tide. Sometimes, Peter could feel and see things that felt too sharp, like he edited a photo and dragged the slider for sharpness all the way to the edge. Other times, it felt like he could barely even see or feel anything, blobs of color crowding his vision and the things he was holding dropping straight through his hand to the floor. He talked with the others in his group about this all the time.
There were 4 of them. Peter, Bucky, Gamora, and Groot. It was an odd mix, considering the last time Peter met Bucky, he was trying to arrest him. However, it felt like time moved differently wherever they were. Some days would feel like they passed in an instant, yet some would take years to finally end. The world they lived in was much like the one they left- full of life. So, each group had taken it upon themselves to try to create a home in this yellow world. Peter’s group had managed to make a small house of the trees that surrounded the clearing they all appeared in. There were a few other groups around them, one of some farmers from Iowa and another of billionaires from Singapore. They all talked occasionally but mostly stayed within their own groups.
Peter had grown to rely on Bucky and Gamora. He went to Bucky when he had trouble with nightmares and dealing with this reality. He went to Gamora for pep talks, and she was always the one who reminded him to eat and sleep. Bucky taught him games from when he was little and how to throw knives. Gamora taught him two alien languages and how to sword fight. Peter and Groot hung out all the time and played around. Peter taught him what he had been learning in school before the snap and Groot regaled Peter with stories from his adventures in space.
It was good. It worked. But Peter was desperate to get home.
-
One day, Peter went to bed late into the night because they had all stayed up playing a game that Bucky had taught them. He had fallen asleep with a smile on his face because the day had actually been pretty good. He was finally getting used to this weird, yellow reality.
The next thing he knew, he woke up on a grassy plain, breathing heavily. The sun (the sun!!) was beating down onto his face, a blinding light compared to the hazy yellow he was used to.
“Bucky!! Gamora!! Groot!! Anyone, please!!” He called out, shielding his eyes.
His voice was scratchy and hoarse. He looked down and was still in Iron Spider suit, thank god. He tried to pull himself off the ground, but his arms were too sore to do anything. He tried calling out again.
“Bucky! Gamora! Bucky! Gamora! Anyone?” His voice cracked as he continued to yell.
He stopped yelling when he saw a figure running towards him. The figure looked familiar, but Peter couldn’t quite place him until he got closer.
“Mr.-Mr. Stark?” He called out wearily.
“Kid, oh god, you’re okay, you’re okay!!” Mr. Stark cried as he ran towards him. He knelt next to Peter and cradled his head in his hands.
“It worked, it worked!” Mr. Stark was just babbling by this point.
Mr. Stark helped him up. Once Peter could stand, he found he wasn’t as sore as he thought. Mr. Stark looked at him funny before he spoke again.
“Peter, your hair. It’s-it’s shorter than before.”
Peter just shrugged. “Gamora made sure to cut it once in a while. Bucky helped too sometimes.”
Saying these things snapped Peter out of his calm.
“Oh god, Mr. Stark! Why am I back? Where are Bucky and Gamora? What about Groot? Why am I here? Where is here? Is this even real?!”
Peter Parker was officially freaking out. Then, he passed out.
-
Peter came to on a bed that was made of sand (??). He opened his eyes to someone above him.
“Bucky?!” He asked. The man nodded, holding up a new metal arm that was a tasteful dark blue interspersed with silver, not gold. No more yellow.
“Hey kid, yeah, it’s me. I just came back from talking with Stevie, I wanted to see if you were awake yet.”
Bucky leaned down to give Peter a hug. It seemed as if they had been in that weird world for years, so in the time they were together, they had grown close. Peter gripped Bucky’s back with all of his strength and cried into his shoulder. Suddenly, someone on the edge of this weird room coughed.
“Buck? It’s time to go see T’Challa. We’ve gotta go,” said a man with long hair and a beard that was steamed with grey.
“Alright, Stevie, let’s go,” Bucky said before pulling back from Peter.
Peter wiped his eyes with the shirt he was wearing (when did that happen?) before giving a small smile to Bucky.
“Captain Rogers,” Peter said, overtaken with sudden emotion. “Bucky took very good care of me in that horrible place. Take care of him now, okay?”
Steve just smiled at him and nodded. Then he guided Bucky out of the room with a hand on the small of his back.
Peter decided to get up and take a look around once the two left. He gingerly stepped down once he was off the bed and was happy to discover all of his previous aches and pains had vanished. He took a look around all of the gadgets around the room, appreciating their creativity and craftsmanship. His mind was already generating ways to improve upon them to use as Spider-Man. If they even still needed Spider-Man on Earth now.
He spotted a long, winding ramp up to what seemed like the hallway to leave, so he ran up the ramp, skidding to a stop once he reached the end of the hallway. There was a mirror there.
He looked at his reflection, noticing how he had lost his baby fat and his jaw had sharpened. His hair was cut in a tasteful-if non-Earth fashion- and Peter made a note in his brain to thank Gamora. He was wearing a faded Star Wars shirt and black sweats. He reached down and rubbed the side of his sweats. These were his old clothes. It’s been so long since he wore anything other than the suit, that these clothes fee foreign even though he was wearing them every other week three years ago.
A lot of things had changed. But, some things didn’t.
-
Peter had fallen back into an easy routine with Mr. Stark once they had left Wakanda. He had gone to find Gamora when they were still there but was extremely disappointed to find both her and Groot had left with the rest of the Guardians before he had woken up. She had left him a holo-message on those cool bracelets that the Wakandans wore, almost crying as she said goodbye to him.
(She promised to be back for Christmas though, saying she would pick up something for him on one of the worlds they visited. Peter was excited about that.)
T’Challa’s sister, Shuri, had gifted Peter one of the bracelets before the Avengers left, saying he would need it to keep in touch. The two had developed a close friendship during his time in Wakanda and still messaged or called each other daily.
When they had arrived at the compound after leaving Wakanda, Peter was pleasantly surprised to see that his room had been untouched. It was right next to Mr. Stark’s, as it had been before he left. The walls were blue and red, with the one above his bed adorned with a spray-painted Spider-Man logo. There were tons of posters on the walls and Peter’s knickknacks strewn everywhere. He had sighed as he flopped on the bed, and Mr. Stark had arrived not moments later at his door to flop right down next to him.
“I missed this, Pete. So much. But, how about right now we head to the living room to kick those two super soldiers’ butts?”
Peter laughed and nodded. “Let’s take ‘em down!”
-
They played Mario Kart for hours before Tony had to fly to Singapore to deal with something for Stark Industries. Now that everything was right with the world, Pepper was back on him about being more involved in the company. He gave Peter a big hug as he left and said that they would go on a small trip, just the two of them, once he got back.
After Mr. Stark left, Peter headed back up to his room to get ready for bed. He brushed his teeth and slipped on those old Hello Kitty pants with a baggy black sweater on top. He slipped into bed and grabbed a dog-eared copy of The Hobbit off of his night table. He settled back into his pillows, content to read by the minimal light of his night table lamp until he was too weary to continue. He fell asleep with the book on his chest around 9:30.
-
Peter startled awake in the middle of the night, darkness surrounding him. FRIDAY must have turned off his lamp when he fell asleep. His breathing was too quick and his heart rate was elevated. His mind was still spinning with flashes of a large purple man, a snap, a world of constantly shifting yellows, and his own disappearing before him. He needed to get out.
Peter grabbed a blanket and pillow before heading out, into a different wing of the compound. He stopped in front of the door to his destination, hesitant to knock. He could still feel the strain of his nightmares in the back of his head, so he pushed through his anxiety and knocked quietly on the door. A few moments later, the door opened and a still-sleepy Steve Rogers looked down at Peter.
“H-Hi, Steve. I… uh… had a nightmare and since Mr. Stark isn’t here anymore, I just needed, someone, is that fine?” Peter asked hesitantly.
Steve nodded, his features softening. “It’s fine, Peter. You’re always welcome here. You can just set your stuff down on the couch over there. It’s only a little ways from the bed. Buck’s still sleeping though, so be quiet.”
Peter just gave him a soft smile and padded over to the couch, setting his stuff down. He turned, nervous about asking Steve for anything else.
Steve just walked over and pulled him into a tight hug. “
“Buck’s told me some things. About that place. It didn’t sound too nice,” Steve whispered as he carded his fingers through Peter’s hair. “We all get nightmares, it’s a normal part of our job. I’m happy that you came to us, though.”
“Of course I would. I love you guys and everyone on this team more than life itself. You, Mr. Stark, and Bucky mean so much to me.”
Steve just held him harder and when he finally pulled back, Peter could see his eyes were a little watery.
“Love you too, kid. Now get some sleep.”
Peter climbed onto the couch, pulling his blanket out. He fell asleep to the sounds of Steve and Bucky breathing in unison.
This kinda got away from me, haha, but I loved writing it!! It was cool to explore what all of their relationships would be after IW. I didn’t want to include super in-depth explanations of Peter’s relationship with everyone was after IW, though, so sorry if some of the friendships are only mentioned in passing. Let me know if you want more from this ‘verse though. Hope this is what you were hoping for, anon!!
#peter parker#bucky barnes#steve rogers#tony stark#irondad#spiderson#marvel requests#requests#hannahlikesholland requests#marvel drabble
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hey! i hope your layover isnt too horrible and that you manage to survive 💓💓 please try and convince me to watch the social network because honestly i really cant comprehend how a movie about mark zuckerberg can be anything but awful lol
omg thank you lovely
first of all, i just wanna say that i totally felt the same way before i watched it. to me, a movie about facebook seemed so bad and uninteresting. i didn’t care about mark zuckerberg at 13. i don’t care about him now, outside of wanting him to redistribute his wealth and then die. so i see where you’re coming from, and i want you to know that this movie is worth it.
however, i feel like this movie is only about mark zuckerberg on a surface level. it’s the story of facebook and it’s creation, but i think it’s primarily a social commentary: on nerd culture and privilege and male entitlement and money and how social media impacts our relationships. i don’t think it would’ve gotten the acclaim it’s gotten if it was just a movie about mark zuckerberg.
anyway, under the cut because this got LONG:
let’s start with my favourite part of this movie: mark and eduardo. i know it’s weird to think about mark zuckerberg in a) a romantic context and b) a gay context, but i think there’s intentional homoerotic undertones to their dynamic. fincher and sorkin are both so specific about the stuff they make, that i don’t think they would’ve let this get through unless they intended it that way. additionally, andrew garfield has called it a love story. more than once. even if it wasn’t a romantic relationship, it’s a great dynamic: two people who love each other deeply (in whatever way) and change the face of human communication together, only to have their own relationship destroyed due to their lack of it. it’s tragic, and it plays out so well.
jesse and andrew bring such life to the characters. in the director commentary, fincher has this whole spiel about how mark is a character, and was written as a fictional one, even if he’s based off a real person. and so it gives us jesse’s mark, who is cold and petty and smart but is also a 19 year old who finds himself making decisions he’s not prepared to make. a character who’s not an asshole, he’s just trying so hard to be. jesse talks about how he studied real mark zuckerberg a lot to prepare for this movie, and you can see it in his weird quirks and sense of superiority - but he also brings such his own heart and wit to the role. you see mark at 19/20 but also at 25, see him go from a bratty college kid so desperate for recognition to someone who learns how to be slightly more considerate towards others, who regrets hurting the person who cared about him most.
and eduardo....ugh, my favourite boy! andrew was robbed of an oscar nomination for this role, he really was. he’s so open and honest and loving at the start, and watching him go from that to someone who is closed off and heartbroken and angry always gets me. he twirls when he gets into the phoenix club and rolls his eyes at sean parker. eduardo’s father is mentioned three (3) times in the movie but it’s enough to know that it’s not a healthy relationship, that eduardo’s biggest fear is disappointing him. his fatal flaw is that he loves and trusts mark too much. he’s so well-meaning and that’s ultimately what screws him over in the end. he’s objectively the only main player in this movie that always had good intentions, and he’s the character that loses the most.
we spend two hours with the 2 main characters but it’s enough to let us know that there’s a history there, that they’re best friends and have been for a long time, that they’re smart enough to change the world together but not smart enough to save their relationship. it’s a tragedy. mark and eduardo, as we know them in this film, aren’t the Mark and Eduardo of the real world. they’re college kids thrown into the adult world in the blink of an eye, and it’s bittersweet to compare them in the flashbacks to how they are in the depositions. they’re fascinating characters with such a wonderful dynamic.
honourable cast shoutouts go to: brenda song for being the most intimidating character in the film (if you end up watching the movie and enjoy it, PLEASE watch the director commentary, david fincher won’t shut ip about how great she is), justin timberlake for being so insufferable that he’s the only movie counterpart who is worse than the rl version, armie hammer for being twins, josh pence for doing parts of the better twin, max minghella for the comedic performance of our generation, rooney mara for killing mark zuckerberg twice in one film, and joe mazzello for playing my son dustin moskovitz.
fincher!!! i actually won’t elaborate here we all know how good david is. i know this site has an understandable love of gone girl but i’d argue that the social network is the superior film.
sorkin: this movie gets quoted all the time because this screenplay is fucking iconic. i love that it won an oscar because it deserved it, but primarily i love that it won for best adapted screenplay because i’ve read parts of the accidental billionaires by ben mezrich (which is what TSN is ~loosely~ based on) and most of this is just stuff sorkin came up with. i could post the whole script because it’s all golden but instead just look at this gifset. and also this one.
this movie has the most beautiful soundtrack. if you follow me on twitter, you know that hand covers bruise is my whole heart and makes me cry every goddam time. and then you have in motion and a familiar taste, which are the ultimate Get Pumped songs. intriguing possibilities and painted sun in abstract are perfect pieces of music for watching facebook get created and go live. almost home is simple but intense, and hurts like hell when you remember what scene it is from. really i could talk about the entire score, because trent reznor and atticus ross really gave their all.
deposition cutaways: so many scenes in this movie pull you in and either make you smile or break your heart, and then it cuts back to a room with the main characters and lawyers and you remember! you’re watching the aftermath of what happened, you’re watching mark and eduardo smile at each other right before you’re reminded that they’re in the middle of a lawsuit. the way the two sections of this movie contrast is so well-done and it gets me every time.
on that note, the editing in this film? superb. i’d argue that the facemash scene is the best example, but the office scene and the club scene deserve love and praise as well. like, god, even if you don’t wanna watch this movie for the story, watch it for the technical stuff because it’s all so well done.
like, i can’t really discuss is that much but the rowing scenes? fucking incredible sir david fincher take my whole life.
what i think really works in this movie’s favour though, is that it does take you by surprise. i know so many people who were like you and me. didn’t think they’d be interested in a movie about facebook. but because absolutely everyone involved in this film gave it their all, and they turned a story about a shitty rich dude who made a website into a fictional love story slash social commentary...it’s just beautiful to watch. there’s a reason that critics and the gays of this hellsite all agree that this is one hell of a movie. and this sounds like a cop out, but i really feel like you can’t really give a reason why that is: it’s just something you have to experience.
also, if nothing else: who doesn’t want to watch andrew garfield wear a suit with several buttons undone while he smashes laptops and says the words FUCK YOU FLIP FLOPS?
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"everything not black or tan as demonic" have you...have you ever watched American TV, movies, or ads? Have you not seen the white actors playing at least 75% of roles? Have you not seen decades of PoC being cast as thugs or magically wise non-characters? Have you not seen reality TV capitalizing on the most stereotypical "black behavior" they can find, editing it to look more extreme when necessary? What reality do you live in
I’m not really sure what post you’re referencing, but…
“at least 75% of roles”
Well looks like they’re under represented then, since white people, including white Hispanics, make up around 79% of the population in the US. (it’s more if you go by Tumblr definitions of white…). If you go by actual stats, black people are over represented based on percentage by population, but Asians, Hispanics, and Native Americans are very under represented. If you go by the UK, I believe their white population is over 80%.
Have you noticed that Germans are portrayed as evil villains? Irish are typically low lifes in the mob scene along with the Italians. Don’t get me started on Russians or Greeks. What about people who have really curly hair, freckles, wear glasses? Typically portrayed as the geeky nerd who is good at homework and is forced to change their appearance (like straighten their hair, get contacts, wear makeup).
Over 90% of the population looks nothing like that Hollywood look, and Hollywood bases everything on stereotypes. Hot blond chick is usually a stupid spoiled brat type, jocks are constantly stereotyped, everything is a stereotype in the majority of things put out. Most things put out are trash.
Back around the 1980′s, I believe it was, this strange idea started infiltrating the black community that doing anything that could be considered white was bad. These days, we hear “education is for white people” all the time being told to these intelligent kids who want to learn. They get picked on for wanting to be taught, or for liking music that isn’t “black” enough. It’s considered bad to be well spoken, even. I watched my friend get ridiculed by his own sister for not speaking “ghetto.” She said he sounded too “white.” He also got picked on for liking poetry.
That is a mindset that yeah, Hollywood kinda has, and it’s hard to say whether or not it’s a product of Hollywood, or that Hollywood is just reacting to it (I think we can make a case for the hip hop, gangster rap culture being a big part of it). There used to be great shows, like Fresh Prince, Family Matters, Big Al, stuff like that, things that encouraged kids to learn and grow and avoid the street life. I don’t know what happened.
I try very hard to avoid TV these days. I went to college and studied the entertainment industry. I wanted a job in it… but it’s trash. Reality TV is utter tripe. Most of those shows are scripted, even if they pretend not to be. There isn’t anything good and wholesome on. It’s just drama and the more drama the better ratings, it seems. Every show I liked was canceled so I just watch the old stuff like Star Trek, Stargate, Beauty and the Beast (1987), etc. Where people were treated like people, like individuals with their own personalities and not just copy pasted pandering bullshit. Where they had faults and didn’t have to be perfect to be loved.
Movies are recycled garbage. Hollywood has lost its originality. Shape of Water is just Splash. They even brought out Ben Hur again, and it flopped. I hope Hollywood dies. I frankly hate it. It’s full of nepotism, corruption, and greed, with some good people still trying to do right, but that’s hard. Everything is pandering to a very specific crowd, which happens to be a minority, a very privileged minority no less, and they sit in their fancy mansions patting themselves on the back for pretending they’re putting “representation” out there when all their doing is shitting on people.
It’s also very in vogue to shit on white people. I haven’t seen so much racist bullshit in years, and it’s being called “progressive” and shit, like No, my parents fought against this shit, and now y’all are bringing it back like it’s perfectly fine? People are supporting segregation again, so long as it’s white people being excluded. I have a folder that’s full of anti-white headlines where if you change out “white” or “male” for something like Jew, it sounds like nazi propaganda. They’re changing real historical people’s races just to fill a quota, as if that’s somehow cool, instead of showcasing real non-white people who fought against the odds and made something of themselves in history. There are tons of people they could be focusing on, but instead they’d rather erase white people.
They claim they fight for non-white people, but they don’t. They claim to try to make all their precious characters perfect (because if someone ain’t perfect, there’s a shit storm that follows! Oh no, a Valkyrie was portrayed as a raging alcoholic? Heaven forbid!). There is so much hypocrisy, I’m just fucking sick of all of it. I’m sick of people claiming bad stereotypes are good so long as the people are a certain skin color/race. I’m tired of people claiming it’s ok to demonize a certain race, while you can’t even criticize others without a blacklash, I’m tired of the inequality.
People should treat everyone the same. That’s the world I grew up being told I’d get to live in, and seeing it on TV with everyone treating everyone else like just one of the family, not caring about skin color. I watched shows and read books that had great strong female characters, though the only people who were really ever like me weren’t like me in looks, just the way they acted, their personality… (like Data from Star Trek… sigh). The one show I really related to, the main character was a white male, and they utterly ripped my heart out and stomped on it with how they ended it, and with Michael Clarke Duncan dying shortly after… (the Finder).
I hate TV. I hate Hollywood. I hate the media and the news. I hope it all burns to the ground and gets replaced by something actually worthwhile. All those privileged untalented fucks shitting out garbage need to go to make room for people who have great story ideas and actually well written characters. Get rid of the shitheads who think they can just dump out some poorly written character and get kudos because oh noes, the character is some sort of minority! Like the fucking Ghostbusters 2016 that they tried to shove down my throat as if it wasn’t a horrible disgrace to all the strong female characters of the past. They can fuck right off.
#anonynous#anon#I have a fever#I'm tired#I don't give a shit#Hollywood#Hollywood is a dung hill#pile of shit#fuck off right to hell#diversity is a scam these days#it's just cheaply shat out bullshit
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Tripping Over the Blue Line (32/45)
It’s a transition. That’s what Emma’s calling it. She’s transitioning from one team to another, from one coast to another and she’s definitely not worried. Nope. She’s fine. Really. She’s promised Mary Margaret ten times already. So she got fired. Whatever. She’s fine, ready to settle into life with the New York Rangers. She’s got a job to do. And she doesn’t care about Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers. At all.
He’s done. One more season and he’s a free agent and he’s out. It’s win or nothing for Killian. He’s going to win a Stanley Cup and then he’s going to stop being the face of the franchise and he’s going to go play for some other garbage team where his name won’t be used as puns in New York Post headlines. That’s the plan. And Emma Swan, director of New York Rangers community relations isn’t going to change that. At all.
They are both horrible liars.
Rating: Mature
Content Warnings: Swearing, eventual hockey-type violence
AN: Happy game day! It’s time to get to the Piers and play some hockey and avoid all of New York sports media. One of those things is harder than the rest. In the meantime there’s lots of sports feelz and sports family feelz and I can’t thank you guys enough for continuing to read this and telling me your feelings and I am just a constant ball of grateful. As always @laurnorder, @distant-rose & @beautiful-swan made this better.
Hanging out on Ao3, FF.net & tag’ed up on Tumblr.
Her phone buzzed, shaking on the wood of the nightstand just a few feet away from her and Emma didn’t even try and stop herself from groaning at the sound.
It was early.
It was too early for a Sunday. Early shouldn’t exist on a Sunday.
Her phone didn’t seem to care. She just hoped it wasn’t Hopper calling to cancel. That would have been too much.
She would have refused to get out of bed if Hopper was calling to cancel.
She wasn’t even in her own bed.
“Swan,” Killian shouted, voice sounding farther away than it should have. Emma cracked open an eye, flipping on her side and he wasn’t on the other side of the bed like he should have been. She should have known.
It was early and Killian was already awake. Of course.
Emma groaned again, tugging what felt like several dozen blankets up over her neck, kicking a pillow off the foot of the bed. There hadn’t been enough time the night before – just hands and lips and something about how much better the PK had gotten since Scarlet had gotten back and Killian glared at that, muttering something that sounded like, do not talk about Will Scarlet while I’m trying to undress you, Swan, and they didn’t really have time to move the pillows.
And now it was Sunday and there was a charity game and Emma had somewhere in the vicinity of eight hundred things to do. There was a list somewhere. She’d definitely brought the list with her the night before.
She could hear Killian laughing when he walked back into the room and that made Emma grumble more, pushing her forehead into one of the pillows at the top of the bed. “Shut up,” she mumbled. “It’s ridiculously early.”
“It’s not even,” Killian argued, the edge of the mattress dipping noticeably when he sat down. “Answer your phone, love.”
“It’s probably Hopper. Telling me the Piers have crashed into...which river is that?”
He was smiling when she flopped back over, eyebrows lifted and a toothbrush held lightly in his hand. “Hudson,” he answered, eyes doing something unfair for how early it was on a Sunday. “The East River is, as its name implies, on the east side of the city.”
Emma stuck out her tongue and that just made Killian laugh even more and he was already half dressed, pants on and belt through the loops and a white t-shirt on that made her consider all the reasons they could both spend the rest of the day in this bed.
“And,” Killian continued, nudging her leg through the blankets with his elbow. “I can promise you that’s not Hopper calling.”
That gave her pause.
“How do you know that?” Emma asked, punching at the pillow under her head when it wouldn’t conform to her movements.
“Hey! Leave the pillow alone. It didn’t do anything to you.”
He was right – impossibly right considering how little sleep they got the night before, forced uptown against their will because Liam was there and, well, Emma couldn’t be too upset about it because Liam was there and he was absolutely doing her a favor.
And he might have saved this whole event as much as Killian had.
They sold out of tickets the same day they officially announced that, for one day only, Liam Jones was coming out of retirement and coming back to New York and Emma only wished Elsa could be there to see.
She had, however, been promised videos and a special edition of Locked in With Locksley and both Elsa and Anna had spent the night before in front of a phone screen, passed around the restaurant so they could be there , without being there.
It had been adorable and sweet and everything that didn’t quite make sense about the New York Rangers and Emma almost didn’t notice the look on Regina’s face as she took up residence in the back corner of the restaurant.
Almost.
Killian elbowed her shin again and Emma grumbled, pushing herself up against the wall and grabbing the Rangers pillow she’d only just moments before been beating into some sort of pulp. “Did you see Regina last night?” she asked.
“What?” Killian countered, confusion obvious in the quick jerk of his head. “Aren’t you going to answer your phone?”
“If it’s not Hopper, it doesn’t really matter. Everyone else can wait two seconds. Now come on, did you see?”
Killian rolled his eyes, but he didn’t mention the phone again and Emma hugged the pillow just a bit tighter waiting for the answer. “She kept trying to get Roland come sit with her,” he said slowly, like he was tracing back through memories. “That was...weird. Right? That’s weird.”
“You know her better than I do. Do you think something...”
“With?”
Emma eyed him meaningfully and his mouth dropped a bit when he noticed how tightly she was holding onto the pillow.
They probably should have talked about it more – the Cup Caveat as Scarlet had dubbed it – but there’d been so much going on and Emma was drowning in pre-game to-do-lists and Killian was just focused on getting through this home swing and neither one of them had quite resigned themselves to diving into the deep end of contract negotiations. Or a lack of negotiations.
Emma pulled her eyes up towards Killian and he looked far more confident than she felt. Good. That was good.
He was so certain this would work. They were going to win a Stanley Cup and the Rangers were going to sign him and it would be fine . It would. And it wasn’t as if Emma wasn’t certain too, or at least somewhere in the realm of positive.
She was. She was a far cry from the uncertain, vaguely terrified version of herself she’d been in Los Angeles. And she did believe the Rangers could win a Cup. She read a lot of box scores and looked at advanced analytics and, on paper, it made sense.
This could be the year.
It also couldn’t.
Because there was a reason they called it the toughest trophy to win in all of sports and the playoffs lasted for months and one misstep could prove disastrous.
They were going to be fine no matter what – Emma was positive of that now – but she didn’t know what would happen to Killian Jones, hockey player, if the Rangers didn’t win a Stanley Cup this season.
And figuring out what to do about that might have been several bullet points on her to-do-list.
“No,” Killian answered and Emma had almost entirely forgotten the question. “No, nothing’s going to happen Swan. Not yet, at least.”
She hummed in agreement and she knew that. “But,” she said cautiously, tugging her lower lip in between her teeth when Killian’s stretched over the blanket her legs were still wrapped under. “What happens if…”
He shook his head before she’d even got the whole question out. “We’re not doing that, Swan. That’s a dangerous game.”
“I know, but…”
“No,” he said and it felt like the word snapped on his tongue. Emma’s lip was in danger of being torn apart. Killian’s face softened as soon as he noticed, the tight grip he’d had on her shin, loosening just a bit as he almost smiled at her. “No,” he repeated, voice barely loud enough to hear. “I can’t...we can’t go that direction. If we start doing that and considering all of those what-if’s, then I’m going to lose my mind. I can’t do that.”
Emma nodded slowly, hand falling on top of his. He smiled at that, eyes flitting up to hers and the pillow she still had resting on her lap.
“The only thing I can control right now is how I play,” Killian continued, but his voice was far too telling and Emma could hear the want there. He took a deep breath, pulling the air in through his nose and his mouth twisted into something almost sneering. “I feel like I’m trying out for the team every time I get on the ice.”
He could probably hear the sound of her heart, that crack she felt splitting right up the middle and Emma tugged her hand away from his – resting it on his cheek and the stubble he hadn’t gotten around to shaving yet.
He turned his face against her palm, lips brushing across skin and her heart did something entirely different, speeding up to what Emma was certain was an impossible and vaguely unhealthy rate.
“I’m sorry,” she said, not quite sure what else she could say. She was the worst girlfriend in the history of the entire world.
And she was probably going to be late to her own charity event. Her phone buzzed again.
“Don’t be, love,” Killian said, head still turned against her palm and his lips brushed against her again. That wasn’t helping her getting out of bedcause. “This is my fault anyway.”
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“This slow circle of self-imposed, guilt-insanity,” Emma said and the words seemed to rush out of her in one, great huff, like she’d been holding them in for the better part of the last week. She kind of had. “It’s not healthy.”
He scoffed, breathing hitting up against her palm. “Are you critiquing my health, Swan? I think I proved I was in fairly good health last night.”
Emma sighed, but she was so impossibly charmed – at whatever time it was on Sunday morning, she still hadn’t gotten that out of him yet – that she didn’t even push him away when he leaned forward and started trailing his lips against the side of her neck.
It was almost enough to distract her completely, almost enough to make her forget that, once again, Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers, didn’t feel good enough, felt like he needed to prove something to the one team that had always been there.
Emma might have been coming up with plans to blackmail the entire New York Rangers front office when he spoke again.
“Thank you,” Killian whispered.
“For?” Emma asked, scrunching her nose when she realized how breathless she sounded.
Killian’s hand moved, twisting around the side of her hip and he’d tugged the blankets down even more until they’d landed around her waist and his fingers found the few inches of skin not covered by his shirt.
“This,” he muttered, like that explained anything at all.
“I’m very confused.”
He laughed against her and kissed once more, just behind her ear, before sitting up straight and looking at her with an intensity that made Emma blink. She clenched her jaw, tugging the pillow back up against her chest and waited for an explanation.
“You’re still here,” Killian said softly and with a kind of wonder Emma couldn’t quite comprehend.
“Where else would I be?”
The words were out of her mouth before she’d completely considered them, the weight of each and every syllable hanging in the minimal amount of space between them and Killian practically beamed at her.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “And it makes me a selfish bastard, but I wouldn’t want you to be anywhere else, Swan. I’m…” He took a deep breath and, God, he was still holding a toothbrush and it was so damn domestic Emma could hardly see straight.
She hadn’t even brought anything to sleep in the night before, certain she could just steal a team-branded, oversized t-shirt out of his closet. She had. She didn’t even have to ask.
And she didn’t have to ask what he meant.
He wasn’t just playing well to try and impress the New York Rangers front office keep their hold on the first Wild Card spot – more than just a few points behind the Blue Jackets after the loss the night before. He was playing for her or them or that we they kept referring to, like some sort of collective, domestic unit that didn’t require Emma to ask to borrow shirts.
“I know,” Emma mumbled. “And I know you don’t want to talk about the what-ifs or the standings or anything and that’s fine, really, you’ll get enough of that from everyone else. But whatever happens, I’m not going anywhere.”
Not anymore.
She didn’t say that part.
She didn’t have to.
He pulled the pillow out of her hands before he kissed her, lips slanting over hers in a way that was so familiar Emma’s breath caught in her throat and her lungs tightened slightly and she loved him an absolutely ridiculous amount.
“I love you,” Killian said, not even bothering to move away from her and he tasted like toothpaste. “More than anything.”
He didn’t say the rest of it either – more than a contract with the Avs or the Stars or whoever was draining the battery on Regina’s phone and making her look the way she had looked the night before in the back corner of Eric’s restaurant.
He didn’t have to.
And Emma Swan was, decidedly, finished with overwhelmed, happily treading water in the deepest end of feelings and love and being wanted.
She was a bit terrified of that giant wave lingering in the corner of her eye, but she was pretty confident she could ride it out. Or swim through it. Or something. She’d kind of lost control of the metaphor.
It was very early.
And she couldn’t think straight when Killian looked at her like that.
“That’s not even fair,” she muttered, knocking the edges of her knuckles on his t-shirt.
He looked slightly affronted at that, eyebrows pulled low as he tugged her hand away from the fabric. God, there was a tie stuffed in his pocket. She hadn’t noticed that before. She should be more aware of her surroundings.
“What isn’t?” Killian asked, voice low and dangerous and doing something very specific to several of Emma’s internal organs. Her phone went off again. “And that’s probably Liam,” he added, nodding towards her phone. “We’re supposed to get breakfast before, remember?”
“Or maybe Scarlet. Just to be an ass.”
“I thought we agreed, Swan. And you didn’t answer my question.”
“Were you trying to undress me? Aren’t we late? And you’re three-quarters of the way dressed already, that’s just impractical.”
“You’ve just asked two questions and made one comment on my clothes and none of what you said was an actual answer to the question I asked hours ago.”
“Hours?” Emma repeated skeptically, not able to keep the laughter out of her voice. Her phone started ringing. “That’s probably, Reese’s. It’s like she’s sending her kid off on its first day of school or something.”
“And they’re supposed to meet us down here before we go to breakfast,” Killian added. His hand was moving of its own volition now, halfway up her side and inching treacherously close to her bra.
“You invited Reese’s to breakfast with your brother?”
“David too.”
“Jeez.”
He grinned at her, that knowing smile on his face somewhere in between frustrating and endearing. David was going to have a conniption in the middle of coffee – fandom dreams come true as he had breakfast with both Jones brothers at the same time.
“David’s probably going to ask Liam for his autograph,” Emma mumbled, finally grabbing her phone when the voicemail notification went off, loud enough to vibrate the paint off the walls. “And I honestly can’t remember what the question was.”
“You wound me, love,” Killian laughed and he hadn’t actually moved his hand. It was difficult to concentrate. “You accused me of being unfair and I was just curious what it was I was doing.”
Emma waved her hands through the air, nodding towards whatever it was his fingers were doing and barely managed to suppress a groan when he figured out a way to unhook her bra around her back.
“That,” she muttered and it seemed unnecessary. He absolutely knew what he was doing. Smug ass. She didn’t want him to stop. “That is part of it.”
“What’s the other part?”
Emma looked back up at him again, forcing herself not to blink if only because she wanted to make sure she catalogued every single moment of his reaction. She wanted to remember and that might have been why she was so certain.
“I love you too,” she whispered.
It was worth not blinking for. He moved when she tugged on the front of his t-shirt, lips finding hers again and if the last kiss had been familiar, this was the opposite, somewhere bordering on aggressive and determined and both of them seemed to pour every unspoken word they’d been determined to ignore for the last week into one single movement.
His hand found its way around her, palm pressed flat against her spine and Emma was still holding on to his shirt like some sort of life vest in whatever metaphor she was running with at the moment.
The room felt like it was spinning and somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered she’d brought a toothbrush with her – to leave there. She should ask him if that was ok. Or maybe just put it next to his when he finally got off the edge of his bed.
Probably the second one.
Emma’s phone made a slightly muffled noise from underneath a pile of blankets – sacrificed to the Sunday morning makeout gods – and Killian sighed softly, hovering just above her and she didn’t quite remember turning like that.
“Answer your phone, love,” Killian said, leaning back slightly and brushing a piece of hair out of her eyes. His hand lingered on her cheek for a moment, something flashing in his eyes that Emma couldn’t quite name, and she would have been content to stay in that bed for several Sundays.
Maybe every Sunday. She didn’t say that. One step at a time.
“Ok,” she mumbled and Killian smiled at her.
“Today’s going to be incredible, Swan. And Liam will probably volunteer to autograph anything David wants. Read your text messages.”
He moved before Emma could respond, which was probably for the best since she was daydreaming of infinite Sundays in his bed and that was just a bit out of character, even for this newly discovered positive-Emma.
It took a few moments and he’d moved to the kitchen now, the telltale signs of coffee being brewed just barely making their way to the bedroom, but Emma found her phone and her six text messages, three missed calls and one voicemail.
She ignored the voicemail – could probably recite Mary Margaret’s supportive speech verbatim at this point – and the missed calls from David, following up after Emma hadn’t answered Mary Margaret. She scrolled by the most recent texts – two from Elsa reminding Emma about the videos, one from Anna making sure Emma remembered to tease Killian about every one of his coaching choices, another from Hopper promising he wasready and excited for the day and one more from Scarlet whining about his designated role as on-ice MC.
Emma’s thumb froze over the last one and Killian’s name was on the tip of her tongue, almost shouting out of instinct to find out what this was all about . She didn’t. He’d probably been counting on that.
She tapped on the message instead, half certain her face was going to freeze into some improbable smile as her eyes moved across the screen.
Chelsea Piers was originally built as the docking point for transatlantic ocean liners in the early 20th century. Ignore the Titanic facts. That’s irrelevant to the impending success of your game today.
Ignore the multiple fires too.
Pier 54 has been used for concerts and was once home to a horrible shipping container museum that Liam actually enjoyed when Mr. V made us go.
All of Law & Order was filmed at the Piers.
Law & Order, or any of its never-ending spinoffs, was not nearly as impressive as this game is going to be.
Emma shook her head slowly, staring at the screen and blinking back the tears she hadn’t entirely expected.
It was still impossibly early and she hadn’t actually gotten out of bed to find that to-do-list she’d definitely left in her coat pocket the night before, everything she had to do looming over her, but Emma couldn’t stop smiling.
She was happy – right down to her bones and her muscles and every bit of her that if she said it out loud, would probably detract from the moment just a bit – the opposite of scared or anxious or anything that wasn’t somewhere in the realm of perfect.
They were going to win.
Archie Hopper, it appeared, was simply thrilled with the prospect of being alive. He was going to give Mary Margaret a run for her positive-money, Emma was sure of it.
She walked into Chelsea Piers nearly three hours before puck drop to find a line of fans already weaving their way down 11th Ave and tried not to actually wince when she heard the shutter clicks of what sounded like several thousand iPhones.
Killian didn’t let go of her hand.
It didn’t really seem to matter, no one noticed them anyway – three quarters of the crowd started screaming for Liam as soon as they got out of the car and he waved at the line of them like some sort of prodigal son returning to the Meatpacking District.
And Emma didn’t let go of Killian’s hand either, something in her stomach shifting as soon as she noticed the slightly stricken look on his face.
“Hey,” she muttered, bumping his arm with her shoulder. His eyes flashed towards her and it wasn’t quite the easy confidence it had been in his room. It was a mix of nerves and hope and that patented Killian Jones desire to prove himself.
She’d gotten very good at reading his face.
“Check your phone,” Emma continued.
“What?” Killian muttered, shaking his head quickly like he was trying to blink away the memories and the guilt Emma knew he’d been focused on the entire car ride to the Piers. He’d held her hand that entire time too, smiling slightly when Liam pointed the phone and El’s FaceTime call his direction.
“Your phone,” she repeated.
She’d sent it a few blocks before the Piers, hoping it was on silent so it didn’t start to buzz in the backseat of the car with Liam on Killian’s other side. Killian narrowed his eyes, barely muttering hey to a very excited Archie Hopper, and he finally pulled his hand away from her to reach into his pocket.
If they weren’t in the middle of Chelsea Piers and Archie Hopper wasn’t waxing poetic about how wonderful it was to have the Jones brothers back again, Emma probably would have pressed up on her toes and actually muttered the words in Killian’s ear instead of texting them to him. And then she probably would have told him he should smile like that all the time.
Probably.
Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers, currently sits in fifth-place all-time on the team’s scoring records.
Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers, picked up his fourth All-Star appearance this season and, this season, he finally went because, Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers, is very good at playing hockey.
Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers, does not know how to move in figure skates, but Emma Swan, director of the New York Rangers community relations department, might be the only one who knows that.
She’s glad she is.
Archie was still talking. Emma hadn’t heard a single word he’d said, barely able to keep her balance when Killian slung his arm around her shoulders and tugged her tightly against his side, lips brushing over her head.
“You’re going to get us on Page Six,” Emma muttered.
“I don’t care,” Killian countered, kissing her again like that proved that.
Archie coughed pointedly and Liam glared at them with all the power of an older brother making his post-retirement return to the ice. “You guys still here?” Liam asked. “You’re missing Hop’s whole speech.”
“Still here,” Emma promised. Mary Margaret sounded like she was trying not to laugh. It wasn’t really working well. It worked even less when David joined her, staring at Emma with something that resembled awe.
Archie didn’t seem to mind – he seemed to love everything. He kept using that word. He loved the event and he loved that Emma thought of the Piers and he loved how enthused the season-tickets on 11th Avenue were, all of them still shouting for Liam Jones.
Emma blinked once and Killian’s hand found hers again, phone back in his pocket and that smile on his face.
Archie made a noise again and Emma scrunched her nose, embarrassment creeping up her cheeks when she realized she’d been completely ignoring him. Still.
“Sorry, sorry, Archie,” Emma said quickly and both Jones brothers laughed at that. Archie himself looked a bit stunned at not being referred to as Hopper. “You have my undivided attention. What was the question again?”
He pushed his glasses up his nose, lower lip a bit farther out than normal and glanced at Liam again. “What time are we letting them in?”
“Season tickets?”
“No, no, the media that’s sitting around the corner.”
“What?” Emma snapped and Killian’s hand tightened instinctively. Archie shuffled on his feet and his eyes probably could have bored their way to the center of the Earth at this point. “Who? How long?”
“Just a few minutes,” Archie said at the same time Killian’s phone dinged and he sighed loudly.
“He’s already texted me too,” Liam added and Emma’s head was on a swivel. Mary Margaret muttered something under her breath
“Who?” Emma asked, practically shrieking the word and five pairs of eyes moved to her. David put his hand on her back and she tried not to collapse against him out of instinct.
“Who’s out there media-wise or who’s texting Liam and Killian?” Archie asked, practically racing over the words.
“Both.”
“Uh, there’s about a dozen media people out there. Local, TV, a couple of beat reporters maybe. I think ESPN is here.”
Emma’s eyes were going to fall out of her head. She did collapse back on David’s hand then, his arm moving around her shoulders and it wasn’t particularly comfortable because Killian still hadn’t let go of her hand.
“Why?” she asked. “Where’s Ruby? Reese’s have you talked to Ruby? She should be here. She should be fielding this. We’re not supposed to go for another three hours. There’s not supposed to be media here until the end of the game!”
She was losing her mind. Her voice was hoarse and her mouth was dry and her hand was bordering on disgusting, sweat working its way into the fingers still laced up with Killian’s.
“Scarlet’s taking care of it,” Liam said like that was supposed to make her feel better.
“What?”
“Will Scarlet,” he repeated, slower that time and Killian almost audibly rolled his eyes. “He’s been relegated to MC duties? He feels like he’s living up to his job title.”
“I know who Will Scarlet is,” Emma snapped. David started rubbing out small circles in between her shoulder blades. It wasn’t working. “Ok, ok,” she said quickly, shaking her hands in front of her as she stepped away from both David and Killian. “Archie!”
“Yeah?”
“Is there somewhere we can put media? That isn’t around the corner? And did they say why they were here early? We planned for this.”
Archie hissed in a breath of air, wincing like Emma had punched him in the face. He didn’t love this. Emma was half a moment away from asking – demanding – answers when a door clattered open behind them and she did her best to steel herself to the camera that was, likely, inevitably advancing on them.
“This is why,” Ruby said sharply, practically sprinting into the lobby and pushing what had probably once been a newspaper into Emma’s hands. She glanced around, smiling at the slightly stunned crowd before nodding in Liam’s direction. “You must be the other Jones.”
Liam’s eyes widened and Killian barked out a slightly nervous laugh. “I’ve never been referred to as the other anything before,” Liam said, sounding just a bit stunned.
“Ignore her,” Emma mumbled. “Rubes where have you been? Did you know there were media here? What is this?”
“It’s a newspaper, Emma,” she said evenly.
“What does it have to do with the horde of media around the corner?”
“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the dramatic bed this morning. Don’t you have a more comfortable bed, Jones?” Killian sounded like he was choking and Emma groaned, staring at the exposed piping in the ceiling. “Read the paper, Em,” Ruby continued, nodding towards the crumpled up sheets in her hands.
It took a few moments to actually work out the headline, but when she did Emma wished she hadn’t. Goddamnit. God fucking damnit.
Raiding the Rangers: Cap on his way out of City?
Killian Jones, the long-time Rangers captain and unquestioned leader of the Blueshirts...trade rumors have picked up ahead of the deadline...no move from New York...trade rumors have slowed...Avs have reportedly expressed interest….likely won’t be back in New York….front office sources from around the league.
She didn’t read the rest. She didn’t really read any of it, couldn’t settle on a single sentence when there was so much conflicting information and contradictory statements and no wonder there was a whole platoon of media around the corner.
Goddamnit.
“Did this come out today?” Emma asked softly, handing the paper back to Ruby.
She nodded. “Newspapers have a tendency to do that.”’
“Ruby.”
“I know, I know,” she sighed. “It’s a coping mechanism. I should have known. It’s...it’s my fault.”
Killian pulled the paper out of Ruby’s hands, ignoring her quick cries and Emma saw the moment his eyes hit the one line she’d done her best to ignore – What’s going to happen to Killian Jones?
“Tell them I’ll talk,” he said immediately.
“What?” Emma and Ruby asked at the same time. Liam looked concerned.
“No, no,” Ruby said quickly. “Killian, you can’t do that. Not after a story like this. You’re just feeding the fire here.”
“Well they started it. Lit the flame or whatever cliché you want to use.” He looked over his shoulder at Liam. “Was that good, you think?”
Liam finally smiled, pulling on the hair at the back of his neck. “Yeah, yeah, a very appropriate cliché . I’ll tell Elsa later.”
“I have no idea what’s going on,” Ruby grumbled and it was obvious how much she didn’t appreciate admitting it.
“Tell them I’ll talk,” Killian repeated. “After the game. Only after though. If they want a quote then they stick around for the whole thing. They film highlights like it’s a fucking Game Seven. They put Henry on every TV screen in America. They talk about all the work GD does to help kids in the city, especially the local stations.”
Ruby quirked one eyebrow, but Emma knew that look. She was plotting. “Anything else?”
“What else you got?”
“You should probably stop kissing Emma in public places. You’ll end up in the tabloids then too.”
“That’s more up to Swan than me.”
He threw her a smile that made her press her lips together tightly so she didn’t dissolve into some sort of girlish puddle in the middle of Chelsea Piers. She didn’t have time to melt – she had an event to save.
“That sounds good to me,” Emma said. Mary Margaret was back to beating Archie in the not-quite-real battle they were staging over who could looked more overjoyed. “Are the rest of the guys here yet?”
“Scarlet’s dealing with the media now,” Liam answered. “This plan might all be for nothing, honestly since he’s probably scared them all away by now.”
“Finally does something useful,” Killian muttered and Emma didn’t remember being pulled back against his side. She didn’t move either.
Will materialized, it seemed, out of thin air, jogging down the hallway with a defined crease in between his eyebrows – like he’d spent the better part of the last few minutes glaring at a variety of media outlets.
“That’s rude, Cap,” Will shouted, skidding to a stop as he threw a hand out on Liam’s shoulder. “Hey leader, how’s the family?”
“As fine as they were when you asked me yesterday, Scarlet,” Liam laughed.
“That’s called being kind and interested in your boring, domestic bliss. Anyway, you owe me, Cap. They’re like vultures out there, circling, waiting for a piece of fact-based bread to turn into backpage headlines.”
“TV doesn’t have backpages,” Killian pointed out. Will grumbled a string of words under his breath that made Emma thankful neither Roland nor Henry were anywhere in sight and Mary Margaret clicked her tongue in reproach. “And thanks.”
Will hummed. “No problem.”
The doors swung open again and the entire Mills-Locksley family, plus Henry, appeared behind them – a mix of varying emotions on their faces. Henry looked thrilled to be there – his ancient Jones jersey on already – and it took three full seconds for Roland to leap at Liam, the elder Jones brother groaning slightly when a child collided with his stomach. Robin kept glancing nervously in Killian’s direction, eyes widening like he was trying to project some message silently, and Regina looked like she was about to commit murder in the middle of the Chelsea Piers rink.
Maybe on the ice. That probably would have been more poetic.
“Don’t do it, Gina” Killian said quickly. The telepathic message must have worked. Robin looked like he was breathing for the first time in days. “We’ve already got a plan.”
Regina didn’t say anything, just stared at Killian and all of them seemed to freeze. “I’m serious,” Killian continued, stepping forward to grip both of her shoulders. “Take the murder face off.”
Scarlet laughed and Liam tried to shift Roland so it wasn’t quite so obvious he was hysterical as well. Regina’s mouth twitched.
“What’s the plan?” she asked.
Emma ran through the details again – holding up both hands when Regina tried to cut her off, no less, than five times. She even stomped her foot once when Emma explained that Killian had decided to give a quote after the game.
“No,” Emma said. “We’re not changing again. This is what we’re doing and this going to work and this game is going to be…” She cut herself off, aware of the children in the immediate area, and nodded once. “Awesome. It’s going to be awesome.”
“Nice save,” Regina muttered, but there was a hint of admiration in her voice.
“Ok. So, we’ll do Locked In while you guys are in the locker room and then we’ll start bringing the fans in an hour before and Scarlet you can get out in the crowd and banter and then we’ll play the video and play the game and we’ll bring some of the kids out on the ice.”
Henry and Roland both perked up at that – tugging on respective jerseys and rushing over words that sounded a lot like when and how long and can we shoot – and Regina pulled both their hands away with practiced ease, smiling at both of them with a look Emma couldn't quite define.
She stared at Killian, the confusion on his face obvious.
“We know the schedule, Emma,” Will said, butting into the conversation and he was already halfway on his way to the locker room.
“Shut up, Scarlet,” Killian and Robin said in tandem. Liam was never going to stop laughing.
“If you know it, prove it,” Emma challenged, smiling at the slightly stunned look on his face. “And don’t swear on Locked In or Ruby will kill you.”
“I will,” Ruby promised.
This was going to work.
“Alright,” Emma said quickly, nodding once for emphasis and Killian kept staring at her. “Huddle up and go team!”
They all laughed at her. Killian kissed the top of her head again, fingers brushing over the curve of her shoulder and Emma was vaguely aware of a camera snapping somewhere. That wasn’t a fan. She didn’t care.
She had an event to save.
They were, it seemed, a very good team. And Archie Hopper ran Chelsea Piers at some other, indiscernible level of efficiency, far too prepared to deal with the crowd that hadn’t stopped screaming to see one or both of the Jones brothers for what felt like days.
He ushered the season-tickets and the Casino Night high-bidders and the few fans who had managed to get tickets into the rink, smiling and thanking them for coming and Emma was a bit stunned by all of it.
She was a bit stunned every time she turned around – they all did their jobs.
Ruby got the media horde to agree to Killian’s terms with ease, only having to threaten access once before the whole lot of them nodded and promised to put Henry on the nightly news. Robin ran through the video with something that almost felt like professionalism until he started making fun of Killian’s outfit choice – he was wearing a vest – and the whole thing fell into comedy far quicker than any of the videos had.
The fans would love it.
And Regina helped, helped, organizing the celebrities that had shown up, getting them in front of the media horde as well and making sure the season-tickets didn’t swarm when a handful of them noticed the two New York Giants players who agreed to appear in the stands.
Mary Margaret teamed up with Aurora, making sure the GD kids and Roland and Henry got pads and skates and didn’t trip over any of them, waiting with Phillip on the far side of the ice for their cue before the Anthem.
David tailed behind Emma, falling in step with Merida as the two of them argued over who should break down the to-do-list. He was arguing to be Emma’s assistant.
She’d probably mention that in her Maid of Honor speech.
It felt like a team. It looked like a team. It worked like a team that was on the brink of a Stanley Cup run and the muscles in Emma’s face were threatening to stretch from overuse.
They were somewhere in the middle of the third period – Phillip the Rookie’s team up two goals on Killian’s squad and he must have been taking tips from Arthur because he was pacing behind the bench like there was some sort of actual prize to this.
“Here you go,” David said, appearing out of nowhere next to Emma’s shoulder with a cup in his hand and a smile on his face.
“Oh,” Emma muttered as she narrowed her eyes. “I know that face.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Nah, nah, nah. You’re thinking something. You’ve got your thinking face on. Is something wrong?”
“What could possibly be wrong? This whole day has been pretty perfect.”
“If you’re trying to get something out of me, David, you just have to ask. There’s no need to butter me up.”
“There’s no buttering,” he promised, pressing the cup into her hand. “It’s hot chocolate, figured you could use some afternoon pep.”
“Why?”
“Have you seen yourself today? You’ve been on a mission.”
Emma scoffed, but it was kind of true. David would know – he’d been following her around all day. “You didn’t have to do that, you know,” she muttered, taking a sip of the hot chocolate. He’d put cinnamon in it. She couldn’t imagine where he found cinnamon.
“Do what?”
“Follow me around all day. Argue with Mer about who got to do what. I mean you’re a detective in the NYPD, trailing after me seems kind of below your station.”
David stared at her like he couldn’t quite believe what she’d just said and Emma tried to hide behind her hot chocolate cup. “You can’t possibly think that.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about if we’re being honest.”
“Exactly.” Emma pulled her coffee cup away and David’s smile still had a flash of disappointment to it. “Exactly,” he repeated. “You did all of this Em, but more importantly you got all of us to do this. And you didn’t even realize. This whole team would do whatever you asked, probably before you even got around to asking it.”
Emma’s stomach fluttered and she shouldn’t have drank the hot chocolate so quickly, the heat lingering in the back of her throat. She felt like she was sweating in the middle of a hockey rink.
“That’s probably just because Killian’ll check ‘em all if they don’t,” she mumbled.
David sighed and his hand found its way back to her shoulder. “Look at me,” he said and it sounded a bit like a demand. “It is not because of that. This is all because of you.”
Emma tried not to believe him. She did. She tried to list off all the reasons that she shouldn’t, that she wasn’t part of the team , but the bullet points wouldn’t appear, even when she squeezed her eyes shut.
And Killian hadn’t said anything in the lobby, no Captain-issued commands to follow Emma no matter what, just an entire NHL team and her two best friends, following her without question. Go team, indeed.
“Can’t even argue can you?” David laughed, squeezing Emma’s shoulder.
She opened one eye and he was still smiling at her. “When’d you get so smart?”
“I’ve always been this smart.”
“I don’t remember that at all.”
“And here I am dishing out compliments.”
Emma opened her other eye and it was like she felt something sink into place or melt out of place and she was still sweating just a bit. It was ruining the moment. “And using your one day off to help me,” she added, inching closer to him until her forehead found the crook of his neck.
He felt solid and smelled clean and his arm inched around her shoulders, hand cupping the back of her head immediately. “Without question, Em,” David muttered.
“I’m really happy,” Emma whispered, voice so low she wasn’t even sure she’d actually said it out loud.
“I know.”
It sounded more important than a few words whispered in a sell-out hockey rink.
“Oh man, did I miss a moment?” Mary Margaret asked, sliding into the aisle and falling into the empty seat next to Emma.
“Nah,” Emma mumbled, pushing away from David with a bit of more flourish than absolutely necessary. “I was just trying to recruit David to be my assistant. He’s painfully good at bringing me hot chocolate.”
Mary Margaret actually oooohed hands pressed up against her lips – until Liam checked Locksley into one of the boards and then the crowdoooohed and stamped their feet and Emma’s eyes were as wide as saucers.
“Oh, God,” she sighed. “El’s going to kill me.” David glanced at Mary Margaret over Emma’s head, eyes doing something obvious and ridiculous. “You guys are really bad at that, you know,” Emma added.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Mary Margaret argued.
“You’re a terrible liar.”
“And you haven’t stopped smiling all day. Or been home in a week. Where’s your toothbrush?”
“Are you stalking my toothbrush, Reese’s? That seems like micromanaging parenting.”
“Why are you still on this parenting kick?”
“You just asked me why I haven’t been home in a week,” Emma pointed out, tapping on the top of Mary Margaret’s hand. “Seems awful maternal.”
“Yeah, well,” Mary Margaret sputtered and she couldn’t argue either. David laughed. “Whatever.”
“Eloquent.”
Liam scored – making some sort of impossible move in front of Jefferson that had him nearly flat on his back and Emma felt her mouth fall open in amazement. And she thought it would be better this way, was certain of it. She put Liam on Phillip’s team. She didn’t want Killian to have to coach his brother. That just seemed like asking for problems.
She hadn’t quite counted on Liam scoring a hat trick. There was merch on the ice, fans holding up program covers with comic book Liam Jones on the front and they were chanting his name and Emma leaned forward to find Killian pacing behind his bench.
“Damn,” Emma sighed.
Mary Margaret and David exchanged that same look again.
“He would have done it no matter what,” Mary Margaret said and there was something actually maternal in the way she patted Emma’s back.
“I know he would have.”
“Good.”
Killian didn’t break any whiteboards – there hadn’t been any whiteboards, it wasn’t an actual game – but it might have been close and Emma saw his shoulders move under his suit jacket when the final buzzer went off and they brought the kids onto the ice.
Killian Jones didn’t like to lose.
Killian Jones liked to be the best.
And Emma Swan probably should have known better.
She pulled her phone out again before she could think better or, more importantly, before she could talk herself out of it, fingers flying across the screen, almost matching up perfectly to the sound of the several dozen kids out on the ice.
Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers, might actually have changed everything. And Emma Swan, director of the New York Rangers community relations department, loves him. A lot. And left her toothbrush in his apartment.
Mary Margaret smiled at her like she knew exactly what Emma had typed – Emma wasn’t entirely convinced she hadn’t – and pulled her up as soon as the kids were ushered off the ice, tugging her into a fierce hug in the middle of the aisle.
“If I say I’m proud of you right now will you actually yell at me?” Mary Margaret asked, voice a bit shaky as she tried not to actually cry in the middle of Chelsea Piers.
“Probably not,” Emma said.
“Good.”
Emma hugged back and David’s hand found its way back to her head and she could only think of one word when she walked back towards the lobby – home.
They moved as some sort of three-headed group, smiles on their faces and pride in the pit of their stomach and it lasted as far as three flights of stairs and one hallway. Ruby was shouting and the reporters were shouting and Killian kept blinking in the face of half a dozen camera lights.
Regina was pacing in the far corner of the lobby – looking like he was stalking some kind of prey – Roland and Henry a few feet away, tucked into a corner on either side of Robin with Will standing protectively in front of them.
Emma tried to swallow down the ball of nerves that had suddenly appeared in the back of her throat and, for the second time, she regretted drinking all that hot chocolate. “It’s going to be ok,” Mary Margaret promised, a perpetual beacon of hope and positivity standing right next to Emma.
“I hope so,” Emma muttered. Mary Margaret squeezed her hand.
The reporters started shouting and Killian blinked again, raising his hand to try and shield his eyes. “Put your hand down, Cap,” one of them said and it didn’t sound like a request.
“Alright,” Killian said, hardly trying to keep the acid out of his voice. “You guys get five questions. One of them needs to be about the game. That’s it. Go.”
The crack in his voice gave the horde pause for all of half a second and then they all started shouting again.
“Guys, guys, one at a time,” Ruby yelled and the crowd quieted for a moment. “Jake, you go.”
A guy, apparently Jake, grinned at the rest of them when he realized he had control and he practically threw his hand and his recorder in Killian’s face. “Cap,” he started, as if Killian didn’t know who he was. “Any comment on the Rangers not wanting you to come back and that source in LA saying the interest had died down ahead of the deadline?”
“That’s two questions,” Killian hissed, patience almost visibly wearing thin. “Pick one.”
Jake looked stunned. “The second one.”
“Which was?”
“A source in LA claiming interest in your trade potential has died down ahead of the deadline.”
The room went silent and Killian’s eyes darted towards Emma so quickly she wasn’t positive she hadn’t just imagined it. “I have no idea what anyone else is saying about me,” Killian said. “I’m just focused on winning a Cup.”
“You think that’s possible?”
“Obviously.”
“This season?”
“Why would I care about anything except this season?”
“But you guys aren’t even locked into a Wild Card yet.”
“There’s still a good chunk of regular season left.”
It felt a bit like watching some sort of overly emotional tennis match, everyone’s heads snapping back and forth with each question and answer and Emma wasn’t certain she was breathing. Mary Margaret’s hand felt like a vice.
“What about her?” Jake asked, nodding in Emma’s direction. The air flew out of the room – or maybe just out of her lungs. David shifted to his right, nearly side-stepping in front of her, older brother mode, anti-media version, activated.
Killian’s eyes looked like slits, blue barely visible and his teeth scraped over his top lip. “No,” he said, like that answered the question.
“No, what?”
“No comment. No answer. No fill in the goddamn blank,” Killian yelled, voice picking up with every word. He seemed to grow a few feet too, shoulders rolling back and eyes widening and they weren’t blue anymore, they were navy and furious.
Jake blinked. The cameras were still rolling.
“Alright,” Ruby snapped, pushing her way through the crowd and she looked even taller than Killian. It was probably the heels. “No more questions. We’re done.”
The crowd started to growl, questions overlapping each other again and Emma was worried about some sort of media insurrection. “Wait, wait,” a reporter shouted and Killian stopped in his tracks. “What about the game?”
“What game?” Ruby asked.
“This one. The one you made us all watch. Cap said we got one question about the game.”
Ruby sighed – there might have been steam coming out of her ears. “Ask it then.”
The faceless reporter pressed forward, a camera and a set of hands in Killian’s face as the crowd parted in front of him. “You looked a little stressed out there, Cap,” he started. Emma still wasn’t breathing. “Was it seeing Liam out on the ice again or coming up short in your girlfriend’s game?”
Mary Margaret’s gasp was audible and David moved in front of Emma before she could actually storm the media scrum. She didn’t have to be worried about them, they should have been worried about her.
Killian tilted his head, drumming his fingers on the back of his left hand and Liam moved into the room. He dropped his hand on Roland’s shoulder, pulling the kid up against his side like it was the most natural thing in the world.
And then he waited.
They all waited.
“Liam skated as well as he did when we played here,” Killian said slowly, a measured answer Emma was certain he’d practiced at some point. “Better, actually. Guess the time off’s done him some good.” The joke didn’t really work. Emma’s ribs were threatening to crack in half.
Killian took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut and his smile looked honest when he stared at the camera again. “I’m glad Liam got back on the ice, glad we got to all play and glad Phillip got some bragging rights during a great rookie season. I did my best to coach, chewed gum like a proper coach and everything. Although our whiteboard supply was woefully low, so I guess Arthur’s still got the edge on me there.
But, more importantly, I’m glad we got to highlight the great work Garden of Dreams does and the great work Emma Swan does for this team and how many deserving kids there are in this city. I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Put that in your lede.”
Emma blinked, knuckles pressing into her cheek as she ducked her head down to her feet. Sentimental idiots, the both of them.
“Ok, that’s it, for real this time,” Ruby announced, tugging Killian back through the crowd without another word.
He winked at her before he left.
They went to the restaurant afterwards because, of course, they went to the restaurant afterwards, and everyone gave Elsa a different version of the day, lining up in front of the phone in Liam’s hand.
There were onion rings and laughing and Henry didn’t stop smiling once, practically joined at the hip by Roland who, it appeared, had found some sort of hero. Emma had to stop Henry from thanking her more than a dozen times.
She’d start to cry again if he kept doing that.
And they left far later than they should have, weighed down by more food than any of them should have eaten in the middle of the season, and Emma was only slightly confused when Henry left with the Mills-Locksley family, head lolling against the side of Robin’s arm while he walked towards the waiting town car outside.
“You understand what’s going on there?” Emma asked, leaning up from where she was perched on Killian’s side.
He shook his head. “None.”
“Weird.”
He made a noise in the back of his throat and the look on his face caught Emma by surprise – it looked a bit like wonder and just a hint of longing. “What?” she asked.
“Just nice.”
“Mmmm,” Emma hummed, tugging on the tie he hadn’t bothered taking off. He’d at least unbuttoned his vest. “You want to get out of here? I’m exhausted.”
“I can walk you back up.” Emma growled softly, pulling a bit tighter than necessary on his tie. He winced. “Ow, jeez, what?”
“Come on, take me home,” she said, appreciating the way his eyes light up at that word.
Killian kissed her forehead, squeezing his hands on the side of her hips. “Sure, Swan.”
They walked. They didn’t have to and neither one of them really agreed to it, twenty blocks in early March not particularly warm, but they just seemed to fall into a rhythm, hands finding each other as soon as they stepped out of the restaurant.
There was no elevator makeout, no bodies pressed up against walls or dramatic sighs when lips crashed against lips. There was just the steady weight of Killian’s hand on her back, the feel of his smile when he kissed along her neck and Emma let herself lean into it as the door clicked shut behind them.
“I got your text,” Killian muttered, turning her around to face him.
“Yeah?”
“And I’d do it again. The whole day and the questions and Liam’s hat trick. All of it, without question.”
“Why?” Emma asked, already sure of the answer she’d get.
“Because of you. No matter what. And you left your toothbrush on my sink this morning.”
“Did you notice before the text?”
Killian nodded slowly, smile inching across his face and Emma’s stomach did several somersaults before sticking the landing on both the vault and the balance beam. “Way before the text.”
“Figures,” she mumbled. “I’m sorry about today though. I didn’t...I didn’t think you’d have to deal with that.”
“You can’t control the stories, Swan. Neither can I, as much as I may want to. As long as I know I’ve got the rest of it, though, I’ll be fine. Liam’s hat trick aside because he’s just going to be insufferable about that for the next decade, at least.”
“El was thrilled.”
“Of course she was, she’s his own built-in cheerleader.”
“How was Locked In? I never asked.”
“Ah, well you had some other things to deal with,” Killian shrugged, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear so softly that Emma had to close her eyes so she’d be able to commit the moment to eternal memory.
“It went well, didn’t it?” Emma asked.
“Better. How much did you raise?”
“I’d have to get final figures from Aurora, but somewhere over $50K I think. It depends on how much we were able to auction off. People bought those programs like they were actual blocks of gold.”
“You know what Henry told me?” Killian asked.
“What?”
“That he’s thinking of going to BU.”
He said it so simply that it shouldn’t have sounded like he’d just recited the Declaration of Independence entirely by memory, but it did. It felt like every single letter had sunk into Emma’s skin and her bloodstream and a slew of other medically impossible metaphors that she never would have been able to come up with before she got to New York and this team.
Her team.
It was her team.
“He said he was nervous to tell you,” Killian continued. Emma let out a shaky breath, mouth forming an almost perfect ‘o’ as she exhaled. “You did that, Swan. You changed that kid’s whole life.”
“They’re still going to close his house though,” she argued, coming up with the counterpoint before she could stop herself.
Killian laughed, like he’d expected it. “You can’t control everything, love,” he said. He wasn’t just talking about Henry’s house or the game or making sure reporters asked appropriate questions regarding his free agent status or them. “I’m sorry about that too.”
“Don’t be. We were living on borrowed time on that front I think.”
“We never were very good at under the radar.”
Emma let out a watery laugh, giving up on the whole not crying thing as soon as the words sunk into her. “And the rest of it?” she repeated. “You said you’d be ok because of ‘the rest of it.’”
“Still you, Swan. Always.”
She fell asleep with a smile on her face and an arm around her stomach and, for the first time in as long as she could remember, Emma Swan was happy.
#cs ff#captain swan ff#ouat ff#cs#csbb#blue line#team feelz#family feelz#liam jones playing hockey!!!#lots of stuff happens here
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MORT AND CRAVEN | this is the final draft of a one-shot I did for class. The original got torn to shreds by my professor and I debated not posting the final product, but I edited it a bit and fixed some of it up. It’s important because it’s how Mort met Craven. Triggers: blood, death, mentions of animal abuse. Mort met Craven in a dog fighting ring, and though I didn’t go into detail about the fights or anything- it is a major part of the story. I’ve posted this before, so it might be familiar to some of you. Either way -shrugs- I just want it on my blog.
“Hey buddy, how you doin’? I’m Death.” Honestly, he doesn’t remember if he was ever the least bit subtle. What do you want from a guy that’s usually depicted as a walking skeleton in a black cloak? Not that he’s currently wearing his business best. “Yeah, yeah I know. Where’s the cloak? Where’s the scythe? Why do you have a face?”
His arm flops across the man’s shoulders, and a whiff of air makes him glad he doesn’t really need to breathe. At least, not to do anything more complicated than talking. His new friend is skeptical, but then he’s also not bat shit crazy. Probably. “Listen, I’m going to let you in on a little secret. I don’t always look like that. I know, it’s disappointing.”
He’d be the first to admit that his current face wasn’t exactly helping matters. He looked like he was barely scratching twenty even with the dark circles under his eyes and sallow skin. Yet, when he’d decided to come out of the shadows this had been the face he’d chosen. Young and unassuming was a good thing when you were trying to get people to trust you. Even if nobody believed him when he told them the truth.
Like this guy.
“Carl right?”
“Whatever you’re on kid, give me some.” Carl’s laughing but it’s high-pitched and uncomfortable. The words coming out of his mouth are so slurred Mort considers leaning in closer to try and make them out and then thinks better of it. He’s got more than enough of that smell to last him a couple decades, thanks.
He almost pities Carl. Almost.
They are standing in the middle of a warehouse waiting for a dog fight to start after all.
“Most people call me Mort.” He’s got the distinct feeling that maybe Carl isn’t paying attention anymore. He keeps trying to pull away, but as scrawny as these twenty-something arms are, there’s strength behind them. He’s pinned and the more he realizes that he can’t get free, the more frantic his eyes start looking around the room. “Or you know, Mortimer works too. Morty if we’re friends.”
“Look kid-”
“Mort.”
“Mort…this has been nice and all, but the fights about to start, and I actually want to see who’s going to win.” He tries his hardest to pry the arm off from around his shoulders. Even manages an awkward little dance to try and wiggle free.
“Nope. Sorry Carl. You’re staying here with me.”
Poor Carl, he’s starting to panic.
“Don’t scream.” His head tilts and he’s baring his teeth. It’s a grin that doesn’t reach his eyes, and the man beside him shrinks away from it as best he can. “We’re going to stand right here and watch the show, how does that sound?” He even adds a friendly hip bump that does absolutely nothing to make Carl feel any better. In fact, he’s almost positive that the man beside him is now completely sober for the first time in his life.
Somewhere up front an announcer has stepped up to introduce the fighters. There’s people yelling and a dog snarling, the atmosphere in the room intensifies.
Mort has always been able to feel the presence of souls. It’s stronger when he’s up close and personal, like with Carl, but rooms packed like this help too. Humans have this notion that your actions can dirty a soul, make it less of what it’s supposed to be, but that’s not true. If it was this room would feel like a black hole. He might be Death but he’s not a judge or a jury, simply an executioner. He doesn’t look at people and see all the good and bad they’ve ever done, all he sees is their souls.
They all feel bright and warm, blinding lights that make you want to look away, even when you don’t necessarily have to. Even when he technically had no eyes to burn out.
“It’s starting, aren’t you excited?” He’s shaking the man beside him, like he’s thrilled to be here.
Except he’s not. In fact, he’s never experienced nausea, but he’s sure that this is what it feels like. The rolling sensation in the pit of his stomach every time a dog’s yelp breaks through all the noise.
Nervous energy makes his free hand dig into the depths of pocket, tugging out a keychain.
For someone who was so eager to watch the show, Carl sure zeroes in on his hand real fast. Watching the lone key and tiny scythe dance between Mort’s fingers like it’s the most fascinating trick in the world. Even if there’s nothing particularly spectacular about it, and his movements are stilted.
“Hey um…can you, let me go? I believe you now, I swear.”
No he doesn’t, he’s just saying that.
Mort grins about it anyway.
Up ahead there’s a loud snarl, and the roar of the crowd ripples in response. “I can’t let you go Carl. You’re going to miss the best part.” Sympathy snakes into his tone, and the wide smile on his face softens like he’s speaking to a child.
One who’s about to get a heavy dose of bad news.
He’s been to dog fights before. Things die at dogfights, it’s a given. Always the casual observer, the one who picks up the mess when the horror is done…
There’s a thing about what he is. For as long as he could remember, he only ever reacted. He was Death in the sense that he was there when you died, but he wasn’t the reason you were dead. He didn’t pull the trigger, or cause the building to collapse.
It was something that he’d known since the start of his existence, but it was not what he chose.
Humming the starting cords to AC/DC’s Back in Black, Mort made a choice.
It was not his first-choice mind you, he’d chosen to make himself this body. He’d chosen the name Mort. He’d even chosen to come here, and stand in this crowd. Now he chose to act, instead of react.
It’s hard to explain. Like there air is full of strings and he can tug at them to make the world around him play whatever game he wants.
This string right here slams the doors shut.
The one whipping around Carl’s head bolts them closed.
In his hand the keychain spins, tiny scythe arching up into the air. Carl knows something is going to go horribly wrong now. It’s a side effect of playing with the natural order of things and being too heavy handed in his games. People, if they’re close enough, start to see him for what he is. They can feel the power seeping off of him, and it makes their souls grow still.
Mort tosses the keychain in the air, and it spins as the first gunshot sounds. He catches it again as realization turns to panic and the crowd around them shatters. The controlled chaos of the fights turns into anarchy in the split second it takes to blink.
Carl catches a bullet with his throat.
Blood splashes across his face but he doesn’t flinch or turn away. Instead he offers a smile as his arm finally releases its hold on the man’s shoulders. Carl is looking at him as he slides to the floor, but it’s an empty already gone kind of stare.
He’s dead well before he finishes faceplanting on the concrete. “Sorry, not sorry.”
Mort feels, exhilarated. Not alive, he’s not sure he can ever feel that, but he feels close enough. It has nothing to do with the chaos around him. He recognizes the slow drag of time as fear and adrenaline twist perception. He can predict where the people will run and all the little ways they’ll try to get out. He knows who’s dead already, who’d dying, and who thinks they’ve gotten away. Stepping through puddles of blood, taking his time to walk around the fallen, he only stops when he sees that light still lingering in their eyes.
He did this. That’s the thrill he feels.
For once he’s not late to the party. He’s the god damn host.
“Help,” someone rasps. “Please,” cries out another. “I don’t want to die.” They reach for him if they can; weak fingers smearing blood on his shoes, hands gripping at the fabric of his jeans. Sometimes he wonders if there’s supposed to be something here. Some sort of emotion he’s not feeling as he kneels beside their bodies and watches them fade away. Pity, maybe? Sadness?
“Dying’s not so bad. Everyone’s got to do it sometime, pal.” He takes a moment to tug the death grip from around his ankle. “Getting shot in the gut is a rough way to go, condolences.” A slow agonizing death that he could speed up, but that would involve caring more than he does. So instead he offers companionable silence as the minutes’ tick by and the pool of blood stops getting steadily bigger. He gets one last desperate look before the lights go out, but his mind is already wandering someplace else. Ignored as bullets fly, and people are trampled and crushed against the doors in a desperate bid to escape.
This was not part of the natural order of things. This was him. He’d found this place and he’d felt disgusted, and that disgust translated into a force. No one was getting out of here alive.
His trip to the center ring is slow and frequently interrupted to watch the light fade out of someone’s eyes. Normally he’s welcoming to the spirits of the departed, gentle with the living as they take their last breathes. This time there’s a perverse sort of joy when recognition flashes in the last spark of someone’s gaze, and fear makes their souls swell and twist.
One of the dogs is dead. He feels it before he even gets close enough to set his hands on the concrete divider between them. The other is so close it tingles in the air, a building sense of anticipation that makes his hand clench around his keychain. In one fluid movement, he’s sliding himself over and into the pit. There’s no one left to stop him, no more people crowding around to wonder who the hell he is. Everyone’s dead, and the ones that aren’t, are hovering mere heartbeats away. He’d almost laugh at how quickly it took for a room full of people to tear themselves apart, but he just doesn’t feel up to it.
The dog is big, rough looking, a pit bull with grey fur and what might have been a white chest under all that blood. He’s hurt. The kind of hurt that you’re not supposed to come back from.
Mort sinks into the dirt beside him, keychain discarded once more in his pocket. “Hey buddy…” He doesn’t expect a response, he knows when things are too far gone, but those eyes focus on him anyway. Head lifting just enough to lick at his fingertips.
Somewhere, he aches.
There’s no heart pounding in his chest, no lungs needing to draw in breath. Yet he feels something tighten underneath his ribs, a dull pressure building at the corner of his eyes.
“You’ve had it rough, huh big guy?” His voice quakes, but his fingers find their way past the dog’s head and down his neck. He touches over his sides, feels the shallow breathing and the fading heartrate. “I can make it better.” He thinks of all the suffering he’s experienced, all the deaths he’s witnessed. He thinks of ages spent with the understanding that he is not a curse, but a gift. Not a point of suffering, but an end to it. He considers everyone that’s died here, of all the dogs who’ve met their end in this cold hard pit.
His fingertips touch against warmth and light, the gentle ember of a soul. He’s cupped so many in the palm of his hands, coaxed them free of their bodies with gentle words.
He decides to make another choice.
He cannot bring life, cannot grant it once it’s done. He can’t breathe someone back from the dead, or set their soul back into their bodies. He can however, say no. He can stand at the edge of life and keep himself from cutting it short. In this moment, he withholds death.
Sometimes reacting just means doing absolutely nothing at all.
“You’re going to be okay.” The soul doesn’t struggle, it settles. The dog whimpers, but his heart beats stronger and his eyes have more light. “My name is Mort, and I’m going to make this better.”
#( DEATH'S BEST FRIEND | craven. )#( O'DEATH | about. )#( SOMETIMES THE DEAD HAVE STORIES TOO | drabbles. )
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