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satsuma-saturn · 4 years

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Why Do I Love You? - Asmodeus x Reader

A/N: I’ve been writing this for way too fucking long lmao. I’ve never written smut before, so this isn’t the best, but I tried. It’s also been a hot min since I’ve posted a fic. Hope y’all enjoy. Requests are also still open, if anyone’s interested.

WC: 2215

Warning(s): nsfw content, oral sex (m), angst (ya gotta squint to see it lmao), slightly graphic details of violence (no actual violence), slight description of the feeling of drowning, but no actual drowning.

fic below the cut .3.

Love is a dangerous game, especially the kind of love where you feel as though your lungs are filling with water, your chest being crushed from pressure. Still, love can make you feel alive, reviving and bringing new life to you. Call it a gamble, a game of chance. Many avoid love, not wanting to play a game they’re gonna lose.

Asmodeus has been alive for so long that he doesn’t even remember how long he’s been in existence. Over the course of his long life, he has had many lovers, who have all come and gone at one point or another. Yet, with each and every one of those lovers, it wasn’t love, but lust. The demon is well versed and knowledgeable with the concept of lust, being the Avatar of Lust. It’s all he knows. Of course, he’s okay with it, as he doesn’t need to love anyone to be adored by all. In fact, it’s not something he often thinks about, since he is the Avatar of Lust, not the Avatar of Love. Everyone will love him no matter what he says or does. At least, that’s what he believed. Was it possible for anyone to not grovel at his feet, lusting after him? Often, he finds himself reassuring himself that, no, it was not possible for someone to not love him. He is perfect.

When the human first arrived in the Devildom, of course he was intrigued. New blood, someone he could add to his body count, so to speak. It had been quite a while since he’d been in contact with a human, other than Solomon, the shady sorcerer. Frustration consumed him as he learned that the human isn’t susceptible to his Charm, which is known to charm even the strongest-willed witches and wizards. How can an ordinary human with no magic whatsoever remain unaffected by his Charm? Still, it’s never deterred him. He is known to be persistent, and won’t stop until he can get the human in his bed and gain their affection. The human is realistic, honest with him. Something he isn’t used to. Everyone has always been so quick to shower him with praise, complimenting his face, fashion, body, skills in bed, whatever. They don’t worship him, unlike his partners in the past. Despite that, he always finds himself wanting to hear the human’s thoughts and opinions on everything about him.

Butterflies fill his stomach at the thought of the human, something he isn’t sure he’s felt before. Why should he care about someone who doesn’t think he’s the best creature in existence? When the human disagrees with him, he finds himself getting frustrated, throwing makeup brushes and lotion bottles around his room. When he calms down, he reluctantly picks them up, wanting to keep his room immaculate, but not wanting to actually clean his own mess. Yet, he keeps going back to them, only for them to be swept away by one of his meddling brothers, Mammon in particular? He doesn’t understand why they would want to even be in the presence of that greedy scumbag. Too many times, he’s had to complain to Lucifer about some of his more expensive skin or hair care products going missing.

Placing his hand on the table next to the human, he leans toward them with a small grin on his face. Their eyebrows raise in a question, as if asking what do you want? He’s getting to that. Be patient, human. “So, I went shopping with Mammon the other day and I bought tons of new lotions and oils. I was wondering if you wanted to try them with me? Of course you do, what am I saying? Who wouldn’t want an excuse to hang out with me?” With a small sigh that he chooses to ignore, they stand up to follow him to his room. Excited, he practically skips to his room, the human in tow.

Upon reaching his room, he wraps his fingers around the doorknob and pulls it open, stepping inside to sit on his bed. The human follows, shutting the door behind them. “Oh?~ Naughty human,” he says, a glint of mischief in his eyes. They just sigh and settle on the bed, not too far, but not close enough. That’s okay, he’ll just close the distance. Scooting over, he reaches over to his nightstand, where he had set his lotions in preparation for the human arriving home from Hell’s Kitchen, where they’d gone with Beel.

“You’re annoying,” they say, rolling their eyes at him.

“Ah, but you love it~” He coos, snapping open the lid of one of the many lotions, squeezing a dollop of the cream into his hand. “C’mere.” The demon gestures to the human, rubbing the lotion onto their skin when they oblige. “This lotion will make your skin so soft~ And it makes you smell absolutely delicious~” His voice drips with seduction, tempting the human to let their guard down. To let him in.

“It does smell pretty good,” they admit, watching Asmodeus massage their hands with his slender fingers. A fanged smile appears on the demon’s face as he works, rubbing his thumbs in small circles on their palms. Once he’s finished, he lets go of their hands, reaching for the lotion bottle once more. Maybe it’s some Devildom magic, but the lotion seems to be working immediately, the human notes to themselves, feeling the soft flesh of their hands.

Humming, Asmodeus massages the lotion into his own hands, watching the human out of the corner of his eye. Just watching them, he feels the urge to pounce on them, ‘helping’ them give into their darkest desires. Unfortunately for him, his Charm doesn’t seem to have an effect on them, which is irritating, to say the least. What made them so powerful that they, an ordinary human being, could resist the temptation of the Avatar of Lust? He was curious, really. Curious to crack open their head and discover what’s inside. Amongst the blood and brain matter, he was sure to find something. The source of their power, maybe. Though he would never actually hurt the human, just the thought of the sickening crack of a skull got him excited, his pants becoming a little too tight. No, he could never hurt them. They mean too much to him. Hell, he can even go as far as saying that he loves them.

“Dude, what the fuck?” The human’s voice draws him from his reverie. Their eyes are a little too focused on his growing erection, he notices. “Are you getting hard from putting on lotion?’

“No. I just love you so much~,” he croons, his tone dark, sending a shiver down the human’s spine. Was the shiver from fear from his sudden mood change, or was it lust? His question is soon answered when the human slides off the bed, slipping in between his legs. They look so pretty on their knees, though it isn’t too often that he gets to see them in that position. The sight excites him.

Looking down at the human kneeling between his legs, he runs his fingers through their hair, as they rest their hands on his clothed thighs. His breath catches in his throat as he stares down at them, their eager eyes shining brightly back at him. Pink eyes follow the human’s hands as it inches closer to his crotch. He swallows thickly as their fingers latch onto the zipper of his pants, pulling it down, all while making eye contact with him. Their eyes are darkened with lust. For some reason, he feels a sudden pang of anxiety, but the routine is the same as it always is. The human notices and pauses, their eyes filling with concern.

“Are you okay, Asmo?” They ask, their voice soft, filling him with a new warmth.

Shaking his head, he swallows again and replies, “No, it’s okay. You can keep going.” As an afterthought, he adds another sentence to his reply, “Only if you want to, of course.”

“I want to.” Their eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re acting...strange.”

His signature grin creeps onto his face. Is he okay? No. Is he going to pretend that he is? Yes. “Of course, sweetheart. You’re always so concerned about me,” he says, a giggle bubbling from his throat as his manicured fingers brush the human’s cheek. “And I’m not strange! You’re so cruel to me!” A fake pout spread across his lips as he teased the human seated between his legs.

He squeals as the human smacks his inner thigh. “I’m not cruel. You’re just sensitive.” They stick out their tongue at him and he goes to bite it, but they’re quick to reel it back in. “Don’t bite me, you toad.”

“C’mon,” he whines. “Just do what you came here to do and suck me off! I need you right now~” He palms himself through his pants, impatient.

“You’re so whiny,” they remark, smacking his hands away so that they can pull down his pants. He huffs, but doesn’t reply, just closing his eyes instead. Once his pants are down, he feels their hands on him, feeling him through his boxers. A small groan escapes his lips as he opens his eyes to look down at them. They're just a simple human. How could they have enraptured him in the manner that they did? The demon of Lust, pinned under the thumb of a weak, powerless human.

Grinning up at him, they shimmy his boxers down his legs, allowing his hardened cock to spring free from its confinements. A bead of precum oozes from the reddened tip. The human swipes their thumb along the demon’s slit, collecting the precum on the digit. They lick their thumb, looking him in the eyes the whole time. He shudders, the human’s actions exciting him.

Slowly, they lick along his length, starting from the base, slicking it in their saliva. They’ve barely done anything, but he’s putty in their hands, twitching and groaning softly. “You’re so sensitive,” they say, pausing their ministrations to blow on his tip, feeling a shudder wrack through his body. He bucks his hips lightly as they wrap their lips around his tip, giving it a soft suck. Annoyed, they pull away, sitting back on their heels.

“I’m sorry! I’ll be a good boy, I promise!” He whines, trying to slip his cock back between their lips.They’re stubborn, though, and seal their lips shut. “C’mon~ Please?” Seeing that they’re not going to give in so easily, he pulls back, starting to stroke himself, using the human’s drying saliva and his own precum as a lubricant. His hand slides up and down the length of his cock with ease and he can see the human in front of him, watching.

After watching him for a few seconds, they nudge his hand away, replacing it with their own. Asmodeus whimpers softly as their hand glides along his length. The whimpers turn to moans when they start teasing his slit with their tongue. Warmth encases his cock as the human takes him in their mouth, sucking as they slide more of him into their mouth. His hips buck again, and he can feel the human gagging and trying to keep his hips still. Their gagging just turns him on more, making him want to fuck their mouth until he cums. Yet doesn’t, allowing them to keep control of the situation. He’ll be the perfect pillow prince for them. Maybe they’ll even fuck him, if he’s a good boy.

His fingers comb through their hair as they suck him off, gently pulling them further down his cock, feeling their throat clench around the intrusion. They gag again, focusing on breathing through their nostrils. He isn’t going to last long, he can feel it. Their throat is just so warm and tight.

Not too long after, he reaches his breaking point, spilling down their throat without warning. They pull away, wiping saliva and cum off their face. He stares silently at them for a few seconds, before grabbing them and pulling them up towards his bed. His human is so beautiful and he wants to show them how much he loves them, but they pull away, shaking their head.

“No, this isn’t about me. I just wanted to help you out,” they explain, making their way to the door. “This lotion smells really nice, by the way.” The door opens and Asmodeus starts to speak, causing them to pause briefly in the doorway, waiting to hear what he has to say.

“I love you,” he says. His eyes widen as he realizes what he just said, but it’s too late to take it back.

“I love you too, Asmodeus,” they reply, shutting the door behind him. Their response stuns him into silence, though he wants to call them back in.

But why do I love you?, he wonders to himself. Why now? After centuries of only loving himself, why does he love someone else? Loving someone else adds unnecessary complications to his life. For his whole existence, he’s worn his heart on his cheek, not on his sleeve. The bitter taste of defeat lingers in his mouth as he stares at his door that the human had just left through.

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morningflames · 4 years

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a word of warning

well here’s a post i never thought i’d be making

it’s come to my attention that a Certain Someone is planning on making a comeback to WrA soon and it fills me with nothing short of dread. i spent the day yesterday warning people he terrorized and manipulated that this was happening. you know it’s bad when there’s a literal network of people who share an abuser that have remained in contact for years in the event this happened again.

i am not going to lie and say that making this post does not terrify me but i cannot in good conscience sit back and let him worm his way into the rp scene again and do what he did to me and at least half a dozen others all over again.

to summarize: tarcanus aka tarcanus frostborne is a manipulative, emotionally abusive and predatory individual that should be avoided at all costs.

i am the player behind lyrinel, a former officer of his and someone who was on the receiving end of nearly a years worth of abuse and manipulation. my experiences pale in comparison to those of others who dealt with him and came forward to me after i left his guild, and i cannot speak for anyone who does not feel comfortable coming forward. if you do want to let your voice be heard, feel free to reblog and add your own anecdotes.

my story below the cut.

tw: manipulation, emotional abuse, gaslighting, coercion, grooming

i first joined coram populo in early 2014 after my best friend and fellow survivor (i will refer to her by her character’s name of thradia from here on out) joined the raid team in december of the previous year. we were both just looking for a social place to park our characters and maybe start role playing again, as we hadn’t had a guild or dedicated rp group in a while. things were fine and friendly for the first couple of months, though it’s worth noting that a large part of the office corps had just left or was in the process of leaving when thradia and i joined. we were both 18 at the time.

i made the mistake of reaching out to tarc in the spring, when i noticed him posting to his tumblr about how busy he was. i offered to be an IC assistant of sorts to his character and he was more than happy to toss me into an absolute whirlwind. we still didn’t know much about each other, but in the span of a couple weeks we went from casual contact in guild chat to immensely long (sometimes between 10 and 12 hours) skype calls, constant DMing, and an almost uninterrupted stream of conversation. i was struggling to finish high school at this time (spoiler: i failed to graduate) and found myself suddenly caught in an all-consuming relationship with this man and his guild. from the moment i woke up to the moment i finally hung up and crawled into bed, my time was taken up by tarc and the guild and the game.

i was promoted to officer less than five months after joining the guild. this was overwhelming for a number of reasons, chief among them being the fact that i had never been an officer in a guild like this before and i was very quickly escalated to tarc’s “inner circle.” this was a circle that he evidently didn’t even include his most senior officers in, as he didn’t seem to communicate with them to the extent or abundance that he did with me - and later, when she was ALSO promoted to officer, thradia.

within a few weeks i found myself at the center of dozens of micro-confrontations and venting from tarc about other members of the guild, raid team, and even fellow officers. every time, i would tell him he needed to take it to his co-gm and talk it through with her. she, like him, was a grown woman with a lot more experience and better people skills than me, a teenager barely out of high school, but tarc insisted on beating me over the head with his frustrations and then proceeding to guilt me and tell me i was a terrible friend when i didn’t agree with him or expressed i was uncomfortable being in the center of a vent session that i felt was unwarranted.

tarc was never wrong. he did not apologize. the words “i’m sorry” did not exist in his vocabulary, and if they did, they were almost always followed up with the word “but.” constantly he would be sending multiple messages to me or thradia while we were running events and raids for the guild, ranting about a few particular members that he disliked at the time regardless of how we felt about said members. thradia and i would both be reduced to tears and/or anxiety attacks by his outbursts that all but demanded we take his side even if we didn’t. his feelings and circumstances were paramount. everyone else’s were just inconveniences.

tarc was always the victim. no matter what was going on, no matter who had instigated whatever vein of conversation we were on that had gone awry, he had a way of making you feel like utter shit until you grovelled for his forgiveness, which he rarely gave. instead he would move on without giving any closure or allowing you to discuss your feelings at length. if you tried, you were the insensitive one who he couldn’t go to with his “unfiltered emotions,” which was the entire purpose of his inner circle to hear him say it. i was not allowed to just be his friend or just be an officer, i had to be both and neither at the same time, and it still was not the right course of action. nothing ever was.

tarc was openly manipulative and antagonistic, always citing it as an “inside joke” when called on it. i opened up to him once about my father’s alcoholism and how i was uncomfortable with alcohol culture and being around drunk people. regardless, he would constantly call while drunk (or maybe he was pretending to be to get a rise out of me, i honestly do not know what was genuine and what was put on with him) and make me stay on the call with him for hours. when he was (allegedly) diagnosed with an inability to process certain alcohols that could be life threatening, he continued to drink (or claimed he was drinking) dangerous amounts, which lead to me begging him to stop as i feared for his life. one of the worst anxiety attacks i have ever had was over him endangering his health and me believing i was going to see a friend die. he knew how much this upset me and he did not stop. he held me as a captive audience to his self destruction (or the playacting of it) and let me cry and beg and plead with him to take care of himself.

tarc loves to promote a clean, “family friendly” persona online. he will go on and on about the positive atmosphere his guild provides and how progress and accepting he and his “safe spaces” are. as soon as you are inducted to his inner circle, however, you learn otherwise. he will gladly engage in sexually charged conversation with you, even if you are ten years younger than him as thradia and i were. we were both legal adults, yes, but just barely. i can’t count the inappropriate remarks and jokes made about us, our friends, and even minors all in the spirit of joking “what if” conversation. he has a history of making young LGBT+ people uncomfortable, making their sexualities and identities about him and how he can relate to them.

tarc was the most two-faced and divisive guild leader i’ve ever seen. he would rant to me mercilessly about wanting to kick one of the junior officers and raid team members in private while never saying a word to their face or bringing it up with the co-gm. he would start schisms between people, telling each what they wanted to hear and encouraging both parties not to confront each other about it, allowing the resentment and distrust to grow as he fanned the flames on both sides. he wanted people to stay in the guild and continue to basically work for him while also putting him above anyone else in their friend circles. he told straight up lies to thradia and i, claiming one of us had said things about the other that we never did, driving a wedge and distrust between us.

tarc treats his guild(s) like a business. he is entirely capitalist-minded even in an MMORPG that people play for fun, churning out “content” and keeping up appearances like a machine. he treats his officers and guild members like employees, not people. any time irl would demand attention away from the game, forcing someone to miss or cancel an event, he would subtly guilt them about it until they apologized, even if it was a dire situation or a family emergency.

when tarc wanted to start a wow roleplaying podcast, he approached me about cohosting. he wanted a female voice, and since i was out of school and had no job lined up due to not graduating i was the perfect candidate. i came on to narrate and research the lore segment of the looking for roleplay podcast, which was little more than me paraphrasing a wowwiki article, but i was held to a “professional” standard. i had to have my research done by a certain day, my recording done in advance, etc.

the podcast was a spot of contention for several reasons, one being the mysterious emails tarc would allegedly receive about it. the podcast had a shared email account that all three of us could access and look at, but tarc claimed that people sent emails directly to him since “everything’s under his email.” he would use these strawman emails as indirect criticism of turwinkle and i, reading them aloud or typing up what they supposedly said but NEVER producing a real screenshot or address to verify them. i’m convinced he only did this as a way to make turwinkle and i feel badly and work harder “for the listeners” to appease things tarc didn’t like about our segments. he also insinuated he got inappropriate emails about me specifically at this account but, again, i was never allowed to see them with my own eyes, just hear about them secondhand, which is why i believe they did not exist.

around this time, tarc began recording conversations without mine or thradias consent. he would start recording random sections of calls and taunt us, playing back out-of-context lines and joking that he would make “podcast commercials” out of them. they were often embarrassing, personal, or just wildly out of context lines that we didn’t want played to the public, and i heard only a fraction of what he possibly recorded of me. i have no idea what kind of material he has of me and thradia that was recorded without us knowing or consenting. it felt like blackmail. it still does.

i internalized all of this. i thought this was normal. i thought he was an excellent guild leader and a role model for leadership. i had begun to treat world of fucking warcraft like a goddamn job and i thought that was fine. my life revolved around coddling and entertaining him, socializing and promoting and recruiting for the guild, raiding, running pvp entirely on my own, keeping up IC connections and attending events, recording for the podcast, all of it. i ate, breathed, and slept wow and coram. it was insane. i had been talked into having no boundaries for myself and my time, and any time i tried to correct that and build a boundary i was attacked for it until i backed down. i have never felt worse about myself than i did while i was in this guild. i trusted no one. i was worn thin.

i finally had enough early 2015. at this point this man was trying to get me to come live with him hundreds of miles from my family so that i could attend a technical school in his area. i am still 18. he was 28. i had been trying to step down from my position as an officer, citing if i was going to be LIVING WITH HIM that it was going to give me an unfair bias in my standing in the guild. this set him all the way off. he was planning a trip to atlantic city for me, himself, and thradia, who i had a ticket to visit for my birthday. he was getting frantic because he had been pursuing thradia for months, and i was no longer cooperating.

when i threw this wrench in everything, our relationship devolved in the span of a few hours. within the day i left the guild on all of my characters and pulled myself out of all of his projects. within the month i had frantically faction changed several characters and eventually unsubscribed from the game for two years because i lived in fear of him. he had always alluded to “knowing people” who could hack and track IP addresses and kept tabs on everyone who visited his blogs and websites. i didn’t know what i thought he was going to do - all i knew was his thinly veiled brags and threats were at the forefront of my mind. i have played this game since 2006, but for the first time in my life i couldn’t enjoy it out of fear and exhaustion caused by him. he had ruined my favorite game in less than a year and made me paranoid about my entire online presence, to the point where this blog was abandoned for months before i turned it into what it is today.

and the thing is, tarc’s not a creepy or abrasive guy when you first meet him. he’s funny and charismatic and outgoing. he loves to tell you about his world travels and show you pictures of him petting baby tigers at rescues in southeast asia and go on about these crazy winnings he would have in vegas. he’s larger than life - at least online. he came to visit me twice in the year that we knew each other. the first time was also the first time i had ever met thradia in person, and we had been friends for six years at that point. he has met my family, and that of several other members (both my age and older). no one ever questions why he’s there. no one ever thought it was odd that for a week he hung out with three teenage girls exclusively.

this horrifies me to this day.

thradia and i are still best friends. we compared notes and were sickened at how we were played against each other. slowly, i returned to the game. i reached out to people who had left or been on their way out when i first joined the guild, curious to see if there was a common thread. there was. everyone i spoke with had similar stories: being made to feel like shit, nothing they ever did for the guild was enough, they weren’t allowed to miss events or raids no matter what the reason, they were questioned and joked about inappropriately and made to feel uncomfortable and preyed upon, etc. i was not the only one. thradia was not the only one. at least half a dozen other former members and/or officers had these stories, and tarc just kept getting away with it.

he cannot keep getting away with it.

i am being open with this for the first time in six years because i don’t want to see it happen again. because i don’t want to know that, had i said something sooner, more people could have been protected. i was 18 when this was going on. i had no real world experience. i had no standard for how i should be treated, much less by someone almost ten years my senior and who claimed to be my friend. but he knew better. he should have had boundaries and space and lines he refused to cross. he did not. he crippled my trust in people for a very long time. i have only become comfortable playing wow on horde side again in the past year or so. i finally stopped looking over my shoulder, /who’ing him and his guild, avoiding rp hubs. but now i feel like i can’t do that anymore. the safety i have worked so hard to achieve for myself is now threatened.

i understand my experiences are mild in comparison to what some offenders on this server have done. but at the end of the day, this year was the worst year of my life. to this day, the skype ringtone literally triggers me because i associated it with him and his endless calls that i never knew what to expect from or how to get out of. i can’t look at certain parts of the game without feeling fear. for months i held my breath going online or logging into wow because i was waiting for him to pop up and start accusing me of things or trying to guilt me into coming back.

tarc ran coram populo, a guild that, as far as i know, still staggers along with a few members who can’t be bothered to leave. whether or not he’s planning to return there, i don’t know. he organizes and runs (from what i can tell) the azerothian trade federation (whatever the fuck that is). i don’t know what his plans are. i don’t know what his online presence looks or will look like when he comes crawling back. but i beseech you, do not give him the time of day. do not give him a platform, no matter how nice and “woke” he makes himself out to be. he lures you in with humanist ideals and then sucks the absolute life out of you- and that’s if he doesn’t want to pressure you into a relationship on top of it.

to tarc: if somehow you’re reading this, stay away from me. keep my name out of your mouth. i do not want an apology and a string of half-assed, gaslighting excuses. i have records of past conversations. i have screenshots. i know what you fucking did to me and to my friends. i do not want you back. i do not want you here. i do not want to share space with you. i want you to go away and never come back.

you alone made it so hard to trust myself and other people. thradia and i both have had to seek therapy due to you. and now, you have the audacity to come riding back into the scene on a white horse, being self righteous about abuse and predatory behavior online, and have the utter gall to condemn behaviors you yourself emulated without apology or second thought. i know you think you’re a good guy. that’s what makes you so fucking dangerous. you genuinely don’t think you’ve done anything wrong, and if you do, you’ve buried it and squirreled it away and have covered it up to the point where you can turn any accusation back on the claimant.

do not attempt to contact me. do not try to threaten or appease me. go back where you were. i am finally at home again, and you will not take that from me. go. away.

#wrymrest accord #wra rp #wra community #okay to reblog #i am going to basically go dark on here now and not check on this #i have gotten ohysically ill from dredging this shit up #i will not be engaging past this point so whether you believe me or not i do not care #i know my truth and i know what happened to me even though i was gaslit to hell and back

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ohpretty-baby · 4 years

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puff, puff, pass

⇥ pairing: hoseok x reader ; established relationship

⇥ genre: FLUFF, implicit smut, angst if you blink

⇥ synopsis: hoseok just thinks your face is really cute. that’s it. that’s the post.

⇥ warnings: cursing, mentions of ... the sex

⇥ word count: 5.3k

a cute lil hobi fic i started before i got requests! posting it cause school is stressful and writing is how i cope with the fact that school is a thing. also i need to expand my masterlist haha

i’m working on requests still i promise ;)

i know the title seems like it’s not related to the content in any way but i promise it somewhat is. also it made me laugh so i kept it there.

thank you all so much again for 100 followers! i truly am enamored with each one of you.

i’ll be posting a drabble game soon, so be ready!!

enjoy my loves <3

You know how almost everyone has at least one thing that they inexplicably love dearly?

It's something that they can't really understand exactly why they love this thing. They just do. They hold it near and dear to their hearts, and it's always in the back of their minds. For some, it may consume them, causing them to obsess and lose their senses over it. For others, it provides comfort in times of distraught.

For many, it simply reminds you of the beauty of being alive and motivates you to be the best that you can be.

Sometimes it's a movie that one person saw during their childhood. Or maybe it's a certain poem that resonated while they were in love. It could be a stuffed animal, or it could be an actual person, like a parent or a lover.

Whether it be a person, animal, or movie, there is always at least one thing that humans are deeply attached to.

And for Jung Hoseok...

Well, for him, it was your face.

Your adorable, cute little face.

Why, you might ask?

Your face isn't his favorite just because he thinks you're physically attractive. Of course, he thinks you truly are beautiful, inside and out, and he's never gone one day without being stunned from looking at you or just watching you perform simple tasks, like drinking a glass of water.

In fact, Hoseok has never found anyone or anything as beautiful as you in his life.

Some mornings he'll watch you as you sleep peacefully under the covers, the sunlight seeping in through the curtains and glossing your skin. His eyes will trace your features, adoring how you were gorgeous without even trying. He'll notice the corners of your lips curving upwards unconsciously, causing a smile to creep up on his face as he wonders what you were dreaming about.

It's moments like these where Hoseok can't believe it. He cannot simply fathom the fact that you chose to be with him.

Hoseok knows that you simply exude beauty, as he was a constant witness of this fact.

But that wasn’t really the exact reason why Hoseok loved your face so much.

He loves the way your cheeks squish up and slightly cover your eyes when he cups your face in his hands. He loves lightly pinching your cheek whenever you tease him, loves the way your cheeks puff up when you're eating dinner with him at your favorite restaurant. Not to mention, he most definitely loves pecking your cheek whenever you're focused on something or when you're ranting to him about your day.

It's something about the way your cheeks are so soft and puffy whenever you smile that just makes Hoseok absolutely melt.

He knows that you hate how chubby your face is, and it perplexes him. The fact that you'd want to change your face is strange to him, really. He's actually spent many days trying to figure out this enigma, wondering why exactly you'd despise the face that he loves so dearly. The thought runs around his head constantly, dampening his mood whenever he ponders on it too much.

More often than not, the his friends would find Hoseok frozen in place and deep in thought, a small frown permanent on his face because of this enigma. It'd take them multiple tries to draw him out of whatever trance he was in, as Hoseok's eyes would be fixated on a spec of dust in the air or just a certain spot on the floor.

So Hoseok tries his best to make you smile as much as he can, to see your cheeks puff up. He can't explain why he loves it so much, but all he knows is that he becomes putty in your hands when you smile at him at like that.

And now, Hoseok knows every single way to see your beautiful grin that he loves so much.

Once, he was able to make you smile by making a fool of himself in public. Now, all he ever does is dance in the middle of the streets in order to see your eyes twinkle back up at him. Sometimes he'll look up from his phone to see you watching him, a small smile on your face now spreading from ear to ear when you finally have his attention.

Other times, Hoseok will say something really dumb in order to get you to roll your eyes at him and laugh at his stupidity. Most times, he'll feel you smile against his chest when he holds you close to him. He'll feel your cheeks puff up and squish against his chest as you would nuzzle your head into his body. Hoseok would coo at this, placing a sweet kiss on your head and running a hand through your hair.

Hoseok absolutely loves your lazy smiles as well.

The ones where you just wake up and you greet him with a grin and a kiss, your motions languid as sleep is still running its course through your body. Hoseok can't help but gush when he sees your lips move slowly, dreamily spreading into a smile just for him.

He loves the smiles you flash him while he's on top of you, your eyes half-lidded and your lips emitting soft sighs while you try your best to keep eye contact with him, just like he asked. You’re compliant to his demands, doing everything you can to keep up with him, which makes his heart soar. It would be late at night, your shared bedroom completely dark, save for the moonlight peering in through the window.

However, this didn't stop Hoseok from soaking in your appearance. He'd notice how your skin was covered with a slight sheen of sweat, making you shine under the moonlight. He'd take in how your cheeks were tinted soft shades of red, how your body slotted perfectly with his. He'd take note of how you would wrap your legs around him, leaving no space between the two of you.

He'd stare at your lips as they formed his name, calling out to him beautifully. Your voice would drown out every single sense of his, Hoseok simply enamored with how you said his name. As the only sound in the room would be your sweet noises and Hoseok's occasional groans and deep breaths, he would watch as your face contorts in pleasure, your smile peeking out whenever Hoseok would reach a certain sweet spot.

And when you smiled, Hoseok could barely control himself, actions sporadic and nothing but praise for you falling from his lips.

It was safe to say that by the end of the night, both of you would be saying nothing but instead, flashing lazy, lethargic grins as you lulled off into sleep in each other's arms.

So when Hoseok says that he loves your face and that he loves you just the way you are, he means it. Deep in his heart, and even in his whole being, he means every single world. It's not like he could help it. For some reason he can't help but be enamored by you, can't help but to fall in deeper and deeper, especially when you smile at him like that.

Not a day goes by where Hoseok has not said:

"Did I tell you that you're beautiful?"

He'll say this out of nowhere and at random times, causing your cheeks to heat up and making you smile shyly at him. He was a spontaneous person, and you never really knew when you he was going to tell you this. All you knew for sure was that he was going to tell you this at least once, if not multiple times, throughout the day.

He'll say it when you're washing the dishes after eating lunch with him, or when you're filling out paperwork and you're completely absorbed in the task. He'll even shout it when you're taking a shower and he's brushing his teeth, the loud water rushing on your skin drowning out some of his words. You could be watching tv and he'd simply tuck some of the loose strands of your hair behind your ear, place a gentle kiss on your cheek, and then tell you the saying you've come to know and love.

Even when the two of you bicker, Hoseok will always end the night with telling you that. He'll finally have you face him so he can kiss you, making any anger or bitterness between the two of you dissipate. You would laugh, forgetting exactly why you had gotten into an argument with him in the first place. You would then realize that the problem was stupid anyways, recognizing just how much Hoseok loved you.

And you would be lying if you said that the nights after arguments were your favorite, since you would spend them talking with him for hours on end.

In fact, you still remember the first time the two of you had gotten into a dispute.

To this day, neither of you could remember exactly what you had been fighting about. However, it was the one time Hoseok hadn't said his infamous catchphrase to you. Instead, he simply just ignored it, acting as if the phrase had never existed. Unbeknownst to him, you had been secretly waiting for him to say it, for the whole situation to blow over.

But it hadn't.

That night, Hoseok was eerily silent and his eyes were unbelievably cold, the burrow in his eyebrows delving deeper and deeper with each passing minute. You didn't know what to do, and you had your back turned to him, feigning sleep in order to save yourself from the awkward tension in the dense air.

It was a few seconds before both you and him had fully realized that you were crying, you body trembling and tears pooling down onto your pillow.

Immediately, Hoseok had changed his demeanor, returning back to the sweet boyfriend that he usually was. He was now spewing out apology after apology, wiping your eyes and holding you tight against him once more. You didn't know what had taken over you, and it made you embarrassed. You couldn't tell why you had become so emotional over a few simple words.

It made you feel dumb, as you had never been this vulnerable or sensitive to anyone. You never really cried in front of anyone. It wasn't a matter of pride, it was just because you didn't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable or feel like they had to console you and your problems.

And he knew that, which is why it always somewhat shocked him when you cried in front of him. It was obvious by the way he looked at you with wide eyes and parted lips when he initially saw you crying.

Once Hoseok came back to his senses, however, this didn't matter to him anymore, as he was now rocking you back and forth gently in his arms, humming light melodies that softened the world around you.

"Did I tell you that you're beautiful?" He finally said, his voice soft as to not disturb the tranquility of the atmosphere.

"You didn't today..." You pouted, gasping in between words as you tried to speak coherently.

"I'm sorry, darling," Hoseok sighed, genuine guilt in his tone.

Instead of saying anything, you nuzzled your head against his chest in response, inhaling the smell of mint and cotton, the scent calming you down. Hoseok chuckled, placing soft kisses all over your head. As he spoke sweet nothings into your ears, you could feel his heartbeat, the rhythm making you feel safe and secure in his arms.

"Do you remember the day we first met, my love?"

You nodded to his deep, gravelly voice and let out a small, shaky laugh at the memory.

Although your meeting wasn't a very conventional moment, you had held the story near and dear to your heart.

It was a summer evening, the soft breeze finally coming in and cooling down the hot air from the day. You spent this night at one of your "friend of a friend"'s infamous house parties, where everyone went batshit crazy and got wasted. It wasn't typically your scene, but you got the invite personally from Seokjin and it was quite an honor to get one, so with an inflated ego you decided to dress up and go.

Your best friend, Jungkook, would've agreed to go with you in a heartbeat, but that night he had a road trip he planned with his brother.

So with Jungkook's pro tips on house parties and what to do when you meet a creep, you decided to venture this event alone, promising him you'd tell him all the stories you were able to remember.

You weren't sure why you weren't afraid to go alone, but it was one of those unexplainable things where you just felt like you had to. After all, you were almost done with college and you told yourself that there should be at least one time where you went crazy as well, finally not caring about being cautious and instead letting yourself be reckless.

Of course you had known about Hoseok beforehand, through a few small whispers and mentions occasionally. All you knew about him was that he was one of Seokjin's best friends and that he apparently was good in bed. You payed no mind to it, as you weren't on to judge and you didn't really care about a complete stranger's life.

At the party, with the music booming and pulsing throughout the house, you had stolen an occasional glance or two from him. He flashed a couple smirks and winks at you, causing you to immediately avert your eyes and return your attention back on whatever you had in your cup. Eventually, he disappeared, and left you alone with your own thoughts sprinting around your head, as you wondered why someone random had gotten you so worked up.

You didn't know how long it took for you to finally stand up from the couch. But noticing how red your face had gotten, you decided that it would be a good idea to freshen up before anyone could see how flustered you had gotten over a simple wink.

When you finally reached the bathroom, pushing past intoxicated people and horny couples, you felt the air return to your chest as you finally got space. The door was closed, a small line of the bathroom light peeking out. You knocked on the door one, two, three times, and yet there was no answer. In response, you heard a few groans and some soft muttering. You stared at the door with wide eyes, thinking about what was going on behind the piece of wood standing in your way.

Being the nosy person you are, you felt inclined to press your ear on the door.

"You know we can't do this anymore," The statement was stern, yet the voice was deep and husky, the words almost coming out in taunts rather than warnings.

"Hoseok," You heard a girl whine in response, making you feel uncomfortable and almost made you feel guilty for eavesdropping, "Why not? You know I love you-"

"We broke up three months ago, Luna. Might I remind you that you cheated on me?" The comeback made you put a hand over your mouth to hide the gasp you oh so desperately wanted to let out, "Can you get over it?"

You heard shuffling and pondered if Hoseok was heading towards the door, but your own drowsy mind didn't really let you process the thought.

"Hoseok, I was drunk-"

The steps came to a stop.

"You still fucked my friend, didn't you?"

The situation was inappropriate, but you imagined what Hoseok looked like behind the door. The bathroom lighting most likely highlighted the slight sheen of sweat on his tan skin, and his hair was probably tousled messily from tugging at strands in frustration. Maybe his arms were crossed, accentuating his biceps, making them look bigger than before. Maybe his eyes were sharper than usual, an intense glare shooting at whoever was in front of him.

You took a small gulp and realized that you were holding your breath, making your whole body heat up. So this was one of the many wonders of alcohol. Or maybe it was just you and your vivid imagination. Either way you blamed your new attraction to Hoseok on the alcohol.

"But, Hoseok!" The girl pleaded, "You're not dating anyone, are you? Neither am I! Please... Give me one more chance."

Silence.

"Hoseok, don't you love me?"

"Luna-"

"You still do, don't you?" Confidence seemed to come back to her, "You can't deny it. So why can't we start over?"

"Fuck off. You're really not the same person to me anymore and it makes me laugh that you think this low of me."

"Hoseok, I promise I can change!"

You pressed your body closer to the door, even though it wouldn't help. Your heart pounded rapidly against your chest, your ears hanging on to every second as you waited for another killer response from Hoseok.

It was silent.

All of sudden, the door clicked open, causing you to fall forward with a loud yelp. Hoseok caught you in his arms, holding you tightly and helping you steady yourself. Luna, his ex-girlfriend, stared at you with wide eyes, and her shock slowly turned into anger. Your shorts had slightly ridden up, and the loose sweater you had on slid down a bit, just barely showing off some skin. Even if you hadn't noticed, it was apparent that Hoseok had his eyes on you, scanning your body as he held you in his arms.

Your eyes met his, and you finally got a clear look at him. His tan skin, the sharp eyes you were imagining, and the way his lips looked so soft. Your mouth was slightly agape and Hoseok couldn't help but think you were the cutest thing in the world. He knew that you had been staring at him, and it would be a lie if he said that he didn't want to talk to you.

You didn't know why, but all of a sudden Hoseok's lips curved upwards and spread into a big grin.

"I can't be with you anymore, Luna," He looked over at her, "You wanna know why?"

"Why?"

Hoseok helped you stand up and he wrapped an arm around your waist. You blinked, eyebrows furrowed slightly as you truly tried to process what exactly was going on.

"This is my girlfriend!" He said, his aggressive already leaving, "Isn't that right, baby?"

"Um, yes, I am... that," You stuttered, attempting to play along.

Before Luna could question anything, like how the two of you didn't really know each other's names and had no clue about each other's personal lives, Hoseok quickly greeted her goodbye and dragged you over to Seokjin's huge backyard. He led you to a small table on the cobblestone, gently placing you down on a chair. He walked off to grab two cups of water, one for and one for him.

"I'm sorry about all that," He chuckled, "It made you quite uncomfortable, didn't it?"

The situation and the cool night breeze from outside had somewhat sobered you up, allowing you to actually speak cohesive statements.

"Oh, you're fine," You responded, "I pretend to be Jungkook's girlfriend whenever he needs me to, so it's really no big deal."

"You know, Kook?" His eyes seemed to light up, and you nodded, "I love that kid! He’s crazy, isn’t he?”

"Yeah,” You shook your head, thinking about Jungkook and all his antics, “We’ve been friends since high school."

"Ah, you must be Y/N then, right?" He said, cocking his head to the right in curiosity, "Kook's mentioned you once or twice when I hang out with you. He says you're, like, really smart."

"Oh, really?" You respond, fidgeting with the fabric of your sweater.

"Mhm!" Hoseok's tone had quickly turned playful, "I'm Hoseok, by the way."

"I know," Now, it was you chuckling, "You and Seokjin are really popular with the girls."

"Oh," He flashed a sheepish smile, earning him another laugh from you, "That's quite embarrassing, no?"

You had long forgotten your need to relieve yourself in the bathroom, now choosing to spend the rest of your time with your new friend, Hoseok.

And that moment, in the dark, summer night, Hoseok saw you smile, the strings of fairy lights in Seokjin's backyard lighting your face, and he felt his whole world collapse down on him.

As the days passed, Hoseok found himself drawn to you. There wasn't a day where he wouldn't call out to you and promptly came running when he saw you on campus. People thought it was strange, seeing him talk to some random girl, and you had to admit it was hard to handle Hoseok's energy at times. He attracted so many people to him, and they often gave you weird looks, examining you and wondering why Hoseok wanted to associate himself with you.

It definitely took a while before his friends even approved of your friendship let alone the relationship that would slowly bloom in front of everyone's eyes.

Even though it was difficult at times to keep up with Hoseok, the more you got to know him, the more you became attached. You wanted to know everything about him, wanted to see him and be there for him at his best times and at his worst times. Even though you wouldn’t admit it, you desperately yearned to know about his family, to know what he was like when no one was around. Was he as cheerful as he usually is? Does he have a mean bone in his body?

You couldn't describe it, but the way your chest fluttered and the way your face was fixed in a permanent smile whenever you were around him seemed to say it for you. You were in deeper than you wanted to.

But still, you couldn’t but find yourself drawn to him as well.

Jung Hoseok, the man who always bought you random drinks from the vending machine whenever you were studying and wrote cute little notes on the bottles to motivate you. Hoseok, the man who would text you jokes at random times of the day simply because they made him laugh and he wanted to share them with you, who’d call you late at night because he “didn’t know how to do simple math” and end up talking to you late into the early morning. The man who always seemed to know whenever you were down, the man who could read your emotions more than Jungkook, your own best friend, could. At times, Hoseok seemed to know more about you than you knew about yourself.

He made sure he was there for all of your ups and downs, and you made sure you were there for him too. There wasn't a moment when you'd be stressed out over something and he wouldn't immediately come to your dorm with ice cream and movies the two of you could watch. Jung Hoseok, in every aspect, was such a caring person, and he always made sure that you were okay. Even when you didn't ask to, he'd check up on you and spend as much time with you as he could.

Of course you had always wondered why he had been so nice to you, and to that response Jungkook would roll his eyes and say:

"Hoseok likes you, dumbass," He'd flick your forehead as he teased you, "He literally looks at you like you’re his whole world. Are you that stupid to not see it?"

Almost everyone in your new found friend group knew, as they also gave suggestive, teasing looks to Hoseok when the two of you were together. You had always ignored these, opting to keep your attention on him instead of his friends. You hoped that Hoseok liked you as much as you liked him, since you found yourself being more and more attracted to him the more you hung out with him. (And you hung out with a lot).

It wasn't a surprise that when Hoseok finally asked you out on a date, you leaped into his arms with a grin from ear to ear.

When Jungkook found out, he couldn't help but rub your own achievements in your face, telling you that he was right and that you should've listened to him.

But that didn't matter if you were right and wrong when you were dating Hoseok.

Now, after all those years, the two of you lay in your shared king bed in your own house. You realize just how far the two of you have gotten, and you can't help but feel thankful that it's Hoseok you get to spend the rest of your life with.

And Hoseok feels the same way. He's more than excited to be able to see you like this every night, where you're safe and secure in his arms.

"I remember seeing you for the very first time," He clicked his tongue, deep in thought after the two of you reminisced on how you met, "The first thing I said to myself was that if I could ever have the chance of dating you, I'd be the luckiest man alive."

"Bullshit," You teased, now making him pout, "There's no way you really felt that way, especially if we had just met."

"You don't believe me, beautiful?" His pet names were honey to your ears, "Ah, my dear, why would I ever lie to you?"

"...So you're saying you believed in love at first sight?"

"Baby, I know it was love at first sight," He pinched your cheek as he spoke, eyes turning soft as he stared at your face, "Did you not feel that way when you first saw me?"

Hoseok knew he said the right thing when he finally saw his favorite red shades tinting your cheeks.

"Oh- Well, I just-" You groaned, hiding your face in his chest, "You can't just do that!"

Hoseok laughed, your stutters vibrating against his skin. His laughter reverberated around your ears, causing a small smile to form on your lips.

After that, the two of you talked about anything and everything. Hoseok would sprinkle little jokes or comments in order to get you to laugh at him and make fun of him. There was nothing but love exuding from the two of you, the tension in the room fully disappearing and becoming replaced with the happiness from before.

Hoseok often wonders how he did it, how he's able to be with someone like you. Saying that he was blessed to have you would be an understatement in his eyes. In fact, he'd say it was even an injustice. There truly weren't nearly enough words in the dictionary to describe his love and gratefulness for you.

But Hoseok didn't exactly know what word to use, so unfortunately, he had to stick with those.

Sometimes, Hoseok thinks it about it so much that he gets into his own head.

It's the moments where he stays scarily quiet, where his eyes are focused on you as doubts run around rampantly in his mind. He's so worried that one day you'll look at him and think that he's not enough for you, that he's not worth spending your life with. He'll think that he's really not enough for you and that thought will engrave itself so deep into his head that it'll occupy him with every waking moment. It'll be hard for him to look you in the eye. He'll still be close to you but it'll be hard for him to give you the affection that he wants so badly to give.

Then he feels stupid for feeling this way, because if you thought he wasn't good for you, you would've been gone already, right? Hoseok thinks that he should be giving you all his love, not worrying about being enough for you. This makes him feel worse, which in turn buries the thought deeper and deeper in his mind, up to the point where he can't find an escape. He'll feel his world plummet, the palette of his pink-shaded universe darkening.

That's when he feels your hand on his, where he'll realize that he's been staring blankly into open space for God knows how long.

The sound of his name on your lips will ring in his ear, oh how he loves to hear it. Hoseok feels the pace of his heartbeat speed up rapidly, faster than he'd like to admit. His cheeks are warm, and it almost makes him laugh how easy it is for you to get him all riled up.

You'll stare at him for a while, your eyes slowly trailing down onto his lips. Hoseok hangs on to every second in this moment, watching you as you examine his face. He knows that you probably know what's going on in his mind, and for that he feels a little guilty. He hopes that he isn't burden, and he opens his mouth to apologize.

When his lips part, however, you take this chance to kiss him, grabbing his hands and putting them on your waist. Hoseok gets the message, chuckling in between lip locking and pulling you close to him, eagerly roaming every inch of your skin that he could get his hands on.

He's pulled out of the dark headspace, now only surrounded by your love and the feeling of your soft lips. All of his attention is back on you and he melts, feeling nothing but tender love from you.

And when the two of you finally pull away, your eyes are trained on each other, chests heaving up and down as you try to catch your breath.

Hoseok just knows that you want to tell him words of comfort when he gets like this. He knows that because of the way your eyes sadden whenever he gets quiet. He sees how it unnerves you, how you bite your lip when you're also deep in thought. The gears are turning around viciously in your head as you try to find the words to say.

You hesitate to speak and Hoseok can't help but find it cute as you sputter out nonsense. He knows you're not the best with your words, and that's completely okay. He knows that you worry about not saying the right thing around him, but Hoseok always reminds you that there's not much you could say to get him upset. But still, you're focused as you try to find what would be perfect to say in this situation.

So Hoseok waits patiently, adoring how your cheeks slowly turn redder and redder while you awkwardly try to give him verbal solace.

"Seokie..." You call him that when you're especially flustered, "You know I love you, right?"

He nods in response, a stupid grin on his face quickly forming.

"And do you love me?"

"Of course I do."

"Good," You giggle, "Let's keep it that way."

And then there it is. The moment Hoseok's been waiting for. The moment he's been waiting for his whole entire life.

Your bright smile, lightening up the darkest of his days. He feels awestruck, his regained breath quickly leaving his chest once more. Hoseok's world is stained pink, the sight of your smile making him melt on the spot. His loving gaze, in turn, causes you to heat up and giggle.

That's when Hoseok realizes that he's been worried about nothing after all. That you're perfect for him and he's perfect for you. That nothing else feels right to him except for you.

Hoseok sees the way you smile at him, sees the way your eyes twinkle back at him, and he can't help but fall more and more in love with you.

And as per your request, Hoseok will keep it that way.

He'll keep it that way for as long as he lived.

hope you guys liked it! take care my loves <3

#hoseok #hoseok fluff #hoseok oneshot #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts hoseok #hoseok smut #hoseok angst #hoseok fanfic #hoseok drabble #bts hoseok fluff #jhope bts #hoseok fanfiction

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alo-piss-trancy · 5 years

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SD/R2 OMO HEADCANONS (Pt1)

Decided it was probably time for me to post a list of my omo hcs for this game since I did the THH chars! Like with the other list, I'll be excluding a couple I have no interest in thinking of omo content of (in this case, Hiy/oko and Teru/teru). I'm breaking this one into multiple posts throughout the week as I compile my thoughts (I'll add a link to all of them on the fic masterlist page later so you can find them all) because I feel this is gonna be a lot longer than my THH post haha!

Here we go, the first 3 (or 4) chars! Please stop reading now if you don't want spoilers for the game bc there will be several!!!

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Gun/dham:

* I firmly hc him as vegetarian (not vegan. He will consume byproducts like milk/cheese/eggs/etc, but only harvested himself or from small farms/sources that he has personally vetted/researched where he knows 100% that the creatures are treated ethically.)

* That's actually not omo-related besides milk oops but it relates to my next point, which is that for the most part he prefers Natural food/drink. Water, fruit or vegetable juices/smoothies, etc. He's not really used to strange 'Human' confections like soda or coffee, so the caffeine and diuretics hit him hard and fast and make it difficult for him to estimate how much time he has. It also makes him jittery/hyped as hell which Does Not Help.

* As long as he isn't screwed over by caffeine or a ton of drinks, he has a decently strong bladder and can hold for a long time. He has a lot of practice from hiding/waiting to help certain animals, laying trapped under sleeping cats/dogs, etc. And also avoiding public restrooms like the Plagues they are for most of the day...

* He's bladdershy AF and has been since early childhood. I saw he had signs drawn on the doors/curtain in his room during my playthrough (including the bathroom) and that is definitely his safezone. Can't go outside either bc 1. He's paranoid he'll be seen by other ppl and 2. That feels disrespectful to the nature deities despite the logic that animals do it all the time. He knows that's dumb and he hates himself for it.

* Sometimes I do like to ignore the bladdershy hc just for some variety. Even in that case tho he'd still be a bit of a diva about which public bathrooms he uses. If it's gross or weird he's gonna avoid it/complain/refuse to go even if bursting. He's stubborn af

* We all know he canonically goes commando. Therefore he is in extra danger because any leaks will go straight to his pants RIP Since he usually wears black it isn't that visable (as long as it's just a bit and not a full wetting), but if he ever has to wear smth else u know he's screwed c':

* He's not very vocal when desperate at all. Mostly strangled whines or grunts (only when alone or if so urgent he can't hide it), he's just so easily embarrassed that he can choke most sound.

* He can also hide his body language pretty well. He can manage to keep himself to rigid posture and the occasional shudder or fidget if needed. Only when he's beyond caught and about to wet will he resort to obvious grabs or dances in front of others.

* Even if he wet he wouldn't cry (I don't seem him crying much for anything tbh, barring extreme things like death). He's angry at himself and extremely ashamed. He would get red as a tomato, attempt to slink away and avoid any witnesses for several days. Could get snippy or hide in his shell all pitiful, depending on the person.

* When alone or sure he can't be caught, he'll fidget more once things are dire. Mostly his long-ass legs. Jiggling, crossing, bending at the knees or bouncing up and down, shuffling from foot-to-foot, everything. He doesn't really do much with his hands beyond a quick crotch-squeeze.

* He'd def let Haj/ime or So/nia dom tf out of him as far as making him hold/lose control, he's submissive and enjoys the challenging test of limits. However, I could also see him totally having a thing for 'marking' his partners during the times he doms.

So/nia:

* Lowkey has a bladder of steel tbh, tho you'd never expect it by looking at her. It takes a lot to get her desperate and even more for her to crack enough to show her needs to others.

* She had a lot of long lectures/lessons, meetings, social events, formal balls, etc. growing up, so she just got used to waiting a lot between breaks so as not to interrupt or be rude to her guests. This also makes her wicked good at remaining completely calm on the outside and keeping the quiver out of her tone even when she's absolutely dying.

* Even once people know her problem, she would NEVER grab herself or dance. Literally the most you'll get out of her is legs crossed at the ankles. For the most part the only sign of her desperation is the slight fullbody shivering where she has her muscles and posture strained. If you're very lucky she may wince or her voice will start shaking/get breathy (her breathing gets super fast and shallow when at her absolute limit. Like nearly hyperventilating fast).

* While not shy at all about asking/telling others where she's going, she was raised with manners. She refuses to interrupt while others are busy, and will wait until she feels the time is appropriate to but into convos or leave the room, even if that could take a long time. She will not skip out on a group task if she can help it bc she feels very strongly about doing her part and not coming off as a slacker (so group investigations/new island exploring/building for Us/ami in Island Mode are all LONG tasks she will force herself to stick out without complaint, even if she's about to wet herself).

* Despite being a princess, she definitely doesn't view anything as being 'beneath' her. If someone asks her to just go outside/in a sketchy place/strange receptacle, she'll do it without question as soon as they agree to glance away. In fact, sometimes it's actually a little thrilling.

* If she did wet herself she would certainly be embarrassed, maybe even teary-eyed depending on the situation/who was around. However, it certainly isn't the end of the world for her, and she would be able to brush it off fairly easily once she got cleaned up and had a chance to breathe. Could probably start making jokes about it by the next day, or just wait patiently for everyone to forget about it.

* Probably has a big piss kink (for others. She isn't much on doing holds herself, minus an occasional 'Damsel in Distress' type roleplay). And honestly just a big one for domming others (sometimes sweetly, sometimes cold/cruel like True Royalty). She looks cute but She Nasty (tm). Gun/dham and Haji/me (to a lesser extent, bc his smart-ass take-no-shit attitude makes him a bit of a brat sometimes lol) are her bitches.

M/ikan (I have to split hers in two bc I have polar opposite hcs) :

Non-Despair M/ikan -

* Is every bit as shy uwu ohnoooo~ as you'd imagine. Super blushy and fidgety and teary-eyed but never admits what's wrong even once it's obvious, to the point of potty-dancing in place (but she's Totally Fine she can hang in there and doesn't need to stop what she's doing)! You literally have to drag her away to the bathroom if u don't want her to have an accident. Would rather die than inconvenience anyone by telling them she has to go, will berate herself for the inconvenience when that backfires and she's made a mess of herself, 120% convinced everyone hates her and p much refuses any comfort bc she's so trapped in the spiral. Bawls her eyes out.

* If on a rare occasion she does work up the nerve to speak up and is denied, that's it. She will not dare ask again even if the person didn't realize how badly she had to go. Nope. Clearly her only option is to hold it until she can't anymore, or until she's alone and can run off by herself.

*Also she totally would whimper to herself in The Worst omo video star voice lmao "Oh noooo I'm leaking into my panties~, it's cOmIng OuTtttt~ uwu uwu uwu" (i'm not making fun of those istg but u know Exactly what 'sexy baby' voice I mean. That is Mi/kan. Don't be so fake bitch We Know u didn't fall spread eagle naturally)

* Says 'Potty' unironically. It's the only word she uses for the bathroom.

* Surprisingly not bladdershy at all. She's actually the opposite. Will go Anywhere (but will be embarrassed while doing it).

* She's used to holding a lot bc afraid to leave class/stuck helping patients for hours on end. However while she has a wicked high capacity and stays very hydrated, she has pretty shaky control. Leaks A LOT, be it in general or bc she gets startled/nervous. She's like a chihuahua lmao. She wears medical liners when on duty as a nurse or during school, but for general hangouts she forgoes them (totally bc she forgot and Not bc she wanted to show her wet panties off to strangers/peers when she falls again, that would be Slu/tty and Improper).

* Once held for ages and then ended up wetting herself just bc Hiy/oko told her to. It wasn't actually a request, just a one-off snippy comment that H forgot about like 10 min after she said it and walked away. When she found out Mi/kan took it seriously she absolutely lost it laughing for the next few days

*Her potty dances include lots of thighs rubbing together/hunching over, hands wandering dangerously close only to pause and grip her skirt/dress hem, hopping from leg to leg and shaking at the knees. She's pitiful when desperate and very cute. Pants and whimpers near constantly, nibbles at her knuckles to try and muffle it.

* Knows when she's at risk of actual damage from holding, but it's still a 50/50 shot of whether she'll break down and go or keep trying to hold. She knows it's unwise, but due to her complete lack of self worth she doesn't really care if her own body is damaged.

* That said, she monitors everyone else very closely and will harass them firmly to take breaks if they're at risk.

Despair/True Mik/an -

* MASSIVE PISS KI/NK. Loves to be dommed/told to hold until she wets. LOVES to do the same to others and tell them all the mean things for a change. She will borderline Break You.

* Takes great satisfaction in watching others struggle. If given an opportunity to make others desperate/prevent them from getting to a bathroom without revealing herself, she will definitely take it. She has no sympathy.

* The Queen of lacing things with diuretics, but can also often find that boring/too easy. A bit disdainful of that method tbh.

* Tying ppl down to hold or hooking them to IVs and 'misplacing' the call button is more her style.

* Used to hold for Jun/ko a lot to appease her. Would be willing to hold for Na/gito, but tbh he's just as willing to hold for her so it's a bit of a stalemate and they've yet to work out who does what.

* Will piss on her victim/lover while staring them directly in the eyes. Does not flinch. She toes the line between sexy and just plain creepy lol

#omocute #omorashi #fandomo #fictomo #bear txt #drspoilers

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candi-girl · 5 years

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KH3: Hollower Than Any Toy Review **Minor Spoilers**

I just beat KH3 yesterday. I came out of it feeling a bit disappointed. The game is beautiful and the mechanics are still fun but everything from the story to the boss fights felt a bit lackluster. The last boss fights were extremely easy and did not feel as epic to me as KH2's last boss fights. In fact, I liked KH2's ending way more. I haven't played KH2 in years and I still remember exactly how it goes and how I felt after beating it. After what felt like an eternity of reflecting and deflecting light beams back at Xemnas, Sora and a badly wounded Riku sit hopelessly on the shores of the Realm of Darkness. Suddenly a letter in a bottle with a familiar seal emerges from the dark sea. A light shines, a slowed down piano version of "Sanctuary" plays and we are back in the welcoming and colorful world of Destiny Islands. Donald and Goofy lovingly embrace Sora. His eyes then lock-on to Kairi's, Roxas and Namine's eyes follow suit. This felt wayyyy more emotional than KH3's ending which I struggle to remember even though I beat it today.

Before I go any further, I feel I must preface this especially for a post about KH. No, I haven’t played all the spin-off games but I AM A PASSIONATE FAN of the main games in the series. I played the first one for PS2 at 11 when it came out and I was absolutely blown away and in love. I played KH2 at about 14 and got sucked in all over again. In college, I would play Birth By Sleep in between classes. I played 1.5 for PS3 sometime in college as well. Most recently at 27, I played 0.2 from the "The Story So Far" bundle for PS4. I have tried playing Chain of Memories numerous times on an emulator but couldn't stand the Card System and never got very far or finished it. I've also tried 358/2 on an emulator and I've even tried watching it but never got far with it either. I have skipped Re-coded altogether and as soon as I saw the Dream Eaters Link mechanic in DDD I stopped playing that too. I have played a little bit of the mobile KH game but not for long. Suffice it to say, I'm not into mobile games or games for portable devices. The only 2 games I can recall that I have beaten on a portable device (besides Pokemon games on Gameboy) are Birth By Sleep and FFVII: Crisis Core (both PSP). Generally, I get more immersed in games on a TV screen.

Okay so background out of the way, here is what bothers me about KH3 and probably why KH3's ending didn't make me feel as much as KH2's ending. And let me just say, I know this might not be a problem for others who have played all the games, read all the news and external books, probably follow Nomura on Twitter but I don't do that. When it comes to gaming, here is my process: I see a cool game, I want it, I buy it, I play it, I judge whether I like it based on the content in the game, nothing external. I don't follow any gaming news or actively pursue it. If I happen to have the time I’ll watch E3 and hear about things here and there but mostly, when I pick-up a game, I'm hoping it can be self-contained. So, knowing that about me, you can see why I absolutely loathe that if you haven't played KH DDD, KH Recoded, KH 358/2 Days, KH X (the Foretellers lore stuff) you're missing out on like 3/4 of the story.

Chain of Memories being between KH1 and KH2 irked me but I forgave it because the characters and story were still basically the same. Lock keyholes to protect various worlds from being consumed by darkness, help characters in those various worlds with their problem, stop main baddy from opening up Kingdom Hearts, and don't forget that friends are your strength and light. Nothing is wrong with keeping a story “Simple and Clean” and in fact, I think if a story is simple you can focus on making stronger character arcs and make the game super character driven so that the dangerous stuff that happens to characters IS actually scary and emotional! (Side Note: I also believe that because of the association with Disney, the KH franchise feels like it cannot tackle more mature themes like actual death of loved ones, failure, betrayal, etc. which really holds back what a game about the Heart could explore in a more serious, sophisticated manner. However, games like “Ni No Kuni” still find ways to talk about death, depression and grief in ways that are appropriate for younger audiences so it’s possible to do it, KH!)

And I know that KH3 pokes fun at itself for having so many different titles in the franchise and I know it tries to get you up to speed but it cheapens the experience when SO MUCH of the story-telling and lore heavily relies on externalities and not the self-contained game. It seriously becomes a hindrance and emotional barrier when #1 I don't know know what's going on (or don’t understand/feel the extent and impact of something that's supposed to be dangerous), #2 don't know characters well enough to care about them and #3 there are no real stakes in the KH world because every game you fight the same goddamn enemies. I don't know all the Organization members like the back of my hand so their deaths don't do anything for me plus you fight them at least twice throughout the series (maybe even more) so that shows that they can always come back. The rules and logic in KH are very fast and loose. It's like playing a game with a child and when they are losing they make something up. And all this "I think I should know this character but I don't remember" dialogue is so cheap. Stop with the amnesia story-lines! Games like Chain of Memories and Re-Coded, that are made for portable devices are made to hold fans over until the big main game comes out. Let’s be real, KH: Re-Coded might as well be called “KH: Re-Sell” because it’s KH one all over again but on the DS. Now there’s nothing wrong with a company re-branding and re-selling a product if they know fully-well that there is a market for it (in the words of Cutler Beckett, “it’s just good business”) but for the love of all things good, DO NOT PLACE INTEGRAL plot points in them that the main games will gloss over. And don't expect me to read Jiminy’s Journal!

Who is this game for? It plays like a casual game but feels like beginning a story at it’s falling action point. I can’t imagine being a newcomer to this series and playing this game and understanding it. I played the game super slowly, exploring each Disney world thoroughly, trying to take it all in but there is so little KH story given throughout the game. Once I moved on to the Badlands, the actual main KH plot began to unfold. When I first started playing KH3, my gf (who has only played a few hours of the first KH) asked me "so why are you going to other worlds if you're not locking keyholes?" I stumbled on my words to give her an answer. I replied "Sora needs to regain his strength and get the power of waking." She nodded but I knew it sounded kind of stupid. "He looks pretty powerful already!" She said as she watched me defeat hordes of enemies in the first world, Olympus. And that was another thing. I felt super overpowered from the beginning all the way up until the end. When fighting Xehanort all I could think was "that's it?" The game is all about Sora regaining his lost powers and learning the power of waking but you start off super powerful anyway.

This may be a bit of a tangent but in Final Fantasy X, Yuna started off as the weakest, most feeble, docile character in personality and combat as she is just a white mage. I avoided using her at all costs. I had Lulu for black magic and switched Yuna in only when I really needed Protective magic or healing. However, by the end of the game, Yuna with her fully decked out Nirvana staff, third tier white and black magic, double-cast, and ultima became my most valuable and dangerous character. Not only does she literally become stronger in combat, but her (dare I say it) heart becomes stronger too. She becomes bolder and braver. She starts questioning her religion and the society and world she grew up in. She grows in every sense of the word. Yuna’s character trajectory is one of the most poetic I’ve ever seen and experienced in a game and I absolutely love that it’s FELT both in the combat of the game AND the story. I guess the point I’m trying to make is there should be growth in the character’s development but also growth in the game mechanics and combat. FFX is a game that intertwined both forms of growth organically and I think KH3 really should’ve done that as well. Starting off weak and THEN becoming powerful enough to take on the big baddy in the ending rewards the players for their efforts and also feels way more satisfying. Also, a certain character that begins with “K” and ends with “airi” could’ve EASILY been the Yuna of this game. But once again KH3 repeats the same old ideas over and over again. Also, speaking of Final Fantasy, where are my Final Fantasy characters in KH3??

I know this sounds like a negative review but overall, I actually did enjoy playing KH3 and it was great to see all my favs and like I always say, it always feels like home. I'm definitely not done yet (gotta synthesize ultima, collect all treasures and lucky emblems, reach level 99, and maybe play some mini-games). But ultimately it did not have that emotional impact on me like the first 2 KH's. Maybe I AM too old and broken. Maybe when I replay it one day I'll feel differently. Anyway, see you in 2040 when KH4 comes out!

#kh spoilers #kh3 spoilers #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts 3 #kh3 #kh3 review #personal

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welllpthisishappening · 6 years

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Concussion Protocol (1/1)

She doesn’t see it at first. And, somehow, that’s even worse. Because the replay is in slow motion and they keep showing it and Roland won’t stop yelling and Henry won’t stop cursing and Emma’s going to do damage to her thumb if she keeps slamming it against her phone.

He doesn’t play the entire third period.

And Emma keeps tugging on her ring. Ruth keeps staring.

Rating: Teen’like with swearing and hockey-type injuries Word Count: 8K’ish. Adjectives. Emotions. AN: So about a month ago @onceuponaprincessworld requested “What happened in November with Killian, did he got hurt and have a concussion? Is there gonna be a one-shot about it?” This is the one-shot! It helped that the Rangers were playing while I wrote this last night. The game bears a striking resemblance to last night’s loss in Nashville. I’m not bitter. It’s fine. Anyway, I’ll keep writing about this stupid hockey team forever, particularly if you guys keep sending prompts and questions and I can’t tell you how much I appreciate both. Also on Ao3 if that’s how you roll

“You know you’re on some kind of point streak?” Killian lifted his eyebrows, mouth curling into something that almost looked like a smile and Mary Margaret threw a pot on the floor. He laughed when Emma jumped.

“Oh, c’mon,” Emma grumbled. “That was terrifying. She’s going to do damage to the linoleum in her kitchen.” “That’s not even remotely true,” Mary Margaret muttered and Emma made some kind of triumphant noise, as if that proved she was being eavesdropped on. “Hi, Killian! Hi everyone else in the locker room!”

“Hi, Mary Margaret,” Killian grinned, eyes flicking to the top of the phone screen when Emma audibly gagged. “That’s just being polite, Swan. I don’t know why you want me to ignore Mary Margaret when she’s feeding you all weekend.” Emma rolled her eyes, slumping into the corner of the couch and it was just as uncomfortable as it had been when she’d been sleeping on it.

She’d slept like crap the night before, tucked under blankets with a pillow she brought from home and she didn’t mention that to Killian, but he probably knew anyway. And the NHL seemed determined to keep the Rangers on the road for Thanksgiving.

Roland was incredibly disappointed.

Emma might have been too.

Emma absolutely was disappointed.

But it wasn’t really a western swing, more just a three-game trip to Dallas Las Vegas and Arizona and front office didn’t think it was prudent to send her.

It made Emma roll her eyes every time she thought about it.

And Mary Margaret had resolutely refused to accept even the idea of Emma spending a single moment of her weekend alone – so she’d gone a dozen blocks uptown on Wednesday night and slept on the couch and woke up early to watch the parade with fancy hot chocolate and a questionable amount of homefries and they’d made pumpkin pie.

David wouldn’t eat the one with rum in it until after his mom went back to the hotel.

That made Emma roll her eyes too.

“Ok, that’s just patently incorrect,” Emma said, wincing when the arm of the couch seemed intent on dislocating her spine. “I am perfectly capable of feeding myself throughout the weekend. And you don’t get to make a single comment about my food intake when I know for a fact that Scarlet tried to eat fried onions out of a can yesterday.”

Killian’s eyes went wide, the sound of Will’s laugh echoing through the phone and, likely, off the walls of the visitor’s locker room in Arizona. “How do you know that?” Killian asked. “Also I refuse to take responsibility for that. I am not Scarlet’s father.”

“God forbid.” “Swan. Honestly.” “You really can’t let Ruby know anything,” she smiled and the look on his face did something to her pulse. “Or help you plan some kind of Thanksgiving feast in a hotel room.” “It wasn’t quite a feast,” Killian argued. “More just a questionable amount of us stuffed into one room and Lucas demanding several types of alcohol we aren’t really supposed to be having.”

“Troublemakers.”

“And,” Mary Margaret added, dropping onto the arm of the chair and barely missing Emma’s hair. “If Ruby wants to consume a questionable amount of alcohol then she should have waited until she got home.” Emma’s eyes were going to sustain permanent damage from constant rolling. Killian might actually injure himself from laughing.

“How much rum went into the pie this year?” he asked, voice still shaking lightly and Emma wasn’t sure what she was doing with her face, only that he noticed.

Figured.

She should have demanded a spot on the road trip. If Ruby got to go, she should have gone. That didn’t make any sense at all.

She should have come up with some kind of fan event. About Thanksgiving. In Phoenix. And a team that hadn’t won more than ten games all season.

Mary Margaret bit back her knowing smile and, eventually, Emma would have to thank her for that, certain Ruby wouldn’t have stopped herself from voicing several different opinions on pie and rum and the way Emma’s entire expression changed as soon as Killian used the phrase this year out loud.

Like it was some of tradition or something.

She needed more rum-filled pie.

“A ton,” Mary Margaret answered when she realized Emma was having some kind of life-changing realization in the corner of her couch. “But that was mostly because you guys were on the PK and Emma kept running back to the TV to yell and forgetting how much she’d already put into the mix.”

Emma couldn’t really slump down the couch anymore – she was an adult human being, after all – but she certainly made an attempt, flush rising in her cheeks and the back of her, likely, bruised neck.

She was going to punch Killian as soon as he landed in New York.

That face was stupid and attractive and stupid attractive and he kept staring at her like several different words she was, maybe, willing to acknowledge.

“You were making pies while we were playing, Swan?” he asked and Emma was, at least, eighty-two percent positive she heard Will cackling somewhere.

She nodded. “Eric had some kind of private event and I think A was actually really mad because it broke a record or something of watching away games, but then Regina reminded her that meant she didn’t have to come into the city and that ended that conversation. So, yeah, there were pies made a few hours earlier than normal.” “Going off schedule, love, I’m impressed.” “Oh, shut up.”

Will made another noise in the background and Killian ran his hand through his hair, rolling his shoulders in a way Emma had come to notice meant something important. He was thinking and pondering and he really was on some kind of crazy point streak.

It was a sidebar in The Post that morning.

“And,” Emma added pointedly. “It wasn’t so much my decision to go off schedule as it was trying not to be too worried about your shitty penalty kill.” “That is unfounded criticism, Emma,” Will shouted. Killian shook his head, glaring when an arm worked its way into the frame and tried to tug his phone out of his hand.

“Get the hell out of here, Scarlet,” Killian hissed. He couldn’t really keep his balance on the bench in front of his locker, only one of his skates on, but he tried to kick at Will anyway.

He nearly fell in his locker.

“God damnit, both of you,” Robin sighed, joining the fray with a put-upon look on his face and Emma wasn’t sure who laughed louder, her or Mary Margaret. “Cap can you please put your skates on? There is an actual game to play here.”

“I am doing that,” Killian muttered, but he didn’t move towards the left skate, just kept staring at his phone screen with wide eyes and some attempt at telepathy that Emma nearly understood.

She smiled.

“Emma is making sweeping generalizations about our penalty kill,” Will said. He kicked Killian’s skate closer, elbowing his side until he slid to the edge of the bench. “We are not that bad, Em,” he continued. “And I really don’t think it’s fair that you’re yelling at us about it.” Emma hummed. “Of course you are, Scarlet. You’re great. That’s why you guys are twentieth in the league and gave up, count ‘em, two goals last night.” “That doesn’t seem very good,” Mary Margaret added. Will scowled.

“Ok, well, when you put it like that, it doesn’t seem very good,” Will conceded. “But! And this is a really big but, this Las Vegas team is questionably good on the power play. You have those stats memorized too, Emma?” “Third in the league on the power play. Something like twenty-six percent. It’s insane.”

“They’re a legit team now,” Robin muttered, waving slightly when Emma’s gaze flickered towards him. “Hey, Emma. Hey, Mary Margaret. I heard you guys baked incredibly alcoholic pies on Wednesday night.” “The string of gossip on this team is ridiculous,” Killian muttered, but there was a note of something in his voice and Emma wanted the game to be over and the plane to be in New York and her boyfriend to be back in their apartment with their incredibly comfortable bed.

She sat up a bit straighter, shaking her hair onto her back and she could see Killian’s shoulders shift when the slightly dim light in Mary Margaret’s loft reflected off the chain around her neck.

“Henry called me,” Emma pointed out and she hadn’t mentioned that in the last two days.

It felt like something big and meaningful and Henry was more than settled in his life with the Mills-Locksley family and the New York Rangers and the National Hockey League, but, sometimes, he was still a kid and still nervous about it all being ripped away and he called her.

She liked that he called her.

She liked that he, still, depended on her a little bit.

And he was almost as loud as Emma when he yelled at the TV.

“And,” Emma continued. “Henry’s got no proof of the alcohol content regarding those pies. I’m a responsible adult figure in his life, I promise.” Robin grinned. “Of course you are. I’m not ever disputing that.”

Her heart flew into the back of her throat, growing several sizes in the process and it wasn’t entirely comfortable. “And the PK is pretty awful,” Killian added, knocking his shoulder against Will’s when he made another noise. “It is, Scarlet. Even Rol knows it. He texted both me and Robin about it during your fried onion from a can feast yesterday.”

“Aw, c’mon,” Emma shouted and Killian flashed her a smile that sent her heart back to its predetermined spot in her chest. Where it promptly tried to beat its way out. “You can’t just steal my phrasing word for word like that.” “I think that’s a compliment, Swan.” “I think you’re a word thief.”

“Be prepared for Roland Locksley’s detailed opinion about our incredibly shitty penalty kill later on tonight, love. He’s going to need an outlet and Gina hates any stat that won’t help us get paid more.”

“I’m leaning more towards hearing about your point streak, if we’re being honest,” Emma said. “And a complete play by play of Robin’s goal on Wednesday. Apparently his post-goal celebration was the stuff of adorable legends.”

“It absolutely was,” Robin agreed. “There was jumping and some kind of rhyme scheme involved. He reenacted it for me yesterday.” “Aw, that’s even more adorable,” Mary Margaret muttered, sliding down the couch and resting her head on Emma’s shoulder. “You think he’ll do it for Ruth later? She’ll be charmed.” “Yeah, and then start questioning the impending arrival of her own painfully adorable grandchildren,” Emma muttered.

Mary Margaret’s eyes nearly fell out of her head.

“Yes and yes, on both fronts,” Robin said. “Although, I’m going to go ahead and assume Mrs. Nolan might have some other concerns before she starts trying to adopt my kid as some kind of pseudo grandchild.”

Emma ignored that – fairly positive that Ruth Nolan would have several questions about several different fronts and, with no David buffer later that night, would have no problem asking all of them until she got an answer she was pleased with.

Robin made a face when she didn’t argue, gaze darting between the phone screen in Killian’s hand and the side of Killian’s face because Killian absolutely, positively would turn his head, and Will was still, somehow, grumbling about penalty kill stats. “Ok, ok, can we backtrack for a second?” he asked sharply. “Em, why do you know about Las Vegas’ questionably good power play?” “Because they’re some kind of feel-good sports story and Ruby Lucas is the media relations manager for this team?” Emma asked, sarcasm falling from every letter. Will made some kind of noise that might have been an agreement. “And,” she added. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Scarlet, but I also work for this team. And its shitty power play. I think that gives me some sort of rooting interest. Tell Sean he can’t try and block shots and then never get up again.” “Arthur mentioned that to him this morning,” Robin muttered, grabbing a roll of tape from the top shelf in Killian’s locker. “God, Cap, why do you have so much tape? It’s like you’re a convenience store up there.” Killian didn’t answer, just shook his head slowly and rolled his eyes towards the ceiling and Emma was certain she was still blushing.

He hadn’t put on his other skate yet.

“Because my sister is dating our equipment manager,” he said. Will mumbled something that sounded a lot like playing favorites and Killian held his hand out expectantly towards Robin. “Give me that. I’m apparently on some kind of point streak. I don’t want to break my stick.”

It probably shouldn’t have been nearly as attractive as it was.

It was normal – Killian’s wrists twisting and tape turning around the blade of his stick and it was routine. Emma was sure she’d seen him do it eight-hundred times. She’d seen hundreds of hockey players do it eight-thousand times, but there was something about the whole thing, the rhythm he fell into and the practiced ease and she knew he wasn’t even thinking about it.

Robin let out a low whistle when Killian tossed the tape back towards him, stick wrapped and a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

“Are you trying to set some kind of record, Cap?” he asked. “That was ridiculous.” Will muttered something else under his breath – a string of words suspiciously close to showing off for Emma – and Robin nodded in agreement, lower lip jutted out slightly when he tried not to laugh into the phone.

“Oh yeah, that makes sense,” Robin continued, clearly unaware that he was the only one participating in the conversation anymore. “Em, you going later?” Killian made a noise in the back of his throat – a mix between a groan and a sigh and maybe just the audible version of trying not to throw his skate at his teammates. Robin held up his hands in surrender, backing up until he was almost out of frame, and Will was doing an admirable job of not actually laughing.

He’d slumped onto his thighs.

And none of them were taking this game seriously.

It was, admittedly, the day after Thanksgiving and they’d be home that night and they’d been gone for nearly a week and she could almost make out the bags under Killian’s eyes. He probably hadn’t slept very well either.

“Am I going later?” Emma echoed, staring at Robin as if he’d lost his mind. “You know your kid has been texting me about your shitty power play all day too.” “Which one?” “Henry, obviously. He was more upset than I was when you guys lost on Wednesday night.”

“So that’s a yeah on the going later, then?” Will mumbled, mostly into his pads.

“Yeah,” Emma snapped. “That’s a yeah. A will have a conniption if we don’t all show up.” “We’re bringing more pie,” Mary Margaret said. She hadn’t lifted her head up yet. “On pain of death because A’s lost her mind.” “I think they call it nesting,” Will corrected, waving a dismissive hand in the air when Killian muttered oh my God under his breath. “Or just the precursor to insanity.” “How do you know that?” “I’m super witty and quick on my feet in conversations?” “Yeah, that’s not the answer you were looking for,” Emma sighed. He grinned at her. “Stop getting all your information from Belle, it’s cheating.”

Will stuck his tongue out – a picture of maturity in the middle of a locker room covered in Coyotes logos – and Emma tilted her head slightly, nodding towards the door she knew Killian couldn’t see.

He nodded.

They were getting good at that whole telepathy thing.

“Move, Scarlet,” Killian said, half a second away from pushing Will off the bench. He tapped his stick against Will’s skates, properly laced and on both of his feet, smiling back at the phone screen when Emma let out a sound that might have actually been a giggle.

Mary Margaret looked close to tears.

It took, exactly, three deep breaths, six, rather long steps, and one door slamming closed on Emma’s end for them to be, almost, alone. Killian never put his other skate on.

“The most frustrating group of human beings in the entire world,” Killian grumbled, sliding down a wall in a dim corner, but his smile was genuine when he glanced up at Emma and they were coming home that night.

“It’s your fault for answering the phone in the locker room,” she said. “You’re practically asking for an audience at that point.”

“Not on a normal team.” “This is a good team.”

He sighed, but didn’t argue and Emma bit her lip before she could start spouting a stream of increasingly sentimental thoughts. That couch had been impossible to fall asleep on. “Are you ok, love?” Killian asked, the edge falling from his voice and that was cheating.

She wasn’t sure what game they were playing, yet, but it was definitely cheating.

“I’m fine,” Emma said. It wasn’t a lie. She was tired, but that was almost expected on road trips by now and she was happy and they’d made pie to bring to the restaurant the night before. “Are you? You looked like you were gunning for a fight.” “On Wednesday?” “A little bit.” “That’s not really my game, Swan,” Killian said. “And if we’re going to try and get the league to listen to this Olympic idea, punching winless teams in the face isn’t going to help much.” “They’re going to listen,” Emma promised, well aware that she couldn’t, but Killian’s mouth twitched and he was almost smiling and that had been the point. “But Vegas wasn’t winless. What are you worried about?”

He didn’t answer immediately, eyes falling to his stretched out legs and he’d never put his jersey on either. “They’re taking their time,” Killian sighed. “This whole thing. It’s after Thanksgiving, Swan. They’re going to have to decide sooner or later and playing like crap is not going to sway anyone.” “Playing like crap?” Emma repeated skeptically and he sighed again, letting his head fall back against the wall.

And really she shouldn’t have been surprised.

Killian Jones, captain of the New York Rangers and emerging face of the entire goddamn NHL, needed something to fight for. It had always been a Cup run, but they’d done that and there was a parade and a contract extension and, now, the league was dragging its feet on the Olympics and opportunity and he was going to get them there.

Emma knew it.

Even if he didn’t.

“You know Arthur broke two whiteboards?” Killian asked, tugging on the hair curled behind his ear. “He spent most of the third period actually drawing on paper.” Emma nodded. “Ruby was mad. Some guy from The Daily News heard about it and wanted to make a big thing and she was trying to put metaphorical fires most of the night. I was getting live updates of her frustration.” “Is that why you didn’t sleep?” “Presumptuous.” “Nah, assumptive at best. Or worst? How would you define that?” “I’m not sure any of this is a compliment so…” “I wouldn’t go so far as compliment,” Killian admitted, laughing softly. “More observational. And Locksley is going to murder me if I keep mumbling about the stiffness of mattresses or the legacy of the Olympic games.”

Emma smiled, toying with the ring around her neck. “It’s going to work. Shitty power play notwithstanding, it’s not like you guys are on some crazy losing skid. And I wasn’t lying about that point streak.” “I know you weren’t, Swan. Rol’s been very vocal about that too.” “Jeez, beat to the punch by a seven-year-old. That’s kind of rough.” Killian shook his head and she could feel the nervous energy even on the other side of the country. “It’s not a race,” he muttered. “If it were, you’d be winning.” “That’s a bad line, Cap.” “True, but it doesn’t make it any less honest.” He took a deep breath, the pads on his shoulders shifting with the effort and Emma could smell pumpkin pie wafting through the air, like the world was trying to make some kind of heavy-handed point with desserts and scents and a questionable amount of alcohol. “I wasn’t entirely prepared to become the leader of the Olympic movement, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Emma nodded. “But there’s a reason for that.” “Swan…” “No, c’mon, don’t be like that. You win a Conn-Smythe and a Hart and get some crazy extension and you’re going to tell me that we don’t deserve to get to the Olympics too? That’s insane.”

Killian’s eyes narrowed as soon as the words were out of her mouth and for half a moment Emma wasn’t entirely sure what she’d said.

He dropped his phone.

“What did you say?” Killian asked, voice gruff and that nervous energy had multiplied tenfold and evolved into something that, Emma hoped, was excited. “It’s not certain yet.” “Swan, none of this is certain, but you changed pronouns.” “Well, it seemed unfair to suggest that we both won a Conn-Smythe and Hart.” “We did.” “Jeez,” she sighed, but she was probably blushing again and her pulse was doing something impossible in her veins. “Too much, Cap. Way too much.” “Why the change, Swan?” “It’s not certain yet,” Emma warned and he widened his eyes when she kept deflecting. She clicked her teeth together, trying to work out some of the residual energy she could feel racing through her and maybe the conversation would be easier if she started jogging up and down the hallway. “Rubes and I were talking about it when you started talking about it and neither one of us were high enough up any theoretical ladders for Sochi, so when the league decides to stop being a dick about this and agrees to let us all go, then uh...USA Hockey is interested in both of us going. And so is Zelena.” “You talked to Zelena about it?” Emma’s neck felt impossibly stiff when she nodded again and Killian hadn’t blinked in several decades. At least. “That was part of the meeting when they told me I couldn’t come on the swing,” she said. “And like I said, USA Hockey already reached out to Ruby who then told me and said she wouldn't go if I didn’t go and Zelena heard about it and, well, I think that’s a good sign, don’t you?” She’d probably think about the look on his face for the rest of her life and that tiny, little voice in the back of her mind that, occasionally, wondered if this was all real was a silent as it had ever been. Emma wondered if it had disappeared entirely.

Killian still hadn’t blinked and she was ready to make some quip about eye drops, but she was admittedly distracted by how goddamn blue his eyes were and the slight quirk of his mouth and the other side of the country had never felt that far and that close all at the same time.

She was going to eat so much pie later.

“I think that’s a good sign,” Killian muttered softly and Emma felt it in her toes. “You know I love you, right? Just…” He shook his head, the smile moving across his face in slow motion and Emma bit her lip. “I’d want you to go. If we go.” “When we go.” He beamed at her. His eyes were frustratingly blue. “When we go,” Killian repeated. “Then, at the risk of sounding incredibly selfish, I’d really want you there.” “That works out fairly well, since I already told USA Hockey I’d go if the league agreed.”

Killian dropped his phone again.

“Surprise,” Emma said when he was back on screen, waving her free hand through the air and slightly stunned was a very good look on him. “Rubes and I have been trying to brainstorm community relations ideas for weeks. You’re not very observant”

His laugh was shaky and treading slightly close to disbelief, but he was still smiling and his tongue darting in between his lips made Emma question all the reasons she hadn’t gone on the road trip – again.

“I think they’re going to agree soon,” Emma continued. “The league, I mean. USA Hockey is obviously all in on this and recruiting front office even if players don’t get permission. That’s going to wake up the commissioner's gang and then we can win a gold medal.” “Just like that?” Killian asked.

“I don’t see why not. You’re on some kind of point streak.”

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair and Emma could hear Phillip calling from the other end of the hallway, pregame sounds making their way through the phone speakers. “That is true” Killian said, nodding towards the bodiless voice and Phillip shouted hey, Emma. “You know, the greater Phoenix area has over two-hundred golf courses?”

Emma was going to do serious damage to her lip if she kept biting it, particularly if she kept trying to smile at the same time, but the muscles in her face hadn't gotten that particularly memo and they were really, impossibly good at flirting with each other.

“That seems like an impractical amount,” she said. “Who could golf that much? And in Arizona? Way too hot.” “It’s a dry heat.” “Ah, of course. Why do you know that?” “Swan. Everything. I know everything.” “Yuh huh,” Emma muttered, but there were butterflies in the pit of her stomach and the pie smell was getting stronger. She was positive. That felt like a sign. “The Coyotes logo used to be an actual Coyote with a hockey stick, which is as impractical as two-hundred golf courses. Although the new one kind of freaks me out too. So I’m not sure if it’s really better.” “It’s definitely not. The howling thing is ridiculous. Maybe that’s why no one comes to their games.” “Or, you know, they’ve set some kind of losing record to start the season.” He smirked at her, eyes just a hint brighter and the nerves gone as quickly as they’d come, falling back into banter and flirting and she was going to kiss several clichés worth of living daylights out him later that night.

“Yeah, that too,” Killian said. “You’d really go? To the Olympics, I mean. If we…when we go,” he amended when he heard Emma’s vaguely frustrated sigh. “It’s going to be a shit ton of overbearing team.” “You’re the one who’s looking fight-ready not me. Did you miss the part where Rubes and I have been talking about this already? Or how great it’d be not to go to New Jersey and get those Casino Night tables out of storage? Because that’d be fantastic.”

“That’s definitely why we should go to the Olympics.” “Obviously.” “Cap,” Phillip called, dragging out the nickname or, possibly, rank and Killian squeezed his eyes closed. “Arthur’s getting super pissy and threatening whiteboards again.” “You better go” Emma smiled. Mary Margaret dropped another pot. “I think Reese’s is trying to speak to me in code. Keep that streak alive, huh?”

He winked at her.

Idiot.

They were totally going to win a gold medal.

“Of course, Swan. Save me some pie.”

Roland practically threw himself at Emma and Mary Margaret as soon the door to the restaurant closed behind them, Regina’s cry of be careful barely audible over his “Did you bring pie? Is there pie? Henry said you made pie!”

“There is pie” Emma said, the smile on her face natural as Rolan kept bouncing up and down on his toes. “But the game hasn’t even started yet, Rol. Don’t we have onion rings to eat?”

He deflated slightly, but he didn’t seem all that put out by the prospect of onion rings and, eventual, pie. “We thought you weren’t coming,” he shouted. “It’s almost puck drop and Henry said you made pie.” “We brought the pie, Rol. There is no pie emergency.”

“Good pie?” “Can you name a bad pie?” “Key lime.”

“That was a much quicker answer than I was expecting,” Emma muttered to Mary Margaret.

She shrugged in response, pulling Roland away Emma’s side so he wasn’t twisting up her jersey – the Stanley Cup jersey she’d gotten the season before and Ruth’s eyes had widened slightly when she noticed the patch on Emma’s shoulder as soon as she slid into the cab.

“I mean he’s not wrong,” Ariel said, joining the conversation with one hand on her stomach and the other pressed into the small of her back. She smiled when she noticed Ruth. “Hi, Mrs. Nolan, I’m so glad you guys could make it.” “As if we had another choice,” Emma said. Ariel glared.

“Did you talk to Cap about whatever he was doing with his face on Wednesday night? Because it was weird. It was weird, right Gina?” Regina waved both her hands in the air, taking a step towards Roland to wrap an arm around his shoulders. He only grumbled a little. “I’ve heard it’s going to be fine,” she said and Ariel groaned at the vague tone of her voice.

“What does that even mean?”

“It means the league might be done dragging its feet,” Emma explained. “And Arthur yelled at Sean.” “I’m surprised Arthur didn’t yell at everyone. Or make them skate blue lines yesterday.” “He did,” Regina and Emma said at the same time.

Ariel’s whole body sagged with the force of her sigh. “Damn, I miss everything now. Ah, sorry, Rol. Em, tell Cap I don’t like being out of the loop. Just because I’m not going on the road does not mean I have lost my...”

“Desire to know everything?” Mary Margaret finished.

“Ok, well, it sounds mean when you say it like that. And that PK looked like garbage in Vegas. It was like they were playing in slow motion. I don’t think Sean even realized he was still holding a stick. Or could use it.” “God,” Emma muttered. “Tell us how you really feel.” “I’m really mad we broke this streak. We were at, like, three straight seasons.” “So we start a new one.” Four slightly stunned expressions turned towards Emma and she would have retreated if there weren’t a seven-year-old trying to pull pies out of her hands.

Mary Margaret was definitely going to cry.

Or maybe start live-texting David updates of the entire night. He wanted updates of the game, anyway, and proof the entire New York Rangers contingent appreciate the pies they’d made.

He probably wasn’t expecting Roland to try and eat all of it.

Or for Emma to be some kind of font of positivity.

“What?” Emma asked and it was a pointless question because she already knew the answer. Ariel and Mary Margaret both shrugged, Regina almost looking like she was about to smile and Ruth’s eyes traced across Emma’s face, falling down to the ring that had, somehow, worked its way over the top of her jersey.

Figured.

“Nothing, nothing, nothing,” Mary Margaret promised, but here eyes were a little glossier than usual and Emma could hear her take a deep breath. “I just...nothing. We need forks to eat pie, right?” “Presumably,” Emma said, smile, somehow, getting even wider when Roland let out a noise that was fairly close to a yelp of excitement. “So, uh...Regina what if we didn’t eat food before pie?” Regina smiled.

It was a Thanksgiving miracle.

“Yeah,” she said. “I think we can do that.”

They made it through a whole pie by the time the first period ended – still zeroes across the board and the PK wasn’t horrible, but there were a few close calls, Roland standing on his chair because it made him shout louder, Emma and Henry punching air like he was getting ready to drop gloves.

It wasn’t a perfect game, but it wasn’t a bad game and, then, something happened. It was as if a switch had been flicked or someone had twisted a great, big dial that controlled the speed of NHL hockey games and, suddenly, there were hits and checks and whistles and a distinct lack of whistles.

Roland nearly jumped off the chair.

Emma’s eyes couldn’t keep up with the puck, gaze darting across the TV screen and she wasn’t sure she was breathing. Her lungs burned from the distinct lack of oxygen, tapping her foot impatiently when a Coyotes defender pinned Killian against the boards, trying to work the puck to his stick or his skate and they spent an eternity pressed on the glass.

“Move it, move it, move it,” Emma mumbled, reaching up to grab her ring before she realized her neurons had processed that particularly demand.

“What is that?” Ruth asked. Emma’s neck cracked when she glanced to her right, Ruth’s expectant expression entirely out of place in a restaurant full of anxious front office and family and Emma hadn’t stopped tapping her foot.

“Hmm?”

“That ring. You’re wearing a ring.” “Oh,” Emma blinked. Killian got the puck away from the boards, moving it up to Phillip who was immediately hit at center ice, spinning out and losing possession in the neutral zone.

Roland might have growled.

Henry cursed.

“Hey,” Regina and Emma said at the same time, Mary Margaret’s tongue clicking in reproach.

Henry slumped in his seat. “That should have been a penalty,” he muttered, grabbing another forkful of pie. “He was totally defenseless.” “I mean, he wasn’t totally wrong,” Ariel admitted. She’d commandeered a pie for herself.

Emma winced when her neck did something else it probably wasn’t supposed to, glancing up when Robin missed the net wide right and they were still in the zone and still on the ice and they probably should have changed.

“Get them off the ice,” Mary Margaret shouted, half standing and half sitting. She was wearing a custom jersey. She’d bought it at the start of the season. “They’ve been out there forever. Look, Scarlet can barely skate.” “Oh, tell him that when they get home,” Regina chuckled. She tugged on the back of Roland’s jersey and it only took one incredibly pointed look and slightly raised eyebrow for him to sit down.

Emma sighed and she didn’t really want anymore pie, but she could feel Ruth’s curious stare boring into the side of her head and she needed some kind of distraction.

She really didn’t want to get drunk in front of Ruth Nolan.

Pie was her only option.

“That wasn’t an answer,” Ruth said a few moments later, the first line back on the ice and hits coming fast and furious and Emma was also considering standing on her chair. “I thought they were supposed to keep their championship rings.”

Emma glanced at her, trying to keep one eye trained on the game. “If you know what it is already, I’m not sure what it is you’re asking.”

“Oh, yes you do, sweetheart. And I think you’re thinking it too. About asking. And questions. Big, important questions.” “Seems rather assumptive don’t you think?”

“No,” Ruth laughed. “I don’t. And I don’t think you do either.” “Yuh huh.” “That’s not an argument. You’re wearing a jersey and a ring already, why not add another one?” “Are you trying to plan a wedding, Ruth?” Emma asked, silently pleased that she’d managed to get that word out without stuttering over her. Mary Margaret almost choked on her pie. “Because there is no wedding happening here.” “Tell that to the ring you keep tugging on when you get nervous.” “What could I be nervous about?”

Ruth shrugged, but it was the most knowing shrug in the history of the entire world. “I’ve known you for years, sweetheart and I’ve never heard you so certain of anything as you’ve been this entire weekend. And,” she added, tugging lightly on Emma’s sleeve. “You light up like several different skyscrapers whenever your phone goes off.”

“She’s not wrong,” Ariel murmured through a mouthful of pie. “Something, something, the top of the Chrysler Building.” “Are you quoting things at me?” Emma asked and Ariel twisted her mouth into something that was probably supposed to be the visualization of a shoulder shrug. “And it’s shine like the top of the Chrysler Building. If you want to get technical.” Ariel opened her mouth, but her eyes went wide before she could say anything and Henry cursed again, a string of words he’d definitely picked up from Scarlet.

Emma nearly ripped her ring off its chain.

Killian was down, helmet resting on the ice and Emma could just make out the slight shudder that went through his whole body, like he was trying to take a deep breath or rediscover his center of gravity.

She didn’t remember standing up until she heard the fork fall out of her hand, nails digging into her palm with her fingers wrapped around her ring.

“What happened?” Emma demanded, not sure who she was asking. She didn’t look away from the TV, bouncing slightly on the balls of her and Ariel was already on the phone.

She was dimly aware of the commentators in the background, the noise pumping through the speakers in the restaurant, but the words didn’t seem register – went in fast...blindside...hit the boards hard...concussion protocol.

That one clicked.

“Concussion protocol,” Emma snapped, jerking towards Ariel, but she waved her hand through the air, pushing away from the table with her phone against her ear. “God damnit, show a fucking replay. Shit, ah, God, sorry, Rol.”

Roland was too busy yelling to notice. Henry was still swearing. So was Mary Margaret. Ruth looked stunned.

The replay in slow motion seemed to slink through Emma and she knew that was impossible, but she couldn’t catch her breath and her mouth had gone dry from hanging open for what felt like several years.

He’d been skating into the defensive zone, gone back to try and get the puck off the boards, shoulders turned towards the glass when a Coyotes winger slammed into him. Killian’s head hit first and Emma’s breath caught – even on the fucking replay – tongue darting out between her lips when he crumpled onto the ice.

He laid on the ice for a few moments and Emma could just make out the way his eyes squeezed shut, stick a few feet away where he’d dropped it. It took a few tries to get back up, working onto his hands and knees with Robin crouched next to him and Phillip trying to pull Will away from several different players in Arizona jerseys.

“Oh fuck,” Emma breathed. “That was...that really wasn’t a penalty?” Henry shook his head, lips pressed together tightly. He nodded back towards the TV and Killian was standing, but Emma could tell how shaky his legs were and it took longer than normal to get back to the bench.

“Ok, ok, ok,” Emma muttered, not quite sure what she was saying, but positive she had to keep saying it. Her heart felt like it was hammering against her ribcage and she couldn’t stop moving, jumping instead of just bobbing. “I need my phone. Where’s my phone? God, where’d A go?”

“Your pocket, Em,” Mary Margaret said. “And I think A’s trying to talk to Victor.”

Emma nodded – it felt like her brain was moving with her, bouncing around her skull and she couldn't get her phone out of her pocket. She was being thwarted by her jeans.

And she’d totally been thinking about the same questions Ruth Nolan had.

In their two-bedroom apartment with a stolen Conn-Smythe.

“Damn,” Emma sighed. They were taking him to the locker room. Or, at least trying, Victor yanking on the back of his jersey and nodding towards the tunnel and there was a cut on Killian’s forehead.

She nearly dislocated her thumb trying to text Ruby, demands for updates and information and updates as soon as there were updates to be had.

He didn’t play the rest of the night.

And Emma didn’t sit down the rest of the night.

She brought the pie with her when she left the restaurant, promising Ruth and Mary Margaret she was fine and it was an insultingly obvious lie, but they didn’t argue her cab.

The text message came fifteen blocks before she got home, a quick buzz in her hand that took her by surprise and she coudln’t be doing her blood pressure any favors.

Not concussed. Bruised. Incredibly Sore. But not concussed. Also incredibly glad to be home. With you.

Emma exhaled, closing her eyes lightly and letting her head fall back against the top of the seat.

I was freaking out.

Lucas mentioned. Victor knows what he’s doing though. Definitely not concussed.

That guy should get fined. And punched. Several times.

He probably will. I can’t guarantee that second one. We don’t play in Arizona again for awhile.

Maybe I can get Scarlet to give me two minutes the next time.

Don’t tempt him, love. He’ll totally do it if you ask.

Emma laughed, the noise sounding foreign in the quiet cab and she still couldn’t catch her breath. She felt like she’d done several days worth of Arthur’s blue-line sprints.

Did you leave yet?

About to take off, actually. Now that he knows i’m not going to die somewhere over Kansas, Locksley’s already asleep.

Considerate of him.

I’m really glad you’re ok.

I think I made Ruby mad.

She’ll live.

There’s still pie.

It was, easily, the most ridiculous thing she’d could have said to her professional-hockey-playing boyfriend just a few hours after he’d been cleared of concussion-like symptoms, but she’d only just remembered she’d never actually answered his I love you earlier and Emma’s heart was somewhere on the ground in the middle of Amsterdam Ave.

What an idiot.

Ruth Nolan’s questions were echoing in her head.

Good.

It was after midnight when she heard the lock click in the front door and Emma didn’t really think when she flung herself off the couch, sprinting across the room and slamming into Killian’s gear bag as much as his actually body.

And, really, it probably wasn’t the right thing to do – even if he wasn’t concussed, he was still bruised and slightly battered and, quite obviously, exhausted – but Emma’s mind was racing and worried and Killian smiled when his arm inched around her waist, tugging her even closer so he could press a kiss to her hair.

“Hey,” Killian laughed, leaning back to try and look at her. He couldn’t. Her head was buried in his chest. “It’s fine, Swan. Everything’s fine.”

Emma took a deep breath, pushing up on her toes to brush the tips of her fingers over the slightly purple bruise on the side of his forehead. “Fine,” she challenged and he hummed in agreement. “I might punch that guy in the face.”

“Although I appreciate the offers to defend my honor, love, I don’t know if that’ll help inspire the league to let us go show off hockey to the world.”

“Yeah, probably not,” Emma grumbled, blinking quickly when she realized what he’d said. “Wait, what?”

Killian grinned at her, ducking his head to brush his lips over hers quickly and she’d probably think about his propensity to kiss first for the rest of the weekend. “It’s just a rumor,” he said. “But Victor told me he heard some of the med staff in Arizona talking about schedules for PyeongChang and how many people USA Hockey was willing to send. He claimed they all sounded fairly concrete.”

She could hear the excitement in his voice – the same pick-up it had from nerves earlier in the day replaced with optimism and hope and maybe they were both growing as people or something, right there in the doorway of their two-bedroom apartment.

“I knew it,” Emma said, tugging lightly on his league-mandated tie. “And, seriously, no concussion? How was that even possible?” “Are you doubting Victor’s diagnosis?” “Obviously not. I’m not hoping you’re concussed. It was just...it was a bad hit and they kept replaying it during the third period. The third period you didn’t come back out for.” “Precautionary.” “Because they thought you were concussed.” “Which I’m not.”

“So I’ve heard. What even happened?” Killian shrugged and his eyes widened slightly when he realized Emma was still wearing his jersey. “Is this the same one from the Cup Finals?”

“You’re deflecting.” “I’m curious.” “Killian!”

He licked his lips, directing them back towards the couch and Emma didn’t object when he tugged her onto his legs. “I honestly have no idea,” he admitted. “The first period was fine and then they came out flying in the second and we were always half a step behind and I didn’t even see him coming until I slammed into the boards. I think they’re just pissed at how shitty they are. You know, collectively, and we just got the brunt of that.” “But not concussed?” Emma asked again.

“Not concussed,” Killian said. “Why do you keep asking that, love? I’ve been hurt before. I will, presumably, get hurt at some point again. It’s kind of part of the deal.” “I know, I know, I know, but…” She trailed off, not entirely sure how to explain what she wasn’t sure she understood and Killian’s eyebrows furrowed when she didn’t say anything. “But?” he prompted, nosing at her neck and, probably, breathing in her hair.

“I love you,” Emma said, nearly shouting the words in his face and this was not going according to plan at all. There hadn’t been a plan. Killian smiled. “And I just...I realized I hadn’t said it before and that would have been such a shitty thing if you’d been hurt and we’ve got to go win a gold medal now and I want to do all of that. With you.”

And eventually, maybe, they’d stop doing that kiss each other in response to major declarations, but it wasn’t that moment and Emma wasn’t going to argue.

They were both cautious, moving slightly slower than they would have if there hadn’t been a concussion protocol earlier that night, but Killian’s tongue brushed over her lower lip and Emma’s fingers held onto the front of his jacket and she felt like she was breathing again.

She must have sighed or made some kind of ridiculous noise, because she could feel Killian’s smile when he moved to the curve of her jaw and the side of her neck. He groaned when she shifted over him, legs on either side of his hips and his fingers trailed across her waist, bunching up the bottom of her jersey.

Hs jersey.

“That’s the plan, Swan,” he whispered and it felt big and important and something about as long as we both shall live.

“Good. But the next time you get hurt, I better be there because I can’t deal with this string of information through a Ruby and, or Ariel filter. I thought I was going to go crazy. Or break my phone.” Killian laughed softly, pressing another kiss to the curve of her shoulder and her ring was back outside her jersey. “That seems fair, love. C’mon, I’m exhausted.”

The phone call came a few days later – straight from the league with, probably, smiles on their faces and expectations sky-high and they were going to the Olympics.

Together.

And Emma didn’t bother asking Ruby for any information as soon as Killian crash into the boards in PyeongChang, just sprinted out of the team suite and into the trainer’s room and he smiled when he saw her.

She told him she loved him in the car ride back to the hotel.

#cs ff #captain swan #cs #captain swan ff #cs fic #blue line one shots #spoiler i'm still real mad about the nashville game

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daveywankenobie · 4 years

Text

People seem to be marking the turn of the year from 2019 into 2020 as an opportunity to look back not just at the last year but the last decade. As such there’s a storm of people in social media posting comparisons of how they look now alongside a photo of themselves in 2010.

Nowadays I’m not really all that sensitive about photographs of me – and I tend to let them be taken (or take them myself) regardless of how I may look.

I’m easily found in Google image searches – so why hide any more? I can’t really put the genie back in the bottle…

It’s oddly liberating – and even when I’ve had my identity stolen (which has happened twice now) it still failed to deter me.

In 2010 things were different though and I wasn’t so keen on having pictures taken of me.

Consequently only a few exist in my computer’s photo album. Two of them were taken by other people and one is a selfie. I’m not yet at my heaviest weight of 35st in any of these – and I know this from the shirts I’m wearing in the pictures.

They are 7XL rather than the 8XL ones I finally ended up in.

It’s often the case that when others look at a photo of you they make their own judgements. If they see you smiling and happy – their assumption is that that’s how you felt in that moment. Photos can hide a lot though – and I’m sure we all look back at them and can think very differently about what they represent to us.

In 2002 I watched a film called one hour photo (link) with Robin Williams where a technician becomes obsessed with the pictures he’s developing. Over several years he works on images of what appears to be a perfect family unit which ultimately results in an unhealthy and obsessive need to get closer to them.

In doing so he learns that the idealised family life with them that he dreams he is part of is far from perfect. Their beaming smiles in the photos he processes belie the truth – and when he discovers an extra marital affair his world (and that of the family) begins to unravel in a very unsettling way.

The premise stuck with me after I watched it – and in a pre-social media world, before terms like ‘fakebook’ existed to describe our carefully crafted online profiles of perfect lives it left me thinking a lot about what really sat behind all of the photos that I had in albums.

I’m around 32-33st in the photo above.

Depressingly it was taken after I managed to lose 10st on the Cambridge diet, but not before I packed it all straight back on again (at the rate of 1st per month!) as well as a little bit more on top for good measure.

I chose the seat I was sitting on because it was the only place in the bar my friend and I had met in that didn’t have arms on the seats. It was a large padded fabric cube in front of a huge wooden table and it meant I didn’t struggle to get in or out of where I chose to have a drink.

In this second one from 2010 I’m proudly holding my friends new born daughter – who has turned into a lovely young girl as the years have passed.

This photo is happy because of this being the first baby I’d ever held – and I was amazed at how tiny all of her little features were. She was absolutely perfect and slept quietly as I held her.

I also remember though that (like the pub) there was only one place that I could comfortably sit in my friend’s house, and shortly after this I managed to break it – which meant he needed to repair the whole sofa.

I can’t look at this happy picture without the taint of that memory.

There were also more bizzare things to remember in 2010 – and for whatever reason around this time (her motivations were always opaque to me) my mother had begun to send me increasingly weird gifts in the post.

Periodically her texts and letters (all of which were corrosive and detrimental to my mental health) had caused me to withdraw, change my mobile number, not give her my new addresses when I moved – and gradually cut her further and further out of my life.

It didn’t stop her posting parcels to me via my dad however, and in one of these she saw fit to send me a jester’s hat.

I didn’t like it very much.

In another were some rings that she thought would appeal to me (modelled here by myself and my brother) but clearly would have looked more at home on the hand of Liberace.

I never understood why she thought I’d appreciate these things back then (her letters suggested that they were genuine presents rather than passive aggressive jabs) and I still haven’t figured it all out to this day – but it’s a reminder (sadly) that not having her in my life since she passed away is something that’s made things better rather than worse.

She passed away in 2016 and gradually at this point my life started to improve.

I don’t hold any ill will though and try to think kindly of her.

I don’t have much evidence of the types of food that I ate in 2010 but one photo reminded me that I used to regularly frequent The Racehorse pub in Warwick – where I ate the same types of meals over and over again.

I dread to think what the calorie content of my cheese topped garlic bread, chips, sausage, pork chop, gammon and lamb cutlet was but it was a staple part of my diet for quite a while.

The point is I guess that things are (in every conceivable respect) are better now than they were 10 years ago.

Admittedly I’m a teeny bit greyer now than I was 10 years ago – and I’m still an unapologetic geek (if anyone hasn’t seen The Mandalorian yet (link) I highly recommend it because it will help explain the beanie) but in almost every other respect my life is AMAZINGLY different.

For the first six months of 2019 I was still the Slimming World MOTY, and my photo is still plastered all over the wall at SWHQ – something that I still can’t quite get my head around.

It’s true to say though that although this was a major high point of my time so far on earth over half of the last decade is period that I’d prefer to forget.

Many years ago I was a care worker, and as part of the role I volunteered to help put together the life story of a man I looked after.

His early adulthood had been a vital and exciting one where he had been a bomb disposal expert in the RAF. He was stationed in Germany after the war and played a part in removing much ordnance from cities that the Allies has bombed.

He was also engaged to be marry to a lovely German girl with blonde hair and a pretty smile.

This was until he was involved in a horrific car accident. When this happened not only was he badly burned and physically broken but he also lost the capability to retain any long term memories from that point on.

After years of waiting for him to recover his fiancé moved on – but her Black and white oval photo remained by his bedside.

She sent him a letter folded up inside a Christmas card telling him about her family and grandchildren. He cried each time he saw it and then stopped when he forgot what it was that he held in his hand.

He remembered his childhood and things that he’d experienced until the day of the accident – but from that point onwards everything was lost. Burning bread was forgotten as soon as it went into the toaster and cup of tea after cup of tea went cold as it passed from conscious memory to oblivion whilst sitting just outside his direct line of sight.

His surviving relative (a very kindly uncle) was the only man that knew him and who had remained in his life from the day that he was born until the day I’d met him, and he was getting old.

I sat with him for a long time looking through yellowed photos until everything just stopped in the mid sixties at the time of the crash. From that point onwards he had moved from medical facility to medical facility and care home to care home where nothing had happened to him.

Not one solitary piece of information existed from the early sixties to the late 90’s to describe what he’d said, done, written, thought or enjoyed.

For over thirty years he became a gap in history, and in 2016 I realised that I too was becoming something similar. I created nothing – instead consuming everything from food and alcohol to media and video games.

My life was an empty vessel.

So – even if I wanted to remember it, a good chunk of the last decade is only explained my my rather epic xbox live achievement history – which details the myriad of digital distractions that I buried myself in whilst I drank or ate away my life.

I don’t think that the next ten years will be like this though.

I might have made mistakes in the past – but I feel like things are finally different.

Sure I still struggle – but I’m more in control than ever before and that’s a good feeling. The road to 2020 may have been rocky but I have love, good health and a future.

Isn’t that all anyone can ask for?

Hell – at least I won’t regret the last four years – even if I still excel at screwing up occasionally!

Davey

The road to 2020 People seem to be marking the turn of the year from 2019 into 2020 as an opportunity to look back not just at the last year but the last decade.

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aurimeanswind · 7 years

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Autumn—Sunday Chats (10-1-17)

Fall has finally arrived, and boy do video games just not stop.

Podcast Train Stop

I’m curious if anyone else has tun into the issue where their podcast rotation just stops? I’ve basically stopped listening to all my podcasts except for My Brother, My Brother and Me. I am not sure why, but I’ve fallen off of all of the GiantBomb Podcasts, any other video game podcast, except for really The Easy Allies podcast. Of the group, that one that I’ve gotten into the most recently still sticks with me for whatever reason.

Maybe it’s the want to not listen to hours-long podcast recently? Which is odd because I usually binge many podcasts together back to back. I think the most likely answer is that I had fallen behind and then not been able to catch up.

This is unfortunate though because podcasts are typically my main source of news and now I am getting a little aloof with the gaming news. But I still manage to keep up thanks to the show I help host!

Has this ever happened to any of you? What do you do, try and listen to all the episodes you missed or just jump right back in?

What’s on Tap

Danganronpa V3

This is the big one. Consuming most of my time like Danganronpa is ought to do.

It’s very good y’all.

Danganronpa has a great talent of building off of its predecessors in completely unorthodox ways, essentially carrying forward concepts but in logical ways so it doesn’t seem like all of the characters are jumping to conclusions based on nothing. It just seems like this different group of people decided to take a wildly different approach. Chunsoft then ties that to the personalities and style of those same characters, and it’s a brilliant mix-mash of those intelligent designs.

These games always play with my expectations and take me by surprise, but boy... this one really is messing with me.

Not only that, they’re using loss in a way that is even more emotional and moving then it has been before, which for me has been a first in the series. I actually got choked up after the first chapter because of how this was done.

These games are so good, and Danganronpa V3 is not a disappointment by any stretch of the imagination.

Destiny 2

Finished the raid this past week, and hopefully soon will be finishing it with my original team.

We’ve run into plenty of trouble, but I know we have it in us to knock it out.

Metroid Samus Returns

Uh, y’all? It’s still so good.

Got to some of the new and added stuff to the game and it was absolutely phenomenal.

Very tense, very cool, and very, very fun. I love it.

Questions

Remember to look for my tweet with the hashtag #SundayChats in it on Sunday afternoons and reply to it with your question! That’s the way to do it!

Normally I would have asked a question to you all this week, but I’m holding it off until next week.

So, real quick, as I was going through questions, I noticed a ton of SNES-classic related questions, which reminds me I’ve been playing that too! Let me insert that real quick...

SNES Classic

It’s so cute!

This is the one I wanted, I got it, I’m v happy.

So I jumped right into Zelda A Link to the Past and played through the opening, and it’s still wonderful.

It’s fun playing on an OG SNES controller, though I do really like the classic controller form the Wii Era. The original too, not the pro, because you get a little best of both worlds.

The big one I sank the most time into was actually Super Mario RPG. It’s been so long since I played that that it’s basically a whole new game for me. Plus, I was a kid, and had no clue what the hell was happening. It’s been super funny and super fun to really see that game with fresh eyes for the first time ever.

Okay, back to questions.

Yay! I didn’t know this!

I’d say I am at about an 8.5. I really like the Jackbox games, and they’re especially fun to get a new one before ExtraLife, when we have a ton of people watching a stream and also a ton of people in the room. With the streaming improvements from JBPP3, I think this one is gonna be pretty stellar. Curious to see what games are in there. Hopefully a Quiplash 3!

This is a very gross question Tyler, not because of the subject, but because you narrowly refer to a character as a “bubble butt baddie” which, at the end of the day, I don’t even know what that narrows it down to? Like, who qualifies for that?

I dunno, but the one answer that came to mind was Miranda from Mass Effect 2.

Oh man this is a pretty good question. I never really got into Costume Quest, which, I know, is sacrilegious to say, but it’s true. The text speed was too fast? I know, dumb complaint, but I’m a terrible reader, so I couldn’t keep up.

Anyway, I’d like to think I’d either turn into some kind of lame superhero, or just straight up Banjo and Kazooie. I don’t know why, but that’s the first thing that came to my head...

Here’s the deal, there is no correct way to play video games. Full stop. You can take your time and savor something, but you can also rush through something and savor it too. Like, I played Persona 5 at what I considered to be a slow pace, because folks like Nabeshin beat it before me, because I wanted to “savor it”. That being said, I still beat it in 2 and a half weeks, and 103 hours split into two and a half weeks is still a whole lotta hours per week. But neither of us played it “wrong”.

Like, folks that get qualified as “casual” are going to be seen as the ones that play it slower, but it’s likely because they have other things they need to do. Like sleep. And eat. I don’t do these things! At least not regularly!

On the subject of Destiny 2 specifically, I think it does have minimal post-game content, mainly the Raid, the Nightfall, and Trials of the Nine. Which, like, still seems like more than the original, to be fair? There are hidden exotic quests too, and I have a feeling as we roll into Iron Banner this month, there will still be plenty for folks to do after they’ve finished the game. But ultimately the folks that charged through to 280 in the first weekend knew exactly what they were doing and got themselves into that situation. I just started up my third and final character on Destiny 2, so getting that guy up to 280 is going to be a fun trip for me still.

I dunno, there isn’t a right answer to this i think. But power through games or savor them however you like, because I think you’re the best judge of how fast or how slow you should play a game. Plus, you’ll probably put a different amount of time into a given game depending on how you feel about it, so I get it either way.

Weird. Uneasy. Aroused? Horrified.

Also, it has taken me the full twenty minutes since I screen grabbed this to now when I am typing this answer to form the line “ready to smash” in my head, and I hate me, and you, and everything.

Pumpkin Spice is trash.

I said it.

I’ll say it again.

Take your trash and get out of here.

November is right around the corner. And you know what that means?

Motherfucking Gingerbread Latte.

Aww yay! Favorite month! A lot of folks love October too because they’re into that cool spooky fog feeling! Which is rad, I am not, personally, but I do like the silly Halloween aesthetic. I just don’t like actual scary stuff. Except the occasional scary video game.

As for me, December is my favorite month, for similar reasons. It is the beginning of Winter, which is my favorite season (unpopular opinion, I know) and it’s also when Christmas and new years happens, and if we’re lucky, a bit of snowfall. Ideally, it just means I’m getting plenty of my hot cocoa on.

This a great question. and I think it comes down to what kind of game you want to play. Like, Earthbound is quirky, and with Undertale having just hit the PS4, maybe it’s time to get into that. Mario RPG is cool and timing based and funny, and it may be a great trip for folks who haven’t played it, or don’t remember it, like me! Final Fantasy 6 everyone keeps telling me is great but I haven’t been able to get into it. That said, it’s super traditional, so if that’s what you’re in the mood for, it’s calling. Secret of Mana has the edge because it’s an action RPG, so it’s different then all the rest. Knowing you like Tales, I’d start with that, since it may be the most fun! Also, goddamn is the music in that game great. But it is in all of these.

For me it was either Mario RPG so I could finally really truly play it, or Earthbound, which I was a bit too intimidated at the time commitment to jump into first. For you, Brendan? Try out Secret of Mana! And keep what I said about the rest in mind.

Baked Potato is the superior potato, IMHO. I really love just barely slicing open a baked potato, loading it up with cheese and butter, closing it back up, letting the cheese melt all in it, then cutting it open again, mashing it a bit, then eating it nice and chunky style. It’s a pure delight.

Oh, and I don’t eat the outer skin, but I’ll like rip all the potato I can off the skin, and it’s amazing. I love it.

I just fucking love potatoes though. I’d eat mashed potatoes all day if I could, I just prefer baked potatoes.

Here we go, two lists, back to back. Now since you just said top 10 SNES games I will not limit myself to the SNES classic list, but damn that’s a good one to pull from. In NO PARTICULAR ORDER.

Zelda A Link to the Past

Super Mario World

Secret of Mana

Chrono Trigger

Super Metroid

Super Mario RPG

Mario All Stars Collection

Mega Man X

Final Fantasy 2 (Final Fantasy 4)

Kirby Super Star

I know I’ll get a lot of flack for choosing FF4 over 6, but Sunday Chats readers should know my current situation with FF6. Maybe someday...

Now I do want to say this tweet turned into an N64 hatefest, which I am not a fan of, I love the N64 and the PSone, that era holds something special for me. I understand its issues, and probably in the grand scheme of things, It’s the weakest of the console generations, but there are undeniably great games for those systems.

Now, this list will be tricky, but I’ll give it a shot:

IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER

Super Mario 64

Zelda Ocarina of Time

Zelda Majora’s Mask

Mario Kart 64

Star Fox 64

Pokémon Snap

Yoshi’s Story

Paper Mario

Super Smash Bros

Bomberman 64

This was actually way easier than I thought it’d be. I even left out a few games that I’d have love to see on there and opted to keep the ones I really like there. I kept to the no Rare rule even for Diddy Kong Racing (better than Mario Kart 64) and DK64, even though those would definitely still make and N64 Classic.

There are few more to shoutout too, but I’ll keep my list at my 10. Boy, looking at this I’d actually totally be down for one of these.

That’s all I got. I know I am bad at covering all my segments recently, but my life has been a bit of a mess as of late. So I apologize!

But thank you for the amazing questions, I adore you all, and I am gonna go let Danganronpa eat my whole soul now.

Thank you all. From the bottom of my heart. For your support. I’ve been terrible about making things lately and you all have not waned with your patience for me. It means the world. I won’t wast your time for much longer, and hopefully this patience will breed something.

Keep it real.

#video games #gaming #n64 #classic #snes class #nes classic #snes mini #n64 classic #danganronpa #v3 #danganronpa v3

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simplemlmsponsoring · 5 years

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New Post has been published on http://simplemlmsponsoring.com/attraction-marketing-formula/copywriting/is-influencer-marketing-right-for-your-industry/

Is influencer marketing right for your industry?

Somehow we live in a world where you can read studies from the likes of Linqia claiming “92 per cent of marketers who use influencer marketing find it successful”, followed, on the same day, by a half-dozen recent articles about influencer marketing being dead.

Given this rollercoaster of information, it’s hard to know if influencer marketing is right for you and your industry. Some people still swear by it, while others have sworn off it.

So is your industry rife with influencer opportunities? In this article we’ll aim to find out by looking at:

Whether influencer marketing will work in your industry. How to tell if you should be using it. Alternatives if you reckon it’s not right.

Part 1: Which industries is influencer marketing right for?

The short answer: Any.

The long answer: Seriously. Any. It really doesn’t matter what industry you’re in! Influencer marketing is all about leveraging the power of personalities who have the power to sway other people’s opinions on a topic. Because the internet is for anyone and everyone, the actual industry vertical is almost irrelevant, as every industry has its influencers.

Yes some of these personalities have larger followings than others, but because influence is about influence, not just follower count, you can talk to personalities with small, niche followings and still get excellent engagement compared to those whose brands are followed by myriad disinterested casual fans.

Here’s a little proof: A HelloSociety study found that micro-influencers could be as much as 6.7 times more efficient at engagement than influencers with large followings.

Key takeaway: It may appear that you need to be a game developer, beauty product manufacturer or Silicon Valley tech giant to find good influencers, but this simply isn’t true. Every industry has its influencers – after all, everyone needs guests to speak at their annual conferences, right?

Part 2: How to tell if influencer marketing is right for you

So we know that it doesn’t matter what your industry is. Property, automotive, heck even custom wooden office desks – there’s somebody out there who will be qualified to promote your product. What’s next for you, then, is not the question ‘is my industry right?’ but ‘are my business goals right?’.

Influencer marketing has caused controversy in some circles because it has at times proven ineffective. That’s because it isn’t a magic wand that makes you famous. It’s a tool like any other, with correct and incorrect applications.

Getting those applications right starts with knowing your marketing goals, which we’ll discuss more now.

Influencer marketing isn’t a magic wand – it has correct and incorrect applications.

How to use influencer marketing

Use influencer marketing for: Reach and awareness at the top of the marketing funnel, with some crossover to the mid-funnel depending on the influencer. Build long-term campaigns, as ongoing relationships with your influencers and their audience is key to success.

When influencers create content with your product, they are speaking to a large number of relevant audience members. This is going to introduce a large number of people to your business for the first time. As we know from the marketing funnel, this is a user base that isn’t ready to buy yet, but now knows your name for future consideration.

Some influencers, for example product reviewers, introduce new users into the middle of the funnel instead.

Don’t use influencer marketing for: Short-term campaigns where you need fast results, Conversions can be a tricky goal to achieve via influencers.

Influencer marketing is a long-term marketing tool. It gets more effective over time as you build relationships with influencers and learn who is and isn’t effective.

Any campaign where you need big, fast results might not be appropriate for influencer marketing. The reason being that it can take time to find the right influencers and build relationships with them – although their actual act of posting about you can generate quick results once this has occurred.

Additionally, as influencer activity is notoriously tricky to measure – “determining the ROI” of influencer campaigns was the top challenge of 2018 in this area, according to the Linqia study linked earlier – you might have difficulty determining whether or not this new audience converted.

Influencer marketing has positively exploded in the age of #socialmedia – so will this new avenue for reaching a younger audience survive the new year? https://t.co/3A5e1cZU9G pic.twitter.com/rc2aiNEtzE

— Castleford Media (@castlefordmedia) December 18, 2018

Wait, so I can’t use influencers in the lower funnel?

You absolutely can, but it’s a little trickier than those top-funnel goals as you need more than just a simple shout out or mention.

Micro-influencers with highly engaged followings are considered best by many marketing pros for bottom-funnel business goals. That’s because they have more engaged followings, and remember that engagement is key to influence, not follower count.

These are some tactics that other businesses have used successfully for BoFu influencer marketing, particularly with niche influencers:

1. Collaborating: A basic shout out won’t do it, but actually collaborating with an influencer could. For example, US business Lord & Taylor got 50 fashion Instagrammers to each wear the same dress from their latest line. The ‘grammers then did what they do best – posted a high-quality fashion photo, in this case wearing the dress. The product wasn’t just mentioned, it informed the entire substance of the content. The dress sold out the following weekend.

2. Affiliate marketing: Affiliate marketing is where you sell something via someone else (in this case, an influencer). The affiliate then gets a cut of the sale, which is their incentive to take part. Influencers are adept at weaving affiliate marketing deals into their content – some use unique discount codes, some use links, but both have the same intention. They add it into their content, and you as the business can track users coming via those unique links.

To summarise

Is influencer marketing right for you?

You’ll need to understand what your business goals are, and what you hope to achieve. Influencer marketing can be used effectively at the top of the marketing funnel and in some ways at the bottom, but in all cases it typically requires a high degree of relationship building.

While it is cost effective, it can be time consuming. If you have the time and suitable goals, it sounds like you’re onto a winner. If you don’t, we have some alternatives for you…

Part 3: Alternatives to influencer marketing

Yeah OK, obviously all types of marketing are technically alternatives to influencer marketing. Don’t go getting smart. We’re focusing on digital strategies that are similar in nature to influencer marketing, but don’t require influencer involvement.

We’ll cover:

Paid advertising Event hosting Your own social media User generated content Creating an influencer of your own

1. Paid advertising

You may recall we mentioned that influencer marketing wasn’t ideal for fast solutions. Well, paid advertising is. Whether you choose Facebook, Google Ads or another platform more relevant to your users, paid advertising is one of the quickest ways to get your content in front of more users online.

That said, as soon as the money stops rolling in, so too do the customers. Paid advertising used by itself gets costly over time. We recommend you pair it with a long-term solution like SEO content or influencer marketing,

So you have a solution that starts slow and gets better in addition to a solution that starts quickly but can be turned off later.

Paid advertising is only as effective as the amount of budget you feed it.

2. Event marketing

Event marketing is where you host an event specifically to promote a product, service or your brand in general. It doesn’t have to just be a product roll out, but could be educational (like a Hubspot conference, for example). In either, the event heavily features your brand.

Event marketing has a number of key benefits, but the big ones are:

It promotes brand awareness. It’s a chance to network with key people in your industry. It can generate leads, as attendees offer their emails on sign up. It can drive sales.

If you invite influencers to speak at your event, that’s a double-whammy!

3. Your own social media

Social media marketing isn’t just for influencers. Are you posting regularly on your various profiles? Do you even have various profiles?

If not, you need to get serious about social. It’s a direct link to your audience, where you can chat with them, answer questions, post content and pay for advertising on platforms with millions, if not billions, of users.

To get started on revamping your social presence, check out our infographic “Clean up your social media pages with this checklist”.

4. User generated content

User generated content is when people create content for your brand without being paid to do so – they simply want to.

In its most basic form, this could be asking people to include certain hashtags in their social posts – hashtags that are linked to your business, of course. Every time someone uses these tags, it promotes your brand’s campaign.

Another example would be when businesses repost user content, thus encouraging more creators to make content to be reposted. Software giant Adobe uses this regularly, asking users to submit creative work using certain hashtags, which it then posts to its own page (this is an awesome relationship between a brand and creators that use its products).

View this post on Instagram

Swipe

to see our theme for the month. Hint: it’s going to be peachy.

⁣ ⁣ To kick off 2019, we’re taking a closer look at the Color of The Year. Submit your creative work using #Adobe_LivingCoral for a chance to be featured.

: @AdobeStock contributor @eyeemphoto

A post shared by Adobe (@adobe) on Jan 1, 2019 at 9:46pm PST

Other examples of user generated content include product reviews, unboxing videos, tutorials and general blog posts about a topic.

5. Your own influencer

If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em right? There’s no reason you can’t try to create your own influencer to then help promote your brand. Maybe that future influencer is you!

So how does one create such a magnificent beast?

Well, it’s time consuming. But it could have serious long-term benefits that are even more cost effective than paying outside influencers.

How?

Build your expertise: Create your own high-level content, network in your industry, speak at events and become a part of the conversation. The more you do this, the more ‘expert’ your persona will become.

Leverage other influencers: Other influencers can help you become an influencer yourself. Create conversations and relationships with relevant parties on a personal level, not a brand level. Sharing their content and engaging with their content (i.e. commenting) is a good way to start this.

Look after your followers: Followers aren’t sheeple that will follow you no matter what. If you don’t respect the relationship, they’ll move on. Engage with your community, answer questions, have conversations and make it a two-way street.

For a more detailed look at this topic, check out our article “How to build your brand influence online”.

Conclusion

Is influencer marketing right for your industry? Yes! And it doesn’t matter which one you’re in. It might take longer to find relevant influencers if you’re in a very niche space, but chances are they are out there somewhere.

Is influencer marketing right for your brand? That depends more on what you want to achieve, how quickly you want to achieve it, and how much energy you can dedicate to the attempt. Influencer marketing is not a magic make-me-famous wand, but it does work when used well.

The post Is influencer marketing right for your industry? appeared first on Castleford Media.