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Talks Machina Summary - Episode 98
  • Everyone is super excited about the Critical Role Hamilton fan-project, and everyone is tempted to secretly audition for their characters.
  • Liam got Laura a quiver for her birthday, as well as an old copy of Twelfth Night and feathers for her hair. Brian: “Can we give this away for gif of the week?” Laura: “…no.”
  • Vax would happily stay retired, given the choice.
  • Vex is “a little fucked up” after seeing Keyleth die. That’s what made her start thinking of and worrying about Scanlan again.
  • The betta fish from last week has been moved into a big tank and is doing great.
  • Marisha: “Keyleth’s a jumper, she likes jumping. She’s still gonna be a jumper, that isn’t gonna change.”
  • Marisha and Laura have both put some thought into DMing.
  • Liam thinks of his Luck feat as the Raven Queen occasionally guiding him past potholes.
  • Laura is terrified any time Vex has to negotiate and always feels the pressure.
  • Liam purposely made a character for the next campaign who never has to be cool or confident, because it’s so stressful. Marisha, on the other hand, is gonna be “a cool… dick” next time.
  • Laura: “Taliesin has the ability to be slick and eloquent on the fly.” Marisha: “He’s cool and it’s not a big deal, it’s not fair!” Liam mentions that he’s always cool and collected even when things go wrong. Brian points out that it’s in line with what Taliesin’s said about Percy having sort of a teenage mentality.
  • Asked about Percy and Vax’s renewed friendship, Liam talks about how it’s softened over time. “I think people thought that Vax was angry longer than he actually was.” Vax knew that Percy titling Vex was a kind gesture made out of love, but was concerned about Vex’s reaction and the way she embraced it, that she might’ve bought into everything that was held over them over all those years. Vax’s reaction to the elves’ disdain was “fuck this bullshit”, whereas Vex’s reaction was “I want that,” and it worried him that she was still in that mindset. Liam emphasizes that any time Percy and Vax have an intense scene, he and Taliesin are giggling about it afterwards, and that Percy’s death wiped any remnants of the resentment between the characters away.
  • Vex is still haunted by the things Saundor said.
  • Often in their arguments, Marisha agrees with Percy and Taliesin agrees with Keyleth, and they have to play against type.
  • Keyleth acts a lot out of the knowledge that she’ll still be around in centuries to see the long-term consequences, but she’s also starting to learn to be more diplomatic, less self-righteous, and a bit more world-weary.
  • Vax is going to keep leveling in Paladin and likely won’t take more levels in Rogue. “He’s married to the Raven Queen at this point.”
  • Marisha talks about how she loves when Laura and Liam bicker out-of-character and it mirrors their characters. Laura: “…I don’t know what you’re talking about, it’s always in character.”
  • Vex hasn’t owned up yet to reading the in-case-of-death letter Percy wrote.
  • After the year’s break, VM is now Keyleth’s permission to be silly. “I’m only a dumbass when I’m around these dumbasses.”
  • Vax thinks Scanlan’s not in any danger, and thinks they’re fated to wind up back together again. Vex knows about the drugs, and that’s given her cause for concern.
  • To help deal with the ridiculously long druid spell list, Marisha cuts some out that Keyleth wouldn’t use in an RP sense, but it’s still really difficult to stay on top of the absurd number she has to pick from.
  • Marisha realizes that Keyleth was alone when she put her hand into the orb and the others probably don’t realize that happened. She thinks her nat20 save on that occasion may have been the most important roll for her character. Asked about most important rolls, Liam goes with the Luck roll and “left” moment against Umbrasyl, and also the double-ones during the walk of shame. Laura goes with the double nat20s against the Briarwoods to rescue Vax, and her nat20 during Percy’s resurrection ritual.
  • For the Battle Royale, Keyleth and Grog are probably the big targets. Laura points out that the choice of map will make a big difference.

Talks Machina Becomes the Darkness:

  • Marisha hosts!
  • Asked if any of them have any weapons skills IRL: a lot of the group does archery in their backyards. Liam: “I have very few skills in general.” Everyone starts listing off his skills, which includes making great Pinterest boards. This leads to Laura talking about how she and Ashley are often on Pinterest at the same time even if she’s in New York. “Somewhere out there…”
  • Liam is distracted mid-answer by Laura’s burp. “That wasn’t too bad!” “Yes, but I am reminded of fifty other burps.”
  • A question is asked and… takes a while to get answered. Things go a little off the rails. Speed 2: Cruise Control. Keanu Reeves. Johnny Mnemonic.
  • Favorite low rolls: Keyleth getting arrested repeatedly. Vex falling off the broom. Liam brings up the ultimate: nat1 arrow through Scanlan’s neck during target practice.
  • The map of Emon on the wall of the set was dyed by Taliesin and framed by Laura. The barrel on the set was haggled for at a flea market by Laura.
  • Marisha: “Don’t forget to worry, it’s almost maybe Thursday.”
3

this is one of my favorite kagome scenes like not only did she come up with the plan but! she also yanked that arrow straight from manten’s nose and lOOK AT HER SHE WAS JUST GONNA JAM IT INTO HIS FOREHEAD TO GET THE SHARDS

[ image: galactic boss cyrus with an alolan sandshrew resting on his shoulders and over his head. its face is comfortably nuzzled into his hair, and he has his face in his hands, looking even more all-suffering than usual with a necklace of orange, yellow, and pink flowers around his neck.. an arrow points to the frozen sandshrew, saying ‘Fig 1. Pokemon applied for cooling purposes.’. another arrow points to cyrus, saying 'Fig 2. Man suffering from climate differences.’ ]

sinnoh is very cold, im sure alola is a severe climate shock

Three Wishes

Fandom: The Hobbit / The Lord of the Rings

Pairing: Legolas x Female!Reader

Request: 

Word Count: 3100

Warning: Smut.

Notes: I am so sorry that it took four weeks to complete your request, anon! I hope you enjoy it though! I actually sat down at 10 pm to write this and didn’t start till 1 am. :P *~Procrastination at its finest~*

I hope you all enjoy, and I will see y'all in my next post. :*

Keep reading

A little One-Shot

Ok… I hate hiatus’s but they’re also perfect for inspiring and fic writing.

Now this is just an indulgent piece of fluff I had too much fun writing but, alas, I only wrote it in 20 mins (I was inspired) because I don’t have a lot of time to spare so if it feels crude or just plain wrong, then I do apologise.

This is for @callistawolf who wanted some new pieces and I thought I’d get the ball rolling, for @hopedreamlovepray who made me fall in love with one-shots and a thank you to @n4r4nch4 who literally cheers me on, even when I feel like I’m undeserving.

I love this fandom!

So I don’t think this will happen in the show but… (If you guys like it, I’ll put it on AO3 later)

…..

Happy.

It’s what she’d hoped for him, them. Eventually. But in all honesty; she’d had trouble believing it could happen… till a couple of weeks ago that is.

Now they were here, on Lian Yu.

Everything that shouldn’t have happened, happened, and everything they didn’t expect to did as well: the good and the bad.

Black Siren was gone. She truly was the exact opposite of the Laurel they’d known. She’d disappeared, injured as she was, during Oliver’s fight with Slade and none of them had the heart – nor the energy – to search for her.

But they would.

Later.

Adrian was gone. Dead… but Oliver hadn’t killed him. Thankfully he’d walked an unexpected path.

Oliver. Eyes closing, listening to the sound of the waves at her feet, Felicity remembered…

“Come on Oliver; it’s simple. Look.” Hand fisted in Felicity’s hair, he yanked backwards until her throat was exposed - her body pressed to his front - and held one of his daggers beneath her throat. “I’ll make it easy for you.” His eyes unblinkingly on Oliver’s, Adrian stressed each and every word. “If you don’t kill me - if you don’t shoot an Arrow into my neck - I will kill the woman you’ve been pretending not to love.”

It took an age for a response to come.

Without a weapon, he’d stood there – Oliver – as he’d entered the clearing, the place Adrian had hunted Felicity to until she couldn’t keep running anymore, and hadn’t said a word.

He’d just looked at her, seeing her determination, her exhaustion. Her fear.

Her love.

Her resolve. “Don’t.” She forced through her clenched teeth. “Not for me.”

Not anymore.

He couldn’t now. Not after everything. Not even for her.

And he knew that, she could see it. This couldn’t be like the Count. This wouldn’t be him instinctively obeying the mindset of the man who’d used killing as a defence mechanism for survival - a mechanism to protect - for over five years.

This… what had to happen, would be the turning point of his life.

And she was fine with that. “It’s ok.” She whispered; her voice scratchy from lack of water as she watched him watch her. “I’ll be fine.”

“No.” Adrian promised - a smile in his voice - the knife pressing into her neck. “She won’t.”

He was right. He’d kill her. Just to spite Oliver. If Oliver refused to kill him, Adrian would kill her as punishment. And the Oliver Queen she’d started to see again for the first time in 14 months, the Oliver Queen she’d made love to on his birthday - a present full of sex had been due for a while and was, let’s face it, part and parcel for the course between them - where he’d shown her in an explicit and detailed physical exploration with his hands - oh those fingers, she’d missed those fingers - his mouth - the perfect mix of firm and supple softness: pillow mountains - his tongue - this isn’t helping - and his words-

His words.

I’m so sorry I destroyed us.

You made me happy. I haven’t felt that since I took it away.

I didn’t know how to accept that I was worth being loved, that I could be loved by… by you. By Felicity Smoak.

I love you. I never stopped. It never went away, never altered…

I missed you.

Oh, I love it when you do that.

You feel good. Familiar. Yet… different too.

But… still good? (she’d had to ask, to be sure that still wanted her like she wanted him)

No. (And he’d smiled - of course he had - his nose brushing down hers, his fingers trailing warmth and desire over the uncovered skin of her cheeks, her throat, her shoulders and further down…) Better.

Thank you for my birthday…

That Oliver Queen who’d shone through so brightly, he’d disappear. For good this time. Dig wouldn’t be able to pull him out of it; there would be no one to show him his light.

Then he’d kill Adrian.

And after, he’d kill himself. Next to her. Just to be sure she’d be the first thing he’d see when he opened his eyes once more.

If she died here.

Yet still… it was the right choice to make. A choice where there wasn’t really a choice to make.

Oliver knew it, his eyes told her they did, the soft stance of his body told her they did…

Oliver.

If it had to end, if this was how it was supposed to go; she didn’t regret a thing. She’d loved… and had been loved in a way a lot of people can only imagine. She’d found herself inside him, her everything, her forever and her always…

So she smiled at him; it a was watery thing but large enough to see, to show the sheer happiness he’d brought to her, the love she’d felt grow somehow deeper in the two days since they’d slept together. It told him everything he needed to hear without saying anything at all.

And everything that he was, reflected all of that back at her.

How eyes could be so bright and expressive, she didn’t know but his always could and right now they were etching his name into her soul, just like he was taking hers into his own.

“Alright.” He muttered and he didn’t stop looking at her. “Kill her.”

She felt Adrian jolt behind her but didn’t stop looking at her guy, didn’t stop smiling at him. God, I love you. “What?”

“Kill her.” Oliver softly repeated.

“And you’ll just live with that? I don’t think so Oliver.”

“I know you don’t.” Oliver’s hand shifted, a knife of his own sliding into his fingers from his sleeve. “It doesn’t matter because the moment you do, the moment you kill her… I’ll kill myself.” He let out a sigh, his smile falling but his expression was still deeply serene. Like he was seeing in her everything he wanted and was so content with the reality of it, that he wouldn’t be sorry if it ended here either. “And it’ll all be over.”

Still smiling, a tear rolled down her cheek and Oliver watched it fall like he wanted to halt its progress with a finger.

It wasn’t like they wanted to die. There was so much they both wanted from each other, with each other – things they’d spoken of in the quiet after she’d brought him home to rest inside her. But if it had to end here, if it had to be this way… then let it be like this.

Together.

After all, they always been really.

“That… that’s not how this works.”

And like she’d prayed for, Felicity heard the struggle in Adrian’s voice, the need to understand something his brain was incapable of processing.

For the first time Oliver looked away from her to him. “That’s the way it is. “And there was this light in his eyes that made something in her sing as he lifted the blade up to his own throat, preparing to draw a line across it. “I won’t kill you. You don’t deserve for me to kill you. And I don’t need to.”

THIS was Oliver Queen. This was the good she saw, had been seeing since Felicity Smoak? Hi, I’m Oliver Queen.

“You don’t think it’s sick, Adrian? That you need me like this?” Throughout it all, Oliver kept his voice low and steady. “You need me so badly that you want me to kill you? I’m so important to you…”

His dagger cut into her skin. “Shut up!”

“Why?” Oliver stared at him. “Does it hurt?”

“You don’t- you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Is it the truth?” Oliver whispered. “Confess. You can’t live without me and you can’t kill without me here.” He raised a hand to the world about them in general. “But I won’t kill you. So,” Oliver looked back to her, love and hope an Arrow in his gaze, “what happens next after I’m gone? What will you do?”

Genius.

Before anyone could have done anything though, Rene - having followed Oliver but had been unable to keep up with his sprint - had shot Adrian point blank from the side. He’d died in seconds.

“I made him a promise.” Was all he’d said.

After a moment’s silence, Oliver had moved prompting her to do the same, to obey the need inside her. It just so happened his was the same need as hers.

They’d collided in the middle, his arms tight around her lifting her high off the ground, hoarse words breathed into her skin - I’m here baby - she’d wrapped herself around him, holding him close, breathing him in too and promising to never ever let go.

Spiritually speaking.

Because then they had to deal with the fallout. With Slade, who had a personal grudge against the two of them, the day just wouldn’t end, with Black Siren who’d fled the scene, Boomerang who’d been a giant pain in everyone’s ass… and Evelyn who’d then been killed in action.

A. Very. Long. Day.

She released a breath, letting the wind make a mess of her hair and rustle the trees –the lapping of the oceans waves – lull her very tired body into a peaceful state of rest.

The she felt him behind her…

“I can feel you there,” she murmured, “I couldn’t before.” And she chose – I don’t care if I’m naive – to believe it was because of their connection and not their five year war instilling a new awareness inside her that made this so.

“I didn’t want to disturb you.”

She smiled, and if her voice was throaty - a purr really - well that was his fault. “Oliver, any disturbance by you is a welcome one.”

“Really.”

Not a question.

“Yep.”

“I don’t think the others would appreciate my idea of a disturbance with you.”

Her smile couldn’t get any wider.

His sex voice. Seriously, every time after sex… this voice. How do I live with myself, I just don’t know.

Turning to face him, she chirped. “Hi.”

“Hey.” He moved closer so that the sea was to his left and the jungle, his right. “You ok?”

She really was. He’d helped her there, earlier.

Probably looking profoundly love struck and foolish, she bobbed her head at him; wordless at the way the sun hit his face and lit up his hair. He really is blonde. “You?”

“It’s strange but… I think I am.” It came out in one long exhale. “For the first time in a really long time I don’t feel so… weighed down.”

Thank you God. “That’s a good thing Oliver.”

“It is.” And it was a thing with him, how his eyes on her own - like they could live forever staring into each other’s eyes and it still wouldn’t be enough for him - always left her without the air to make a sound. “You helped me get here.”

Uh, no.  She shook her head. “Oliver, I-”

“You did. I don’t how you do it,” he shook his head; still gazing at her, “but you do it anyway. I thought I wasn’t strong enough and you proved me wrong. I thought I didn’t deserve…” and he paused because whatever he was feeling looked overwhelming and he needed the moment to centre himself. “I thought I didn’t deserve you, that I could never earn you. So I stopped trying. Stopped trying to not be that person who would never be enough all those months ago, before Rene and Rory and Dinah joined the team.” He smiled and she felt it everywhere. “You gave me hope. You got me to believe,” he took a step closer and like a teenager her heart literally skipped a beat, “in my humanity again. I can never thank you for it.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” she really didn’t want that, didn’t want him feeling like he owed her that, “you never do. What you did here, what you’ve been trying to do for months… it’s proof of who you are. A good person; the best person I know.” My person.

But the look on his face – the smile in his voice – made her pause.

“I don’t want to thank you.” He whispered, making her blink, whiplash. “I want to spend the rest of my life showing you that you were right.”

Oh wow… “The rest of your life, huh?” And if her voice wobbled with restrained joy, if hers glittered just a tad, she really didn’t care.

He took a pause that felt like years before saying, “Can we start again?”

Er… “What?”

“I want to start over with you. From start to finish. I’m yours. Always have been.” Everything in her was turning into goo. “I want to marry you Felicity. I want to make a baby with you.”

He meant that. She could see it, the promise.

A baby…

A little over a year ago, she’d been too scared to consider the possibility. Though it made her happy, the idea of having Oliver’s child, it had also terrified her. Being in a chair hadn’t been the problem; it was the prospect of failing at being a good mother to any child they had that was.

But now?

How do you contain endless joy in a moment on a beach somewhere in the North China seas?

You don’t.

“I want to live with you.” He continued, watching the changes in her expression with awe and happiness and growing passion. “To fight monsters in the dark with you. The way it should have been. As my partner.”

He was right: the months between then and now, the distance, the chill between them… nothing had felt right, as if something had been perpetually off balance with the world.

But they’d needed it to get here. Sometimes, in order to rise you have to fall first.

Her smile - broken - revealed teeth, her hair stuck to her neck, her eyes described in detail what her lips couldn’t but could only whisper, “No more ‘should haves’.”

No more maybes.

His quiet laugh was choked. “No more.” Like he wanted to touch her, he took another half a step closer (if he moved in further he’d be practically on top of her and she didn’t mind one bit) “A new beginning… with you.”

“That sounds,” she took a breath because this, this was the moment; where forever starts and wouldn’t really end, “perfect.”

Their perfect. Dark times were inevitable, trials… but happiness was due too.

The boyish grin – the laugh still present on his lips – made her want to kiss him. And she would. Soon. But he had something else to say, she could tell.

And she was right. “Felicity Smoak.” He announced, in that soft, deeply masculine way of his that shot straight to her centre, married life is going to be awesome. “Hi.” She frowned when he lifted a hand, barely any room between them for him to do more than let it grace her stomach. “I’m Oliver Queen.”

She stared up at him… then pressed her lips together in understanding, feeling so much the rightness of what he was saying.

Lifting her hand to slide into his waiting fingers, her other tucked her hair behind her ears and affected nerves, shyness. “I know who you are.” Or at least tried to, but the deeper tone that left her was anything but and she knew he felt it in his bones when he licked his lips, when his abdomen jerked against her hand. “You’re Mr Queen.”

His hand tugged her closer, so that her chest touched his. “Mr Queen was my father. And I don’t think,” how his voice could lower any further she wasn’t sure, but it could and it did and ooh… “you’d look at him the way you’re looking at me.”

Oh boy. “How am I looking at you?”

“Like you love me.” Leaning in, the depth in his eyes had her falling into his hold. “Like you want me. Like you’re mine.” He quieted, his eyes looking at her mouth. “Like I’m yours.”

“That’s quite the description.” Accurate too. “So what’s your policy on kissing a stranger you just met on an island no one knows exists?” She teased.

“Oh, it’s my first policy.” Was his shameless, super fast response and a bark of laughter shot out of her, making her eyes close. “But only with you.”

How could she not kiss him with the utter love and feeling he gave her with every word he spoke?

“Come here.” Still laughing, her free hand slid up his throat, to the back of his neck to pull him close-

But he was already right there, smiling against her lips.

(And people, this is where I be cheesy and play ‘I need my girl’ by the Nationals because the song was made for Olicity – please listen to it here)

The feel of his scruff against her skin still made her tingle - she still felt the warmth of him down her sides, her stomach muscles contracting at the sure way his mouth opened hers - and still made her shiver in delight as her smile became a physical expression of everything she felt for him. Seeking, pressing, pushing, chasing his mouth with her own - re-leaning how he tastes, letting her tongue entwine with his - her hands were around his neck in seconds, cradling his head with them just the way he liked. Like she needed him closer and she was letting him know. The way his hands slid over her spine to press her as close – and as tight to him – as humanly possible. And when his fingers slipped into her locks to cup her head as he angled his own and- oh… I’ve missed this.

The kind of kiss that made her forget the world existed.

Her hands moved to drag across his scalp, one of them shifting down under his shirt and pressing into the musculature there, feeling every movement he made and the sound that left him wasn’t a groan or a growl. It was a sigh, one that came from deep in his chest…

She nipped as his upper lip, looking into his hooded eyes. “I love you.”

“I love you.” A firm kiss was followed by another. “I love you Felicity.”

She smiled again, her nose brushing over his, their breaths mingling-

“Oh my God, you weren’t kidding.”

It was also the kind of kiss to make her completely forget they had an audience. Her eyes didn’t open and she figured his didn’t either but she felt Oliver’s lips press together as he exhaled through his nose.

“I warned you.” John. He sounded unbelievably satisfied with himself. “But nope, you wanted to see for yourself. And here it is. The ugly truth.”

She felt Oliver’s chest vibrate and his lips twitch against hers. “He’s just like Tommy.” He muttered, too quietly to be heard by the others.

René just couldn’t accept it. “They’re like… romance novel bad.”

“I think its right.” She heard Dinah say, and she was officially Felicity’s new favourite person. “They should have done this months ago.”

“They should have had sex months ago.” René corrected and she felt the muscles in Oliver’s arm jump. “That amount of chemistry in the Foundry wasn’t healthy.”

She couldn’t help the bubble of laughter that sprang free from her, her head arching back as Oliver held her aloft. Okay, they’re all my favourites.

Oliver’s puff of air made her look back to him. “The children are being unruly.”

“Say what?”

Rene.

“Children?”

Dinah.

“…I’m oddly good with this.”

Rory.

“Are you two beautiful idiots done for the moment?” And Diggle once more; still sounding utterly superior. She’d let him have it. “It’s just, there’s a boat with our name on it, a wife the two of you are reminding me painfully of and a kid I really want to eat shakes with.”

Oliver’s eyes were so content…

She arched a brow. “Done?”

He shook his head. “We’re just getting started.”

Here’s to the rebirth of Olicity (and the horrid 4 week count down)

categorize me; i defy every label

requested

The second you touched down on the foreign soil, you were on guard. That Shadow thing had decided to drop you on the coast of a deserted beach, but why? You spun around, hugging your arms to your shivering body. You weren’t scared in the slightest. Confused, angry but not scared. Most of all you were pissed that the Shadow abducted you from your home and left you on this island to fend for yourself… not that home was much better though.

“And who might you be? This isn’t a place for a girl like you.” A voice sniggered.

You whipped around, met by green eyes and a smile. The smile wasn’t friendly though, it reminded you of a wolf’s snarl as it circled its prey; arrogant and dominant.

“Who am I? Who are you?” You looked around exasperatedly. “And where the hell am I?”

“Tone the attitude down, love. S'not very ladylike.”

Your eyebrows shot up in disbelief, an insulted look crossing your features instantaneously. How did a stranger have the decency to tell you that you weren’t acting ladylike when you had just been stolen from your home and suddenly harassed by some random boy?

You narrowed your eyes, pushing past the boy. “If you won’t tell me where I am then I’m going to figure it out myself.”

You heard him laugh behind you. “You won’t get far without my help. This is my island and you won’t find anything unless I want you to.”


“Are you ready to bow down to submission yet?”

You snorted. “Bow down to submission? Do I look like a dog.”

The boy laid stretched out in a tree branch, one leg propped up and the other dangling from the branch. He watched you with an irritating smile, one you would like to smack off his face.

“I told you,” He tsked. “You won’t find anything —.”

“—Unless you want me to, yeah yeah. You’ve said that a few times now.”

Sitting down on a rock that had managed to rip its way through the Earth, you buried your face in your lap and wrapped your arms around your legs. You felt a body sit beside yours and with one peak you figured it was him.

“I know you’re upset my pet, but I can make it all better if you let me.” His accented voice was like a siren’s song, lovely, warm and inviting but as soon as you let yourself become taken by it, your life would be no more. You sighed.

“Can you at least tell me where I am.” You lifted your head to meet his playful gaze.

“I’ll give you a hint. You’re in the land where Lost Children go to be loved again.”

Your eyes squinted. Lost Boys? Lost Children? “Neverland…? That makes you Peter Pan?”

The boy smirked, one side of his mouth lifting higher than the other and indenting a dimple in his cheek. “Precisely.”

You tucked a piece of loose hair behind your ear before he stood up and held his hand out in front of you.

“Let’s go back to camp, it’s going to rain soon.” You purse your mouth and stood next to him, letting his open hand curl into an awkward first between you.

“I’ll just go my own way. When you say the word camp it reminds me of a summer camp where you sit around the fire and roast marshmallows. Not that that doesn’t sound wonderfully fun,” You say with an exaggerated roll of your eyes. “But I’m not here to roast marshmallows and sing camp songs.”

Pan tensed his jaw, feeling his teeth grind against each other. With one usual snap of his fingers, Pan always got what he asked for but he oddly liked the defiance act you were putting on. He remembers how Wendy eventually became clay in his hands and she would bend over backwards at anything he said but… not you. Pan could only imagine how strong his ego will feel once he got you the buckle.

“My camp is no where near child’s play but if you really want to live by your own rules, then you have to prove your worthiness to me.”

“I don’t have to prove anything just because you lack to see it. S'not my problem.”

With lightning reflexes he had your jawbone gripped between his thumb and forefinger, the skin becoming hot and subtly numb under his aggressive touch. Anger immediately flood your senses and you tightly gripped his wrist as a warning.

“Prove to me that you can survive on my island without my help then. Show me,” He whispered, hissing the letters.

“…that you can and maybe I would look up to your so called worthiness. Until then you’re nothing but a literal lost girl to me.”

You took his wrist and flung his hand off of your face. “It’s not very gentlemen-like to man handle a woman, Peter Pan.”

The smirk reappeared onto his face and he paced himself a few steps away from you.

“Peter Pan never fails. Gain my respect by proving yourself.”

“You lost my respect by referring to yourself in third person.”

With that, you turned around and started your way blindly through the forest. You frankly didn’t care if you left Pan standing there. The fact that you were dumped on this island without your say makes it your island as much as it was his.


It had been a few days since you had seen that annoying boy and honestly, you weren’t doing that bad. You were able to find food and despite what Pan had said at the time, it had yet to rain. Neverland was beautiful, with fluorescent wild life and creatures you had only ever imagined in dreams. You were still asleep and the sun had yet to rise over the tops of the pines. The colors of the sky above you bled through each other like a painting, creating a dreamy glow throughout the air.

You groaned and rubbed your eyes, rubbing the sleep away from inside of them. The chilly air pinched at your cheeks and created goosebumps down your body, making you sigh. The sigh was stolen by a gasp as an arrow shot past you, missing the top of your shoulder by a hair’s length.

Your eyes whipped towards where it had came from, only to be met by nothing. You leaned backwards and retrieved the arrow, holding it in front of you as a weapon. Pan had never mentioned anything actually dangerous on Neverland, so what the hell was attacking you?

Another one slung past you but this time, missing you completely. You snorted and stood to pick it up. “Can whoever is shooting at me stop? Nice shots by the way.”

You didn’t miss the pain of the third one, flying swiftly and piercing your shin. Though it didn’t make it too far in, your knees buckled and you toppled down, blinking through the tears as you tried to rip the flimsy arrow out. Blood ran down the expanse of your ankle.

“Now this is a site. I didn’t even shoot that hard.”

You knew that voice, you hadn’t heard it in days. Pan. You gritted your teeth as he emerged from the bushes, dropping his bow to the dusty ground.

“Why would you shoot me?” You shrieked, hands shaking. Before Neverland you had never experienced pain like this, the worse being a scratched knee or a sprained wrist.

“I’m trying to get you to prove yourself. I’m tired of you moping around my island. It’s getting quite boring.”

With a shot of adrenaline, you sprang up and pushed Pan into the body of a tree, holding the wooden arrows horizontally against his neck. Pan only smirked in response, even daring to let his hands rest daintily on your waist before you elbowed them away.

“Do you always go around shooting new kids on your island, Pan? Do you think this is funny or something?” You pressed, tightening the arrows against his neck. The wound on your leg groaned as you stood on it but you couldn’t back down now.

“I didn’t even shoot you that hard, silly girl. And if you’re trying to scare me, all you’re doing is amusing me right now.”

“And you’re making me incredibly furious. I am this close to strangling you, I swear.”

“I don’t think you would.” He taunted, raising an eyebrow. 

You bit the inside of your cheek and glared at him, eventually releasing your hold and throwing the arrows onto the ground. No, you wouldn’t hurt this boy  despite him hurting you. You left Pan where he was and went to cut the flimsy material of your hand made tent off, wrapping it around your shin as a makeshift band aid.

“What?” Pan asked. “No slapping, no screaming, no girly fits that I won?”

“No. Unlike you, I wasn’t raised in a jungle where we get back at people by using more violence. Violence isn’t the answer.”

“I see.” Pan nodded, taking slow steps towards you. He kneeled next to you and gently moved your hands away from where they were tying the cloth together. You went to bark at him to move his hands away but his stare stopped you.

“At least let me heal it up. It’s the least I could do, you did prove your worthiness after all.”

You allowed him to use whatever Neverland magic he had within and heal up the bleeding arrow wound. Within seconds it was gone, no trace of pain or blood left behind after the stroke of his hand.

“Better now?“ Pan asked with a gentle voice. He looked almost… kind? Genuine? Concerned?

“Yeah. Thanks.”

Before he could stand back up you threw your balled up fist square into his jaw, making him stumble back for only a millisecond. Shock registered on his face and his hand flew up to where you had punched him.

“That’s for shooting a goddamn arrow at me. I don’t need to prove my worthiness to anyone.”

Though punching him probably hurt your knuckles worse than it hurt his jaw, you stood up and held your hand out.

“What?” You mocked, using his exact tone of voice from earlier. “No girly fits that I won?”

Pan laughed, a genuine boyish laugh and accepted your hand as you helped pull him upwards. You ran your hands down your dusty clothes and sighed.

“Let’s go to your camp. I haven’t eaten a real meal in hours, I’m starving.”

Since then, Pan had never decided to cross you again.

somelesmisreference  asked:

Hi, I love the HQ insta edits! I know that you post the edits on the character's birthday so I'm super excited for Bokuto's because we share one!! It's like a coming of age present and I'm really looking forward to it. Keep up the good work and have a nice day!

Hi bean, thank you so much for liking the insta edits! You share a birthday with such an amazing character, you are very lucky! Since we have some time to wait for the edit to be posted, I’m giving you a 3 pics sneak peek of it, as an early present ;)

Tyler and Josh: Happy Wheels Adventure

• okay we’re on a couch
• uSE UR GLUTES
• are they okay
• look at the agility
• theRE GOES SPENCER
• dude get on the bed!! you have plenty of room!! i mean couch, we’re on a couch, we’re not laying on a bed in our underwear
• we’re actually at the pool with like three other chicks
• bike rides that are the worst for me personally are the ones where there’s arrows through my neck
• nice! keep going
• dude did you just burp
• yeah sorry
• ew dude that burp smells so bad
• what like pure red bull and passion?
• you got this sphen
• ~all of the OOHHHs~

Strong has always done ice-cold villainy exceptionally well. “I’ve been hung from a chain underneath a half-built Tower Bridge;

I’ve been blown off a Manhattan balcony by a bazooka; I’ve been shot by an arrow through the neck while riding a horse,” he said in a recent interview, “but I think I’ve killed more than I’ve been killed.” Over the course of his formidable career, the actor has portrayed some chillingly calculating characters: Jim Prideaux in Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy; Mussawi (the agent who betrays George Clooney) in Syriana; mob boss Frank D'Amico in Kick-Ass; and more recently Eddie Carbone in Arthur Miller's A View From The Bridgeat the Young Vic. With iron will and a boxer’s jaw, Strong remains

GQ's go-to bad guy.

Til’ the end

A/N - The lovely @legolasothranduilion sent me a request for “having a hate relationship with Legolas but you both secretly love each other. (And he gets annoyed when you try to help)”. I hope you enjoy it!
Theres a lot of elvish in here but worry not! I’ve put what the words mean at the bottom!

Words - 1514
Pairing - Legolas X Reader

Legolas groaned into his hands and snatched the sword from your grip.
“What in middle-earth do you think you’re doing?!” You hissed at him, trying to get the sword back.
You were just sharpening a sword for Elentári’s sake.
It wasn’t like it was dangerous.
“You’re going to get yourself killed Kotyaer!” He shouted back at you.
Ah. This wasn’t about the sword.
It was about the battle that was going to begin in a few hours.
“ Kotyaer,” You stated. “That’s a big word for you.”
Legolas glared at you and held the sword out of your reach.
“You are a woman Y/N. Why don’t you act like one? Normal women don’t fight in battles,” Legolas complained.
“Fine! I’ll go do my hair like a good girl,” You declared, stamping on his foot before you marched down the stairs to aid the people of Rohan.
You were at Helm’s Deep awaiting an Orc army. The odds were stacked against you.
Everyone knew it. The men were scared. They were untrained.
It would be a bloodbath.

Keep reading

Part 12 (FINAL) of Raymond de Merville x fem!reader drabble series.

A/N: This is the final part of the series, and I sincerely hope you liked it. I want to get all parts up onto AO3 and maybe a master list for here. However, I do have a question to everyone who has kept up with this series. Would you like more drabbles regarding Raymond and the reader, but set in our time period? They would act as a continuation of this series; message me or send an ask if you would like this. Otherwise, thank you so much for reading. :) 

Follow Forever: @patanghill17 @queenmariatheresia@fullvoidmoon @justmasblack @thepoet1975 @nelswp @igotanaddixon@houseofrahl @deepestfirefun @sesshomaru-lover @heilith@hannibatchsmuse @epicallychrissy @buckyoakenshieldxo @junebuguniverse@emlowdah @ealasaid @fandomgalcentral @amagifu @thatgirlunderarock@disneymarina @thorins-magnificent-ass @thorin-thoughts @mortomary@xxbyimm @sdavid09 @mama-tole-me-not-2-come @thophil2941btw@nowiloveandwilllove @fromthedeskoftheraven @tinkertailor1212@everyjourneylove @ladyharlequinreaper1992


France 1209AD

Your Raymond was dead. He had died staying true to his word and honouring you through betraying his father, trying to bring the bastard down and take away what he truly cared about. Upon hearing the news and you had fallen to your knees, weeping. Then you stormed out of the barn where you were working, kicking open the door and screaming into the open air. 

Raymond’s body was brought back to the village, wrapped in a burial shroud. You kissed the fabric, your tears falling onto him. In a fold of the fabric, where you kissed, your lips touched something cold. You opened the cloth, and there across his chest, protruding from a hole in his leather gauntlet was an arrow. The sun shone down on the weapon, and on the very edge of the curled, modified shaft, you could see a small droplet of blood. 

From the very day that your beloved Raymond was buried, you vowed to avenge his death. Firstly, you took his sword from his body along with the arrow, and watched in secret from behind a tree as his body was placed into the ground. His bastard of a father stood before his son’s body, his arms crossed. 

He would be first. 

Revenge was coursing through your body, filling your blood so it was red hot. Raymond’s death would not be in vain; you would make sure that every man who was responsible for your husband’s passing would feel pain, excruciating and raw. 

The night of Raymond’s funeral and you gagged his father after sneaking into the back entrance of the house. The old man squirmed on the bed beneath you after being woken by your knees pressing into his chest. You held a dagger above the man’s body and drove it slowly downward into his chest, hearing him scream around the gag. Something dark overtook you and a sly smirk crept onto your lips as you watched the bastard die slowly, choking miserably on his own blood. But before he died you whispered in his ear, “Raymond’s child grows in my belly, and he will rise to take everything you own.” 

You left the town, watching on in sadness as Etienne slept soundly, not knowing what fate would await you. In your bag you put rations of food, weapons, clothing and your box of letters from Raymond. His sword was snug in its scabbard at your waist and the arrow was placed in an inside pocket of your tunic. The few riding lessons you had had with Lucille and Henri would prove useful as you took one of the horses from the stables and left the village for good. 

Word had spread in the village whilst you were there, remaining away from Raymond’s family, but still listening for news, that Raymond had been killed by a mute. This mute was tall, broad and had a cross tattooed on his back. That was enough information for you to begin searching. 

You travelled far, inquiring where you could about the mute. Your sickness began, rendering you unable to travel during the first half of the day, but your resolve to see Raymond’s murderer dead was enough to keep you going. At night, lying beneath the stars or in abandoned houses, you would look upon your late husband’s letters, crying yourself to sleep. 

Finally, you got a lead. He had last been seen approaching the coast, ready to get a boat to England to move back into Ireland. You stuck to the shadows, keeping your hood up out of your face. You ate at night just before sleeping and travelled by day. 

In your pocket you fingered a small bottle which you had picked up from an apothecary. It was used during surgical interventions to paralyse parts of the body, but also used as a poison if it got into the wrong hands. An overdose could easily paralyse someone completely or slip them into a coma. 

You found him. You saw him sitting alone at a tavern, his dark eyes watching everyone as they walked through the building. You kept your hood up and walked in, keeping to the edge of the room, your eyes smouldering in anger. You would make the fucker pay! All the people you had asked for information had served their purpose well, guiding you to him. 

Being a woman may work to your advantage here, you thought. You looked across the room, through the masses of bodies, and approached him. You sat beside him, smiling and slid your hand down onto his thigh. Repulsion racked through you for touching another man who wasn’t your dearest Raymond, and more than that, this was the man who had murdered him. 

An hour later and you found yourself in one of the upper rooms of the tavern, having brought a room for the night, and you were in the arms of the mute. He was kissing you, drawing all the disgust out of you, but you were doing this for Raymond. You stopped for a moment, quickly slipping the liquid from the bottle in your pocket into the ale, and then handed him the cup. “Come and drink,” you whispered. So far and he had not noticed your slight of hand. 

He drank from the cup and moved forward to kiss you again, but suddenly stopped and collapsed to the bed. A grunt of frustration rose from him as he tried to move, his eyes wide in shock. 

Laughing, you straddled him, and tied his arms to the bed posts, making sure that he could not move one inch. “You’re probably wondering who I am,” you told him, grinning at him. He stared at you, swallowing hard, his body completely paralysed. “This will probably answer your question.” From your inside pocket of the tunic you wore, you pulled out the arrow. You slid the metal down his cheek, onwards to his chest, his eyes widening even further. Slowly you ripped open his shirt, looking at the scars across him. 

His body arched as you dug the metal into his thigh and twisted. Then you followed with the other thigh. Followed then by just above his chest, digging into his collarbones, each one in turn. “This is for my Raymond, you bastard!” you growled, forcing the arrow into his neck, in the exact same place that your husband had been bitten by this animal before you. 

You slipped away that night, leaving behind the bloodied and mutilated body of the mute, satisfied that your beloved had finally been avenged.