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waltwhitmansbeard · 1 year

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my fair lady: chapter five

other chapters are here. i also recommend reading @romeoandjulietyouwish's medieval au, which clearly sucked me into a rabbit hole!

At first, he's sure he's dead. There's the darkness, for one, that clues him in, but then there's also that scent, as familiar as his own name. Floral and sweet and just a bit smoky, he'd know it was her anywhere. That's when he feels them, the fingers brushing softly through his hair. He highly doubts he's earned a spot in a domain of any of Exandria's better gods, and yet surely, he thinks, this is heaven.

Unbidden, his eyes creak open, finding a softer kind of darkness, the darkness of creeping dusk. He's staring directly up into the blue-black sky, which is edged with a parade of towering trees, but then the sky is blocked by a pair of shining green eyes and a constellation of freckles, as familiar as they are a relief. "You're alive!"

He blinks, and things become a little clearer. Keyleth is smiling at him, upside-down, from his perspective, and he starts putting the pieces together to come to the conclusion that his head is in her lap. "Keyleth?"

"I didn't kill you," she breathes, more to herself than to him, he thinks.

That's when he remembers. "What happened...the arrow...?" He coughs once. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," she insists. She takes one of his hands in hers and squeezes it. "You got me out of there, Vax. You saved my life."

"But how am I alive?" Things are still hazy for him, but he's almost positive there was an arrow sticking out of his back, the same back on which he now lies.

Her expression turns uncertain. "I...that doesn't matter. What matters is that you're okay, and that we should probably start moving soon. It's getting dark, and the others haven't found us yet. You led us fairly deep into the woods."

He'll have to take her word for it, because he doesn't remember much of what happened between the initial assault on the carriage and his waking up on this forest floor. "Yeah, okay." With a groan, he pushes himself into a sitting position, surprised by how easy the movement is. A hand reaches back to feel for the spot where he knows the arrow had been. It's gone now, and when his fingers probe the area, it's sore, but not agonizing. He turns to look at Keyleth, confused. "How...?"

She bites at her lip and looks down at her hands. "I...I've never done anything like that before. But I was scared...by the gods, Vax, I've never been so terrified in my life." When she looks back up at him, there are tears in her eyes. "I healed you."

Vax is familiar with magic only insofar as to know that the arcane is carefully regulated so as to ensure its wielders do not wreak undue havoc upon the world. The divine is less closely watched, though that magic is usually relegated to the devout of the land's pantheon. But Keyleth is not a disciple of any particular god, and Vax has never heard her discuss having magical talents before. "I don't understand."

"Neither do I." She picks up a large oak leaf from the ground and holds it out in her open palm. After a moment, the leaf begins to float up gently, as if propelled by a faint gust of wind, before swaying lazily back down into her hand. "Before today, this type of thing was the most I could do with my gifts. Small things, frivolous things, things I couldn't really understand but didn't think important enough to try to. But then you were unconscious and bleeding out in my arms, and I thought..." Her voice falls to a whisper. "I thought that if you died there was no way I'd survive it. So I pulled the arrow out, pressed my hands to your wound, and healed you."

And Vax sees it now, the blood coating her skirts, caked under her fingernails. He imagines that the same fear that gripped his heart during the attack on the carriage gripped hers when she thought him dying right in front of him. "You saved my life, Keyleth."

Her cheeks tinge pink. "A favor repaid, I guess." She pauses. "I like that you're calling me Keyleth again."

His stomach sinks like a stone in water. He hadn't even noticed he'd been doing that. It feels so natural, saying her name, like it was the only word he was born to say. "I shouldn't be."

She juts her chin out defiantly, looking every bit the queen she'll be some day. "Why did you do it?"

He blinks in confusion. "Take you away from the attack?"

"No. Why did you..." She lets out a small sigh. "When did you stop loving me?" Vax's jaw drops. "What was it? What was the thing that...did you ever love me?"

"Gods above, Keyleth." He wishes the arrow had killed him; it's the very least he deserves. "I love you more than any man has a right to love someone. I love you so much I fear I won't be able to breathe through it."

"Then why?" Her voice cracks, and Vax cracks along with it. "Why would you do this to me?"

He grabs one of her hands in both of his. "Keyleth, I told you that night, I cannot be the thing that holds you down. I cannot be the secret you keep that hangs above your neck like a blade. I am willing to die for you but I am not willing to put your life and your crown in harm's way. Do you think that was fun for me, breaking your heart? Do you think my own hasn't shattered in shards so fine they slice me every time I breathe?"

"But it's my life, Vax, and my crown. And if I am the woman you claim I am, then shouldn't I be able to put them in harm's way if I so choose?" The imperious look is back in her eye. "Do you think me too immature to make my own decisions?"

He sighs. "Of course I don't—"

"Then why can't you just accept that I love you, you ass, and I don't care what the consequences are?"

"Because those consequences don't just affect you, Your Highness."

There's silence in the wood, both of them glaring at each other now. He watches shame edge in around her eyes, and he hates himself for snapping at her. "You're right," she says eventually, voice low. "You're right. It would be...bad, for me, if word got out of our...relationship. It would be bad for my father. But you..." She takes a deep breath. "You would be ruined, of course. You'd never work in our nation again. My father might not have you killed, but there are other ways he can make your life hell." She looks him dead in the eyes. "If those risks are too great for you, I understand. I...I wouldn't blame you for walking way."

Every inch of his body aches to take her face in his hands and kiss her until he passes out again. How does he explain this, how does he tell her that there is no risk too great, no threat too large to make him want to walk away from her—except, of course, the danger of her future being torn away for him?

And his sister. Vex'ahlia. He doesn't know what happens to her when he ruins his life for the love of a princess. Surely she will be stripped of her station as captain of the castle guard. She could work again, perhaps, though if anyone could live well off the land it would be his tenacious hunter of a sister. What would Lord Percival do, though, if the woman he loved away from the eyes of court were to become an object of speculation and ridicule? Would Vax be dooming his sister to share in his misery of loneliness and heartbreak?

"Time," he mutters, to himself, though he doesn't realize he says it out loud.

"What?"

He squeezes her hand, which he's been clutching like a lifeline this whole time. "All I want with you is time. Time to hold you, to love you, to watch you grow and soar. And even those stolen hours in the dead of night, the minutes I could only spend loving you in the dark, those could be enough for me. But I am a selfish man, Keyleth, selfish and weak and hopeless. And I want everything with you. I want to love you in the daylight." He swallows, trying to keep his voice from breaking. "It's what you deserve."

Keyleth stares at him, eyes wide and mouth agape, and Vax would give anything to hear the thoughts he can see playing across her face. She's gripping his hand as though she's afraid he might disappear. The silence reigns for a long time, and the skittering sounds of night begin to chorus around them, the snuffling of skunks and the croaking of frogs and even the near-silent winged flight of owls. After an endless minute, Keyleth whispers, "Well I guess I'm selfish, too. I want to be the leader my people deserve, and I want you. And I think that I convinced myself that I could have both. I'm sorry. I wish I could say that I regret falling in love with you, but I know I'm also too selfish to regret any moment we've spent together."

"Fuck." Vax surges forward and kisses her, his hands on each side of her neck. She grips his tunic beneath his armor, pulling him closer to her. She sighs against his lips, and what he wouldn't give to have this, her and her lips and this forest and the falling night, until oblivion comes to claim him.

But oblivion is not coming, at least not tonight, and he breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against hers. "We need to get back to the others. I'm sure they've dealt with the threat by now."

Worry flashes in her eyes. "Percy." She stands, helping Vax to his feet as well, which he's grateful for, as now that he's moving, he's feeling the ghost of his wound pull and ache. He gives Simon an appreciative pat on the muzzle, murmuring, "Thank you, friend," before helping Keyleth up into the saddle. He climbs up in front of her, and when her arms snake around his waist to hold her steady, the ache in his back is replaced with the warmth of the sun.

Vax guides Simon slowly and quietly through the wood, using only the light of the gibbous moon to navigate. When they reach the road again, far in the distance he can see flickering lights. He nudges Simon into a shadow and slides off of the horse. "Stay here," he instructs, "and if I don't return in two minutes, ride far away from here."

Keyleth nods, and Vax stealths forward, darting between trees to approach what he eventually sees are torches. They're being wielded by Grog and Percival, who seem to be searching the tree line. As Vax shifts out of the shadows, Percival brandishes his weapon directly at him. "Halt in the name of the sovereign!"

Vax raises his hands into the air. "It's Vax'ildan, Lord Percival. Has the danger passed?"

Percival drops the weapon to his side. "Where is the princess?"

"Not far. Is she safe to return?”

"Those bad guys are paste," Grog answers, grinning happily and cracking his knuckles.

Relieved, Vax jogs back to Keyleth, leading Simon back down the road. When they reach Percival and Grog, Keyleth leaps off of Simon and throws her arms around the Master of Development. "Percy, are you okay?"

With a laugh, Percival extracts himself from her embrace. "I'm fine, Your Highness. Were you injured?"

She shakes her head. "Unharmed, I promise. Vax was stalwart in his duty to protect my life. He took an arrow as we escaped."

Percival blinks in surprise as Grog groans jealously. "Is that so?" the former asks.

Unsure of how much Percival knows of Keyleth's magical prowess, he quickly answers, "The arrow missed anything serious. The princess showed great skill in bandaging the wound, and I'm well enough now."

Vax shoots Keyleth a quick look to encourage her not to contradict him, which Percival must notice, because his eyes narrow suspiciously. Still, he gives Vax a nod of respect, which is returned.

"Right, well, we're all fine and I'm bored. Can we get back on the road now?"

Percival rolls his eyes at Grog's outburst, but Keyleth pats his arm with a gentle smile. "Yes, Grog. That's a great idea." She returns to Simon's saddle and begins to follow Grog back to where the carriage was left.

As they walk, Percival pulls Vax behind the others. "I know you'll say it was your job, but...thank you for keeping her safe."

"You know full well that it wasn't just my job," Vax mutters under his breath, staring straight forward.

"Be that as it may...you showed great bravery in continuing to protect her even after being injured yourself." He cocks his head to the side. "Though I have to ask...if the wound was so trivial, as you implied, why did it take you two so long to return? You were gone for quite a while."

Vax turns his head slowly, eyes narrowed into slits. "What are you asking me right now, Lord Percival?

"You know what I'm asking you."

Vax's fingers itch to knock this rich boy's teeth from his skull. "You'll be happy to learn that the princess has learned the error of her ways and has expressed...an understanding about what her future is going to hold." He looks forward again. "And what it's not going to hold."

There's a long beat, and then Percival says, "Good. I'm glad. And...I'm sorry." With that, the two continue in silence, walking in step behind their princess.

#critical role #critical role fic #cr fic #vaxleth #vaxleth fic #vox machina #vox machina fic #tlovm #tlovm fic #vaxleth au #my fic #my fair lady

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fumblingmusings · 1 year

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Duuuuuuude what’s the name of the book on Norman England that you mentioned? It sounds fascinating. 👀

Ah! It's The Norman Conquest by Marc Morris. He has quite a dry humour, and is very good at storytelling.

Are you a girl or a curate? If so, you according to 19th century writers you cannot read history. I do apologise.

He very cleverly says 'beware of proponents of Anglo-Saxon (German) good and Norman (French) bad' because that leads down some... not so great rabbit holes.

Having said that he does say that the Harrying of the North was as bad as contemporaries claimed it was - he has a whole chapter dedicated to the maths of it all and argues that yes around 100,000-150,000 people were killed or starved to death, which works out at around 8% of England's population at the time. But I hold my hands up and say I haven't read anything which argues the opposite. I know there's some grumblings about how difficult it would have been for William's army to do that much carnage over such a large area of land in such a short period of time. But here we are. It would have sucked, regardless.

The concluding chapter just talks about long term what the conquest meant in terms of 'what is English and who is English' and how Henry I and later Henry III would try and go back and look at Anglo-Saxon culture and cherry pick things they liked in order to give them more legitimacy. Like the fact that Henry III's son Edward I was the first king to have an English name, speak English and for once not have half the country trying to break away or implode on him since 1066. Gave him more time to bully us Scots and the Welsh.

Yes, a very good book, I do recommend! Almost cinematic in its storytelling, which I won't lie I do enjoy from time to time in my history books.

#q&a #it also just makes me think Arthur's head was like... vibrating that century #he never had a happy thought again :3

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championsofmyheart · 2 years

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just saw a blazed post of someone responding in what they probably think is a very cool way to anon hate but is in actuality really cringe and i got sucked into a rabbit hole and it turns out the situation is

this person blazed gore. just straight up blazed a gore post. without explanation

people got mad obviously and started responding with "kys" and "what the fuck is wrong with you" obviously. as you do

this person then got really defensive about how they actually got attempted murdered and everyone is so sensitive nowadays tumblr used to be just full of porn i hate gen-z children and why would you tell a person that got attempted murdered to kill themselves

none of this information is on the blazed post itself. its on a pinned post on their blog. maybe 1% of the viewers of the blazed post will go look at that. it is absolutely insane of anyone to assume that people that saw something triggering FROM THEM will then go to THEIR blog and possibly be exposed to more triggers.

this person then got the anon hate message, responded, and thought you know what. the best way to respond to getting (sort of rightfully) dogpiled on is to ONCE AGAIN FORCE THIS POST, WITHOUT ANY CONTEXT, ONTO RANDOM PEOPLE THAT PROBABLY DIDN'T SEE THE LAST ONE. this will definitely not lead to more people dogpiling onto them. of course not

this person LITERALLY PUT #stay in your lane in the tags. of the blazed post. they are swerving onto the other side of the road driving against traffic and telling people to stay in their lane. this is the funniest thing ive ever witnessed

#theyve been here since 2014 by the way #tumblr blaze #fuckery #and still don't seem to know how this platform works #fucking fascinating #ALSO they really dont seem to know how blaze works???#theyre like well just block the tags if this triggers you ok well you know blaze overrides blocked tags right #and everyone being like why the fuck is this on my dash theyre responding to it with WELL ACTUALLY COOKIES SAYS YOURE INTERESTED IN THIS #LOL STUPID KIDS DONT KNOW HOW TUMBLR WORKS #girl. blaze is purely random. its a roll of the dice. there is no algorithm here. youve been here since 2014. how dont you know this #i LOVE this site never change

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sirchubbybunny · 2 years

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I've had the zoomies all day. Just all day of needing to do something to get all the energy out of my system before I explode. I figured that since I had no spoons to do the dishes until way later, I'd try to do some gaming, journaling, and general browsing to kill the time to shift my attention.

Nope.

Lads, I spent maybe six or seven hours today just going down the rabbit hole of Quinton's Reviews so not have to deal with the zoomies. I couldn't be bothered to just stare at my screen and watch with uninterrupted distractions (for the most part). Also nope. I had to be doing something while I was already doing all of this - and I still have maybe four or so more hours to go tomorrow. So I'm on here, my server, I'm gaming - I'm just goin'. It's not enough to absorb all this knowledge. I have to be doing something else. Meanwhile, I've had the need to do all of the following:

Scream in a field (a classic)

Lay face down in my backyard for a few hours

Climb up onto my roof and dive off with cardboard wings or a cape

Hang upside down off my couch or roof while pretending to be a bat

Climb up a tree (I may or may not be a bat or a squirrel)

Parkour (possibly the parking garages that are like eight stories high)

Go unbexing (preferably the place I used to go to and hope I don't shatter my ankles)

I powered down for the night about an hour ago and it feels like the only thing that gets the zoomies and buzzing to chill out is after smoking if I don't want to bother with my pen. The zoomies are just pushed further into the background to where it sounds far away and muffled. The buzzing just goes to my head where I feel like a tattoo gun is rattling around up there. I don't know how others deal with it and I can't remember if I asked my friend with adhd how she manages it when it gets particularly rough or messy.

At the moment, since I feel like I'm melting into my couch, the buzzing is leveling out way more. The zoomies are slowing down almost to a crawl. The anxiety is still sort of there, but it's leveling out to a tired crawl with the zoomies. Like being a toddler who knows they really need to take a nap, but will put up a sleepy fight until you make them lay down.

I guess all I'll say is that it's going to suck if the tried and true way to get me to calm down if everything else fails is packing a bowl. It's been great for my depression, anxiety (most part), PTSD and shit like that. I just didn't think sound dampening the zoomies would be one of them to this degree.

It's kind of funny in that way now that I think about it. I was trying to do some research on a strain I picked up and from I saw, one of the things it (and the other strains it's related to since its a hybrid) is apparently nice for is anxiety and adhd. I know I'm still a good while away until I can get tested (I should have an update next week about referrals being sent out and possible scheduling), but it's just a small silly thing I noticed. I guess that's all I need right now to have some solid footing, y'know?

#adhd #tw: weed

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koohiss · 6 years

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me, anytime one of my fav franchises makes a decision on worldbuilding, character development, or narrative that i cannot abide:

#sup #the one about elemental wizards with headbands who want to be the boss wizard in town #(where everybody got matched up for max next gen damage)#the one where dead people have swords #(hahaha same as previous what is with mangaka these days?)#the one about monk wizards in space #(where the most recent sequels have dived further and further down the rabbit hole of DO NOT WANT)#the one about cloning extinct animals for a theme park #(where for some reason the troll us with NOT HYPHENATED JRS)#'''sequel series''' to the above gif #(where literally everything you loved is smashed together. stretched like taffy. stuffed with cg and <3 until its over 9k. all for money)#the one where jeff goldblum smokes a cigar and saves the planet #(other ppl helped too tho lbr)#(where the sequel so painfully sucked ass it killed chances of like three other sequels happening hahaha oh my god you played urself)#the one about the not-blue people sequel #(where all the beloved characters are suddenly shitty parents somehow?)#the one with egyptian vampires and witches and god #(sthfsfghgfs im still mad JOHN LOGAN IS GALBATORIX)#basically all of them honestly

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emospritelet · 2 years

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Closing the Circle - chapter 8/?

Last time, Gold rescued Belle from attack and they ended up angry-banging outside the Rabbit Hole. Here's what happened next.

[AO3]

Gold sucked at the soft skin of Belle’s throat, tongue painting slow circles as he felt her breathing quicken, her hands grasp at his shoulders. She shook her head then, pushing at him, and he backed off, tugging his coat straight. Belle’s eyes were closed, her chest heaving, and she pushed herself away from the wall, raising her chin as she looked at him.

“Am I yours?” she asked, her tone cool. “How could I possibly be yours? I know almost nothing about you.”

Gold snorted under his breath.

“Please!” he drawled. “With that insatiable curiosity of yours, you’ve found out more about me than anyone else in this town has ever managed.”

“I don’t even know your name!”

“You do,” he said coldly. “It’s Mr Gold.”

Belle raised her arms and let them fall, hands slapping against her legs.

“That’s - that’s not real!” she insisted. “That’s not the name you were given all those hundreds of years ago! It’s just another lie! A piece of a life you stole to make yourself fit into this world! You probably took it from someone. Probably someone you killed!”

He dropped his eyes at that, his jaw working a little as he tried to think of a sarcastic response that wouldn’t come, and heard her let out a little chuff of breath.

“As I thought,” she said.

Gold bent to retrieve his cane, the scrape of the brass tip loud on cold stone. He flicked his hair out of his eyes as he straightened up, adopting an arrogant, slouching stance as he grounded the cane and fixed her with a stare.

“If you’re expecting me to apologise for my adaptability, you’ll be waiting a long time.”

“I don’t expect you to apologise for anything,” she said stiffly. “I don’t suppose you ever had to in life, after all. I expect you were used to getting your own way long before you became a vampire.”

He almost burst out laughing at that, but managed to keep his features level.

“I do enjoy these wild bouts of speculation,” he said. “It’s almost enough to hold my interest. Perhaps enough that I’ll trouble myself to save you from the next dark creature that wants a taste of you, who knows?”

Belle inhaled deeply, raising her chin. Blue eyes seemed to spark in the gloom of the night, glaring at him as though she would kill him with her bare hands. It was exhilarating.

“I don’t belong to you, Mr Gold,” she said clearly. “I don’t belong to anyone.”

She swept past him, heading back into the club with her head held high, and Gold swore under his breath as he watched her go. The bloody woman was making him lose his wits!

“Well, that was quite a show.”

Gold sighed, head rolling back as he recognised Cruella’s purring tone, and he swivelled on his toes to see her lounging against a nearby wall, holding a lit cigarette and smirking at him. He flattened his mouth, snapping his fingers at her, and she promptly handed him the cigarette and reached inside her coat for the packet. Jefferson moved out of the shadows to slouch by her side, grinning, his top hat set at a rakish angle over his left eye.

“What the hell are you two doing here?” snapped Gold.

“Watching the free porn,” said Jefferson, winking at him.

“Don’t you have anything better to do?”

“The night is young,” said Cruella airily, cigarette bouncing on her lips as she reached for her lighter. She lit it, a burst of flame in the dark and a puff of smoke. “What about you? Sounds as though you and the horny librarian were having a difference of opinion at the end there. Trouble in paradise?”

“Mind your own business,” said Gold, and blew out smoke.

“She’s right, of course,” added Cruella. “You’re far too used to getting your own way.”

“Then why is it that I’m plagued with pointless irritations every day of my immortal life?”

“Everything has its price,” she said. “As you remind us constantly.”

“I’m beginning to wonder if it’s worth it,” he remarked. “A night out at this dive and the thought of eternal death somehow loses its sting.”

“Oh, don’t be such a miserable bastard!”

“I’ll do as I please in my own free time, thank you.”

Cruella snorted.

“The librarian is definitely right about you,” she said, and turned her face away as she blew out smoke.

“I think you managed to scare Keith away from her, if it’s any consolation,” said Jefferson.

Gold grunted.

“Good,” he said. “She’s reckless. She’ll end up getting herself killed.”

“Since when did you care what happens to random humans?”

Gold ignored him, taking another drag of the cigarette and eyeing the back door of the bar where Belle had disappeared. Cruella pushed away from the wall and draped an arm around his shoulder, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Why don’t you come out with us?” she suggested. “We thought we might head over to that awful bar in the next town and pick up a snack. You could drive.”

“Nothing like a decent meal to take your mind off romantic complications,” added Jefferson.

Gold drew on the last of the cigarette, puffing out smoke in a thin stream before stubbing it out on the wall and shrugging.

“Yeah, alright.”

Belle shivered a little, imagining that she could feel Gold’s eyes on her as she wrenched open the door to the club and ducked into the hallway. Warmth flowed over her, and she rubbed her arms briskly. A squeak from the bathroom door made her glance up, and Ruby emerged, an anxious look in her eyes that faded into relief.

“There you are!” she exclaimed. “Are you okay? I was worried.”

Belle sighed and nodded, running a hand through her hair.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said. “Well, not fine, I’m a little pissed off, but—”

“What happened?”

“Oh, that Keith guy,” she said. “Got a little insistent, like he didn’t understand the word ‘no’.”

Ruby made a growling noise like an angry wolf pup.

“That sleaze! Wait until I get my hands on him!”

“It’s okay, I don’t think he’ll be a problem anymore.”

“How come? Did you kick his ass? Please tell me you did.”

Belle giggled.

“Not me,” she said, and hesitated. “Actually, it was Mr Gold. Dragged him off me, told him to leave and not come back.”

“Gold?” Ruby whistled. “Wow. Keith is screwed. Next time he’s late with the rent Gold’ll probably drive a stake through his heart.”

“I don’t suppose the Sheriff would look too kindly on that,” said Belle, amused, and Ruby waved a hand.

“Graham might not care too much if it took Keith off his hands,” she said, with a grin. “But you’re okay? He didn’t hurt you?”

“Not really. I kicked his shins before he could do anything.”

“Good for you,” said Ruby approvingly. “And good for Gold, helping you out. Did he leave already?”

“I’m not sure,” said Belle, glancing over her shoulder at the door. “I guess so.”

She turned back, and Ruby had put her head to the side, watching her thoughtfully.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked. “You kind of look a little - rumpled.”

“I’m fine, really,” said Belle, hoping she wouldn’t start blushing. “I think I might go home, though. You don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” said Ruby promptly. “Look, I’ll go get our things. You can wait in the bathroom if you want to - uh...”

She gestured vaguely in Belle’s direction before heading back into the bar, and Belle frowned, pushing open the bathroom door and heading to the mirror. She groaned at the sight. Her hair was tangled, her lips full and red, and there were pink patches on her neck and jawline from the scrape of his stubble. There was a darker patch on one side of her throat that might have been a bite, and she winced.

“Good going, Belle,” she muttered. “Great job at not having totally obvious outdoor sex.”

She washed her hands, using wet fingers to tame her hair back into some sort of order and listening with half an ear to the sound of voices outside. They drew closer, and Belle tugged her dress straight, shrugging at her reflection. There was no hiding the evidence, but her coat would cover most of it. She opened the bathroom door, almost colliding with Emma and a young woman with a dark, shining ponytail and a star tattoo on her wrist. Emma nodded to Belle as they passed, giving her a brief, tremulous smile.

“If now’s not a good time, I get it, I just - look, I’m staying at the diner,” she was saying. “At least meet me for a coffee. Please, Lily.”

“Sure, of course I will,” the other woman said, reaching out to grasp her hand briefly. “I just can’t do this right now: things are - things are really weird.”

“Do you need help?”

“No,” said Lily quickly. “No, I’m fine. Really I am.”

She sighed, and Belle stepped further away, trying to look as though she wasn’t listening. Lily hunched her shoulders a little before bumping against Emma’s side.

“Look, it’s good to see you, don’t get me wrong,” she said, “but why did you come here?”

Emma shrugged awkwardly.

“Well, you didn’t come back, and your phone wasn’t connecting,” she said. “I remembered you saying your folks lived in Maine, little town called Storybrooke - okay I didn’t remember the name until I saw it on the map, but I knew it was Story-something. Only place left to look.”

“You didn’t need to come all this way,” said Lily softly, and Emma threw up her arms.

“What was I supposed to think when you just disappeared? You know the things that can happen to kids like us. For all I knew you were dead in a ditch somewhere!”

“Yeah.” Lily folded her arms across her chest, ducking her head. “Sorry I couldn’t tell you what was up. I had a - a family thing. Kind of urgent.”

“You told me you didn’t get along with your family,” said Emma.

“I don’t,” said Lily. “Not really. It’s - complicated.”

“Okay, here we go!” Ruby’s cheerful tone made them all look around, and Belle took the coat and bag that Ruby was holding out.

“Emma, you found Lily!” said Ruby, beaming. “Hey, Lily! How’s your Mom doing? I haven’t seen her lately.”

“Same as ever,” said Lily, in a deadpan tone, and Ruby looked sympathetic.

“That bad, huh?” she said. “This is Belle, by the way. She just moved to town.”

Lily glanced at Belle with large dark eyes, and gave a cautious nod.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” said Belle, and hesitated. “We were about to head back towards Granny’s. Either of you two want to leave? You can walk with us.”

“Shouldn’t be out alone in this town,” added Ruby. “Lot of weirdos out there.”

Emma and Lily shared a glance, and then both nodded.

It was nearing one a.m. by the time Belle reached the library. Lily had been escorted to the Mayor’s mansion, and although she had given Emma an apologetic look, she had closed the gates behind her, leaving Emma to walk on with the others with a glum expression. Whatever was going on between those two, Belle had reflected, it wouldn’t be resolved that night.

She listened to Ruby’s chatter fading away in the direction of the diner, reaching in her bag for the key to her apartment. A prickle of unease at the back of her neck made her shiver, and she glanced around a little nervously. The street behind her was empty, the shadows seeming to grow and swell with her anxiety, and she heaved a breath, trying to ignore her racing heart. It felt as though something was waiting for her, watching and wanting with growing malevolence.

“You may as well come out and face me,” she said aloud. “Or better yet, go home and come back in the morning, I’m tired.”

There was no response, and she told herself it was her jangled nerves playing tricks. Turning back to the door, she opened it with a firm twist of the key and slipped inside, stepping into the warmth and shutting out the darkness.

Gold’s night had ended in the small hours, following an eventful evening with Cruella and Jefferson and a couple of the unsavoury patrons of a seedy bar in the next town. He had let Jefferson and Cruella set the pace, choosing to wait outside while they caused uproar and were chased out into the woods. The ensuing pursuit had been enjoyable, but was over far too quickly. The meal brought him little pleasure; the man’s blood was sour with rage and terror and too much alcohol, and he told himself that the next time he drank, it would be something far more delicious. The effect was much the same, however: new strength coursing through him, a well of energy that made him restless.

Hours awake meant time to think, and he had been mulling over his last encounter with Belle, and every one of the meetings leading up to it. She had told him that the cuff merely dampened the demon part of him, but he couldn’t say that he’d noticed a difference while wearing it. At first he had thought that was due to his age and experience: he was used to controlling himself, and rarely felt the urge to drink from someone. His sudden fury at any threat to her, real or perceived, made him question how honest she had been with him about the spell’s purpose. It didn’t help his agitation. He spent Sunday cleaning the house, and scrubbed his kitchen until it shone, but still found himself pacing the floor after midnight. Sleep that night was elusive, and so he rose at five and headed to the shop early.

Storybrooke in the darkness before dawn was a quiet place, the only movement outside a couple of the non-human townsfolk that avoided the sunlight altogether. He ignored them. Glancing at the library, he saw that the windows of the apartment above were dark, the curtains drawn. Belle was no doubt asleep. He turned away, eyes fixed on the shop.

Sneaking a look out of the window when the sun rose, he could see her opening up the library doors and brushing away dead leaves. She glanced across at the shop as she did so, and he sank back into the shadows. He had no intention of visiting the library and letting her scramble his wits; she could come to the shop if she wanted to ask him anything further. Instead he spent the morning cleaning up and dusting the stock before sitting down at eleven with a cup of tea to fix the broken clasp of a pearl necklace.

“Gold?”

A familiar voice made him raise his head, and he allowed himself a tiny smile before setting down the necklace and walking slowly through to the main room of the shop to greet his visitor.

Regina Mills was an attractive young woman in her early twenties, with dark hair that fell to her shoulders, large dark eyes and full lips that she painted a bright red. She had the same magical skill and ambition as her mother and sister, but there was a vulnerability to her, a softness they did not possess. In a different, more supportive household he suspected she would have grown up to be a healer, or a teacher. As it was, her new penchant for smart tailored trouser suits that made her look older than her years made him suspect that her mother expected her to take over as Mayor at some point, whatever Regina’s view on the matter. Perhaps she would manage to get out of Storybrooke and make her own way in the world before her mother could ruin her completely.

“Regina,” he said. “How lovely to see you. My shop is made brighter by your very presence.”

“Spare me the fake compliments,” she said, in a dry tone. “We both know you wouldn’t have asked me here unless you needed me for something.”

Gold showed his teeth.

“Well, that doesn’t mean I can’t be pleasant about the whole thing,” he said. “Good manners are all too rare in these times, I find.”

Regina rolled her eyes, hands on hips.

“You want something,” she said. “What is it?”

“It’s a question of magic,” he said, and reached into his pocket for the cuff, holding it up. “This has been enchanted. I’d like you to study the spell and tell me what it does.”

Regina stared at him.

“Where did you get this?”

“Does it matter?”

“Last time you gave me a fairy’s wand and I fused all the lights at the mansion.”

“This was enchanted by a human,” he said. “As far as I know.”

“You’re expecting me to reverse-engineer someone else’s magic?”

“Can’t you do it?”

“Well, of course I can do it…”

“Then what’s the problem?”

Regina sighed heavily, giving him a look.

“What do I get out of this?” she asked. “Other than a waste of my precious time.”

Gold met her stare.

“I suppose I’ll owe you a favour.”

“Like what?”

He gave her a cold smile.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said lazily. “Maybe I won’t turn your sister into a vampire like she’s asked me to.”

Regina’s mouth fell open.

“What?”

“You heard.”

“Zelena asked you to - to vamp her?”

“I’m not sure that’s a verb, but yes.”

“Of all the—” Regina cut off, shaking her head as she turned away a little before swivelling back. “She’s been impossible ever since Mother suggested I should be the one to campaign for Mayor next year. She’s convinced it should be her, but Mother disagrees.”

“Well, Zelena as Mayor isn’t a prospect that bears consideration, so that’s hardly surprising.”

Regina shook her head, pursing her lips, then eyed him with a flat expression.

“You told her no?”

“Please!” His tone was scathing. “I can’t stand five minutes in her presence. If I had to face immortality with her constant whining then trust me, I’d find a way to kill her.”

“I suppose I should thank you for that,” she said dryly.

“You can thank me by taking a look at that cuff.”

“Okay, fine!” she sighed, and clicked her fingers. “Hand it over.”

Gold hesitated, then slipped the cuff into her hand.

“I’m not expecting you to have an answer for me today,” he said. “Take as long as you need.”

“Okay.”

Regina was frowning as she looked it over.

“Huh,” she said. “That’s weird.”

“What is?”

“I’m not sure.” Regina pursed her lips, turning the bracelet around.

“Illuminating as ever,” he said dryly, and she frowned again.

“Don’t be an ass, I need time to look at this thing properly.”

“Then by all means take all the time you need.” He hesitated. “I’d prefer it if you kept this between us, however.”

“Why?”

“Because.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “If you promise not to tell Mother about Zelena. Let me talk to her.”

Gold waved a dismissive hand.

“I have no interest in your family dramas,” he said, in a bored voice. “Just keep her away from me, would you? One conversation with her and I’m tempted to forget my policy of never eating the townsfolk. It’s really only the thought of the indigestion she’d cause that gives me pause.”

Regina gave him a level look, but nodded, slipping the cuff into her bag.

“I’ll take a look at this tonight,” she said. “I might have something for you tomorrow.”

“Pleasure doing business with you,” he said smoothly.

She sniffed and turned on her heel, flicking dark hair as she left the shop, and Gold smiled as he watched her go. And now, Miss French, he thought. We’ll see what that spell of yours really does.

Giving the cuff to Regina made him feel a little more in control of his destiny, and he prepared to close up at six with a tiny smile on his face. Decades of living in Storybrooke had made him unused to feeling out of step, but Belle and her friends had upset whatever equilibrium could be found in a town that numbered as many demons and supernatural creatures as humans. Knowing the magic she had used and how truthful she had been with him would give a clue as to her intent. He could then act accordingly.

He flicked off the lights in the shop, glancing through the window as Belle walked past on the opposite side of the street. Her head was held high, her gaze fixed on the road ahead. Dark hair bounced around her shoulders, her perfect legs swishing the black skirt she wore. Gold waited until she was out of sight before leaving the shop, locking the door behind him and heading for his car. Perhaps the next day he would have his answers.

He was restless.

Most evenings he would settle in his lounge or study to read, a glass of wine or whisky by his side and a fire in the hearth. He had mostly followed his usual routine, not bothering to cook dinner and simply opening the wine. The glass was on the coffee table in front of him, almost untouched, the fire crackling and a book in his lap on which he couldn’t concentrate. He had taken off his jacket, waistcoat and tie, the top few buttons of his shirt undone, but still felt uncomfortable. The tick of the clock seemed too loud, the rest of the house too quiet, and there was an odd tingling under his skin, as though it was too tight. Perhaps it was the after-effects of the meal from the night before.

The doorbell rang, and he set down the book and let his head roll back with a sigh. If Cruella and Jefferson want to go out hunting dreadful old bigots again, they’re on their own.

He pushed out of the chair, grasping the cane and heading for the hallway. The porch light showed a small, dark-haired figure through the rippled glass, and he felt his eyes narrow, but he opened the door. Belle looked up at him, a thick woollen coat clutched around herself and a few flakes of snow in her hair. Her cheeks were flushed with the cold, and he didn’t miss the way her eyes dropped to the top of his chest where his shirt gaped open.

“Miss French,” he said evenly. “What are you doing here?”

Belle opened and closed her mouth a little.

“I - was expecting to see you in the library today,” she said.

“Did we have an appointment I was unaware of?”

“No, of course not, I just - we ended things on kind of a sour note on Saturday night, and I thought…”

“Ah,” he said. “You were waiting for an apology that didn’t come. How disappointing for you.”

Belle sighed, looking irritated.

“You’re an ass,” she said. “But I wanted to call a truce.”

“Are we at war?” he asked mildly.

“No, but every conversation with you makes me want to smack you with something,” she snapped, and he chuckled.

“Such violent thoughts are beneath you, Miss French. I’d suggest trying to curb your baser impulses, but honestly I rather enjoy it when you give them free rein.”

She gestured emphatically.

“See? Like that!”

Gold grinned, and held open the door.

“Would you like to come in?” he asked. “I’m afraid I can’t offer you dinner, but perhaps you’d like a drink.”

She nodded, and he stepped back, letting her inside and closing the door after her.

“I was having a glass of wine,” he said. “Can I get you one?”

“Please.”

His fingers brushed her shoulders as he drew the woollen coat down her arms to reveal a dark blue dress above thick tights and winter boots, and he leaned in closer.

“Make yourself at home,” he murmured, his lips almost brushing her ear, and bit back a grin as she shivered.

He went to the kitchen to get another glass, picking up the open bottle and taking it with him. When he got to the lounge Belle was standing by the fireplace, staring at her reflection in the mirror. He was reminded vividly of the last time she had been in his house, and the way he had touched her. Her hips swayed, the skirt of her dress swinging around her legs as she turned on her toes to warm herself in front of the fire. He set the wine down on the coffee table, and she nodded her thanks and went to take a seat on the couch. Gold fished a split log out of the basket near the hearth and set it down on the fire before using a poker to wedge it securely in place between the logs that had burned to a deep, dark red. He dusted a little ash from his hands as he straightened up, and went to sit in the chair opposite Belle.

“You’re not repelled by fire, then,” she observed, and he pulled a face.

“Should I be?”

“Some dark creatures are.”

“Along with most wild animals, what’s your point?”

She looked a little awkward, gesturing towards the flames.

“I read somewhere that vampires can be killed by setting them on fire.”

Gold smirked.

“I think you’ll find that happens with humans, as well.”

Belle let out an irritated sigh, shaking her head as she reached for her wine. There was a moment of silence.

“You’re not wearing the cuff,” she said then.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting the pleasure of your company,” he said. “I took it to the shop this morning, but...” He gave a languid shrug.

“Oh. Okay.”

Gold took a sip of his wine, watching her over the rim of his glass.

“Does it make you nervous?” he asked. “Being in my presence without your - magical protection?”

“No,” she said. “I told you, I’m not afraid of you.”

“And I told you that’s foolish,” he said, “but I believe you.”

“Good.”

“Of course, that begs the question why you continue to ask me to wear it,” he added, and Belle looked away, pressing her lips together.

“We had a deal,” she said, glancing back. “Information for protection.”

“Protection which you’ve already indicated you don’t need.”

“A deal’s a deal,” she said. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“If the parties involved are honest about the terms, yes.”

She seemed to be waiting for him to go on, but he changed the subject.

“Did you and Miss Lucas enjoy your time at that dreadful bar?” he asked, and Belle wrinkled her nose.

“Mostly,” she allowed. “I had fun dancing. Attempted assault by a sleaze and argument with you notwithstanding.”

Gold chuckled.

“You enjoy dancing, then?”

“Don’t you?”

He took a slow drink of wine, reaching out to put his glass on the table.

“I don’t dance.”

“You must have at one point.”

“Not for years.”

She sat forward, eyes gleaming mischievously.

“D’you mean to tell me you went to balls and assemblies with the beautiful people of the day and never once danced the quadrille or a waltz or something?”

“Not often, no,” he said, amused by her light teasing.

“Then how did you pass the time?”

“I lurked.”

Belle chuckled.

“What about before?” she asked.

“Before?”

“Before you were a vampire.”

Gold reached for his glass again, settling back in his chair and taking a sip.

“In that time, the people took their pleasure when they could,” he said. “Drinking and dancing on the greens and in the hall of every fort. There were celebrations to mark the birth of spring, the bounty of each harvest. Midsummer and Midwinter and all the feast days in between.”

He closed his eyes, a faint sound in the back of his mind like the distant rhythm of drums and the squeal of pipes.

“There were offerings made to the gods,” he said quietly. “Rituals and prayers to thank or appease, for a fruitful harvest or the end of hunger. The spilling of brown ale on dark, moist earth and the scent of heather in the air.”

He opened his eyes, the memory disappearing into the ether. Belle was watching him, wide-eyed, and he took another sip of wine to wet his throat.

“It sounds like a good life,” she said softly, and he pulled a face.

“Good times and bad. As there ever were, and ever will be,” he said, and drained his glass, setting it down and reaching for the bottle.

Belle held out her own to be filled. The wine was making her a little light-headed, and her skin was tingling with a mixture of curiosity and arousal. It was more personal information than he had ever given her, and she itched to know more.

“Do you still believe in them?” she asked, and he stared at her, wine dripping from the bottle neck for a moment before he steadied his hand.

“What?”

“The old gods,” she prompted. “The ones you worshipped when you were human. Do you still believe?”

Gold eyed her, unblinking, and finished pouring the wine. He sat back to take a sip, sucking the wine through his teeth and setting down the glass.

“I believe in the existence of good and evil,” he said. “Does that help?”

“Do you think those two things are mutually exclusive?”

A tiny smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“My,” he said quietly. “We’re having quite the philosophical discussion, aren’t we?”

“I would have thought you’d have enough empirical evidence to give me a straight answer,” she countered, and his smile widened, his eyes gleaming.

“I do enjoy our conversations, Miss French.”

“Just not answering questions, it seems.”

Gold sighed, letting his head roll back. The light caught the skin of his throat, and for a moment she felt like licking it. He took another sip of wine, his eyes catching and holding hers over the rim of the glass as he seemed to ponder her question.

“As I’ve said before, good and evil are relative terms,” he said eventually. “From my perspective, it all comes down to the choices one makes. Some choose the worst possible course, the one that will cause others the most pain and loss. However, they may make that choice thinking only of their own wants and desires, and not the pain they cause. They don’t consider themselves evil.”

“I imagine their victims do,” she countered.

“I imagine so.”

“And what about you?” she asked. “You must have made some choices over the years that have caused suffering. Does that make you evil?”

He shrugged, pulling a face.

“Unfortunately one does not always have the luxury of choosing good over bad,” he said. “All too often it’s finding the least worst option in the hand the world has dealt you. I wouldn’t say that’s evil. Just desperate.”

“Is - is that why you chose to become a vampire?” she asked quietly, and his eyes narrowed.

“What makes you think it was a choice?”

“Wasn’t it?”

Gold closed his eyes. A flash of memory came to him, a visceral surge of terror, roaring flames and the spray of wet blood on cold stone. He tried to suppress a shudder as he glanced back at her.

“The desire to live can be stronger than reason,” he said quietly. “Whatever form that life takes.”

“I suppose that’s true.”

Belle took another drink, filing away what he had said to mull over later. She pursed her lips as a thought came to her, setting down her glass.

“Can I ask about your cane?” she asked.

“My cane?” he said, his tone neutral, and Belle smiled.

“I’m sorry if it’s an impertinent question,” she said. “It’s just I’ve seen you walking around just fine, so do you only need it occasionally? Is that why you don’t dance?”

“I don’t physically need it at all.”

“Then why use it?”

He was silent for a moment.

“It’s a reminder,” he said eventually.

“Of what?”

“Human frailty.”

“Is that important to you?”

His mouth twisted a little.

“I believe someone once said that those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.”

“Then you have regrets?” she asked, and the twist in his mouth became a wry smile.

“Would you consider that weak?”

“I’d consider it human,” she said, and he shuddered.

“How very disappointing. And here I am trying my hardest to convince you of my monstrous nature.”

“You’re not a monster,” she said immediately. “Monsters don’t protect young women they barely know.”

“You don’t think that monsters can be outwardly charming and chivalrous, then?” he asked, his tone a lazy drawl. “Perhaps I was simply biding my time until I had you where I wanted you.”

Belle gave him a flat look, pushing to her feet and walking over to the fire. She had felt a tinge of anxiety at his words: it was true that there were many monsters in the world, and some of them wore gleaming smiles and used honeyed words before revealing their true nature. Glancing in the mirror above the fire, she caught his gaze, his eyes dark and filled with a strange mix of amusement and weariness. Her anxiety drifted away like smoke. Whatever he was capable of doing to those that crossed him, she truly believed that he was no threat to her. She licked her lips.

“And do you?” she asked.

“Do I what?”

“Have me where you want me?”

Gold held her gaze for a moment, then set down his glass and unwound, getting to his feet with a sinuous grace that made her heart thump. She closed her eyes, hearing him step closer, and sucked in a breath as his fingers slid over her hips. Cool lips brushed the nape of her neck, making her shiver, and his mouth found her ear.

“You are a worthy adversary, Miss French,” he murmured. “I find myself wondering which of us will come out on top.”

Belle turned in his arms, running her hands up his firm chest and feeling the hard points of his nipples beneath her palms.

“Do you need to win?” she asked softly, and he gave her a slanted smile.

“I don’t want to lose.”

She shifted closer, pressing up against him and enjoying the way he shuddered a little beneath her stroking fingers. Her nose brushed along his jaw, her lips barely touching his.

“Perhaps we could aim for something more - mutual,” she suggested.

He inhaled deeply, seeming to draw the scent of her deep, and turned his head a little to catch her lips with his. She opened her mouth, moaning a little as his tongue entered, sweet and heady from the wine. His hands slid up her back, reaching for the zipper of her dress and drawing it slowly down. He pulled the dress from her shoulders, and Belle stepped back a little to let him draw it down her arms. It fell to her hips, and she gasped into his mouth as he hooked his thumbs underneath and pushed it down with her tights and underwear. Her clothing caught around her ankles, making her unsteady, and she grasped his shoulders as he tugged her close against him, bending his knees and pulling her to the floor with him.

His body was a comforting weight on top of her, the silk of his shirt soft against her skin, and she tilted her head up to kiss him, his tongue pushing into her mouth and his fingers plunging into her hair. She could feel the hardness of him pressing up against her, and her hands slid over his shoulders, trying to unbutton his shirt. Gold rose up onto his knees, unfastening his cufflinks with practised twists of his fingers and dropping them in a pocket before falling onto the heels of his hands to gaze down at her.

Belle settled back on the thick rug and plucked at his shirt buttons, tugging it from his pants and getting it open. His skin seemed hotter than before, his chest smooth and firm beneath her fingers, and he bent to kiss her neck, slowly moving down her body with soft pulls of his lips and sweeps of his tongue. She closed her eyes, moaning as he pushed his tongue between her legs, stroking and circling, jolts of sensation making her shiver. He moved lower, tongue swirling against her inner thighs until he reached her knees, then tugged off her boots and clothing and tossed them aside.

Belle drew up her knees, watching him kneel up and pull off the shirt, his hands dropping to his belt. The crackling fire painted his skin in shades of peach and orange, darkening to red and mahogany in the shadows of his cheekbones and beneath his ribs. She watched the way his hands moved, fingers tugging open the belt and zipper and pushing down his suit pants and underwear. He was hard and ready for her, and his hands slid over her knees, pushing her legs apart as he moved forwards and pushed up against her.

She closed her eyes, feeling the stroke of his fingers against her, arching her back with a moan as they slid inside. Gold let out a low growl of pleasure, rubbing a thumb over her clit, coating his fingers in her juices before pulling them out and taking himself in hand. The blunt head of his cock pushed against her, and Belle sucked in a breath, lifting her hips to meet him as he slid deep with a rumbling groan.

Having him inside her felt good, right, and she lifted her knees a little higher, letting him bury himself in her, grinding against her as he moved his hips in long, slow thrusts. Gold bent his head to kiss her, and she pushed her fingers through his soft hair, mouth pulling at his, enjoying the feel of him deep within. The thick rug was almost rough against her lower back with the friction of his movements, and she pulled her mouth from his with a gasp, arching up into him as he bent his head to suck at her nipple.

He was sliding deep, rubbing against her, his cock hard, his body a perfect fit against hers. The heat of the fire made a thin layer of perspiration form between them, their skin slippery with it. She could feel her pleasure rising, a tide of heat making her cheeks flush, and he let out a tiny groan, quickening his pace a little. She dug her nails into his shoulders, letting her head roll back against the rug, thighs gripping his hips.

“Oh, Belle!” he whispered. “Belle, Belle, Belle…”

He came with a long, low groan, his body shaking, his cock pulsing, and the feel of it took her with him, a wave of pleasure coursing through her body as she cried out. She clung to him, bucking against him, squeezing his flesh with her own as he moved his hips with short, shallow thrusts. A final, shuddering growl came from him, and he slumped down, covering her body with his.

Gold had closed his eyes, his body a mass of sensation, listening to the rapid thump of her heart and feeling the rise and fall of her chest against his. Her scent covered him, her hot, wet flesh still holding him tight. She began to paint loose patterns on his back with her fingertips, making him shiver, and he smiled slightly, enjoying the lazy, sated feeling in his limbs. Belle’s fingers slid upwards, stroking his hair back from his cheeks, and he pushed up on his elbows to look down. Her cheeks were flushed, eyelashes dark crescents against her cheeks. Her eyes fluttered open, and a contented grin curved the edges of her perfect lips as she reached up to cup his cheek.

“There,” she said softly. “Two winners. No losers.”

He couldn’t help grinning at that. Miss French was amusing. She was also clever, brave and utterly delicious. He had met plenty of women that had boasted all those traits, but he couldn’t remember ever being this intrigued by anyone. Perhaps she really had bewitched him. I should probably ask her to leave. Walk her home, of course. It’s a little late for her to be out alone.

“Will you stay tonight?” he whispered. What? What are you doing?

She smiled, stroking fingers through his hair. Her eyes were soft and sleepy, and something in them seemed to catch and hold him, a sharp lance of heat in his chest, a pang of something almost like pain.

“Yes,” she breathed. “Yes, I’ll stay.”

She left early the next day, leaving him naked in the bed with a wet, passionate kiss to the lips before apologising and running out. He stretched lazily beneath the sheets, enjoying the slight ache in his body from the night they had shared. Belle had been enthusiastic, and vocal in her pleasure. It made him grin to remember, and he tossed the sheets aside and headed for the shower.

The sun was just rising, its light barely noticeable beneath dark, heavy clouds that promised more snow. It was the sort of day Gold enjoyed, and he was finding it hard to keep a smile from his face as he walked to the shop. He had decided to leave the car behind, making the most of being out in the day, the sky iron-grey and ominous and the toes of his shoes kicking up the light powder that had fallen the previous night. Dark glasses protected his eyes, and he watched with amusement as the few townsfolk in the streets hurried about with their chins pushed into their collars. It would no doubt be a quiet day at the shop. That suited him just fine.

He half-expected Belle to visit over lunch, and was surprised to feel disappointed when she didn’t. The sensation made him frown, and Jefferson’s voice echoed in his head. Since when did you care..?

Gold scowled, pushing away from his workbench and stalking into the shop. I don’t care! I don’t trust her, for a start. For all I know she put some spell on that cuff that still hasn’t worn off! Whatever I think I’m feeling, it’s not real. None of it!

He began pacing back and forth, an anxious, crawling sensation making him uncomfortable in his own skin. The sound of the bell above the shop door was almost a relief, and he turned on his toes, still scowling. Regina Mills looked a little taken aback by his expression, but closed the door behind her, a dark wool coat buttoned up to where a red scarf looped around her neck. Snow was scattered across her shoulders, her cheeks pink from the cold.

“What’s the matter, Gold?” she asked. “It’s a horrible day outside. I would have thought you’d be happy.”

“I’m ecstatic,” he snapped. “I presume you’ve come to tell me something useful?”

“That depends on your point of view.”

He nodded curtly, walking to the counter and turning to face her, and Regina reached into her bag and set the cuff on the counter between them.

“It’s a clever piece of magic,” she said. “Not something I’ve seen before, but I can see a dozen or more ways to tweak it.”

“And what does it do?”

“It suppresses demonic energy, makes dark creatures - docile,” she said. “An interesting variation on a shield, using an artefact on the creature itself rather than the spellcaster. I could enchant something with a spell powerful enough to shield me from most things, but it would drain quickly. I might just borrow this spell for future use.”

“That’s interesting,” he mused. “So it suppresses one’s natural impulses.”

“Only those rooted in darkness,” she corrected. “It wouldn’t stop everyday jealousy or lust or—in your case—excessive sarcasm.”

Gold chuckled, feeling relief flow through him. So. She was telling the truth about what it does. Part of it, at least.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“That’s enough, wouldn’t you say?” she asked. “But no, there’s nothing else. Why, what did you expect?”

“I don’t know.” He waved a hand, pretending indifference. “Something that induces violence, perhaps?”

Regina sniffed.

“Definitely not,” she said. “This thing is designed to pacify, not provoke.”

“But what if the violence was directed at—oh, I don’t know—some threat against the spellcaster?” he asked. “Some sort of protection was mentioned by the one I took it from. For them specifically, not just in general.”

“I guess having a vampire wear it would have given them protection from said vampire,” she said, and smirked at him. “Is that what this is, Gold? Some weird friendship bracelet you’re thinking of wearing?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“For one of our new friends, no doubt,” she went on. “I suspect the librarian, she seems reckless enough to want to put a leash on a monster.”

“Just answer the question,” he said impatiently, and her smile grew.

“So it is her,” she said. “She’s more resourceful than I thought. And more naive, if she thinks you’ll turn your back on darkness.”

“I have no problem with my darkness,” he said, in a bored tone. “And my interest is intellectual, not personal. You’re sure there’s nothing else? Nothing that would induce a desire to protect?”

“You’re really stuck on this idea, aren’t you?”

Gold hesitated.

“I - may have observed this behaviour,” he said. “Hence my interest in the item.”

Regina shrugged.

“Well, if you’d attended Incantations 101 you’d know that it’s not possible to do that,” she said. “Creating wants and desires where they don’t exist - there’s nothing that works like that. Even love spells can’t create love, only increase attraction to obsession.”

“Love spells?” He felt his eyes widen, and Regina waved an impatient hand.

“Just an example. My point is, magic can’t create a love that isn’t there, but it can amplify needs and emotions. Or deaden them, as in this case.” She held up the cuff.

“Right.” His mind was whirling.

“But the point is moot,” she added. “There’s nothing else on there. Certainly no love spell.”

She set the cuff on the counter, lips curving upwards.

“I guess if you want to woo that lovely young woman, you’ll need to rely on your natural grace and charm,” she said, and grinned. “Good luck with that.”

“Hilarious.” His tone was dry. “I think we’re done.”

“Always a pleasure, Gold.”

She smirked, turning on her heel and heading for the door, and he walked over to turn the sign to Closed the moment she had gone. He eyed the counter, where the cuff sat gleaming in the lamplight, and walked slowly over to pick it up and slide it onto his wrist. He closed his eyes, trying to sense the magic in it, but as ever, felt no different. It certainly hadn’t stopped him from joining Cruella and Jefferson on their hunt, or from drinking from the man he had caught. Miss French may have told the truth about the spell, but that didn’t explain why it seemed to have no effect on him. Nor why he felt the need to touch her, to hold her, to keep her from harm.

For the first time in centuries, Gold felt truly weary. He decided against a drink when he got home, instead making his way upstairs to his room with the intention of lying down. He had made the bed that morning, but one of the pillows was a little askew, and he picked it up to set it back in place. Belle’s scent was in the air, drifting into his nose, and he pulled the pillow to his face and inhaled deeply. The scent was delicious, and he was assaulted by memories of her in his arms, in his bed, the feel of her beneath him and the taste of her on his tongue. He threw the pillow aside, suddenly aware that she was everywhere. His house was filled with the scent of her, as though she had never left. Almost snarling to himself, he tugged the cuff from his wrist and tossed it away before stripping the sheets from the bed and balling them in his hands to shove in the laundry basket. Whatever spell she had cast on him, there were a thousand ways to break it. The deal was over.

#fic: closing the circle #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #vampire!Gold x monster hunter!Belle #rumbelle smut

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rome-writes · 2 years

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The Rabbit Hole of Mechanical Keyboards

Finally had the budget to literally build a “budget mechanical keyboard.” As much as I love my first mechanical keyboard the Rk61. I’m limited with its 60% layout, plus I finally reached my limit with clicky switches. Thankfully for around a year and a half, my neighbors didn’t kill me for typing loudly at 3am.

Two years into this rabbit hole, I now get the appeal of fully building and customizing your keyboard from scratch. I spent half of a day tuning the stabilizers, what more if I lubed the switches? It’s time-consuming but personally, it’s therapeutic for me. It’s the feeling of fulfillment and satisfaction for putting the time and effort into the item you’ll be using for a long time. I’d do it all over again, as the process is satisfying. The rabbit hole of this hobby really never ends huh?

Alright, time to break down the specs and peripherals

This mechanical keyboard is the “TY87”, it’s a good starting budget custom keyboard for the price. The cons would be its plastic body and complicated mounting, I couldn’t disassemble it at all. No foam mods for me and that thocky sound. The sound is bearable, coming from someone who used a clicky switch. The board along with the stock foam included resonates more of a clacky sound and a bit of plastic hollowness.

For the stabilizers, I modified the board's stock ones. If you have the budget to buy better stabilizers and down to disassemble this board, then you're good. If you’re like me who’s broke, then here’s what I did.

Clipped the stabilizers, holee modded them, band-aid modded them, and lubed them off course! If you're unfortunate not to have some Krytox 205 G around, I used dielectric grease for the whole stabilizers.

Modding stabilizers can be a handful, but I swear the sound of rattle-free stabs is sooo good.

For the switches, I used stock gateron milky yellows. You can never go wrong with gateron yellows. I swear it’s still the undefeated budget king. For my future build, I’m planning to buy some Akko switches. I hear that they’re a good alternative for gateron yellows.

For my keycaps, I used my old GMK Yeeti PBT clone keycaps. I recently found out they were clones, well not surprised but I used to call it split dye keycaps but it’s more of a gradient really. I got this from Yonqiu.ph on Shopee.

Well, that’s about it for the board. It’s not all fancy and premium-like, but it gets the job done. Maybe it’s just me finally snapping out of the clicky sound era, but it’s 100% better than my old board. I’m also starting to feel that I prefer linear switches instead of tactile ones. I’m now a member of yuck clicky switches unless it’s box jades.

For my artisan keycaps, I got them from Toxickitty Store, Lollipoppy, and Likhaatgawaph. Definitely check them out on Shopee to support local artists and give your board a prettier look.

Lastly, I’m already changing my keyboard so why not throw in a desk mat as well? I bought mine from Zoot It Up, check them out on Shopee. The deskmat is called “Amihan '', a collab between them and Marahuyo.

I’m not sponsored or affiliated with these shops, but hey my inbox is open for collabs & freebies. Baka naman. Kidding.

Shoot me a message to get sucked into the rabbit hole. hehe

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feelin-woozy · 3 years

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Title: I'm Your Man

Word Count: 2,562

Pairing: Danny Johnson x GN reader

Warnings: Gunplay, referenced knife play, very toxic relationships, impact play, some violent imagery and threats of violence, under negotiated kinks. They making love but they're being freaks abt it,,,,, making love in a rly fucked up way.

[AO3 LINK]

What you're doing is stupid, it’s dangerous, it’s audacious, it’s a million other adjectives that display your sheer stupidity, but most notably, it’s exhilarating. It makes your thighs quake, and your breath catch in your throat. Even when you have the upper hand, something about Danny never fails to deconstruct you to your more baser desires. And you know it’s not just you who feels this; as much as he loathes to admit it, you did something to him as well. It’s how you got him in this position in the first place.

Danny stares up at you, strands of blonde hair falling into his face and making his nose crinkle. There’s a murderous look swimming within his blue irises, like the moment you let your guard down, he will take matters into his own hands. To reaffirm that he is the one who holds power, not you, never you. To mold you back into that subservient little thing he’s worked too hard to force you into, but then there’s this spark within his eyes that overshadows the dark intent. It’s the look of how you feel, pure exhilaration.

His sharp cheeks are dusted with pale pink, jaw clenched till veins pop along his neck, and you can hear his teeth gnash together. In the dim lighting of the room, he looks dangerous, sharp edges highlighted by the way shadows dance over your face. It excites you all that much more, a true testament to how utterly fucked you were.

“I got a surprise for you,” You swivel your hips, leaning down to drag kisses along his jaw, the stubble catching along the soft skin of your lips. Despite the way his body tenses, his hips still involuntarily rock up into you, his cock throbbing. You lean back and smile at him before you pull off of him with a wet squelch. His cock bobs, the flushed skin shining with the remnants of lube.

Your legs wobble for a moment as you straighten yourself, the chilled floorboards creaking under your weight. You stumble over the clothing that litters the floor, your barefoot catching in the leg of tartan printed briefs. You kick it off to the side, clearing your path to the dresser across the room.

You feel his eyes on you as you walk away, and the air shifts around you. It becomes dense, and with each step you take, it feels as though you’re walking through jelly and over eggshells. You don’t let it deter you; you can’t. You were too far into this to back down. It would only reaffirm that you were nothing more than self-abasing, a toy that he could toss aside when he grew bored. You needed him to know you were more than that, that you were an integral part of his being. That throwing you away would be the same as throwing a few pieces of the jigsaw away, leaving him incomplete.

You rummage through the drawer of your shared dresser, careful not to crease the carefully folded dress shirts within. Spindly fingers wrap around the cool metal. Upon contact, you feel a sudden rush. Power swelling within your chest like an over filled balloon. It’s nearly suffocating as it scrapes along your ribcage, and you find it difficult to determine if you like the feeling. If you liked the side that Danny dragged out of you in the name of love.

Turning around, you look at him with as much of a neutral expression as you can muster. Trying not to convey fear or excitement to feed into his reaction. Your eyes carefully rove over his face.

Danny’s lips part slightly, and there’s something new within his eyes. Fear maybe? No, it was closer to indignation.

“Gunna kill me, baby?” He speaks with a sharp rasp, words dripping with equal parts venom and arousal. His brows knit together, a deep groove forming along his forehead as he stares at you with a narrowed gaze. You watch him try and get a read on you, trying to determine if this was how he’d meet his bitter end if he’d finally pushed just a little too hard and sent you tumbling down into madness like Alice down the rabbit hole. He settles his nerves, letting his words wash over you coldly. “I’m hurt you’d use a gun for it, after all we’ve been through together and you chose something so… Impersonal..”

You’re not sure what he’s trying to accomplish in saying this. Was he trying to goad you on? Send you into an uncontrolled frenzy that he could redirect to gain control? Was he trying to scare you? To make your hands tremble and quickly fumble with the zip ties that dug into the flesh of his wrists, constraining him to the wooden dining chair. Did he want you groveling at his feet and begging for forgiveness that he likely wouldn’t be kind enough to bestow? That one felt like a safe bet.

“No, I need you.” You let the words drip off your tongue like honey, lips twisting into a smirk as his hips buck up into nothing and his jaw goes slack. You walk back to him and situate yourself within his lap once more. Using the hand not wrapped around the grip of the gun, you position him carefully before sinking down onto him once more in a quick sudden motion.

The two of you moan, the sound melding together into something harmonious and beautiful. His arms flex against where they’re restrained, muscles rippling below pale skin. You know he must be going near crazy being unable to touch you, to have his way with you. To tear into you like a soft peach and have your juices messily dripping down his chin as he devours you.

“I love you,” You murmur, carefully dragging the barrel of the gun down along his jaw. His head tips back, letting you move the gun freely as a shaky exhale passes through his lips.

“Is it loaded?” Danny breathes, hips mindlessly rocking up into you in a steady rhythm. If it didn’t feel so good, you likely would have chastised him for doing so. After all, you were in charge. But you knew you were already toeing the line of what you could get away with; it was better to pick your battles than to face his wrath.

“Wanna find out?” You hook your index over the trigger as you drag the barrel carefully and nudge it against his lips. There’s a brief moment of hesitation before they part, and he slowly lets you force the pistol past. The two of you lock eyes for a moment, and you watch the way his tongue glides along the underside of the slide, taking the gun in till lips meet the trigger guard. “It is. Could blow your brains out right now if I wanted to.”

He moans at that, hips bucking up in a way that has you jolting, knocking the gun within his mouth and making him gag. A part of you expects anger to flood his face, for him to pull back and spit out the safeword, but if anything, it spurs him on more. Eyes closing as his cheeks hollow.

“You look so good like this, baby.” You whisper, raising yourself carefully before dropping once more and impaling yourself on his cock. You move at a leisurely pace, not entirely chasing your pleasure and more so fixated on the sight of him sucking on the barrel of the pistol like his life depended on it. And to some extent, it did; the looming threat, the implication that his brains could paint the wall behind you only served to turn the air heady with dangerous electricity. Danny didn’t seem to mind all that much at this moment, not with the way he bobs his head hastily, mindless bliss curling over his features and smoothing his brow.

You pull the gun out, making a note of how the color on his cheeks has deepened into a dark red. His pupils are blown till the blue no longer exists. His lips are slicked shiny with spit, and his chest rises and falls rapidly. “Gunna fuck me now? Done playin’ your little game?”

“Can I hit you?” A sliver of your usual timidness sneaks its way in, making your words falter enough that the glimpse of a predator can be seen in his eyes once more. He remains silent for a moment, letting your request roll around within his mind. You rock your hips, rolling yourself deeper on his cock and allowing an obscene little noise to tumble past your lips. “Please?”

“Fuck.” He grits his teeth, head tipping back as he soaks up the feeling of your walls clinging to his cock. After a moment, he looks at you once more, that dangerous look within his eyes that told you to tread lightly. “You’re getting too comfortable with this, babe.”

“You can carve me up real good next time,” You promise him, the words tumbling out almost desperately. His lips quirk slightly into a curve as you lean down, peppering the column of his throat in kisses and bites. You drag your nose along the curve of his neck affectionately, inhaling the scent of cigarettes, aftershave, and cologne and allowing it to wash over you like a blanket fresh from the dryer.

“Fine.” He lets out a sigh, trying his damndest to sound like this was more of a favor to you than it was exciting for him. You watch the way his face melts. An almost soft look crossing his features when your face lights up with the sudden excitement. “Be fuckin’ careful though.”

You let out a hum, moving from his neck to his face to capture his lips in a frantic kiss as you bounce eagerly on his cock. He meets your unbridled passion with his own, teeth sinking into your lower lip brutally till the taste of copper fills your mouth, and sticky warmth dribbles down the curve of your lip. You draw back, fingers curling around the grip of the gun in a firm grip.

Before he has any time to prepare himself, to think twice and go back on his word, you raise your arm before swiftly bringing it down with careful precision. A loud crack can be heard as the butt of the gun collides with the side of his face. His body thrashes, arms pulling uselessly against his restraints as his heels dig into the wood below. It makes the feelings of power wash over you once more in a torrential downpour, drowning you with the force of it and how it so thoroughly saturated your nerves and set fire to them.

The guttural moan that leaves his lips reverberates through his chest, and it catches you slightly off guard. You should have expected it, really; it wasn’t shocking that something like this was making Danny’s cock throb within you or having butterflies dancing within his stomach. You catch a dazed expression plastered over his face as his head lolls back on his shoulders. Unconsciously, you grip the gun again, finger curling over the trigger. As if waiting for him to lash out, to give you an excuse to fill his body with holes. Not that you could, the thought made your mouth taste of decay, and when he lifts his head and locks eyes with you, it only solidifies that you couldn’t do it.

There’s something beautiful about the way Danny looks with a busted visage. An angry medley of reds and purples has already begun to bloom over the right side of his face, the skin splitting and dripping with thick rivulets of red. It’s angelic, and you almost want to ruin this moment by asking to take a photo.

Your lips part, and a shaky exhale rattles through your diaphragm. You toss the gun aside, not bothering to flick the safety. All you do is pray it won’t discharge in a cruel stroke of misfortune. It bounces on the bed twice before settling without any issues.

One hand comes to cradle his face, fingertips pressing into the tender flesh as your lips meet his in a ravenous and all-consuming kiss. The way he winces under your touch momentarily before kissing you back makes your heartbeat a little faster, and you can’t stop the way you tighten around him like a vice.

“You’re fucking insane,” The words are panted out between kisses; they shake and fall so deliciously close to unhinged. “Like hurting me baby? Rile you up?” The comments are rambling, a true tell that he was just as delirious on pleasure as you were. You nod your head eagerly, the hand not on his face gripping into his shoulder as the two of you set a brutal tempo, the sound of your skin meeting echoing obscenely off the walls of the bedroom. “Should bring you with me one day, let you gut someone. Bet you’d look so fuckin’ sexy covered in someone’s blood.”

The proposition has you crying out, teetering so close to your release. It tears out a hysteric laugh from Danny, his hips faltering and becoming jerky and erratic.

One more thrust is all it takes for you to let a myriad of indiscernible noises, some sounding damn near inhuman as your orgasm, overtakes you. The force of it, the way your muscles tremble and you clench around him, drags him down just as violently. A cry of your name rips through the air, and you feel the way his cock throbs, painting your insides.

“You’re perfect.” Danny concludes with a wheeze as you slump forward. Your bones feel gelatinous, and you don’t want to move from where you were. Wanting to forever be suspended at this moment where you and Danny are so intimately connected. You feel the gentle dragging of his lips against the side of your head, the action so tender and only feeding into your desire to remain. “Need you to cut me free, baby.”

The way he speaks is commanding, and you know better than to ignore it for your own selfish means. Especially after something like this, you know you need to willingly hand the power back to him to soothe wounded egos and dark thoughts of losing control over you. So with a whine, you pull off of him. The wet noise that rings through the air as you pull, accompanied by the slow drip of sticky, viscous fluid down your thighs, makes your face scrunch up slightly.

Danny laughs fondly at you for it, watching you bumble around the room on shaky legs while you grab a pair of scissors before returning to cut free where each wrist was restrained to the back of the chair. You watch as he rolls his shoulders, trying to work out the stiffness that crept into the muscles and joints before he rubs at the red indentations that mar his wrists—another mark of imperfection that sends a strike of lighting through your nervous system.

You reach down, fingers carefully encircling his wrists as you drag the limb up to meet your lips. You press a gentle kiss into the angry red mark, smiling softly as you look at him. “Could never leave you, Danny.”

“Yeah. I know.”

#The name sake is leonard cohen pls listen 2 the song its bomb #Danny Johnson x Reader #Jed Olsen x reader #Danny Johnson x you #Jed Olsen x you #dbd danny johnson #dbd jed olsen #dead by daylight #dead by daylight x reader #dbd x reader #slasher x reader #slasher x you #danny johnson #jed olsen #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #my writing

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parachutingkitten · 3 years

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Y'all suck at dissecting Kai's character, so I guess I have to do it.

And I'm not even a Kai stan. He's a bottom tier ninja for me, which I guess means you can trust me, cuz I'm not biased, but also why am I the one doing this? I don't know about y'all, but recently on my dash, the method by which Kai fans try to make him sound good is... saying the writers hate him, ignore him, and that he isn't written well? Which... I mean there is a little bit of truth to, but like yikes guys, is this the best you got? Kai is a wonderful character with plenty of attention from the writers, a meaningful piece of the cast when put in secondary rolls, fairly consistent character writing with actual progression and valuable qualities that help the team without having to be the smart one- despite what some posts might tell you.

Let's get one thing cleared up: Ninjago isn't the best written show. By high level Hollywood standards, most the character arcs are kinda weak or too heavy handed, character consistency can be iffy, and most things serve the plot rather than the characters. There is no character you can point to and say "wow, this character is written so well! No complaints!" Nya and Jay were butchered by their weird love plot, Cole's one season doesn't actually give him an arc, Zane's been nothing but the robot numbers guy for like 10 seasons now, and Lloyd seems to be incapable of doing anything but relive the same one piece of dad angst for depth. Sorry, it's true. All the characters suck when you look at it from a large scale writing perspective. So when I say Kai is well written, I mean by ninjago kids show standards- cuz that's the scale we're working on. No, you couldn't drop Kai into a well written drama, but as far as ninjago goes... he's got a lot going for him, and by no means is he the biggest victim of poor writing.

(fair warning, wall of text below)

The title is a bit disingenuous. There are plenty of good Kai character break downs. What I am presenting here is a more positive perspective. On the whole, I will tend to give the writers the benefit of the doubt, and credit for what they do right writing is hard guys. That's what I'm doing here. I don't see much sense in getting mad the writers on behalf of Kai, or any other character. Ninjago is a simplistic ensemble show that works because of the identifiable simplicity of its main characters with some deeper layers hidden underneath if you keep watching. They've given us a damn good show with some damn enjoyable characters, so here are some criticisms I feel are a little flawed:

First, let's get the 'focus' thing out of the way. Apparently there are people saying Kai doesn't have a season yet? Which... what? I mean, I get that the pilots aren't a full season, the first two seasons, though he is the central protagonist, aren't "Kai seasons" as we've come to define ninja focus seasons, season 7, though he gets majority focus, he shares with his sister. But like... did y'all just forget about season 4? You know, the season where he had the title card, was on the box sets, got the love interest, and the majority of the A-plot? not to mention it's the best season don't @ me Like... if season 4 isn't a Kai season, I can make a damn good argument that season 3 isn't a Zane season, and I doubt anyone wants to go down that rabbit hole. I really can't wrap my head around this one. And I get that the fandom hates season 11 for some reason, but like you can't just pretend it doesn't exist. Kai has a consistent arc across 30 episodes in which he takes his powers for granted, loses them, and learns that, not only does he have value within the team without them, but that his element is intrinsically a part of him that he reclaims, bringing them back more powerful than ever, and with new respect for them. That's one of the most solid arcs in the whole series- the location is even thematically connected to his element. That's some good stuff right there! (Quick plug for season 11 if you haven't watched it in a while. Give it a rewatch, you might be pleasantly surprised)

Not to mention the writers give him fun side stuff all the time. Lots of fears of tech and water to overcome, a deep protective streak with Lloyd, becoming a chancellor, having a true potential actually relevant to the plot as a whole, blacksmith responsibilities, befriending dragons, hanging out with his dad. Not to mention actual focus stuff we haven't talked about yet, like his whole "my dad is evil" phase, and his "I might be evil" phase with him and Skylor. And on top of that, even when he doesn't have an explicit side plot, he's always just a fun and dynamic side character to make jokes or give exposition.

Now, into character stuff. Let's start with Kai's hot headed-ness. Some people say he's been loosing this quality, and I will admit, that's true! But those that claim this makes him inconsistent... I strongly disagree. In early seasons, Kai's temper would lead him to snap at his friends or make stupid decisions that set the team back (see episode 2 Zane freak out)- these are bad things. These are character flaws, yes? Now, in newer seasons, people say that he's inconsistent, cuz sometimes he'll be hot headed, and sometimes he won't. I'd say, this is exactly how being hot headed... works? It flares up without warning, and as an individual gets control of it, it'll pop up less and less often because they're channeling it into productive things - like say directing the anger towards an enemy (see season 11 end freak out). Kai has gained control of a character flaw, and though it still pops up on occasion, the fact that it's a once in a while kind of thing speaks to his growth. I have a little brother who has this exact personality, and watching him grow up, I can tell you, this is how it is. He used to snap all the time, and he still does sometimes, but much less frequently, because he's a more mature person with better control of his emotions. This is a good thing. This is overcoming personal flaws. This is progression we're seeing.

And while you're hyper focused on this one aspect of him, things like his cocky confidence haven't changed a bit. I mean, that season 3 bit between him and Pixal, and his season 11 "fire maker" streak have the exact same energy. You can not convince me otherwise.

Another adjacent quality that hasn't been dampened is Kai's impulsiveness. This can be a good quality of his, he'll get into a fight without thinking, getting the jump on the enemy. Good stuff. But, this has become such a well defined trait of Kai's that it has been used in a comedic capacity. This is what happens when a character is extremely consistent to the extent that both the audience and the characters in universe would be able to predict their actions. Kai's impulsivity used to be a more serious quality that put himself and others at risk, and was a big power move whenever he did something rash, but it's become such a staple of the show that it's now being used for comedy. That isn't Kai's impulsivity going away, that's Kai's impulsivity being recontextualized for the sake of the show. The season 9 "Who's stupid enough to jump on that thing" isn't a joke at the expense of Kai just for being dumb, it's a joke at Kai's being so predictably impulsive that everyone already knows he'll be the one to put himself in an insane amount of danger without thinking twice (you know, something stupid that might get him killed). But because in this instance, the danger is warranted, this is bravery. It's a complement to his character- it's what ends up defeating the colossus. Why are some people so bothered by this joke?

Oh right, cuz for some reason people want to peg Kai as the smart one? Look, Kai isn't stupid, none of the ninja are. All of them have smart moments (all of them have dumb ones too) and Kai can certainly handle himself, but "smart" is definitely not one of his defining characteristics- I think some people are confusing smart for his actual strength. Connected to his impulsivity, Kai has very good simplistic instincts. He sees the big picture and looks at the most surface level solution- which when the situation calls for it, that does indeed make him smart. But the same logic that led him to think "This snake has a glowing target on its head, lets hit it" also led him to think "I'm in a video game, therefore I am immortal." Are you really going to look at me and say he figured out Lloyd was the green ninja through logical deduction and a careful consideration of the facts? No. He had a gut feeling, and he trusted it. Instincts- instincts paired with his impulsive following of said instincts is what leads him to solve problems- and sometimes, that can be extremely effective. This goes for other ninja too. Jay isn't the smartest ninja- I would really only classify Zane and Nya as having intelligence define them (hence their ship name). But Jay is extremely creative and crafty. He also knows his was around mechanics, and as such, this will lead him to come up with creative tech based solutions which are smart. But, idk about you, if I had to point to another ninja as being 'dumb' it would 100% be Jay. Kai is a lot of things. He's passionate and determined and confident and persistent. He's a good improvisor, he's powerful and he's charming! These are all wonderful qualities, he doesn't also have to be the smart one. I am the worlds biggest Pixal stan, and she's a smart, sassy, powerful character, but I'm not gonna sit here and tell you she's also hilarious and adaptable and strong willed. She's a straight man to all the ninja's antics, extremely tied to her samurai x suit, and lets people push her around all the time. That doesn't mean she can't be funny, or self interested, but when she does act these ways, it stems from her other more prominent qualities. That make sense?

And while we're clearing up what Kai isn't, please stop characterizing Kai as an overly protective brother - especially romantically. The only two times he's been romantically protective to Nya are in Wu's Teas which I mean, come on and in the pilots when Jay is literally a stranger. For crying out loud, by the end of the pilot, he's smiling when Jay and Nya hug. That's not overly protective, that's just normal, any reasonable person would react this way, protective. And it's such a great stereotype break for a kids show like ninjago, having an older brother who actually trusts his younger sister to be her own independent person who can make her own decisions. I mean, I guess it's fine if you HC differently but like... idk, I don't buy it.

Now, is there still room to criticize the writers? Yes. Hell yes. But not to an extent greater than any other character. Could he have had more of a defined reaction to events of the most recent season that I won't name for the sake of spoilers? Yes. But could Zane have reacted for more than .5 seconds at being an evil war lord for apparently 60 years? Yeah. Has Kai taken a back seat in the past 4 seasons? Yeah. But so has Lloyd- and he's literally the main character of the show. Not to mention two of those seasons have gone to people who had to wait over ten seasons to get one to themselves, and one of them is a 40 minute special. Kai's doing just fine.

Anyway. Kai is great. He's a fun, stereotype breaking, impulsively driven, ball of energy and confidence who gets a good amount of screen time and some fun side plots.

One last thing to clear up: no hate to anyone. This isn't targeted at anyone specific, this post has been a long time coming, I've just seen some weird overblown claims on various platforms over the past few months and I finally sat down to write about it.

I like the Kai content we have. After all, if the writers were really that bad at writing him, then no one would like him.

Wow this was so much longer than I thought it would be. Um... if you have other long winded rants you'd like to see from me... let me know I guess?

#ninjago #kai ninjago #kai smith #parachuterants #analysis #lets add this tag:#/lh

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writesowhatnext · 4 years

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the solution is outsourcing // fred weasley

Summary: the reader is awkward… really awkward, but quite brilliant, really. Maybe that’s why Fred’s so interested

Request: hi lovely, love your writing! can i req a fluffy fred weasley x ravenclaw!reader please? maybe the reader knows something that’ll help him with a prank or something?

A/N: I had such a hard time writing this if not purely because I fell down a hunger games rabbit hole and felt like I was 12 again BUT ALSO halfway through this I was creasing because I kept having to tell myself that I absolutely could not name this ‘the highs and lows of high school quidditch’

Reader: Ravenclaw

Warnings: 1 swear word maybe?

Hogwarts, as you discovered pretty early on, was not at as boring as most schools in the area. First of all, there weren’t any other schools in the area due to it being a castle nestled just within the Scottish Highlands and all. Secondly, being a school for wizards, it had its fair share of perks that came with the territory: from learning about thestrals to broomsticks to sleeping draughts and everything in between, life at Hogwarts had a certain je ne sais quoi that most schools just weren’t cut out for.

After the second time Harry Potter, a boy in the year below, was almost killed, you figured that Hogwarts’ flair came less from its magical subjects and more from the drama of constant near-death experiences. Regardless, though, you wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

Amidst the chaos, it was easy to forget sometimes that Hogwarts was still a school. A school full of teenagers. A school full of incredibly gifted and incredibly impressionable teenagers.

Not only were you extremely blessed to be learning all that you were but you were also fairly bright, and so you were often very dedicated to your studies, making sure to soak up all the knowledge you could from every possible source. But even you weren’t immune to the consequences of a high school social hierarchy; a fact that would probably explain why your mouth was drying up faster than the Sahara Desert watching Fred Weasley across the room.

He always had this look in his eye like he knew something everyone else didn’t, you thought, your attention divided somewhat unequally between him and your History of Magic textbook. He also always managed to look attractive. You hummed as he turned, starting to approach your table. Wait, what? Your table?

Undeniably, Fred was one of the most popular boys in school.

Both handsome and hilarious, he and his twin brother George were infamous for their pranks and notorious for their quidditch playing. Everybody knew who they were and if they didn’t, they would soon enough.

Your friends, usually so engrossed in their own discussions, grew silent and your hands stilled on your textbook, your fingers pinching at the old pages. It’s not like you often watched Fred Weasley across the courtyard… or classrooms… or the Great Hall.

Well.

To your defence, though, you were usually a lot less obvious and he was usually a lot less heading in your direction.

Why was he coming over to your bench? He probably wasn’t, you thought. It was probably just a detour. Or a prank. You swallowed, unable to tear your eyes off of him. The courtyard was loud with chatter, but you’d wager your heartbeat was louder. Why was he still heading your way?

“Hi,” he said leisurely, crossing his arms over one another as he stood next to your bench. His lean muscles strained under his jumper and though your perspective was warped by your goo-goo eyes and the fact you were sat down, it was still fairly obvious that he was tall. He had the aura of someone tall, you decided, and if his crooked grin was anything to go by, he was apparently completely aware of the effect he had on you and everyone else, for that matter.

You looked behind you, your confusion growing when you found only air and realised that he was, in fact, talking to you.

You frowned, your lips puckering as you tried to form a word, any word.

“What?”

Maybe not that word. In fact, maybe any other word would have been better.

“Uh,” he said, leaning backwards and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Hi?”

You cursed yourself under your breath.

“Hello?” you replied, your tone unsure.

“I’m Fred,” he said, his uneasy expression replaced quickly with the same charming smile.

Before your brain could catch up with your mouth, you scoffed. “I know.”

“Merlin,” you muttered under your breath, blinking and swallowing back the dryness in your throat. “I’m Y/N.”

“I know.”

The amused smirk playing on his lips almost definitely blew a fuse in your brain.

“I’ve been looking for you actually,” he said, placing his hand on your table and leaning over.

If his words weren’t enough to send you over the edge, his proximity plummeted your brain into some alternate reality where it was unavoidable to say awkward things to attractive strangers.

“Well, it’s your lucky day!” you chimed, your cheerful grin dying on your lips as you heard your own words. Why you couldn’t just behave normally was beside you.

Fred didn’t seem to mind nor notice how painfully awkward you felt.

“Isn’t it just?” he said, his surprised expression relaxing into a smirk. He turned to one of your friends opposite you and pointed to the empty space next to him. “D’you mind if I sit here, mate?”

“’Course not,” your friend said, shooting you an entertained smile and sliding up so Fred could sit facing you. His knees touched yours as he clambered over the bench.

“Now,” Fred said, his tone serious as a decidedly playful glint flickered in his eyes. “I need your help.”

You opened your mouth, probably sucking all of the air out of the quad in the process as your eyebrows knitted together. You didn’t think Fred Weasley even knew who you were. Thankfully, he didn’t wait for your brain-cells to cooperate to form a reply.

“My sister says you’re a genius. I’ll assume that’s true; I’ve never seen anyone actually read this,” he gestured towards your textbook with a lopsided smirk. “So, are you actually a mastermind or are you just fooling the rest of us?”

His eyes were so bright as he spoke, so expectant as well. Expectant? Oh, a question.

You let your gaze trail down his face slowly. His eyes were warmer up close, you thought, and he had lots of tiny freckles.

“Hello?” he said, waving his hand in front of you with a half-smile and an amused frown.

“Um,” you stalled, swallowing. “Your sister. Oh, yes, Ginny. Your sister. Ginny Weasley.”

You nodded, letting your mind catch up to the conversation and avoiding any glances towards his smiling features. “I tutored her last year. Can’t see why: she didn’t need my help. She’s rather sharp herself.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fred rushed, already bored of the topic of his sister as he dismissed you and leant in closer. “She said that you were brilliant, though. Especially at Charms.”

Your face warmed at his words and Fred watched rather curiously as you looked away, placing your hands into your lap and fiddling with your quill under the table.

“I’m pretty good,” you said, mulling it over. “I think Flitwick just likes me.”

“Yeah, right, anyway,” he snorted disbelievingly. He pursed his lips before leaning forward on his elbows. “I need your help with a charm for a prank.”

“A prank?”

“A prank, indeed.”

You looked to your left, watching your friends pretend not to listen to your conversation. Your brain hadn’t fully caught on to idea yet that you were sat even in close proximity to Fred Weasley, let alone that you were talking to him. And now he wanted you to help him? You couldn’t decide whether stranger things had happened.

“Please?” he said, tilting his head to the side and widening his eyes. Before he sat down at your table, you didn’t know Fred Weasley; you only knew of Fred Weasley and so, what you didn’t know was that he was born with a gift. A gift that involved possessing a pair of the world’s greatest puppy dog eyes. He watched smugly as your indecision faltered and you cracked a smile at his silly expression. Something stirred in his chest at the sight of you.

“What’s the prank?” you asked, keeping up the façade of reservation. Fred knew, though: he’d got you hooked.

“Wait, wait, wait,” you said, waving your hands around wildly. Your friends had long since disappeared from the courtyard, off to their classes or to study elsewhere. “How are you going to give him the hair dye?”

“Ah,” Fred sighed animatedly, stretching his back from his hunched-over position. “That’s for me to know, isn’t it?”

You smiled, pursing your lips together as you shared a conspiratorial look.

Being around Fred, it seemed, was much easier than first anticipated. When you got over the initial shock of him a) knowing you exist and b) talking to you, you found yourself falling into a comfortable rhythm, a light banter of ideas. Every so often, though, you were struck by the slope of his nose or the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes. You were lucky, you realised, that you had such a good excuse to distract you from just staring at him the whole time.

“Alright,” you said tightly, frowning at the parchment you had ripped out to scribble notes on. Fred’s eyes followed your face. “I think I can do it.”

“Really?”

His face lit up and your stomach dropped at how cute he looked, butterflies fluttering in its wake.

“How?”

Your brows drew together and you bit your lip, fingers drumming lightly on the paper.

“Let me-“ you said, standing up abruptly and circling around the otherwise empty bench, slotting yourself beside him without a second thought.

“Right, so I think that if you take a simple transfiguration charm and then layer it-“ You paused as a deep crease imprinted on Fred’s forehead. “Look,” you insisted, leaning closer to him and pushing your notes around, using your finger to point at your words. “All you have to do really is layer the charms to make them harder to undo and then…”

Fred didn’t listen to the rest. He couldn’t, really. Not when he could feel your warmth next to him, your shoulder pressed against his and your breath fanning against his cheek every time you looked up. He couldn’t figure out how he never noticed you before. Gruffly, he swallowed, forcing himself to pay attention.

“You top it all off with a pre-emptive counter charm and the hair dye will last a while,” you nodded, pleased with your work. “His hair will probably grow out sooner than he can fix the colour.”

Turning to Fred, only slightly surprised that he was already looking at you, you grinned as he let out a deep throaty chuckle.

“Y/N, Y/N, Y/N,” he muttered, shaking his head with his tongue poking out between his lips. “You are bloody brilliant.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, he snatched up the piece of parchment, swung his legs over the bench and raced off, his cheerful demeanour almost making up for the way your heart sank at him leaving. You watched him disappear down the corridor and sighed, letting your head loll backwards. The idea that things would just go back to how they were plagued your mind as you packed away your books, resting your knees on the bench.

He’d always be Fred Weasley, the most popular boy in school, and you’d just be you. Back to normal.

“Oh,” Fred said breathlessly as he appeared behind you. You couldn’t help the smile that lifted your cheeks as you raised your eyebrow.

Your smile dropped, though, when he leant closer and pressed his lips ever so delicately to your cheek. Your eyes fluttered shut at the contact and you could feel the rush of blood to your face.

“I’ll find a way to thank you for your help,” he said, beaming at your surprised expression. “Promise.”

It took a week for them to finalise the prank, it seemed. You wondered whether you’d just missed the outcome until one morning, Draco Malfoy stormed into the Great Hall with a scowl and bright orange hair. His entrance was met with whistles and cheers and as you looked over at the Gryffindor table, your eyes widened as they met Fred’s. Whilst his brother and their friends laughed and jeered, he just grinned at you. With a small burst of courage, you waved. He pursed his lips in amusement before he lifted up a paper aeroplane in his hand, gesturing to throw it.

Your eyebrows creased at the idea, but you watched with your heart beating in your chest as the aeroplane soared over to you, dropping gently onto your empty plate. Looking up at Fred, you frowned, unable to keep the smile off of your face. He urged you to open it, making faces as if to say ‘what are you waiting for?’.

You chuckled; the paper rough on your fingertips as you unfolded it. Written in rather jaunty handwriting, was a simple question signed off with a simple ‘-F’.

You, me, Hogsmeade, this weekend?

You could’ve got whiplash from how quickly your head shot up. Even from so far away, the nervousness and anticipation on Fred’s face were beyond evident and painfully endearing. You nodded, biting your lip to suppress your smile. You’d have thought it was infectious given his own shit-eating grin. He shot you a wink and turned back to his friends and you found yourself working out exactly how long you had until your date with nonother than Fred Weasley.

harry potter tag list: (added later bc braincells - some didnt work)

@creator-appreciator @decadentwastelandtrash @loveisblindness @xinyourdreamsx @brainlesspasta @hariosborn @staringmoony @rexorangecouny @alittletoomanyobsessions @peachesandpinks @yuptha-tsme @obsessedwithrandomthings @dreamer821 @iprobablyshipit91 @in-slytherin-we-trust @haphazardhufflepuff @princesof-theuniverse @whovianayesha @msmimimerton @extra-trash77 @potterverseimagine @my-own-mindpalace @sxrensxngwrites @damonwhitlock @susceptible-but-siriusexual @answer-the-sirens @thisismysketchbook @ickle-ronniekins @harrysweasleys

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #Harry Potter #imagine #writing

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