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gloomybabygirl · 3 years

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{in my head pt.2} Poe Dameron x smuggler!reader (soulmate au)

series masterlist

last part * next part

a/n: hi everyone! I can’t thank you enough for all the love on the first part of the series!! I was actually super nervous to post it and had my friends beta read it an unhealthy amount of times, so the feedback I’ve gotten has been wonderful :) p.s. the series tag list is open, send an ask or message if you want to be tagged for the rest!

warnings: alcohol consumption, soulmate trope, poe not clearing his throat, cliffhanger, I haven’t proofread this yet

timeline: I never established this so here we go! this is set between force awakens and last Jedi! so we’re still on D’Qar ladies, gents, and nb friends. however Miss Rey has not yet traveled to see Uncle Luke

word count: 4k oops

songs used: mr. loverman - Ricky Montgomery & the chain - Fleetwood Mac (kinda? I just listened there's no singing in this part lol)

summary: you and Poe spend some time bonding, you go on your first mission

You loved being apart of the Resistance. Waking up on D’Qar every morning was a blessing in your eyes. You had a purpose here. You’d never stayed on one planet for so long. Being on the run was your norm for the majority of your life. It was too dangerous for you to stay on one planet for too long (or stay in one region for that matter). The humid Jungle was the closest thing you’d had to a permanent home since you were a child.

That is, D’Qar was the closet thing to a physical home you’d had in years. There was one person that had no trouble making you feel at home. You could be stuck in carbonite on a bounty hunters ship and hearing your soulmate’s voice wold make you feel safe. His sweet song felt like coming home to the warm embrace of a lover.

But you hadn’t heard it in weeks. And it was starting to worry you. There had always been that nagging voice in the back of your mind telling you that he’d found someone else. But now that voice was trying to convince you of something much worse. You don’t know what you’d do if you’d spent all this time waiting for your person only to find out that something awful had happened to him.

You’d rather find out he already belonged to someone else.

You did your best to push the dark thoughts away, locking them in a box in the back of your mind. You couldn’t let yourself linger on the idea of him being dead or it would drive you insane.

There were three people that did a magnificent job of keeping your mind off of all the negative thoughts. On days when it felt like the weight of the war was resting solely on your shoulders, your friends were the ones who could help you bear it. They were always there for a joke or a long talk, if that's what you needed. Of course you were there for them as well. It was the first time you’d allowed yourself to have people in your life that could rely on you.

Days like today were your favorite. The weather was finally starting to cool down on the swampy planet, making the outside air somewhat tolerable. Everyone you loved was on base, safe and accounted for after a successful mission. Every time one of them left the base you felt as though you were holding your breath until they came back. But now, in Poe's small quarters with Rey and Finn, you felt the air return to your grateful lungs. Poe had devised a plan to hit up Maz’s on the way back from the mission and snagged a few bottles of jet juice, which you and the rest of the gang were all happily draining in his quarters. The alcohol was just beginning to burn in your stomach and your head was the slightest bit fuzzy. You took your time soaking in the scene of your found family spread out on the cold permacrete of Poe’s room.

Finn’s boisterous laugh rang out as his best friend finished telling every one about his adventure and a half to get the jet juice. Finn was especially fond of the tangy, red alcohol and was on drink number four down the hatch.

“Only you, Dameron,” Rey laughed to herself, gently taking the half full bottle out of Finn’s hands. His face of protest caused another round of laughter to erupt around the small room. He looked like a child that was denied a sweet by their parent.

Finn fell back against the permacrete, his head making an awful hollow sound as it hit the ground. He didn't seem to feel it and decided the floor was his new best friend for the night. Rey got up from her position against the wall and began to pick up the empty bottles scattered around the room.

“Looks like the jet juice served it’s purpose,” you commented, nudging Poe in the side with your elbow. Finn was now curling into the fetal position, trying to use a rug as a blanket.

You had your legs resting over Poe’s strong thighs. He patted the side of your leg where his hand had been resting, carefully moving your legs off of him. “I better help him back to his room. Someone has to make sure he doesn’t end up running naked through the tarmac trying to fly an X-Wing,” Poe said.

“I’d should head back to my quarters too,” you stood up to put your boots on, but Poe stopped you.

“Actually, do you think you could wait here till I get back? I have something I want to give you,” Poe winked at you, helping Rey tug their friend to his feet.

You couldn't help the way your heart sped up at his words. And you definitely didn't miss the eyebrow raise Rey shot you from the door.

“Yeah, I’ll just hang with BB-8 till you get back.”

A low voice bellowed out from the door, “OOOOH HE GOT YOU A PRESENT! How romantic,” Finn was apparently trying to wake up the entire base with the way his voice was booming off the walls. You were sure he hadn't meant for that to come out so loud. Or to come out at all.

Everyone went silent. You and Poe pointedly looked away from each other. His cheeks flamed red. You pretended to be preoccupied with the frayed laces on your Resistance issued boots.

Rey looked between the two of you and then broke the awkward silence with: “Aaanyway, let’s get you to bed Peanut!” She sounded too cheerful, trying to reduce the awkward energy that hung in the room. Being force sensitive you could only imagine how she was perceiving the situation. She and Poe hauled their inebriated friend out into the hall, desperately trying to shush him as he was now singing. You hoped his poor soulmate wasn't trying to sleep.

Finn clapped Poe on the back hard when they finally got into the drunk man’s room. Rey had helped Poe get Finn to his quarters but had dipped when Finn requested to be helped into his pajamas. They were close, but not ‘undressing one another’ close. Poe was itching to get back to his room and see you again, but he helped his buddy none the less.

Finn was finally laying in bed when Poe turned to leave.

“Are you okay?”

Poe hesitated, then turned on his heel. “Yeah?” he furrowed his brow at the unexpected question, “Why?”

“You haven’t been singing.” Finn was suddenly serious.

Poe’s face softened when he realized what Finn was so concerned about.

And he was right, Poe hadn’t been singing. It wasn't hard to miss, everyone on base noticed. The man who used to use every spare moment to sing to his soulmate had gone quiet. People actually missed hearing his voice all the time. Echoing through the halls of the base or out on the tarmac mixing with the whine of X-Wings taking off and landing. Finn wasn’t the only person worried about Black Leader. Leia had even mentioned something to her surrogate son a few days back. She enjoyed his singing more than anyone. She said it was a sparkle of hope during a dark time.

But the truth was, Poe didn't feel like singing. Guilt was the main thing keeping him from inflicting his voice on people whenever he could. How could he sing to his soulmate when he was fighting off feelings for someone else? He was doing everything in his power to stop you from being at the forefront of his mind all the time, but it was hard when your smile was his favorite thing to occupy his mind with.

“I miss my lover, man.”

He did. He missed his soulmate, whoever they were. He missed randomly hearing their soft voice humming through his mind. He missed the way he felt when he would sing to them. It was the closest thing he had to actually being with them, talking to them. He missed that he used to long for them. Lately that unconditional, blind love was being clouded by someone else. You.

“Tell me more stories about your Dad.” You were sitting cross-legged on the floor across from where BB-8 was nestled in his charging station. He had been beeping and booping at you for the last half and hour as you waited for his father to return.

The droid animatedly jumped into another anecdote about a recent mission he had gone on with his favorite person. He rattled around in his charging station, whirling his head around and beeping rapidly at you.

“He did what?!” you asked the little orange droid as the blast doors flew open, revealing the man in question. You turned to face Poe, mouth still agape at the droids admission to you.

“Who did what?” Poe asked confused, walking into the room. The droid then decided he was done charging and rolled over to Poe for scritches. Poe kneeled down and gave his favorite little guy some love, looking at you for an answer. He laughed at the way you had your arms crossed and were giving him the same look Leia gave him when she found out he’d gotten into a dog fight.

BB-8 beeped adamantly at him.

“Maker, Beebs, you told her about that?” He glanced nervously at you, only to find you were now trying to suppress a laugh. He was soothed by that damned smile that was burned into his mind.

“Unfortunately for you, I can understand BB’s binary perfectly. Now I know why you have to work on your ship so often,” you teased. “You’re not exactly tender with her.” You were trying to keep up your facade of being angry with him for being reckless. You were failing, your smirk giving you away.

Why did the fact that you understood BB-8 give him heart palpitations? His droid was absolutely going to get him into trouble with you one day. Apparently he can’t be expected to keep secrets.

Poe ignored your jab and walked over to sit behind you.

“Close your eyes,” he demanded softly.

“No, I don’t trust you. What kind of weird creature are you about to put on me?” you asked, twisting your torso to see him.

He cocked his head at you, “Would you just have a little faith in me? I have something special for you.” He laughed. You narrowed your eyes at him but closed you eyes and turned around anyway, your smile growing bigger every second.

“Besides, if I was going to put a creature on you, I’d do it on front of more people,” he taunted.

You laughed humorlessly at him, “Always the attention whore.” You heard him playfully shush you.

Poe took a deep breath, silently grateful that you couldn't see the way his hands were trembling. He reached up and removed the silver chain from around his neck for the first time in years. He then carefully slipped it over your head and watched from over your shoulder as his mothers ring came to rest at your sternum.

Deep breath. “Open.”

You immediately turned toward him, a look of shock on your face.

“Poe what is this?” you asked, alarmed by the ring resting delicately on your collar bone.

Poe's warm eyes held so much softness in them, you thought you would bust into tears right then. You turned to face him fully, confused as to why he just put this piece of jewelry around your neck.

“A good luck charm,” he whispered, admiring the way it looked on you.

“Is this the chain you wear every day?”

He nodded, still giving you that look that made you feel like the only person in the universe.

“Then what's this ring?” The bottom of the silver chain was always dipped below his collar, if the ring had always been there, you’d never seen it.

“It was my mother’s wedding ring. I wear it every day, take it on every mission, even sleep with it on. One day I’ll give it to my soulmate when I ask them to marry me, but for now it serves as a good luck charm for me,” He explained with a sad edge to his voice.

You had become close with Poe Dameron in the last few months. While a large portion of that time was spent with Finn and Rey, you also had spent a few late nights just the two of you. He had a knack for making you laugh and you would often stay in his quarters long after the others had retired. Deeper conversations were far and few between, the two of you preferring to spend your time together in a fit of hysterics. It was strange to see this man so serious. There was no twinkle of mischief in his eyes tonight.

You suddenly felt suffocated by him. His face was a mere few inches away from yours and you could feel his cool breath fanning across your face. His large hands rested on your knees, giving you a light squeeze and snapping you out of your haze.

“Poe are you sure you want to give this to me? I can't imagine how important it must be to you.” You reached up and stroked the smooth metal.

“It’s the most important thing in the word to me. But I want you to have it for your first mission. Since I’m not going with you to help you when you accidentally shoot yourself in the foot, I want you to have a piece of me there with you. And what better to give you than my good luck charm?”

You felt your tears spill over, streaking hot and wet down your face at the sincerity in his voice. You couldn't believe he wanted you to have this piece of him with you. He was becoming one of the most important people in your life, and him sharing something so special with you meant the world.

You were going down a slippery slope. If you weren't careful, you could fall in love with this man so easily.

“Poe, thank you. I don't know what to say,” you reached forward, pulling him into a tight hug. You nuzzled into his neck, letting the scent of leather and engine oil envelop you. He reached one arm securely around your waist and brought the other up to gently cup the back of your head. He took a deep breath in without meaning to, overwhelming his senses with you. He didn't want to pull away and had to hide his disappointment when you did. You kept your hands on his shoulders, squeezing slightly.

“I promise I’ll bring it back safely so you can give it to your soulmate one day.”

The next few days were a whirl wind of meetings, briefings, more meetings, caf breaks, and did you mention meetings? You spent more time in the command room with your team than you did anywhere else. You forgot life existed outside the confines of the dirt walls.

But you were ecstatic that Leia trusted you with such an important mission so soon after joining the Resistance. Plus you couldn’t be more grateful for the people that were joining you for this mission.

Finn was excellent for morale and a very smart man when he needed to be, unless of course he had jet juice in his system. Miss. Force-User Rey was always a good person to have on a mission. You brought a sense of craftiness to the crew, thanks to your smuggler skills. And Chewbacca was the only one (besides Poe) that Leia trusted to pilot the Falcon. Plus, he had a soft spot for smugglers, making you a new favorite of his.

The one person you wished you could add to this team was Poe. His pilot skills would have been a great help to Chewie, he was talented with a blaster, and he was easy on the eyes. But he had a more important solo mission with BB-8 that Leia needed him on. He didn't make himself completely scarce though. He often came in and out of the Command Center, having his own mission to plan with Admiral Akbar. He made a point of bringing you caf every time too, he knew exactly how you liked it.

You were terrified for your first mission as it was, but not having Poe there made everything ten times more dangerous in your eyes.

The ring he had let you borrow was becoming a source of comfort. Whenever you got anxious about the mission you found yourself fiddling with it. The smooth metal was slightly worn in one spot on the band and you ran your fingers over it repeatedly to calm yourself. Something you caught yourself doing unconsciously on a number of occasions.

The plan was simple. The Resistance had gotten word of an ex First Order official on the planet Ryloth, less than a parsec away from Tatooine. You and the rest of the crew were to go there and see what information the old Commander could offer you. Simple. But that didn’t stop you from needing to cover all your bases. Every single thing that could have possibly gone wrong had an escape plan to coincide. You were as prepared as you could be.

Your favorite part of the plan was your mode of transportation. As an ex-smuggler, you’d admired the Millennium Falcon and it's pilot for years. You’d heard every story surrounding Han Solo and his old piece of junk. Seeing it in person, let alone flying on it was something you’d never thought would be possible. But here you were, boarding the infamous ship.

Finn and Rey brushed passed you, Rey laughing at the look of awe on your face as you were frozen in the doorway, the ramp hitting you on the ass as it closed.

You took your time walking around the hull of the Falcon. Taking a moment just to think about the adventures she’d been on, the places she’d seen. You laughed fondly to yourself as you remembered your favorite story. You reached out and placed a hand tentatively on the wall of the old ship. “So this is the ship that made the Kessel Run in fourteen parsecs?” you called out to your friends.

“Twelve,” Finn and Rey chorused from the cockpit, mixed with the indignant cry of your favorite Wookie.

“Okay, twelve! Sorry, sorry,” you laughed and joined your friends in the cockpit.

Poe was exhilarated every time he was in the air. There was nothing in the world that gave him the same feeling. This man was more comfortable in a cockpit than he was on his own two feet. If it were up to him, he’d never come down.

But there was someone pulling him back to solid ground, like a magnet. Someone he couldn’t stop thinking about no matter how badly he wanted to exile them from his mind. He couldn't ignore your gravitational pull. He hadn't seen you in several days, you having returned from your mission two days prior. His mission was a success and he couldn't wait to tell you all about it. Leaving out the dangerous details that BB-8 was sure to fill you in on later.

He was nervous to hear about how your mission went. It was a simple enough task, but he couldn't help but worry about you. He hoped his good luck charm was as comforting to you as it had been to him these last few years. He felt naked without it, this having been the first mission he hadn't taken it on. He found himself reaching up to stroke his finger across the band of the ring he had worn in from playing with it when he got nervous, but then remembering he'd given it to you. The idea that you were wearing a piece of him around the base made his heart leap in his chest.

He was practically giddy when he leaped down from his X-Wing, already rushing to find you.

Cool it Dameron, you have a soulmate waiting for you.

Plus, he had to see the General before anything. Was he so clouded by his need to see you that he forgot he was fighting a war?

A twinge of guilt hit him hard in the stomach, forcing him to take a deep breath and remind himself of the person looking for him somewhere in the universe. He let his feet take him down the familiar dirt path to the Command Center. The soft, damp earth caused his flight boots to sink slightly with each step.

He flooded his mind with images of what his future could be like with the person the galaxy had chosen for him. A small home on Yavin IV. Children he could teach how to fly the same way his mother taught him. A safe, quiet life with no threat of the First Order. No threats at all. He stored these images in the back of his mind for when he needed a glimmer of hope during the war. But lately he was using these daydreams as distractions from you.

He stepped into he large room where Leia was addressing General Akbar and a few other pilots that had also just returned from a mission.

When she caught sight of Poe her forehead created in confusion and she abruptly dismissed the debrief she was in the middle of with a wave of her hand. As they shuffled out of the room, several of them shot Poe sympathetic looks.

What the hell was going on?

“Commander Dameron, what are you doing here?” The General asked, walking over to him.

He hesitated, unsure as to why she was asking a question with an obvious answer, “I just landed from my mission, General. I’m here to debrief.”

Leia dropped the General persona and gently caressed the pilots face, running her thumb over the stubble she resented.

She had always been like a second mother to Poe, and he like a second son to her. Their relationship was something special and unique. Something she thanked the Force every day for. However, her unexpected shift from serious Resistance leader to caring mother made Poe nervous.

“I thought Finn or Rey would have been waiting on the tarmac to tell you.”

Now he was starting to panic. What was he missing? What happened?

“Come with me,” Leia softly implored, grabbing his calloused hand and yanking him out of the room. She tried to flood him with calm though the force connection she made with him, but his anxiety was too overbearing.

She continued explaining as she pulled him through the base, “The mission went south. There was no ex Order Commander on Ryloth. It was a set up. When they landed, there was a fleet of ‘Troopers waiting for them, ready to capture them and bring them back to the Finalizer for my son to interrogate.” She tried to keep her voice even for Poe's sake.

Poe was really panicking now, starting to pick up his speed. He squeezed Leia’s hand, begging her to continue.

“They got out relatively unscathed. Chewie stayed on the Falcon so they were able to get away quickly. But Poe,” she stopped in her tracks, jerking Poe back to a halt. She looked him in the eyes, worried for what his reaction to her news would be.

“Poe, the new recruit was badly hurt. They were shot in the side with a blaster and lost a lot of blood. They’ve been in the medbey unconscious for two days, but they’ll be okay,” she finished.

Poe wordlessly turned and broke out into a run towards the medbay. Leia watched him go, knowing he needed to see you more than anything in that moment. She had felt a connection between you and Poe. She knew he wanted to wait for his soulmate, but she also knew that finding them was not likely. Part of her wished he would give in and let himself fall in love with you. Soulmate or not, she wanted him to be happy.

#poe x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fic #poe dameron one shot #poe dameron x reader #star wars imagine #in my head

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snowbellewells · 4 years

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Self Promo Sunday: “The Simplest Touch”

Today’s selection is an older one shot I wrote during 3b, back when Emma was still fighting hard against that attraction and connection she definitely felt with her pirate, still not sure she wanted to make the strange little town of Storybrooke (and all that came with it) her permanent home. There all of these beautiful little quiet moments between CS in that stretch of the show, and particularly in 3x18 - that almost-touch of Killian’s hand at Emma’s back! - which really prompted this. It’s pretty much canon compliant up to that point as well.

The reason I’ve truly chosen it for this Sunday’s Self-Promo though is that I shamelessly want to show all of you and sing the praises of the fic art to accompany it that was made for my this week by @searchingwardrobes. <3 Thank you so much for this lovely story cover art Melanie! I’m so flattered at the thought and how wonderfully it fits the story I had in mind.

Summary: In the moments between scenes in 3x18's "Bleeding Through" there is more brewing under the surface for Emma and her pirate than they yet know how to express...

Notes: This little one shot fits right into show canon during episode 3x18, and more than being divergent or AU, it’s missing moments in a way - or at least, it’s the thoughts and feelings behind some of the quieter, tiny moments we saw onscreen. I was attempting some stylistic things in this, and to switch from Emma to Killian’s point of view at various moments in that episode. I still think the result turned out pretty well. Enjoy, and please let me know what you think!

"The Simplest Touch"

by: @snowbellewells

He acts as though he is cursed.

Emma Swan doesn't understand what has changed in the pirate captain, but something is different. His eyes haven't twinkled mischievously at her these last few days, and she suddenly realizes how much she liked the playful attention, how it made her cheeks flush and her heart beat fast, even as she rolled her eyes and pushed him away. His innuendos are missing from their most recent interactions, and though Emma did nothing to encourage his outrageous attentions when he was lobbing them at her constantly, she feels strangely bereft now that they are gone. When he does toss her a line now, it feels empty without the lascivious heat and intent, and she comes close to begging Hook to tell her what is wrong, what has changed…why he no longer seems to want her.

Thinking back over the past week, Emma cannot come up with any new disagreements they have had, insults or slights directed at Hook. There is no way for her to question him the way she wants without revealing just how much she really cares, how much he does mean to her. Instead, she practices her magic, making sure she can protect him – and all of those she loves – prompts and playfully needles him while trying not to let his blackened mood and purposeful distance sting…and she hopefully watches and waits.

^^^00000000000000000000000000000000000^^^^

She touches his stump as if it is the most normal thing in the world.

It nearly steals his breath, heat rising unbidden within him at the sensation of her fingers lightly gripping the leather that covers his violently truncated wrist. So many years – literal ages – have passed since anyone made to hold what was once his left hand, and the sensation of warmth and comfort would risk bringing him to his knees if he were not already seated at Regina's table. Most avoid getting anywhere near his left arm, and especially the prosthetic hook and brace, but his Swan has surprised him once again and claimed even more of his affection.

Killian Jones, notorious pirate captain and erstwhile villain of the realms, is holding his breath at the mere pressure of a lost princess's fingers, but he cannot help the reaction. For one horrified second, he had wanted to shy away from her, pull his arm from her grasp for fear she would make contact with the amputated limb and show disgust, but he had held himself steady, and now he is praying that she doesn't let go. Emma prompts inexplicable reactions within him: thaws parts of him long frozen in hatred and anger and makes him want to feel. Her simplest touch can do things to him that the most powerful magician surely could not accomplish. This though, is new and even more intimate. Her gentle clasp around his brace, that he swears he can feel completely even through the heavy leather, shows no fear, no horror or repulsion, and speaks to him of nothing more than pure, blessed acceptance. His devotion to her swells even higher – when he could have sworn he would never be able to love her more than he already did.

Her fingers clasp just a bit tighter, holding on that tiniest bit more firmly, almost as though she wants to stroke his skin. Her eyes lift from where they have followed her fingers' movements to meet his gaze. She gives him a wavering half-smile, in spite of the chaos and dead witch summoning about to begin, nods to him slightly, and he simply knows. They are in this together now, and they will be from now on…

^^^^0000000000000000000000000000^^^^

He had nearly guided her down the stairs with a hand at the small of her back.

Emma sucks in a sharp breath at the tingling sensation he causes with his good hand wavering just shy of touching her until he snatches it away. Whatever has been troubling Hook is still present; he retreats just before making physical contact, and it has the effect of making Emma feel starved for his touch. She doesn't understand the reversal that seems to have taken place; her following him, being drawn to him, and Hook pulling away from her, but he seems to have decided he is some sort of poison – a threat – the way he so studiously avoids contact when always before he has been creeping into her personal space.

They are preparing to leave Regina's after the failed séance, to make another patrol seeking signs of the Wicked Witch. She wants to pull him after her, drag him off into the woods where they can find some true privacy, not be overheard, and she can demand that he explain what is troubling him. The near-touch was tantalizing enough in its assumed closeness and almost possessive nature. The pirate captain, for all his dangerous rebel tendencies, is an old-fashioned gentleman when all is said and done. The chivalry in his nature still sometimes steals the breath of a formerly unwanted, ignored, orphan Lost Girl. Moments like this one, where they are about to go out seeking danger again, show her anew that he is right here at her back, intending to guard it with all that he has.

She brushes her hair back impatiently from her face, stealing a quick glance over her shoulder at Hook before turning again to precede him down the steps. There are too many words she wants to say to him for the company they have and the task they are attempting, but she wants him to know that she is onto him, she sees what he is doing, and she wants to help. He wouldn't allow her to be alone in a world of lies, and so now she won't let him drown in whatever lie he is determinedly keeping.

Her skin burns with longing for the touch he almost gave unthinkingly, and then robbed them both of. She is not accustomed to letting someone else take care of her; it is a concession, a weakness that has always made her distinctly uncomfortable. Wanting to allow him so much of her now is both frightening and a long-awaited relief. They will fix whatever has been marred – she will not leave him alone until he tells her his secret – so that she has the chance to experience how good letting him in could be.

^^^^0000000000000000000000000^^^

Killian knows that he has been cursed.

If he had thought there was any loophole, any way to lessen the pain for what has been lost, he sees now that those were vain hopes.

He watches Emma darkly as he broods in his seat at one of the booths in Granny's Diner. She seems so light, so happy, since she has just made a mug of cocoa with cinnamon appear before her at the counter, and he wants to smile, to chuckle along with her, and celebrate her unparalleled brilliance when she magically makes it disappear and reappear in front of him. He does not wish to darken her mood or spoil her moment, but he cannot bring much joy to the surface either.

Cringing at himself, Killian wants to stab his hook into his own chest when he snaps at her for playfully stealing the weapon with her powers. The mischievous light in her eyes flickers fitfully, and she stops teasing him, lowering into the other bench at his claimed table. She starts to reach out, to take his hand, and he wants so badly to meet her halfway, to pull her close, to rain kisses all over her face and tell her everything. Knowing that he can do neither seems almost too cruel to bear, but he cannot give in. The risk is too great; he will not have anyone else he loves hurt because he fails them.

Something in Emma's expression makes him think she knows, or has guessed, more than he realized, and he lets himself dare to hope that she understands his fear. She cocks her head, raising an eyebrow at him curiously and blowing out a tense breath. Finally, she comes out and asks him beseechingly what is wrong. He leans forward, literally biting his tongue so as not to let it all pour from him in a rush.

Then Belle is there interrupting breathlessly, and Emma snaps back to attention, a true leader through and through. He cannot help watching her in awe, drawn to stay near her; despite the pain it causes, he cannot separate from her. He watches her make up her mind and stand from the table. Following her, he cannot help believing in this tough, street smart princess, and hoping that there may still be a cure for Killian Jones – a chance for redemption at the touch of Emma Swan.

#self promo sunday #cs one shot #ouat 3b missing moments ff #the simplest touch #cs canon compliant #gorgeous cs fic art #thank you a million @searchingwardrobes

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glitterquadricorn · 6 years

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Why? - Peter Parker

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader Word Count: 1,067 Warning(s): suicide, depression (not directly mentioned), a funeral, Peter’s sadness, anxiety/panic attack, etc.

IF YOU ARE EASILY TRIGGERED, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS.

Song credit: Why by Rascal Flatts. The song is so sad, yet really beautiful. And if I’m cryin’ before I even start writing this, than I’m sure you’ll need tissue as well.

I recommend listening to the song while reading. Why by Rascal Flatts

You must have been in a / Place so dark / You couldn't feel the light / Reaching for you through / That stormy cloud / Now here we are / Gathered in our little hometown / This can't be the way / You meant to draw a crowd...

Oh why, that's what I keep asking / Was there anything I could've / Said or done / Oh, I had no clue you were / Masking / A troubled soul, God only knows / What went wrong and why / You would leave the stage / In the middle of a song...

Peter adjusted his suit, shuffling in his seat. He gulped and wiped the little sweat he had forming on his forehead, as he watched your mother give her speech. Your funeral was small; only close friends (which made up of himself, Ned, Michelle and the avengers) and family.

He felt a nudge to his side, bringing him out of his thoughts. “What?”

“Her mom wants you to make a speech.”

Standing up, he sighed. He made his way to the podium, hugging your mother as he walked by. “I thought losing Uncle Ben was tough, seeing that I was close to him and he was the only father figure I’ve had in my life,” Peter took a look at your coffin and then turned back to face everyone. “but it was losing [y/n] that hurt the most. And when I got the phone call, I kept asking myself why didn’t I see the signs earlier? Or if I knew what she was going through was there anything I could’ve said or done? Now I’ll never know,” Peter’s breathing started getting heavy. He could see his hands starting to shake, and the room start to spin, but he continued. “I- I’ve got to go.”

Peter stormed out the funeral home and into an empty alley nearby. He ripped off the rather expensive suit Tony gave him and changed into his spider-man suit, flinging himself away scene.

When the sun was setting, Peter found himself standing on the roof of his apartment building.

“I know you’re there Tony,” Peter said, not taking his eyes off the sunset.

“Everyone’s worried about you, you know,”

“Yeah, I know, but I want to be alone,“ Tony sighed. He himself could understand what Peter was going through, he did the same thing when his parents died. Well, he went on an alcoholic binge. But he knew the feeling of wanting to be alone.

The both of them stood in silence, until Peter spoke up. “I just- I feel like this is somewhat my fault,”

“Peter, none of this is your fault...”

“But it is Tony! If I only knew what she was going through I could’ve gotten her help. She would’ve still been here,” Peter’s voiced cracked, as he began to cry.

“I know you do,” Tony said, bringing Peter into a hug. “I know you do.”

Now in my mind I'll keep you frozen / As a seventeen-year-old

Peter swore he was about to snap. For two weeks people were coming up to him and saying ‘I’m sorry for your loss.’ It was nice at first, but he remembered that most of these people hardly cared for [y/n]. So why should they get to mourn when they were mean to her?

For the third time that day, Peter had another student come up to him and say, ‘I’m sorry for your loss,’

“Peter, they’re trying to be nice,” Ned tried to reason with Peter.

“They weren’t nice to [y/n] when she was alive, so why should I be nice to them?”

“Ned has a point you know,” Michelle said, siding with Ned. “we know you miss her-”

“Yeah, I do miss her, and I’ll never to get see her again because of them,” Peter slammed his locker shut. “wanna know something... I loved her. I wanted more than just a friendship, but I was always too nervous to ask her out.”

“Peter, calm down,”

“No... I won’t calm down,” Peter shouted, causing everyone in the hall to stop. He got in the middle of the hallway, “none of you even fucking liked [y/n]. Most of you felt the need to bully her to the point where she couldn’t handle it anymore. None of you have the right to mourn her!”

“Peter,” Michelle tried pulling Peter back towards the lockers, but he wouldn’t budge.

“NO ONE REALLY CARES UNTIL SOMETHING DRAMATIC HAPPENS,” Peter yanked his arm out of Michelle’s grasp. He picked up his backpack off the floor and stormed out. Guess he wasn’t going to be attending school today.

Now the oak trees are swaying / In the early autumn breeze / A golden sun is shining on my face / Through tangled thoughts / I hear a mockingbird sing / This old world really ain't that / Bad of a place...

Oh why, there's no comprehending / And who am I to try to / Judge or explain / Oh, but I do have one / Burning question / Who told you life wasn't / Worth the fight / They were wrong, they lied / Now you're gone and we cried / 'Cause it's not like you to / Walk away / In the middle of a song...

The trees blew in the wind as Peter made his way to your grave, gripping the flowers he had. Three hundred and sixty-five days. That’s how long [y/n] has been gone. Peter has yet to move on; he didn’t think he could.

“I miss you so much,” Peter bent down to place the flowers down. Through his thoughts, he could hear the birds chirping happily. “It’s been a whole year since you’ve been gone. And in that year, I had only one question. I know I won’t get an answer, but I have to ask anyway. Who was the idiot that told you that your life wasn’t worth fighting for? ‘Cause whomever they are, they were wrong.”

The wind picked up, causing the home-made wind chime to make noise. Aunt May said that when the wind chime makes noise the spirits are nearby, Which made him feel at ease. Like, the world wasn’t so bad after all.

“Before I go, I got one favor to ask... make sure you look after uncle Ben, yeah?” Peter stood up, and dusted off the dirt and grass. For the first time in a year, he could relax. He finally felt he was at peace with himself.

Your beautiful song / Your absolutely beautiful song...

Okay... that was rough. My heart aches for Peter.

And if you, or anyone you know is going through something like this, don’t hesitate to talk to them or help them. No one should ever feel like they’re alone. No one should be a be bully either. Bullies have a special seat in hell waiting for them.

I’m always available if you need someone to talk to.

Can I have some feed back?

Tagging(permanently):

@iamwarrenspeace @the-marvel-dc-peasant @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @samsplaything @prettyyoungtragedy @tinycyberhacker @bubbleboss17 @hellkat2 @castellandiangelo @infinte-exist-ence @mellonofmiddleearth @whatisanniedoing @fandomnerdxox

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker imagine #peter parker one shot #one shot #marvel one shot #marvel imagine #marvel x reader #imagines #imagine #spiderman #spiderman one shot

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tabloidtoc · 3 years

Text

National Enquirer, February 1

You can now buy a copy of this issue for your very own at my eBay store: https://www.ebay.com/str/bradentonbooks

Cover: Conspiracy Exposed! White Supremacists Caused Capitol Riot

Page 2: Friends of scandal-scarred Shia LaBeouf fear he is sliding off the rails now that galpal Margaret Qualley has suddenly dumped him and Shia feels deserted and completely alone since Margaret walked out on him and he was blindsided when the actress took off in the wake of abuse accusations by his past girlfriends and colleagues labeled him difficult -- Shia thought he could count on Margaret to be at his side while he defended himself but she’s been warned by friends and family he’s toxic in Hollywood and that staying with him could ruin her career

Page 3: Siegfried Fischbacher’s sad last days have been full of tears and regret as the ailing entertainer prepares to be reunited in the afterlife with cherished partner Roy Horn -- the German-born illusionist has been fighting pancreatic cancer but after having a malignant tumor removed during a 12-hour surgery last month, Siegfried left the facility to die at Little Bavaria which is the Las Vegas home he long shared with Roy

Page 4: Angelina Jolie has been digging up dirt on ex-husband Brad Pitt’s pals in a desperate bid to get the upper hand in their toxic divorce war -- Angie and her team are still looking for whatever they can get on Brad but he’s so squeaky clean these days they’re turning their attention to the rockers and grungy types that he hangs with in L.A. and it’s all very twisted but Angie is willing to try anything at this point -- Angie and Brad’s custody battle is at a standstill with Angie refusing to budge with her demand for full custody of the kids while Brad wants more visitation rights -- Angie is likely to be barking up the wrong tree because Brad’s friends are sober clean-living types who have been a huge influence in helping him turn his life around but she’s leaving no stone unturned in this divorce fight

* Consciously unconventional Gwyneth Paltrow and husband Brad Falchuk are taking mini-breaks to prove that absence makes the heart grow fonder -- the love is there but Gwyneth is suggesting they try mini-me breaks to keep the embers burning in their relationship and she believes separating from time to time will stir up the passion ad anticipation between them -- Gwyneth often slips off for short trips without Brad and feels no guilt or remorse for it and she encourages Brad to do the same and says it makes her miss him when he’s away

Page 5: Sandra Bullock has become buddies with Will Smith and wife Jada Pinkett Smith and is reaping the benefits of the longtime couple’s hard-earned advice and Sandra’s five-year romance with photographer Bryan Randall has never been better -- the new friendship blossomed after Sandra appeared on Jada’s Red Table Talk show to celebrate frontline workers during the pandemic and Sandra and Jada have gotten really close since then and Jada’s been giving Sandra tips about how to handle the highs and lows of a relationship and learning to appreciate her man

Page 6: Newbie twosome Olivia Wilde and Harry Styles are already shopping for a love shack and they want to be with each other all the time and they both need permanent places to live because Olivia’s been staying at a temporary place and Harry’s been staying with friends and they both want someplace where they can be together in private -- Olivia wants two places which is one where she can be a mother to her kids with ex Jason Sudeikis but she also wants a love nest to share with Harry and they’ve been looking in the Pacific Palisades and Malibu areas because they’re in love but they don’t want to flaunt their relationship in front of her kids; Olivia has too much fondness and respect for Jason to do that

Page 7: Carrie Underwood and husband Mike Fisher have been gushing all over each other but they’ve worked 24/7 for months to avoid a divorce -- they had very real problems that stretched back years because Carrie was either working too hard in the recording studio or on the road or in their home gym and their issues never really got addressed head-on and they were even talking divorce but lockdown has done them both a world of good by forcing them to get to know each other all over again

* Covidiot of the Week -- Bruce Willis got booted from a Los Angeles Rite Aid rather than put on a mask to protect his freaked-out fellow shoppers -- Bruce was wearing a bandana around his neck as he strolled the aisles of the pharmacy but he apparently lacked the strength to pull it up and over his nose and mouth because he refused to wear a mask and he walked out of the store leaving his intended purchases behind rather than respond to a manager’s plea to have some respect for other people

Page 8: Love-starved Kelly Clarkson is having a little “Office” romance with one of the beloved sitcom’s former stars Craig Robinson -- a recent flirt-fest on Kelly’s chat show has left the newly single mother of two singing the comic actor’s praises to pals and he totally swept her off her feet and she thinks he’s cute and one of the funniest guys she’s ever met -- the mutual attraction between the two was immediate and obvious and she’s been reaching out to him on the phone and they’ve been continuing their funny and flirty repartee -- Kelly thinks he’s the perfect catch and wants to start 2021 off on the right foot after all the hell she’s going through in her divorce from Brandon Blackstock

* Embattled Ellen DeGeneres has cooked up a new plan to save her troubled career and marriage: a baby -- last year was the toughest year of her life let alone her career and she’s hoping a baby may be the answer to all her problems -- it was hell at home for wife Portia de Rossi because Ellen was blasting her about anything and everything and Portia declared she had no intention of being Ellen’s personal punching bag and Ellen has now realized how harsh she had been on her spouse of 12 years and that’s when Ellen cooked up the concept of having a baby to bond over and Ellen is convinced that sharing a child will bring them closer together again and is willing to go the surrogate route to make it happen -- she also believes bringing a baby into her life will improve her image and it’s a can’t-lose scenario in her mind

Page 9: Kelly Ripa is pushing pal Ryan Seacrest to find new romance online -- Ryan spent the holidays alone after being dumped by his on-off galpal Shayna Taylor but Kelly believes he can find lasting love with an age-appropriate partner -- Ryan is 46 and he’s dated some of the most beautiful women in the world but Kelly thinks he’d do a lot better if he looked for women closer to his age and Kelly has been pushing him to try a dating app like Raya which caters to a star-studded clientele -- Kelly has been happily married for 21 years and wants the same happiness for Ryan and she thinks he can find that by using an app where he can find a woman in his age bracket with similar interests and attitudes

Page 10: Hot Shots -- Malin Akerman hit the road on her bike in L.A., shirtless Justin Bieber hitting the shore in Hawaii, Good Morning America co-host Robin Roberts smoothed back her hairdo on the morning show set, Larsa Pippen posed on her Porsche outside her Miami mansion, dapper dresser Chris Pine shot scenes from the upcoming thriller All the Old Knives in London

Page 11: Dustin Diamond has been hospitalized with searing pain and is undergoing tests to pin down the cause of the mystery ailment but he feared prognosis is cancer which is said to have a history of the disease in his family

* Carol Burnett is overjoyed her temporary guardianship of grandson Dylan Hamilton-West has been extended but remains heartbroken her troubled daughter Erin is not yet prepared to resume her role as a parent -- Los Angeles Superior Court Judge Deborah L. Christian extended the guardianship until November 30 and praised Carol and her husband Brian Miller saying that everything seems to be going along swimmingly -- the judge also ruled Erin will be allowed supervised weekly visits with Dylan

* The house that tragic Glee star Naya Rivera shared with her son Josey in Los Feliz, California is up for sale for $2,695,000 -- Naya purchased the four-bedroom, three-bath home in May 2018 for $1,660,000 just a month before her divorce from Ryan Dorsey with whom she she shared custody of Josey

Page 12: Straight Shuter -- Katie Couric desperately hopes her guest host stint on Jeopardy! will turn into a full-time job replacing the late Alex Trebek -- it will be positioned that Katie is guest-hosting for a week but it’s actually an audition; all the upcoming Jeopardy! guest hosts are being tested out and depending on how they do and how the audience responds one of them will get the gig full-time -- the show is moving very carefully to replace Alex because they get one shot at this and if they hire the wrong person the show is over

* Kathy Griffin won’t ever be able to mend fences with former BFF Anderson Cooper after she posted a gruesome image of Donald Trump’s decapitated head -- Anderson holds a grudge like no other and once you upset him it’s for life -- he isn’t rude and he’s not vindictive but he has zero interest in ever being friends with Kathy ever again

* Image-obsessed Tom Cruise has boosted security since audiotapes were leaked of his meltdown on the Mission: Impossible set -- all phones and non-official recording devices have been banned from the set and Tom has become increasingly annoyed at anything being leaked from his closed set and he’s very controlling when it comes to his image and he’s upped his security to make sure a breach in protocol like that never happens again

* Selling Sunset’s Christine Quinn glams it up for a photo shoot in Bel-Air (picture)

Page 13: Sylvester Stallone is ready to relinquish his title as Tinseltown’s reigning action champ to enjoy the final rounds of his heavyweight career at his new Florida mansion surrounded by his family -- he isn’t hanging up his gloves in the movie business just yet but is content to coast to the final bell at the $35 million West Palm Beach estate with Jennifer Flavin his wife of 23 years -- Sly’s been working his butt off for decades and he’s finally got the perfect place where they can settle down and host their children whenever they want a proper family gathering

* Jennifer Garner hasn’t even moved into her $7.5 million home yet but she’s already installed a state-of-the-art security system to keep it safe -- the safety-conscious mom of three is building her Los Angeles dream home from scratch right around the corner from where she lived with ex-husband Ben Affleck and while the finishing touches aren’t complete she has made serious security arrangements like motion detectors and lights and safes and up to 20 surveillance cameras around the posh pad to keep intruders away from her and the children she shares with Ben: Violet, Seraphina and Samuel -- it’s costing her a fortune but she’ll spend whatever she needs to keep her family safe

Page 14: Crime

Page 15: Accused rapist Danny Masterson could be dumped by the Church of Scientology to protect its leader David Miscavige -- the Church of Scientology is not loyal to anyone but itself and it has no interest in its parishioners even Danny Masterson and if their leader is going to be exposed they will take out Danny in a heartbeat; he’d be excommunicated -- Masterson faces criminal charges he raped three women and he’s also battling a civil suit filed by four women who accuse him of rape and Scientology of intimidating them into silence and not reporting the crimes to police -- attorneys for the fourth woman Marie Bobette Riales are trying to serve a subpoena on Miscavige in a bid to expose the ruthless tactics used by Scientology to hide the twisted secrets of its celebrity members -- the controversial church will do anything including dumping Danny to prevent Miscavige from being dragged into court but if Scientology turns on Danny he could spill all their secrets on the stand

Page 16: Hollywood kid Rumer Willis has rewarded herself for four years of sobriety with a plastic surgery tune-up -- in a photo she recently posted to Instagram her face appeared more streamlined and her new look is likely due to cosmetic enhancements

* Nagging allegations that Kanye West is gay and had affairs with two male beauty gurus could not have come at a worse time for the troubled rapper -- Kanye is furious at the salacious accusations just as his marriage to Kim Kardashian is hanging by a thread and although Kanye is far from homophobic but the last thing he needs right now is to try and fight off rumors about his sexuality just when he’s desperate to save his marriage and he thinks the accusers are just trying to capitalize on his current problems and trying to crush any hope he has of staying together with Kim -- TikTok influencer Ava Louise dropped the first bomb in early January when she claimed Kanye slept with male YouTuber Jeffree Star and that it played a role in the current fractured state of his marriage and less than 24 hours after Ava shared her shocking claims she received a cease-and-desist letter from Kim’s mom Kris Jenner’s communications company -- Jeffree Star took to YouTube to deny the affair -- another male beauty influencer Cole Carrigan then jumped on the bandwagon and claimed to have had a sexual encounter with Kanye at Hollywood’s W hotel and said he had receipts and texts between him and one of the rapper’s bodyguards adding he didn’t want to say too much because he didn’t want a lawsuit from Kim Kardashian West but two days later Cole posted a video of himself with a cease-and-desist letter from the bodyguard’s attorney

Page 17: Only a week after Larry King was hospitalized with a life-threatening COVID-19 diagnosis his estranged wife Shawn splurged on a three-hour shopping spree -- Shawn didn’t seem to have a care in the world when she was snapped browsing for beauty supplies and home furnishings in L.A. while at the same time her soon-to-be ex-husband remained hospitalized in Cedars-Sinai Medical Center after being transferred from the intensive care unit

Page 18: American Life

Page 19: Kim Cattrall’s feud with Sex and the City co-star Sarah Jessica Parker just won’t die -- Kim who played Samantha Jones recently liked a tweet from a fan praising her for not joining her former castmates in an upcoming SATC reboot -- Kim and Sarah reportedly clashed behind the scenes for years

* Amber Heard splashed out more than $1 million in donations toward fulfilling her pledge to give away her $7 million divorce settlement from Johnny Depp -- one of Amber’s attorneys challenged charges from Depp’s legal team who claimed Amber had pocketed the princely sum -- Amber has been delayed in that goal because Johnny filed a lawsuit against her and consequently she has been forced to spend millions of dollars defending his claims against her

Page 20: Daring Duchess Sarah Ferguson has written a racy romance novel and she’s taken inspiration from her very own love life -- the ex-wife of Britain’s Prince Andrew who was scandalously snapped having her tootsies sucked by a suitor in 1992 penned Her Heart for a Compass which is set to be released this summer -- Sarah said the page-turner was inspired by the life of her great-aunt Lady Margaret Montagu Douglas Scott and the work incorporates research into the duchess’ heritage and draws upon her own unique life journey and experiences -- the historical saga is set in the late 1800s

* Hollywood Hookups -- Luke Evans and boyfriend Rafa Olarra split, Megan Fox and Machine Gun Kelly move into together, LeToya Luckett and husband Tommicus Walker split

Page 21: Prince Harry’s sporting a new crowning glory which is a ponytail -- that’s the dish from Rob Lowe who spotted Harry’s new ‘do while driving in their California neighborhood -- Rob said it looked that his hair had grown very long and was pulled back very tightly in a ponytail and he even followed the car to Harry and wife Meghan Markle’s mansion to make sure it was him -- Rob said Harry lives about a mile from him and he’s been very reclusive and seeing him is like seeing the Loch Ness Monster

* George Clooney’s face has blown up like a balloon -- he looked painfully gaunt for months after rapidly dropping 28 pounds to play an ailing scientist in his latest movie The Midnight Sky but once the sickly star has bounced back and judging from his mug he’s apparently been pigging out in a bid to regain the weight he lost

* Brendan Fraser is gearing up for a big career comeback as a 600-pound recluse in Darren Aronofsky’s The Whale -- the choice of the role is ironic as the once-chiseled star seemed to fall out favor with Tinseltown bigwigs when his own weight ballooned -- Brendan is poised to make a whopper of a return to leading man status with meaty character Charlie who is a grief-stricken compulsive eater who seeks to reconnect with his estranged daughter

Page 22: Explosive evidence reveals Earth is in great danger from attacking space aliens but despite a 3000-document cache released by the CIA, the government is still finding ways to classify extraterrestrial information -- the CIA dossier was obtained by John Greenewald Jr. and published on his Black Vault website -- the documents were likely released because of a new law that is part of the recent $2.3 billion COVID-19 relief package passed by Congress requiring government agencies to spill the beans on the UFO data they’ve amassed over 70 years

* Agonizing health woes threaten to push long-suffering Lisa Marie Presley over the edge -- Lisa Marie has been in a lot of pain and years of drug and alcohol abuse have devastated her body -- she’s recently battled liver ailments and an abdominal muscle tear and suffered a hernia and had to have two teeth removed -- in addition to being in physical torment Lisa Marie had to move out of her Los Angeles home while workers addressed a problem with toxic mold -- Lisa Marie was already close to rock bottom after her son Ben Keough killed himself in July and amid her grief she’s still embroiled in a lawsuit with her former manager and locked in an ugly divorce and custody battle with fourth husband Michael Lockwood the father of her twins Harper and Finley

Page 23: As more shocking details emerged from Armie Hammer’s former girlfriends about what they claim are his sick and twisted fetishes for rape, bondage and cannibalism his career is crumbling before his eyes -- although many had trouble believing the depths of depravity allegedly revealed in private messages an anonymous woman claimed the actor sent her, even his estranged wife is shocked and sickened by Armie’s tawdry reported sexual tastes -- this is not the kind of scandal any actor would want to be linked to -- his pals are urging him to get counseling as the scandal could kill the trust-fund actor’s career

Page 25: Cover Story -- It’s just the beginning! Capitol riot conspiracy exposed -- Proud Boys led blood-soaked siege -- 5-page investigative special

Page 29: Outspoken Arnold Schwarzenegger likened the recent attack on the U.S. Capitol which left 5 dead to Nazi violence -- the former California governor and staunch Republican compared the January 6 riots by protestors, who refused to accept the outcome of the 2020 presidential election, to German’s Kristallnacht in 1938 -- in a video address Austrian-born Schwarzenegger who’s held U.S. citizenship since 1983 said Wednesday was the Day of Broken Glass right here in the United States

Page 32: Health

Page 38: Tormented actor Gabriel Byrne confessed he finally confronted the priest who abused him when he was 11 years old and it didn’t go well -- Byrne phoned the pedophilic priest in 2002 but the sicko said he has no recollection and even thanked Gabriel for reaching out -- Gabriel wanted in those last seconds to say that even though he doesn’t believe in Hell he hopes the priest did because he wanted him to be terrified and burn forever but he said nothing because some part of him did not want to hurt an old man with a kindly voice stuck in a retirement home

* Miley Cyrus decorates her home with X-rated doodads -- she said in an interview that she likes sex toys and she buys them for herself but ends up using them for interior design

Page 40: Sleazy sex creep Jeffrey Epstein was nearly snared in a To Catch a Predator-style sting almost five years before the pedophile’s suspicious death in a Manhattan prison dished journalist Chris Hansen -- the former NBC host recently claimed in 2014 or 2015 after Epstein’s first jail stint for soliciting a minor he met with lawyers for some of the sex offenders alleged victims who claimed the financier was abusing underage girls -- they had a big file on it according to Hansen and he was trying to fashion a Predator-like sting operation in which they could catch him but he gave up on his quest because security at Epstein’s NYC and Florida homes made it very difficult to come up with something -- Hansen admitted not nailing Epstein was his biggest career regret

Page 42: Red Carpet -- Taylor Swift at the Grammys

Page 45: Spot the Differences -- Mayim Bialik on the premiere episode of her sitcom Call Me Kat

Page 47: The Odd List

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verrottweil · 6 years

Text

la plus belle de céans

unbeta'ed but i just needed to get the first chapter of -whatever- this is out of my system, okay?

i wrote this because i really really like the way ifan says lohse's name and because i also high-key want to make the canonical sex scene a 100x more grittier and desperate. i mean i haven't written it yet, but /details/

on ao3

-Coin in the dead pauper’s mouth

will give me Lucian’s luck,

the noblewoman whispers before she slots

a Ducate

between an orphan’s frostbitten lips-

Superstition runs rampant in Verdistis.

At dawn, the prettiest scullery maids scour the skies for a single blue heron in the hopes a wealthy merchant’s son will notice them, and at dusk the city guards coat their breastplate with the crushed petals of a yarrow flower to ward off daggers in the dark.

Never mix your ales, the innkeeper reminds a barmaid when she cracks open a barrel, it brings us no luck lass.

Novice summoners throw bottles of expensive wines against late Corinna’s house, merchants refuse to shake hands over the threshold of their mansions and even the most crooked of thieves dutifully shoots a quick, simple prayer to the Divine before a heist. You was one o’ us, they’d whisper hotly, fumbling with a lockpick as if a demon was on their tail, and there’s still honor among us thieves, ain’t there?

These are certainties–

Good fortune rests in a pinch of salt thrown over the shoulder, a touch of stardust powder on a lovely woman’s cheek, a golden coin inside the dead pauper’s mouth–

Wolves will steal away little children sleeping too close to the edge of the bed and drag them underneath the willow root–

Ghosts won’t enter a home where sage is burning in the fireplace–

Lohse is ten years old and she knows that last one is complete and utter nonsense. Her mother crumbles sage leaves in the burning hearth every evening, but that doesn’t keep the spirits and demons out, doesn’t prevent her from turning into a haunt. Some take, some give, some teach her things – how to heal, how to hunt, how to hurt – and others don’t go gentle into that good night at all, seizing control of her small body and sending her into violent fits. One turned her tiny, clenched fists onto the city guard and she was dragged back home by the scruff of her neck, spitting curses in a foreign tongue, shrieking and wailing.

She’s a half-sized pint of energy regardless, wild and bright-eyed, with hair the color of a forest fire and skinny, skinned knees.

Don’t sleep too close to the edge of the bed, her mother often warns her, reaching for her under the threadbare coverlet, pulling her close against her chest. Her collarbones grow sharper, more defined as the days turn into months, and her face gaunt, pale, stricken with worry. The hovel smells of smoke, of sage, but the cold keeps biting at their toes regardless. Or the wolf will drag you to the forest, under the willow shrubs, my little one.

She bites her tongue, swallows down the brutally honest words she wants to give in turn sometimes, I’d let him mum, I’d bloody well let him.

On crowded street corners, Lohse sings, jokes or dances, and on lesser days during the cruel, cold winter months mostly, she pleads, begs for alms or feigns death when a rich, soft-hearted noblewoman passes by.

She knows the city’s alleyways like the back of her hand and Lohse learns to survive on the skin of her teeth, on her lightning quick wit and razor-sharp tongue.

Whatever keeps the hunger at bay.

People have precious little coin to spare these days though. These are hard times, she overhears the general store merchant say to her mother, I heard sly ol’ Lucian’s rallying his army against the Black Ring, there’s a war coming, mark my words lady. She doesn’t really get what a war has to do with poverty, with an empty belly and no supper on the table, but her mother seems to understand and sighs and stretches herself even thinner.

The drunkards in the Ducal Inn always raise their mugs in unison when they talk about the war against the orcs, as if they were there too. In candlelight, they praise the Divine with flushed cheeks and slurred words as the barmaid brings another round to the table. Ferol is feral land, they agree, and bless Lucian for trying to tame it.

Lohse’s whole world is contained within Verdistis’ walls, and beyond there’s only woodland, the crumbling stonework of the old church they visit for mass, Rivertown market.

After the last frost’s thawed, the city holds a festival. Fanfare rings throughout the streets as the travelling troupe dances over the cobblestones, and people set up stalls in the park, hang garlands between the trees, hand out soup made of watercress and green peas for the poor, try to sell trinkets they no longer have use for.

Outside the wine merchant’s store, his servants load ox-drawn cart after ox-drawn cart with barrels and crates full of bottles.

Verdistis is bright, bold and proud in the face of a crusade.

Lohse’s thirteen years old and musters a cheerful smile, wanting to impress the sour-faced, burly leader of the travelling troupe with her song and dance.

There are patches poorly-sewn into her dress. Her fingers were clumsy from the cold, that seemed to creep through every crack between the planks of that sorry excuse for a hovel she lives in. I need to get out of here, she thinks, desperate, and sings even louder, does a magic trick.

Her mother died a fortnight ago. Ah yes, the bloody flux, the good doctor had exclaimed gravely, looking silly with his dainty handkerchief hard-pressed against his nose, you’re extremely fortunate not to have contracted it yourself, young lady. Lohse had to pay him two ducats for his troubles, and sold off anything valuable left to finance the funeral, to afford a cross planted in the rich graveyard soil with her mother’s name carved into the wood.

Orphans only last so long on alms and Lohse doesn’t intend to survive on moldy breadcrumbs and strangers’ bleeding hearts alone.

“Enough,” the ringleader bristles curtly. Her skirt whips around her ankles when she comes to a complete standstill, stopped dead in her tracks, and she rubs her hands together, shaking off the sparks. His eyes are glassy, like brass buttons under candlelight, when he gives her another once-over.

With a nod, – and even that’s too generous a description, it’s more a light inclination of the head – the leader of the travelling troupe makes up his mind. Lohse meets his scrutiny head-on, staring up at him with a defiant expression, as if her heart isn’t threatening to leap through her mouth. “If you know how to earn your keep, I got no qualms in you staying, girl.”

“I will. I mean, I do. Know how to earn my keep, I mean,” Lohse replies excitedly, rocking forwards and backwards on her toes. She tilts her head, pops her lips and asks, “So, uhm, what do I call you? I mean—”

The ringleader bares down the full weight of his gaze on her bony shoulders, on her patchwork dress and wildfire hair. He’s built like a brick house, scars and muscles, the type of man her mother would warn her to steer clear off if they’d met in one of the city’s alleyways. “Chief,” he says. “If you’re gonna call me anything, call me chief.”

Lohse meets the other members of the travelling troupe that same afternoon.

They’re a colorful bunch of singers, musicians, dancers, jokers and fortune tellers, from every corner on the continent it seems.

She pulls her weight. A young lizard dancer called Blaisdell, whose scales remind Lohse of the jellyroom growing in the shadow of the Ducal Inn, teaches her how to dance with magic, how to shoot searing flames from her fingertips. She learns how to strum the snares of a lute with nimble fingers, how to hold a high note without her lungs giving out, and how to execute the punchline of a crude joke properly.

They travel dangerous roads, so the chief has her practice with a bow, a sword, a dagger in each hand, and what her newfound family won’t teach her, the new spirits her roadside inn of a mind attracts will.

On one evening, after the travelling troupe’s just set up camp at the edge of the Dark Forest, Lohse shacks up with a fortune teller from the Mezd desert. Candles are burning in little stone bowls on their heavy trunks. Outside the dwarven musicians are quarreling about a lost game of dice.

My specialty’s palm reading, she says in a soft, melodious voice as she takes Lohse’s hand in her own, would you -perhaps- like a demonstration?

Her fingers are adorned with heavy rings and thin golden chains looping back to a fine, bright stone on the back of her hand. There are crow feet at the corners of her almond-shaped eyes and wrinkles around her mouth. Candlelight flickers over her face like a blessing.

With her forefinger, she gently traces the curve of the bracelet lines above Lohse’s wrist and hums lowly, channeling a burst of Source within her. When Lohse looks down on their held hands, there’s an unearthly glow clinging to their skin. She tells her of demons to come and adversities to expect, the customary niceties really, until…

You will run with a lone wolf, the palm reader intones, simultaneously looking and not looking at Lohse as she speaks, And make the whole world pack.

Those words seemed to stick, like honey to a teaspoon, like balm to skin, like blood to a murderer’s hands. Lohse would spend the night wondering what those words meant and would fall asleep dangerously close to the edge of the makeshift bed.

Even if Lohse feels indebted to the chief and his travelling troupe for getting her out of Verdistis, she was told there was never any obligation for her to stay permanently. Artists have always joined and left their ranks at a whim. Why’d you be any different, girl?

She’s eighteen years old and lingers hesitantly at the grand stone city gates, genuinely nervous for the first time in years, with a knapsack under her arm and a lute strapped to her back. Arx is noisy around her, and while the bones of the city are old and stately like a prim and proper merchant’s mother, the square is still thrumming with life and activity, even after the travelling troupe’s broken down their camp and loaded the oxen-drawn carts with their sails and tentpoles.

It’s close to lunchtime when she takes her goodbyes. Two magister recruits in their brazen red robes scramble past her towards the barracks, almost tripping over the cobblestones.

“Your name better haunt the roads, girl,” the chief says, with the midday sunlight baring down on his broad back and bald head. There are far more wrinkles around his eyes now, than when she first met him. She blinks back the tears in her eyes and ushers a facsimile of a smile. “Break a hindleg, like Blaisdell would say.” His voice is gruff, and Lohse could swear she saw something akin to pride on his face.

Lohse clutches the strap of her knapsack tightly and nods.

“There’s a whole continent for me to conquer, chief,” she responds determinedly. “And if Lucian can tame Ferol, what’s stopping me from doing the same, right?”

It’s hard, life on the road, but Lohse’s long-since learned how to scrape by on next-to-nothings.

She rouses tavern guests with rowdy drinking songs, watching how they toss coins at her feet until her throat’s sore and her voice’s gone hoarse, and the last of the drunkards slump over, asleep in their creaking chairs or against the counter of the bar. Oh, all the coin I e’er spent, I spent it in good company, she sings loudly, laughing when the crowd starts to sing along, and all the harm that e’er I’ve done, alas it was to none but me. Sometimes she falls into the good graces of one of the barmaids and gets a fresh pint, free of charge.

The farmers in Paradise Downs like her well enough when she leads the procession during the harvest festival, humming the traditional hymns, dressed up in autumn colors. Dead leaves crunch under her bare feet. There are swipes of dried sheep’s blood on her cheeks and the smell of apple cider hangs heavy in the air, like the promise of a night’s rest in a barn or – even better – in a farmstead’s bed. Lohse bows her head low to an effigy of Rhalic and prays that she better gets paid handsomely for this.

During a ride along Reaper’s Coast, she watches the faraway horizon slowly eat the silhouette of a magister’s ship. Lohse kicks her legs, holding onto the back of the wagon; the wheels squeak when they grind pebbles underfoot. Madcap fiddles with the strings of the fiddle, cursing sourly under his breath when another one snaps. Kroller keeps telling the same dirty joke about the difference between a lizard’s and an elf’s tongue to the coachman until he gets the punchline right. It takes a while.

Papa Joris claps her on the shoulder and points towards the sea. “Lohse, you ever find yourself in a sinking ship, follow the rats. They’ll find you a way out.”

“What’s this all about?” She asks, leaning back and settling her elbows on the wood, staring at him upside down. Her unruly hair falls pin-straight for once.

The well-natured dwarf takes on an air of importance and looks out over the water. He idly rubs at the large, jagged scar on his right cheek, that starts from his ear and disappears under the thick hairs of his beard. “I once fought a real beast, you know, in a different life. When I still served in the queen’s army.” Papa Joris sighs and all the tension bleeds out of him; the memories promptly tucked back under his skull and away from his loose-lipped mouth. “So. Take my advice, and follow the rats.”

“Sure thing, chief,” Lohse replies easily, bouncing her foot to the tune of Madcap’s broken fiddle.

Summer heat swelters under her skin, poised upwards like needles; sweat gleams in the hollow of her collarbones, in the curve of her elbows and knees.

The crescendo of her voice—

is not her own.

She’s the prettiest of the house, take her by the hand.

People are clapping to the beat of her feet stamping down on the floorboards. Lohse recognizes the numbness that comes with possession and has no choice but to allow the spirit’s presence to wash over her. Her awareness gets pushed into a narrow corner of her mind as her vision fogs up.

The crescendo of her voice—

rises, rises, rises.

Bring, bring our beautiful.

Bring your sheep from the fields, shepherdess.

Her hips sway like a snake-charmer’s pet, from right to left to right again. Someone smashes a bottle over the back of a woman’s head, and blood-stained glass and strong-smelling ale gushes down onto the floor. Whatever’s gotten a hold over her mind, is terribly persistent, hammered into the heart like a nail in Anhar’s boots. Stuck.

The crescendo of her voice—

rises, rises, rises.

Bring, bring our beautiful.

She’s the prettiest of the house.

Through the fog, Lohse hears someone screaming.

Everyone in the inn is staring at her, breathing haggardly, stumbling unsteady feet, holding onto one another as if dancing. The room stinks of spilled alcohol and blood.

The crescendo of her voice falls.

When Lohse catches a glimpse of her face in the reflection of a silver goblet, she finds her eyes turned pitch-black.

She swallows dryly and thinks,

shite.

It happens again at her performance near Driftwood—

One young magister backhands her harshly across the cheek; Lohse accidentally bites her own tongue and the overwhelming taste of blood fills the inside of her mouth. She watches the maddening crowd pull and push at each other from a frog’s perspective, lying defenseless on the ground from the blow. There are blurs of reds around her.

Two magisters haul her up by her arms and drag her away, muttering under their breaths about how she’s the ‘second sourcerer causing trouble’ and how there’s ‘still a spot on the Merryweather’. They hold her up so high, her toes barely brush the grass.

Lohse opens her mouth to speak, but before she can manage a word, the tallest of the two magisters kicks her in the shin and hisses for her to keep quiet. She can feel the bruise forming there, the shape and size of his foot, and groans incoherently in response.

They slip heavy iron bands around her wrists and ankles, and a strange, tight-fitting, blue-flickering collar around her neck–

“You’ll be cured,” the magister tells Lohse before she pushes her into the metal cage on the cart and slams the door in her face. “You better be grateful.”

“Oh really?” Lohse prompts back, stretching the ‘y’ in the word really, holding onto the bars. “I doubt you’re sending me to Fort Joy for an exorcism and a two-week vacation.”

The magister doesn’t acknowledge her anymore and turns the key inside the lock, and if there was ever a picture for the word final, this would be it.

#lohse #divinity original sin 2 #divinity original sin #divinity original sin lohse #my writing

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