#good luck with writing i will be dying at the corner meanwhile!

[moon-light-jukebox]

Germs [Reid x Reader]

this gif isn’t mine

Summary: Reader is sure the resident BAU genius doesn’t like her, but she’s not sure why. But even if he did like her, he’s a germaphobe, so he wouldn’t be comfortable with the things she wants to do to him...would he?

Pairing: Spencer Reid / (Female) Reader

Word Count: 5.6k

Rating: Mature 

Category: Fluff and Smut 

Content Warning: Brief mentions of torture and violence, usually criminal minds stuff, nothing explicit. Light choking, oral sex (female receiving), penetrative sex, fingering, language (maybe?) 

A/n: I have come out of fan fiction writing retirement for this one. Let me know what y’all think!  masterlist

y/n - your name

y/l/n - your last name

italicized text is Reader’s sassy inner thoughts

---

I’m not sure if I believe in hell, but if there is a hell, I’m sure it feels exactly like Louisiana in July. Every time I walked outside I felt like I was walking into soup. Gross. I couldn’t help but feel guilty over my sigh of relief when I walked back into the local precinct the team was currently working out of. Young women are dying, and I’m worried about a little bit of heat.

But, fuck, it was hot.

Speaking of heat, I thought as I threw open the door to the conference room only to run smack into the hottest thing I’d ever encountered.

“Shit,” I exclaimed before I thought better of it. “I’m so sorry.” I ran my eyes up, up, up, all the way up his body until I met his eyes; those beautiful honey brown eyes that threatened to have me acting like an idiot if I stared into them for too long.  

Dr. Spencer Reid’s cheeks were tinged pink, his posture stiff, his fingers clutching the file he was carrying for dear life. “Don’t worry about it, Y/n,” he sounded uncomfortable, which made my stomach drop. “My fault.” With that, he quickly maneuvered around me and headed off to complete whatever genius task he had to complete.

My eyes followed him until he was out of sight before I mentally shook myself. ‘C’mon, this is pointless,’ I thought. ‘He doesn’t even like you.’ Which I really thought was true, the good doctor went out of his way to avoid me whenever possible. ‘Plus, he’s a germaphobe.’ This thought was confirmed true. He didn’t shake people’s hands, the only people I’d seen him touch during my time at the BAU were members of the team that he’d known for years, and some of those even seemed reluctant.

Admittedly, I didn’t know a lot about germaphobia; since I couldn’t ask the only genius I knew, I did the next logical thing. I googled it. Every person I’d read about seemed to experience germaphobia differently. Some people could have sex, but others were grossed out by the very idea. Knowing my luck, Spencer Reid and his beautiful hands, and his soulful eyes, and his cheekbones that could cut glass was in the repulsed by sex category. Which is fine! Right, it is fine to not be interested in sex; the only problem was I was very interested in every part of him.  

Maybe he thinks I’m gross. Maybe I stink? Maybe he’s just repulsed by my very presence. Regardless, I couldn’t see Spencer Reid ever shoving me against a wall and fucking me senseless.

I sighed, making my way over to the conference table, pulling out a chair before I flopped into it. I could feel the exhaustion settling into my bones. We had been in Louisiana for almost a week now and we were still no closer to finding our unsub. He was a white man, he worked in a lower-paying job, and he hated women. Obviously, that didn’t narrow it down much.

The unsub was targeting women in clubs and bars, following them outside before he bashed them on the back of the head. After that, he threw the girls over his shoulder and took them to his car; he moved them to a secondary location before he tortured them. The first two victims had survived. They were traumatized, but they were fighters; they both said the same things, ‘he kept my eyes covered the entire time,’ “I never saw his face,’ ‘I did whatever he told me to do.’

We thought the killing of the third victim had been an accident, but that accident had excited our guy enough that he changed his ritual; the killing was crucial now. We had 4 bodies, 2 live victims that couldn’t tell us anything, and no leads.

Sighing, I leaned forward, bringing the heels of my hands to my eyes. I hated feeling helpless. The answer to who this fucker was is in this evidence somewhere and I will find it. If it’s the last thing I do.

The doors swung open again, pulling me from my thoughts. Hotch lead the parade of people, followed by Morgan, JJ, and Dr. Reid. Our unit chef looked gravely serious…not that that necessarily meant anything, in the 6 months I’d been with the behavioral analysis unit I hadn’t seen him have any other expression.

Morgan pulled out his phone, hitting what I suspected was speed dial number 1. “Hey baby girl,” he said, without his usual swagger; even he was tired. “You’re on speaker. You’ve got me, Hotch, JJ, Reid, and Y/l/n.”

“And I have the always wonderful Emily Prentiss, and the dashing David Rossi on the line, effectively putting my favorite people together again, as they should be,” Garcia quipped. I don’t think she meant to include me in her list of ‘favorite people,’ but it made me smile anyway. “Okay, crime fighters, what’s the play?”

“We’re still no closer to finding the unsub,” Hotch began. “He’s highly organized, methodical, and paranoid; but he hasn’t killed in 3 days, this is a break from his escalation pattern. He’s going to strike soon.” Hotch leaned over resting his palms on the shiny fake wood of the conference table. “Our best chance is to send an agent out there as bait.” There was a general murmur of agreement before he continued on. “Garcia, we need you to find all of the night clubs, bars, and whatever else you can think of in the updated comfort zone.”

The sound of keys clicking made its way through the speaker. “Assuming we’re excluding the places he’s already hit, that leaves us with 3 possibilities.”

“So far he hasn’t struck a place twice,” Prentiss chimed in. “Do we think he’s going to hold to that pattern?”

Reid moved over to the board where the map of the county was displayed. “I think so. This guy is too careful to risk going to a place where he’s been before. The chance of him being recognized is too great, especially when everyone is on high alert.” He gestured to the area he had circled on the map. “His pattern seems to be focusing in on this center point right here,” he said, placing a pin in the map. “This area means something. Garcia, what is the closest club or bar to the intersection of Washington Avenue and Harrison Street?”

“That would beeeeee…The Blue Fox.”

“That’s where he’ll be,” Dr. Reid said confidently, his eyes moving to Hotch’s face.

The older man nodded. “It’s our best lead so far, we have to run with it.”

“It’s Friday night,” Rossi pointed out. “We’ll have to act soon.”

Hotch nodded, seeming to be lost in thought. “We need to send agents in there tonight. We know the victims were all on dates or flirting with a man right before their abduction. He targets women that are happy with their companions then waits til he can separate them.”

“Who are you planning on sending in, Hotch?’ JJ questioned.

“Y/l/n is the youngest, she fits the build of the previous victims the best.” His heavy gaze rested on me. “What do you think?”

Like it was even a choice. “I’m in.”

Hotch nodded, accepting my answer. “Good. You’ll partner with Reid.”

“What?!” I squawked, much to my embarrassment. I cleared my throat before I continued. “But, Reid and I…I just thought Morgan would be the obvious choice.” Fuck, I’m just digging a bigger hole.

Morgan gave me an easy smile. “You’re just saying that because you wanna see my moves, little mama.”

Hotch cleared his throat, bringing our attention back. “Morgan is too intimidating; the unsub might not move in if he feels too threatened. You’ll go with Reid.” When he was met with silence he continued on, “alright, let’s get to work.”

-

And that is how I wound up in a club in Louisiana on a Friday night, in a tight black dress, with Spencer Reid beside me. After he walked into the club holding my hand. He doesn’t hold hands, I cringed internally at the thought. He must feel so uncomfortable.

He waved the bartender over, ordering a drink for me and a water for himself before turning to me. “I thought a drink would loosen you up a bit. You look nervous.”

I am nervous. “Right. Thanks.” I drummed my fingers on the bar, my gaze sweeping around the club for anyone who seemed out of place and especially creepy. Most lone men at clubs and bars were creepy, but we need especially creepy.

“Is that because you don’t think I can have your back?”

My head snapped back around. “What?”

Spencer paused to accept the drinks from the bartender, sliding him the money. “In the conference room. You seemed upset that Morgan wasn’t going to be your partner,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Is that because you think I wouldn’t have your back?”

Fuck. I blushed to the roots of my hair. “No, Spencer! God no! It’s not that, I know you’d have my back.” I took a sip of my drink before I said anything else. “It’s just that…you don’t seem to like me very much, and I know you have a thing about germs, and I thought maybe that’s why you didn’t like me.” I was babbling; I was absolutely babbling. “I just didn’t want you to be uncomfortable, that’s all. Morgan has never seemed uncomfortable around me, so…” I trailed off lamely.

The corners of his lips quirked up in amusement. “So, you didn’t want to partner with me on this because you didn’t want me to be uncomfortable?”

I nodded, fidgeting with the straw in my drink.

Spencer moved closer to me, his right hand coming to rest on the small of my back. He seemed as calm as he could be, meanwhile I suddenly had trouble breathing.

It’s for the case. He has to do this for the case. Calm down.

"What do my issues with germs have to do with this?" he wondered, leaning closer to me. I could feel his breath on my neck; my skin broke out in goosebumps.

Double fuck. “Well, we’re supposed to be…together. And you think I’m gross. What if you have to kiss me?” TRIPLE FUCK. “Not that we’d have to kiss,” I tried to backpedal. “But we might, you never know. And I just didn’t…I don’t want you to dislike me more than you do.”

The teasing smile slipped from his face, the fingers on my lower back flexing slightly. He regarded me with a tilt of his head. "You're serious?" At my shaky nod, he continued. "Y/n, I don't think you're gross."

“You don’t?” I squeaked.

He lifted his hand from my back then, sliding it up to my shoulder, his free hand moving from the bar to rest on my hip. Spencer brushed my hair back before he leaned forward. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I felt his lips touch the tender skin of my neck. My eyes fluttered shut, unable to suppress a gasp at the contact. Spencer Reid’s beautiful lips slid down to the place where my neck and shoulder met, then I felt his teeth nip the skin before he placed another kiss there. He worked his way back up towards my ear, the hand on my hip moving slightly so he was almost grabbing my ass. “I don’t think you’re gross,” he breathed, causing me to shudder. I could hear the smirk in his voice. “Germs don’t bother me in that way, especially around people I know. I wouldn’t have a problem kissing you, baby.”

I was going to need new panties after this. Spencer Reid, awkward, sweet, Dr. Spencer Reid just called me Baby.

“…Oh.” Really, y/n. Oh; you went with oh?

The good doctor pulled back, his face close enough to mine that I could see that he had freckles under his eyes and that those beautiful eyes got more golden towards the center. "Oh."

-

Michael Watkins was the name of our unsub. He was a short white man with a receding hairline and a bad temper. His last relationship had ended 3 months before the first attack; Spencer was right to pick this bar. Shortly after he tried to make my pussy combust with his neck kisses, Reid suggested I walk to the bathroom, assuring me he’d be watching if anyone followed.

Watkins’ hand was in my hair, dragging me outside before I made it to the ladies’ room. I felt a jolt of fear as I struggled to escape, strands of hair being ripped from my head. I shouldn’t have worried, because no sooner had the outside door opened than I heard the velvety voice of Derek Morgan. “FBI! Put your hands where we can see them.”

He attempted to run. Why would anyone try to run from Derek Morgan?  

After the medics confirmed I was okay, I was sent back to the hotel while the rest of the team went with the local police to book Watkins and try to get a full confession.

“Good work,” Hotch said, his hand clapping down on my shoulder.

The highest praise I’ll ever need.

I hopped into the shower right when I got back to my room, not wanting Watkins’ touch on me for a moment longer.

Spencer’s touch, however,…That was a touch I wouldn’t mind having on me. But he’d barely looked at me once he made it outside. I knew he was being affectionate in there because of the case, we were playing a role. I knew that. I still couldn’t stop the twinge of hurt I felt.

But he doesn’t think I’m gross. That had to count for something.

I had just got done blow drying my hair enough so that it wouldn’t look too crazy when I woke up when there was a knock on my door. Figuring it was Emily, I didn't consider the fact that I was in my pajamas, and my face was scrubbed free of makeup.  

It wasn’t Emily. Spencer Reid stood on the other side of my door, his eyes running down my body before he met my bewildered stare again. “You look comfy,” he commented with that damn little smile on his lips again.

“Oh. Yeah. I took a shower.” Way to go, y/n, you’re really killing it tonight.

“I see that,” he said, his cheeks going a little bit pink. “Can I come in? I thought we should talk.” Was he nervous? Why would he be nervous?

I ushered him in, shutting the door behind him. He sat on the bottom edge of my bed; his body angled towards the headboard. I briefly debated about where to sit before I joined him. Don’t make it weird, y/n.

He cleared his throat before he began. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable tonight. I just wanted to make sure we got the guy.”

Right. “Oh, it’s okay, Spencer. I get it. I wasn’t uncomfortable.” I picked at the frayed edge of my sleep shorts, my eyes dropping so he didn’t see anything on my face that betrayed how I was feeling; you can’t be too careful around profilers.

His hand reached out to cover my own fidgeting hands, one of his hands covering both of mine. His hands were so big. His fingers were so long, the veins in his hands were so pronounced. I bet those fingers would feel really – FOCUS.

“I’m also sorry you thought I didn’t like you.” His thumb had started to move slowly over the back of my hand. “I do like you. I like you a lot, actually. I just…” I brought my gaze back up to meet his eyes. “I just get nervous sometimes.”

“You didn’t seem nervous in the club.”

“No,” he chuckled. “I wasn’t nervous then because it was my job. I wasn’t worried about misreading a signal…doing the wrong thing…I’m not the best with social cues.” I had noticed that about him before. “But I am a really good profiler.” And he’s humble too, apparently.

“I know that you couldn’t fake your reaction to me in the club. Your breathing became quicker, I felt your pulse jump under my lips when they were on your neck. I saw how blown your pupils got." He shifted closer to me then, bringing his other hand up to push my hair behind my shoulder like he did earlier in the night. "Just like they are now."

He leaned closer to me, his voice was lower, and it made my stomach flutter. "You're clenching your thighs together, Y/n. Your shirt may be baggy, but I can see how hard your nipples are too." His tongue ran out to wet his lips. "If I'm wrong, just tell me now. If I've misread this, I will leave right now, and we can pretend this never happened." Spencer brought both his hands up to cradle my face; despite how wet my panties were, how tight my nipples are, how badly I wanted him to touch me, this gesture made me feel special. He was holding me like he actually cared about me like I was precious. "But, if I'm not wrong, and you want this too, Y/n, tell me. Tell me you want this too and I won't stop touching you until you scream my name."

I let out a soft whimper then. Like it’s a choice. “I want this,” I leaned into his touch. “Please, Spencer.”

His thumb brushed over my cheek, his eyes never leaving mine. “Please, what, baby?”

“Kiss me.”

No sooner had the words left my mouth than his lips were on mine. His lips were softer than I imagined, they were firm and almost…questioning. When I nipped at his bottom lip, something seemed to break free inside of him. His lips slanted over mine with a hunger I had never felt. His tongue ran over my bottom lip before I opened for him. Spencer’s tongue moved into my mouth while his hands moved; one hand moved back to grip my hair at the base of my skull, tugging firmly, the other moved down to my neck, not applying any pressure, just resting it there in a gesture that felt possessive.

The need for oxygen broke us apart, his lips moving across my cheek to my jaw, then down to my neck. “How could you think I didn’t like you?” he mumbled into my skin. “You have no idea what you do to me. None.”

I threw my head back when he sucked on my pulse point, a moan ripping from my throat. “W-what…what do I do?”

Pulling back from me, he gripped the bottom of my shirt, looking at me for consent before he pulled it over my head. His eyes were firmly on my chest, his lips parted, his breathing heavy. He pushed me down slowly on the bed; I was on my back and he was hovering over me. I felt his mouth place hot, wet, kisses from my collarbone down towards my breasts. His right hand landed on my breast, his thumb brushing back and forth over my nipple while his lips moved closer and closer to my left. I tangled my hands in his hair, urging him forward.

“You want to know what you do to me?” he raised his head slightly, making sure my eyes were on him when he flicked his tongue over my nipple, causing me to gasp. “What do you do to me in your little skirts, with your little smiles, and your little laughs?” He gave my nipple a sharp pinch. “You’re all I fucking think about, y/n.” With a growl, he finally took my nipple in his mouth, teasing it with his teeth and tongue. He switched to the other breast while he adjusted himself over me, bringing his pelvis down to rest at the seam of my body between my thighs. I shifted restlessly under him, trying to grind my pussy against him. He was so fucking hard.

With a groan, he lifted his head and started kissing his way towards the middle of my chest, moving down to the curve of my stomach. “Do you know how many times I came back to my hotel room after spending all day with you and was so hard I had to cum before I could think of anything else?” he peppered kisses down my body as he spoke.

My eyes shot open at this confession that he seemed to think was no big deal. “What?” I couldn’t believe this. “You…you touched yourself and thought of…”

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my shorts and panties, taking my raised hips as an invitation to remove both from my body. "You. I thought of you." He threw my clothes on the floor, pulling my legs open. His eyes moved over all of me, his Adam's apple bobbing when he swallowed hard. “I thought about kissing you. About making you squirm for me.” He ran his fingers up and down my thighs, his mouth running slowly over my inner thighs. Spencer’s hands hooked around my upper thighs, moving me to where he wanted me. “But, most of all, I thought about this pretty pussy.” He placed a kiss on my clit, chuckling at the wanton moan that came from me and how my fingers tangled in his soft brown curls. “I thought about all the different ways I could make this pretty pussy cum all over me.” With that, he ran his tongue up my slit before flicking it over my clit.

Dr. Spencer Reid was good at everything, so of course, he was good at this too. His mouth moved over me, watching my reaction to see what I liked best. His tongue moved in circles around my clit before slipping down to my opening. His tongue plunged inside me, fucking me, while his thumb came over to rub my clit.

“Spence- fuck- Spencer, please.” My hips tried to shift restlessly, but his arms were iron bars holding me still. He slowly moved his left forearm to rest across my hips, bringing his right hand down to my throbbing pussy. He pulled his mouth away from me, much to my dismay. He pushed one finger, then another into me. My head thrashed wildly, and my thighs started to shake. “Spencer!”

He just smirked and curled his fingers, hitting the spot inside me that made everything in my body pulse. “What, baby?”

My breaths were coming in gasps, my voice was a needy whimper. “Make me cum, Spencer. Please, please make me cum.”

He needed no other encouragement. His fingers continued their steady thrust in and out of me while his mouth covered my clit again. He alternated between flicking my clit with his tongue, then circling it before pulling it into his mouth, sucking lightly.

“Spencer.” I felt my orgasm rising. “Spencer don’t- don’t stop. I’m gonna cum, please make me cum.”

He kept his pace steady, sucking on my clit, moaning at my words. His eyes had been closed, but at that moment they opened and met mine. Then I felt his teeth ghost over my clit, I saw the want in his eyes. That was my undoing. My back arched, my mouth hung open in a silent scream. I heard myself say his name over and over again. Spencer pushed his fingers inside me, massaging me through the most powerful orgasm I had ever had. With one final kiss on my oversensitive clit, he withdrew his fingers, putting them into his mouth to suck my orgasm off of them.

He kissed back up my body, and I tried to respond, but I was still so shattered. I had never felt anything so powerful before. He cupped my face in one hand and kissed me slowly. I returned the kiss, moving my hands to the buttons of his shirt.

Spencer broke the kiss, pulling back to look at me again. “Hang on, baby.” His hand came up to still my own. “We can take a second. It’s okay. Just breathe.”

This beautiful man smiled at me then. I felt my heart flutter when he leaned down to pepper soft kisses along my jaw, his thumb coming up to wipe a tear that fell from the corner of my eye that I hadn’t even noticed.

I don’t know how long we stayed like that. He shifted to lay beside me, whispering reassurances to me while I came back down. This was just one of the ways that Spencer was so different from every other man. I didn't feel rushed, or pressured. I could feel how hard he still was, I could feel the tension in his body, but he simply kissed me while he cupped my jaw.

He made me feel…cherished.

I moved my hands to tangle in his hair again, deepening our kiss. He didn’t move my hands away when I started to work on the buttons of his shirt. The fire that I thought had been calmed by my orgasm had come roaring back. Spencer moved his hands to his belt while I finished with his shirt. His shirt came off, tossed in the same direction as my clothes. I pulled his pants and boxers down his legs, watching his cock spring free.

Everything about him was painfully beautiful. His angular cheekbones, the jaw that looked like it was carved from granite, even the toned muscles of his body. He had a small trail of hair that went down from his belly button to his groin. His cock laid against his stomach, the head glistening with precum.

“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, kneeling beside him, running my eyes over his body.

His soft hand came to grab mine, pulling it to his lips. He kissed the back of my hand, smiling softly at me.

I moved to straddle him, lower on his thighs. I took him in my hand, moving up and down, twisting my wrist as I neared the tip, swiping my thumb over his head.

“Baby,” he groaned. “Y/n, as much as I want you to do…whatever the fuck you want with me, I’m so close. I feel like I’m going to explode.” I bit into my bottom lip, unable to totally stop the smile spreading over my face. “Please, I need to feel your pussy wrapped around my cock.” He moved his hands to my hips, urging my body forward.

I raised up on my knees, taking him in my hand again, lining him up with my entrance. The tendons in his neck were strained, his fingers gripped my hips so hard I knew I was going to have bruises tomorrow. As I slowly started to sink down on his cock, Spencer let out the sexiest groan I had ever heard. His eyes were fixed where our bodies were joined, watching his dick slid deeper inside of me.

“Come on, baby,” he whispered. “You’re doing so good. Just a little bit more.”

He was so long, he wasn't overly thick, but just thick enough to cause a pleasurable stretching when he breached me that was almost painful. I gasped out a sound that might have been his name when he bottomed out inside me. I slowly circled my hips, adjusting to him. Spencer’s nails dug into my hips as he forced himself to stay still.

“Please move, y/n. Please. You’re so fucking tight.” He groaned as my walls fluttered around him. “Do you like it when I talk to you? Does that make your pretty pussy wetter?” He smirked at my whimper as I tightened around him.

I began at a slower pace, trying to tease him. Spencer quickly lost patience with that; he thrust his hips upwards, meeting my movements, his hands pushing me down onto him. I leaned forward, bracing on hand on his shoulder, the other on the bed. He pounded into me while I tried to match his pace. Spencer’s hand moved from my hip up to wrap around my throat. I nodded, forcing my eyes to stay open as he moved inside me.

His fingers squeezed slightly, pulling my face closer to his. Our lips met in a sloppy kiss. My thighs burned from matching his movements. “You feel so fucking good, y/n.” His grip on my neck tightened ever so slightly, which only heightened my arousal. “I want to feel you cum on my cock. Can you do that for me, pretty girl?”

He flipped us over quickly, never pulling completely out of me. Spencer moved to push my legs further apart, the change in angle allowing him to fill me deeper than I thought possible. His hair was sticking to his brow, his cheeks were flushed, his breathing erratic. He was the most fucking beautiful thing I had ever seen.

One hand held my leg, the other went down to my pussy, his thumb moving over my clit at a rapid pace. “Tell me what you need, Pretty Girl. Tell me how to make this pretty pussy cum all over me.”

I whined at his words. “Spencer, I-“ my voice broke off. I was so fucking close. "I need you." He seemed to understand my broken plea. He brought his body down, his chest flush against mine. He rocked into me at such a fast and hard pace. His hand still in between us rubbing circles around my clit.  

I felt his lips ghost over my ear. “I want to fucking hear you, y/n.” His speed increased, his thrust getting choppier. He was close. “I want this whole fucking town to hear what you sound like when I make you cum. When you cream all over my dick, I want you to scream my name.” With that, he moved his mouth down my neck. He bit the same tender area he had kissed in the club, where my neck met my shoulder.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck yes, Spencer!" I felt myself begin to splinter apart. “Please make me cum, fuck please.” My babbling finally broke as my orgasm tore through me. I couldn’t hear his deep groan when I came, my scream was too loud. I felt the vibration against my neck. It was only as I started to float down that I realized my nails were dug into his back. With a few last thrust and my name on his lips, I felt Spencer pulse, cumming inside me.

We lay there for a few minutes, just breathing before he rolled off of me. I felt overwhelmed, so I was relieved when he tugged me over to him. He wrapped his arm around me when I laid my head on his chest. I felt his lips on my forehead. “It’s very important for women to urinate after sexual intercourse to avoid UTIs, but you have another minute or so before that becomes more urgent.”

I couldn’t control my laugh at his comment. "Thanks, Doc." I kissed his chest. "Only you could make me cum so hard I almost blackout, then go back to being…you." I slowly untangled myself from him, going to the bathroom to handle business. When I returned, I found Spencer where I left him, his eyes were fixed on the ceiling, one hand resting behind his head, the other over his heart. He looked so lost in that moment.

“Spencer?” I asked, crawling on to the bed. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t pretend that something wasn’t bothering him. “When you said that I just go back to being me…Do you not like that?”

My heart broke a tiny bit at the question. “Spencer, no! I love that! I love your little facts and statistics!” How did he not know that? “The best part of my day is listening to you talk. Just being with you is wonderful.” I cupped his face, bringing his gaze to mine. “Sure, I like what we just did; but I liked you before that. I want both.” Fuck. “Assuming you want me,” I rambled quickly. “This doesn’t have to mean anything, I know that it doesn’t always-“

He cut me off by pressing his lips to mine in the sweetest kiss I had ever felt. It was filled with hope and promise and…Spencer.

“It means everything to me, Y/n.”

-

I didn’t see the rest of the team until the next morning when we all boarded the jet; I was so ready to go home. I personally didn’t think anything appeared that different. Spencer sat beside me on the couch, but that wasn’t weird…right? We were just co-workers, sitting beside each other super casually. Had we spent most of last night and a little bit of this morning screwing each other’s brains out? Certainly. But you couldn’t see that…right?

Morgan’s chuckle is what confirmed I was so wrong. “Hey, y/l/n,” he called, smiling so hard it looked like his face would split from his amusement. “You missed a spot.” He pointed towards his own neck.

There was a beat of silence before Hotch snorted. SSA Aaron Hotchner, the man who never found anything funny was laughing at me.

I felt myself turn tomato red, angling my body towards Spencer’s, burying my head against his shoulder, away from the rest of the team.

“I bet you’re glad pretty boy was your partner now, huh?”

I may have wanted to melt into the floor in embarrassment, but it was sort of worth it to see the blush on Spencer’s cheeks.

--

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #Dr Reid #Spencer reid fic #Spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid fics #criminal minds #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds smut #Spencer reid x you #Spencer reid x reader #Spencer reid x y/n

[tsukkisbean]

how they cheer your up | headcanons

genre: fluff

characters: iwaizumi hajime, miya osamu, terushima yūji, kunimi akira x gn!reader

warnings: none!

a/n: hello if you’re seeing this, that means my scheduled post worked, yay!! hopefully this shows up in the tags otherwise i’ll have to reupload it at a later time (sorry in advance if that’s the case hehe). i’m also trying my hand at writing for other characters so hopefully this does their characters justice??

anyways, i hope everyone is doing well and staying healthy and happy! if you requested something from me, sorry i haven’t gotten to it even though i said i would. i’ll try my best to complete them when i get the chance, thank you for being patient with me 💖 all boys after iwaizumi are under the cut!

iwaizumi hajime

best boy iwaizumi would without a doubt use exercise as a way to cheer you up

but don’t get me wrong, he’s not going to force you to run a marathon or anything like that

i imagine him taking you to one of those entertainment/game parks (not really sure what they’re called ahh) where you guys just hang out all day

when you get there, he’ll immediately take you to the batting cage so you can just channel out all your anger into your swings

once your blood is pumping from the adrenaline he’ll take you to the trampoline area where you guys just bounce around and do flips into the foam pit to burn off all your extra energy

you’ll just be chilling, jumping up and down on one of the trampolines, your back turned to iwaizumi when he straight up scoops you up and tosses you in

he’s cackling and dying of laughter and when he finally offers to help you out you grab his hand and pull him in

when he doesn’t resurface you get nervous, where could he be?

from the corner of your eye you see the foam rumbling slightly but you react too slowly and iwaizumi pops out and tackles you in the biggest hug, peppering kisses all over your face and people are staring as you scream your head off trying to pry him off of you

for dinner, you guys indulge in all the greasy food the park has to offer, and by the end you’re stuffed

to help with digestion you suggest a game of mini golf which iwaizumi gladly agrees to

for someone who played volleyball his aim is absolutely horrifying

he argues that the windmill is IMPOSSIBLE to get a good score on and no one can ever get a hole in one

luck must have been on your side because you get a hole in one right after (and so does the small child behind you guys, but you choose not to tell him that)

you end up destroying him (he lowkey hints that he let you win but we know that’s not the case)

when the park closes, instead of taking you straight home, he’ll take you to a nearby park and the two of you just stroll around enjoying the chill of the night and the stars in the sky

miya osamu

he pulls you onto the couch next to him and the two of you look through baking videos on youtube and osamu being osamu cannot decide because he wants to make them all

eventually you guys settle on a cake recipe by cooking tree (a/n: 10/10 would recommend watching them, their videos are super soothing and aesthetic esp if you enjoy cooking asmr!!)

so at 9pm you guys set off to the grocery store to buy the ingredients you guys are missing 

the trip takes much longer than expected because osamu keeps putting in more and more snacks that you guys definitely don’t need

so instead of shopping osamu is trying to grab as many snacks as you can while you trail behind, trying to put them away  because your pantry is already way too full

by the time you get home it’s close to 12 and you’re tired but osamu insists that you guys start now

for the most part all goes well, you guys manage to get the batter to look smooth in the cake pan (definitely some playful flour throwing here and there)

the real problem is assembling the cake. at this point you’re wondering why you guys decided on a 3-layered cake that required cutting

teases you for cutting the first layer slanted and so you pass over the cutting to him but his slicing work is just as bad and you just have to bring up the fact that he owns a restaurant but apparently his knife skills suck

you thought cutting the cake would be a problem?? now you guys have to fill the layers and it’s a complete disaster; there’s whipped cream just everywhere and at this point you guys are half filling the cake half throwing it at each other

cake ends up being iced unevenly but that’s the least of your problems

you guys pour the decorative icing on top and instead of running over the sides only slightly, it drips messily down the cake and onto the counter and now you guys have a blob of a cake

you guys spend the rest of the night cleaning up and pass out on the couch and in the morning you guys enjoy a sweet breakfast together <3

terushima yūji

terushima is a free soul and so he believes expressing yourself through art is one of the best ways to feel better

when he sees that you’re down, he’ll immediately whip out all of his salon products and pull you into the bathroom

he takes you by surprise saying that he wants you to whatever you want to his hair - today his hair is your canvas

at first you’re reluctant, but he insists - as a hair stylist it’s all about experimentation with styles and colours and plus he can easily fix whatever you do considering that it is his job after all

so you guys scroll through pinterest together, trying to find some fun hair ideas that you’d be able to pull off on your own (with some instruction from teru of course)

you finally decide on a style and so together start on getting all the hair dye ready

he explains to you the different types of develops and how important they are in the hair colouring process - there are different volumes and will essentially affect how much your hair colour changes

after all the colours are mixed and ready to go, you gingerly grab a piece of hair, constantly checking your phone to make sure you’re doing it exactly like the photo

meanwhile terushima has the softest smile on his face, watching you through the mirror - he thinks you look absolutely adorable with the way your brows are furrowed and your tongue sticks on slightly as you focus

as you run the colour brush along his hair, he’s constantly encouraging you, telling you what a good job you’re doing and how he’s so excited to the end product

while the dye sits in his hair, you sit in his lap

once it’s time to wash out the hair dye, you bring him to the sink and carefully run your hands through his hair, trying your best to give him the best head massage he’s ever had!!!

after toning and a hair treatment, your masterpiece if finally done!! ofc being the boyfriend he is, he takes a million photos and posts them on social media to show how talented his significant other is - like not only is it your first time dying someone’s hair but you managed to pull off RAINBOW hair!! (a/n: think sehun from exo as a reference hehe) he literally will not shut up about you to his clients tomorrow

kunimi akira

kunimi has a rep for being lazy and just overall a really nonchalant kind of person but he’s sharp, so when you’re feeling down he immediately picks up on it even if he doesn’t confront you about it

however i don’t think he’d be as aggressive as the other three and do something huge rather he tries to make you feel better only in smaller ways and it definitely adds up

like in the morning he’ll make you coffee or tea or whatever you want - orange juice, a bakery bun? he’ll make an excuse saying he wanted something from the convenience store anyways and head down. when he comes back  with three bags of food and drinks he’ll insist that he just grabbed whatever he saw because he was “too lazy to decide” n b d

throughout the day he’ll be a lot more affectionate than usual, hugging you whenever he gets the chance, maybe even a kiss on your forehead

when you tell him you want to go out on your own for a bit  he doesn’t argue - whatever you need to do but when your back is turned he’ll slip you a handwritten note telling you to enjoy your alone time and that he l-word you and it’s even signed off with a teensy teensy heart that you almost don’t notice

when you get back, you’re greeted with the smell of your delicious food mixed with a burning smell and on the kitchen table you see takeout from your favourite restaurants and in the garbage is a black burnt mess - kunimi insists he doesn’t know how it got there even though its quite obvious

you bring the food to the living room and to your surprise there’s a blanket fort set up with pillows spread out all across the floor

when you try to question him, he just shrugs saying that it’s not that hard to throw a blanket over a couple of chairs, even a baby could do it

today he lets you choose the movie even though it’s technically his turn and when you choose a  comedy he doesn’t complain about the obnoxiously loud and hot headed lead character

when the movie is over, he quickly cleans up all the trash, making sure you don’t have time to move from your spot

when he comes back, he flops on top of you, holding you close

then he plays the spotify playlist that he made for you; it’s a whole mix of songs - slow, upbeat, instrumentals - anything he thought might help you feel even the tiniest bit better

and so you guys just lay there not speaking, enjoying each other’s presence until you fall asleep

#haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #miya osamu #iwaizumi hajime #terushima yuji #kunimi akira #osamu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #terushima x reader #kunimi x reader #clara click clacks

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

Soulmate Shenanigans Part Two (Electric Boogaloo)

Good morning (or at least, I’ve started writing this in the morning! Who knows when I’ll complete it)!

I’m continuing my Soulmate AU Tomfoolery (you can find part one here)

Prompt #2

There is a timer that counts down to when you will meet your soulmate.

Warnings for death mentions, and temporary major character death

World Building

Everyone blames the mad scientist.

Which is fair. When someone makes billions of clocks in about a weeks time, each declaring when everyone in the world (including people who wouldn’t be born for decades) would find their soulmate, it’s considered to polite to stick around to answer questions

Instead, Logan disappeared to who-knows-where and left everyone else to pick up the pieces. 

Rude.

Ever since the early 1910′s, the clocks have existed, one for each person. When any kid is born, the first thing a new parent does is rush to the register to see when they’ll meet their soulmate. It’s a big deal.

If your child isn’t going to meet their soulmate in the next 13 years, they are told the exact number on their 13th birthday

Philosophers have been enraged by all of this. Is free will a thing? Is existence a lie?

Non-philosophers will often close their curtains when they see a wandering philosopher, which are easy to identify by their look of abject confusion and plucked chickens.

Characters

Remus: Remus pretended that he didn’t care about who his soulmate was when his 13th birthday rolled along. He wasn’t the best actor.

His brother seemed happy when he found out that it would be sixteen years until he found his soulmate. 29 wasn’t a bad age at all, considering that some people would have to wait until they were old and in a nursing home, or would never even meet their soulmate at all.

Remus waited for his parents to tell him. They gave each other nervous looks, and he was convinced for a few seconds that he didn’t have a soulmate after all.

The actual answer was much weirder

526 years. 526 years until he met his soulmate.

Remus said a silent thank you to his soulmate for making him functionally immortal. After all, that meant that he’d survive until then!

HE WAS IMMORTAL

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Now, whenever someone would try to say something like, “Why do you like serial killers? Planning to become one?”, he could just look them dead in the eye and say,

I’m going to outlive you, Brian

(On an unrelated note, Brian disappeared a few months later. It actually wasn’t Remus’s fault, surprisingly. One minute, he was at a museum, the next, gone)

Remus would be fine with never finding his soulmate, honestly. Connection is nice, but being eldritch is more fun.

Virgil: Virgil didn’t want to be immortal

Sure, he wasn’t a fan of dying in practice, but in theory he didn’t want to live to over 250!

His family and friends were going to die, and he’d have to live through it. And for what? To meet a soulmate? Who gave a fuck? Virgil had never wanted a romantic relationship in his life, and he didn’t think that a 526 year wait was going to change that.

He was determined to find his soulmate early so that he could live a normal life like a normal person who doesn’t cause additional distress to the wandering philosophers.

 Plot

It was easy to find Remus. Local Child Will Live To Over 500 makes a good headline, and Remus wasn’t one to shy away from attention.

When Virgil was 16, he packed his bags and ran away from home to go meet his soulmate. He didn’t ask Janus how he got the bus tickets, but he did ask him to tell his parents that he’d be okay.

Virgil knocked on the door, and waited. Someone who looked almost exactly like the news site photo answered. The conversation went something like this:

Virgil: So, YOU’RE Remus McFricking Sanders-

Roman: Nope, not him, whatever he said isn’t my fault.

[Roman slams door]

Virgil was pretty sure that he had, in fact, met Remus, and he was just being annoying. Roman believed that his brother had just manage to piss off yet another person.

Virgil retreated to a restaurant, and looked up the photo on the news article, just to make sure. No denying it, that was him! Same eyes, same hair, same general face-wait. 

Remus had a nose that had obviously been broken at least once. The guy who’d greeted him at the door had definitely been in less scrapes than his soulmate.

Whoops.

Meanwhile, Remus had a plan to avoid Virgil at all cost. Virgil had tried to shy away from press attention, but he tracked down a photo eventually. 

And when his brother told him that some emo with “awesome” eyes had turned up on the doorstep looking for him, he had a bad feeling.

Well, spooky boy wasn’t going to cost him his long future.

And so the dance began.

In one corner, Virgil, who had spite, stubbornness, and a deadline on his side (he had to get home to his parents eventually)! Never discount a spiteful Virgil!

In the other corner, Remus, who has nothing on his side but fate. Fate, however, has a sense of humor, and Remus read enough old myths as a child to know that whatever happens can’t be changed by petty human actions.

Virgil tries breaking and entering many times, each failing in a more ridiculous way. He is a careful, but Remus is practically Kevin McCallister in terms of traps, and he fails to meet his soulmate face to face all day and all night.

They do get to have some verbal exchanges, which are pretty much

Virgil: You think you want the existential hell of immortality??

Remus: Oh, fuck off, I’m going to have the best vampire aesthetic!

Virgil: The vampire aesthetic is wonderful, but can we do everything for aesthetic?

Both at the same time: Yes. Yes we can.

And then Virgil is herded out of the house by Remus’s pet rats.

However, the final encounter goes a little differently. No witty quips, just Virgil picking the lock of yet another window, and then a very specific sound.

Have you ever heard a stubborn emo get pulled into a portal in the spacetime continuum?

It’s a distinct sound that is along the lines of loud crash-The fu-whirring noises-nyoom-eerie silence 

Remus didn’t give a second thought before diving into the portal after him. If he had, he would have thought hey, this’ll probably bring us face to face, something I’ve been avoiding or maybe jumping into random portals in a stupid idea or I’m going to grab a weapon before just running at it. But his first impulse was to make sure his snarky soulmate hadn’t died, so into the portal he went.

The Year: 2550

The Portal: Glows a lot, thank you for asking

The Reason: A mad scientist has only one thing left to lose, and is terrified as it slips away

Logan: Logan was a geek at heart. He loved science, in both theories and practice. He probably should have toned down his obsession with Nikola Tesla. He wanted to travel to the sky, and touch the stars, and watch time like a film reel. 

Time travel was his passion. If people could travel across the physical seas, why not the metaphorical ones of time?

It was pure luck that he actually figured it out, but figure it out he did. Logan loved his creation.

He wanted to create a million inventions, but more importantly he wanted Patton to see them all.

If there was one thing he loved more than science, it was him. 

The two kept each other from drifting off into the stars, or sinking into the dirt because they’re too afraid of being rude. One of Logan’s favorite memories was he and Patton running through the St. Louis fair, giggling at terrible puns and sharing a quick kiss out of sight, before catching the next exposition. 

Patton was kind, and caring, and knew how to talk to people to get them to like him, and was just good. He was good. 

Logan dealt only in facts. And it was a fact that it would have been better, more fair for Logan to have died in the fire.

It was a fact that he didn’t (even though it felt like it sometimes). It was a fact that Patton had been the one to notice the smoke. It was a fact that the love of his life waited for a few seconds in the doorway, trying to call the cat out. It was a fact that, after Logan was out of the house, he turned around to see the doorway collapse. 

He found a way back into the house, but it took too long. 

Fact: Humans can only endure severe smoke inhalation for a few minutes before dying.

Logan took one look at his time machine, somehow still undamaged. He’d never tested it before, but he really didn’t have a choice, so he kissed Patton on the forehead and stepped into a portal.

Back To The Plot

Virgil and Remus immediately knew that they were in the 26th century. 

How? There was a sign!

Hey! If You Happen To Be A Time Traveler, This Is 2550! Check In With The Lord Cerebrum To Know More, Unless You Don’t Have A License, In Which Case

You Know What Happens

They don’t have much time to mull over this before Remus tries to murder Virgil. He’s not IMMORTAL any more, and it’s not FAIR, and it’s all HIS fault!

This is where we enter the Rivals To Friends (While On The Run From Time Management) section

Remus and Virgil have many adventures escaping from Time Management, while learning to appreciate the other as a friend. They are platonic soulmates, after all!

But Time Management is nothing if not patient, and the boys are caught eventually (you know how it goes. You forget to check around for listening ears, you use 21st century slang, and suddenly a single “yeet” and a “same” get you dragged before the Lord Cerebrum)

A Handy Dandy Guide To The Year 2550 (transcript from the Handy Dandy Infomercial Station)

Hey, time travelers! I know that everyone likes zipping around the time-stream and seeing what the fates throw at them to keep them from murdering their grandpa, but we have to do this by the Rules!

If you break the rules, you know what happens

The Year 2550 is protected by Logos Industries’s time dilation filter, to ensure that no one gets the wrong idea about going free range!

If you have a license, just proceed to the Lord Cerebrum to get your stamp of approval and philosopher disguise for the maximum positive effect! After all, Logos Industries needs funding to protect us all!

If you don’t have a license, you’ll see the Lord Cerebrum too!

Have a Handy Dandy Time :)

Back To The Plot

The boys are led through a menacing government facility, taken to see the Lord Cerebrum. They try to ask questions, but Time Management is rather disinterested in their fleeting existence, so nothing much gets answered.

The final destination is a computer room, where the Lord Cerebrum sits. His form was half hologram, half skin, his age unchanging for 526 years, and recognizable at first sight to Remus

Lord Cerebrum, aka Brain, aka Brian: Hey, Remus, what exactly did you say about outliving me?

Brian: Brian was a dick. There’s no other way to put it. 

He and Remus used to be friends, sticking brand new phones in water to see what would happen and planning out pranks (they made their history teacher think that she was being haunted by the ghost of Charlemagne!), but things changed, and by 8th grade his dickishness was on full display

It was really easy to get away with being cruel to Remus. He naturally unnerved people, and anyone in a position of power immediately knew he was trouble (which was true), so when there was a conflicting story between a star student and the kid who poured ketchup in the principal’s desk, you can guess who’d always get believed.

Brian was a dick, but he was 13. He could have grown later in life, regretted his ways (or at least stopped), but instead he touched an antique time machine on a museum tour of the Clock House (home of Logan, the famous inventor of soulmate clocks). 

He’d been planning to snap off the handle and pin it on Remus (or maybe Roman for variety), but instead

Crash-what the-whirring noises-nyoom-eerie silence

And Brian arrived in the year 2520, the first of many time travellers.

He became a celebrity. The parts of him lost in the wormhole were quickly replaced with state-of-the-art holograms, and his fame went to his head.

Thirty years of good marketing later, he was the Lord Cerebrum. And when a desperate mad scientist came crashing through a portal of his own, it was easy to get him to work for him under the promise that Brian would let him save his “Patton” once he made some technology for him.

He recognized Logan from the museum. He knew who’s fault it was that he was trapped travelling through time, whirling through the portal, praying and promising and in the end just screaming. Brian knew who was to blame for the fact that he couldn’t tell how much of his body would stay when the power went out.

So the tasks got longer and more complicated, Patton dangled like a carrot over Logan’s head. 

Fact: Logan would never win, and someday Brian would get tired of this game and there would only be one genius left in 2550.

Back To The Plot: Virgil punched the Lord Cerebrum in the face. He didn’t know all of the context, but his best friend seemed not to like the guy, and he seemed evil, so he punched the overlord in the face.

Brian was offended, and abandoned all plans for a monologue in favor of leaving them to die.

The most fitting way to do away with a time traveler is to send them everywhere at once. It’s an awful death, one where molecules are slowly lost as the traveler in question hits walls and trees and memories.

The duo managed to survive five or so timelines, before the machine miraculously shut off. A mad scientist ran into the room, unscrewed the vents in the walls, and told the teenagers that they’re late.

Things are explained as they escape the facility.

Things

Logan needed a way to break the time dilation filter. He did the math (which he tried and failed to explain to the boys), and it was determined that Remus and Virgil had the most butterfly effect capabilities to influence this particular event

Basically, removing them from the timeline changed things just enough for Logan to find the chink in the filter’s armor. 

The duo’s job is done, and Logan is only sorry that he didn’t find them earlier to get them home.

Back To The Plot

Everything seems like it’s going to be fine, and the duo are almost able to go home, when the Lord Cerebrum finds them.

CLIMATIC SHOWDOWN

An Ending

In the end, Brian is sent to the 22th century, the year where nearly all of humanity were turned into giant rats for some reason

Logan found his way back to the 1910′s, and used the 26th century technology to heal his love. The time machine burned in the fire. Good. Space travel was where it was at, anyway.

Virgil had so much explaining to do to his parents

Remus knew that no one would believe him. Roman did.

Virgil and Remus stayed the closest of friends. They dressed up as vampires for Halloween. They stuck together. They got to grow up. 

More soulmate shenanigans, amiright?

#sanders sides #ts sides #remus sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #logicality #platonic dukexiety #time travel #soulmate au #beware the drafts of march #soulmate shenanigans #unsympathetic brian #i don't know why this random shorts character is awful in my mind #i'm sure he's a perfectly nice fictional character #i love writing #fan fic #sanders side fic #sanders sides fic

[doomedandstoned]

71TONMAN’s New EP Takes Us to the Edge of Dystopia

~Doomed & Stoned Debuts~

Review by Billy Goate

Artwork by SNDNBCK

This year, 71TONMAN reaches a milestone than few acts ever see, crossing the 10 year mark as a band. The Wrocław rowdies have always embodied the best qualities of doom, starting with their rambunctious self-titled debut 2013. By 2016, the band had a new singer and their music turned a corner, too, becoming entirely more bleak and dismal. The following album Earthwreck on Black Bow Records was among the darkest records of the decade, capturing humanity's insessive bent towards self-destruction so convincingly.

I've been anxious to see where the band would go next, and was pleased to see them on another label with good company: Transcending Obscurity Records. An EP this time which 71TONMAN has named, 'War Is Peace/Peace Is Slavery' (2021). That clever turn of a phrase will be familiar to anyone who has read George Orwell's writings.

Indeed, few novels were revisited more during that pandemic lockdowns than 1984, one of the few classics that look to the future not with hope, but with extraordinary pessimism. In the H.G. Wells novel The Shape of Things To Come, the author posits a world in which science will ultimately conquer every backward religious belief, find cures for disease, and take us into the sky.

Orwell's future is likewise high-tech, minus the social progress. Now an AI-like system called Big Brother monitors one's every movement and mood. Sometimes in an effort to right our own course, humans overcorrect, leading to restrictions on freedom, speech, and expression. Indeed, this is a dystopia in which Thought Police prevent insurrection by guarding carefully against critical thinking and reasoning.

Certain "truisms" are introduced to condition people to be at home with cognitive dissonance, so they will blithely accept totalitarian revisions of fact and history. Among them are the sayings: War is Peace, Peace is Slavery, and Ignorance is Strength. There is no mistaking 71TONMAN's send-back to the Orwellian worldview as each song bears one of these inscriptions as its title.

Beginning with Big Brother's trademark slogan, "War Is Peace," the band takes the logic that has swept millions of young people away into foreign lands to "make the world safe for democracy" and writes its inevitable conclusion.

The song unfurls with the pungent smoke of battle, accompanied by a rumbling underbelly of fuzz, caustic feedback, and hissing amperage. Menacing guitars strum a disquieting theme in the aftermath of mankind's destruction, with the desolation heralded by the brutal drumbeats and the deliberative symbol clashes. An irradiated voice cries out from the ashen ruin:

LIFE'S GONE NOT ONE THING EXISTS EYES CLOSED MOUTH SHUT MANKIND'S EXTERMINATED MANKIND'S DEAD WORLD'S BREATHLESS WORLD'S DEAD CORPSES ON THE STREETS CORPSES IN THE TRASH

The tenor is not merely angry, it is anguished. One picks up on a real sense of loss as riff and rhythm conspire to relate the story.

Enter "Peace Is Slavery", a song that steps away from the battlefield with a fevered sense of urgency, warning with firebreathing shieks:

THE END THE END IS COMING TO THE WORLD THAT'S DYING START THE COUNTDOWN TOMORROW IS NO MORE EVERYTHING TURNS INTO DUST

The song concludes on an ominous and definitive note:

DON'T SEEK FOR COVER IT'S TOO LATE THE JUDGEMENT DAY'S A-COMING...

Now that's what I call doom! Doom in all its raw, nihilistic truth. Doom in its stoic acceptance of our eventual extinction. Doom -- the last defiant fist raised against the tyranny of life. It's surely too much for many to bear, this thought of no tomorrow. We have romanticized the notion of a post-apocalyptic world (one in which humanity always gets a second chance), to the point that the fires of apocalypse have become unbelievable, an orgy of science fiction. Thus we continue to live out this collective deathwish as a society, fingers crossed behind us for good luck.

This brings us to the notion that "Ignorance Is Strength". Our final track is a windswept void, bearing faint echoes of the homosapien's last stand. Our pernicious cycle of greed, violence, and nescience has finally swallowed us whole. Now there is naught but strange, ethereal will-'o-the-wisps to hint at the tragic story. This is the ill-fated end of the "Dark World" Saint Vitus once lyricised.

More than an artistic afterthought (the track clocks almost 10 minutes), these strange sonic moments serve as emphatic punctuation to end the opus. I heartily recommend listening in the dark lonely hours of the night for full effect.

71TONMAN's new record, though brief, is nothing shy of mortifying. KK (vox), TG (guitar), MZ (guitar), JW (bass), and JJ (drums) once again make a fine team, relating this story of the End Times with striking atmosphere and merciless cynicism. Look for the EP to drop on Friday, July 9th via Transcending Obscurity Records (pre-order here). In the meanwhile, you can stream it all right here, right now, as Doomed & Stoned proudly presents the world premiere.

Give ear...

LISTEN: 71TonMan - War is Peace/Peace is Slavery

Some Buzz

As the name suggests, 71TonMan are purveyors of earth-shatteringly heavy music and their brand of doom/sludge metal furthermore is acerbic and crust-scraping.

Bands in this style rarely have this scathing, face-melting sound and it's strangely addictive, particularly the combination of huge, stomping riffs and absolutely vile vocals delivered in an almost grindcore manner.

War Is Peace // Peace Is Slavery (Sludge/Doom Metal) by 71TONMAN (Poland)

The contrast against the backdrop of collapsing buildings and the ensuing chaos and all-round mayhem is gratifying despite this being an EP, a precursor for something even greater to come.

We revel in quality sludge and this pairs well with the mammoth release of the sludgelords Eremit, for that matter even Subterraen and Jupiterian in the past, even though the expression of this one is unparalleled.

For fans of Primitive Man, Subterraen, Eyehategod, Flesh Parade, Soilent Green, and Jupiterian

2021 Label Sampler by Transcending Obscurity Records

Follow The Band

Get Their Music

#D&S Debuts #71TONMAN #Wrocław #Poland #doom metal #sludge #death doom #Transcending Obscurity Records #HeavyBest2021 #D&S Reviews #Doomed and Stoned

[chibivesicle]

Golden Kamuy: chapters 255 & 256 - chaos at the brewery, superior private vs superior private, the death of the first Tsurumisexual

I was hesitant to write a stand alone 255 summary and I am glad that I waited until 256 was out.  I also had a busier than expected work week which kept me busy.  The fire that Jack set at the brewery was large enough that the local fire department is alerted to fight it.

The next few pages show how late Meiji era firefighters worked with a horsedrawn steam pumper.

The chief calls for a bugle player to call in the rest of the firefighters and they start spraying while the main pump starts.

This the allows us to see where some of the cast are.  As usual Shiraishi is near the fire fighters, he always has a tendency to know where the person in charge is, Ushiyama, Hijikata and then we see Boutarou is somewhere outside.

My most hated convict is there watching that everyone has assembled to find Jack.   He then has a fixation with the ladder.

I have no patience for Ueji, I really hope he’s not around much longer.

The action shifts to Asirpa still beating our convict until her sutu physically breaks.  I have to admit this concerns me since it shows that Asirpa may not have just been acting in self-defense/’basic’ punishment.  It indicates that she’s bolder or losing control of her own actions towards him.

Jack reaches out to grab her fur cloak and he holds here there as he reveals his ‘tragic’ backstory.  He was supposed to be the child of a prostitute and a member of the British Royal family.  Wow - riveting . . . . honestly, I found his backstory to be lame and I was like ‘on with it already.’  Still doesn’t really explain why a man would become a murderer . . . .

Asirpa then becomes more desperate and she threatens to stab him with one of her arrows if he doesn’t release her, while he insists he’s the product of a virgin birth. Since he was taken in nuns and raised in some sort of catholic setting . . .

What is important is that once she looks into his face after threatening she finally shows signs of PTSD from shooting Ogata.

Here face is sweaty and flushed and her pupils are tiny and she remembers Ogata collapsing on the ice floe.  I have been waiting so long for this to happen.  Asirpa is good at burying and denying her feelings and finally in a pinch her fears come to the surface.

Honestly, I am so relieved to have this happen in the story.

Sugimoto then arrives and tells Asirpa that killing Jack is his job.  He looks dangerous as his scarf flies back and he’s got the bayonet on his rifle.

Asirpa meanwhile is in the foreground arrow in her hand.  There are then several pages of Sugimoto stabbing and disemboweling and stabbing our convict before he kicks him out a window.

With luck, he falls out near Ushiyama who finishes him off with a skull smashing step.  I’ve never been a huge fan of Ushiyama, but I do like his line about how prostitutes are divine beings to him, remaining on earth to help others.

This seemed a lot more fitting than Sugimoto telling him what you do with your life is important.  I’m also curious how damaged his tattoo is after being slashed open across the belly. 

Now it is unclear if Sugimoto and Asirpa will be reuniting with Hijikata or not, since the skin has been delivered to Ushiyama.  I’m curious to see if they rejoin his group of if they break off again.

The action finally returns to the events that I am most interested in; the fight between Ogata and Usami.  The english translation has Usami calling Ogata by his first name as he beats the crap out of him while he tries to hold him off with the rifle.  Usami is upset since previously Ogata called him a ‘cheap piece’ on a chessboard and he did not like it.

We get a close up of Ogata’s bloody nose as the rifle moves. The next page makes it clear that Usami has grabbed the rifle and he proceeds to empty the remaining bullets and even kicks them away on the floor.

Usami is making sure that Ogata has no chance to fire at him and knows that if Ogata tried to fight back with the rifle alone, he’d have no chance.  Of course, Ogata goes to grab another clip, but Usami judo rolls him onto the floor and Ogata turns over and begins to crawl back to the rifle.

It seems like Ogata has some sort of thought in the first panel as Usami stands over him and tells him that he’s essentially useless without a gun.  I’m under the indication that when it comes to fighting and combat that Usami finds him useless since both of them have done things non-combat related.

Usami then boldly pulls the bayonet off of Ogata’s belt.  Usami then falls into the trope of overconfident monologue individual.

Ogata doesn’t give a damn about Usami’s monologue to him, he’s got to beat him and we get a close up of Ogata picking up an individual bullet between his bloody lips.  He’s got something in mind.

Usami then insults Ogata as being a son of a prostitute he can’t call Usami a cheap piece.  We know that Usami was raised in a normal but poor samurai family with both parents and siblings.  He feels that since he comes from a more reputable (though poor) background he has more legitimacy than Ogata which we know is the common perception of Ogata in the 27th.  We will need to know who told everyone he was Hanazawa’s illegitimate son to know how long the bullying went on for.

Usami then has self-reflective moment about how badly he’d wanted to say this to Ogata for at least a year by this point.  This has given Usami a pause to his advance and Ogata uses his tongue to push the single bullet into the open rifle. He still looks back at Usami and knows he can do this since he’s not paying close attention to Ogata crawling across the floor.

As Usami prepares the bayonet, Ogata flips the now loaded rifle towards him and Usami seems surprised.

The final page of the chapter shows what a point blank rifle shot does to Usami.  He’s been shot at close range and there is a massive blood splatter behind him, bayonet still in hand.  The chapter ends with Ogata calmly looking over his shoulder and smoke floats away from the barrel.

What a way to end the chapter!  I had been waiting for something like this for sooo long.  Usami fell in to the trap of ‘oh look at me, I’m going to let my emotions allow me to monologue’ . . . Ogata used the fact that he’s bad at close combat to crawl across the floor to the rifle.  Usami thought it was good enough to empty the rifle but he completely underestimated the tenacity of Ogata and his plan to reload his rifle in the most horny way possible. 

If Usami and Ogata are indeed pieces on a chessboard for Tsurumi, this has shown that Ogata is a much more valuable piece.  Or perhaps are all of them of equal value and Ogata just said that to rile up Usami?

Something that really stood out for me was how Usami’s approach to stab Ogata with a bayonet was very similar to chapter 5 when Sugimoto was over him about to stab him and Asirpa stops him.  Ogata then has the pause to poke Sugimoto in the face facilitating his escape.  In that instance, it was the combination of Asirpa and then Ogata that allowed for him to escape. 

With Usami, the only person in charge of Ogata’s escape is Ogata.  It this telling us that Ogata has leveled up?  He’s now taking ownership for saving himself?  No one else came to his aid, he did it all on his own a change for him since when they were in Edogai’s house, Sugimoto had to save him from the random guy from the 27th. . . . Just something to ponder.

Either way lets get to 256 where the action continues!

The chapter stards with Usami falling back as Ogata on autopilot ejects the spent shell to ready the rifle to be loaded and fired.

Usami tumbles down the stairs and Ogata pulls out another clip to load the rifle. As wounded as Usami is, he moves quickly enough to get out of visual range of Ogata.  He holds on the the railing of the stairs as he bleeds out his back and realizes his spat with Ogata isn’t important.

He needs to tell something to Tsurumi.  Is it what he saw on Kadokura?

Meanwhile Ueji is messing around with the firefighters.  He’s pulled on some of the hoses and begins to climb up the ladder as people wonder what he’s trying to do and Usami exits at ground level.

Usami finds the horses for the fire engine around the same time that Sugimoto kicks Jack out the window.  This inadvertently catches Ogata’s attention.  Ogata then looks out the window to spot Usami on one of the horses below.

Usami is pretty rough, holding onto his chest where Ogata shot him.  Ogata takes his time to set up his shot, breaking the glass and resting his rifle on a crossbar in the frame.  Ogata then tells Usami that if he’s that worried about being a cheap piece .  . . he needs to know what Tsurumi’s face looks like at his funeral.

Ogata has made it clear that Usami is not making it to Tsurumi alive.  His goal is to stop him. 

I think that Ogata is drawing on his own personal experience and observations of Tsurumi.  He knows that his mother was a ‘cheap piece’ to his father since he never came to her funeral.  He also got to see Hanazawa’s dying facial expression which let him know what little he thought of him as the son he ignored.  Ogata also knows Tsurumi well enough that he’ll reveal how he feels about Usami in death, so really if Tsurumi cares about him, he’ll get what he wanted.  Ogata likely has mixed feelings on this; his own experience is that no one cares about others in death, and he likely wants Tsurumi to be cold and calculating not giving Usami what he wants. 

To snipe Usami, Ogata levels up, Usami is able to round the corner of the building, but thanks to Sugimoto kicking Jack out a window it is now open.

Sugimoto then is walking away from the open window and another window faces towards Usami.  Noda ramps up the tension of Ogata aiming at the open window where Sugimoto is. . . . but just as Sugimoto moves out of the line of fire Ogata takes aim and fires.

We get a unique bullet view of his shot!  Oh no? Has Ogata decided to snipe Sugimoto instead?  Pfffttt!  Of course not.  Ogata is the type of sniper who gets his mark.  His shot enters Usami’s back and exits his chest likely near his heart.

This tells us several things.  Ogata really doesn’t give a damn about Sugimoto.  He could have shot him, but really why?  There is no point, his target was Usami.  He’s off to rely information to Tsurumi. 

I also wonder if Sugimoto even heard the shot after he walked away from the windows?  There was no indication as such in 255.  All of these events highlight that Ogata’s goals have nothing directly to do with Sugimoto and his flawed reasoning that Ogata is out to get him really needs a reality check.

Back to the action, Usami falls off the horse and is dramatically caught in Tsurumi’s arms.  Usami looks at Tsurumi while Ogata thanks him.

He then removes his bandage to reveal a glass eye and he declares that he is now completed as a sniper.  This refers back to when he was retraining how to to use a rifle with Hijikata.  He stated he would only be a sniper, if he actually killed a person not more ducks.

For comedic effects, his glass eye pops out and he catches it.  It looks like Ogata now has historical overlap with the French Canadian sniper Leo Major.

The chapter returns to Usami dying before Tsurumi.  He hands over he copy of a skin that he got from Kadokura.  He then begins to speak about Kadokura, while Tsurumi looks down at him softly telling him he’s done well.

Usami reaches to touch Tsurumi’s face.  There is then a very uncomfortable scene where Tsurumi sucks on his pinky finger before he bites it off.  He tells Usami that this will allow them to live on together.  He tells him that he’ll be living inside him as his number one friend.

So, unlike saving Olga and Fina’s finger bones he took from Russia, he’ll just digest and absorb Usami instead. . . .

Usami than smiles as he dies, telling Usami that he’s so happy that he’s going to come from the feeling as he starts to call him by his first name before he dies in Tsurumi’s arms.  The next panel shows Tsurumi holding him in his arms.

As a nerd with a minor in art history, I immediately noticed that this was a reference to Michelangelo’s famous sculpture of Jesus laying in the arms of the Virgin Mary, the pieta. 

First, based on how Usami’s death impacts Tsurumi, he can rest assured that he wasn’t a cheap piece.  Second, Tsurumi has stood in for the Virgin Mary again in the context of scenes.  I’m honestly curious where Noda is going with this Tsurumi = Virgin Mary bit.

The chapter then ends with Ueji standing on the smokestack of the brewery looking for everyone’s attention.  I guess he wants everyone to try to attack him at once?  Or is he going to jump to his death and result in the destruction of his tattoo making things impossible?

Overall impressions for the events of these two chapters.

1.) Jack was a lame convict.  He did not interest me and his only importance was to get Asirpa to recognize her PTSD when she really tried to threaten him.

2.) Noda tried to tease the readers with Sugimoto-Ogata conflict but it shows that Ogata doesn’t look at Sugimoto the same way he looks at Ogata.   Sugimoto thinks Ogata is messing around, an agent of chaos, but this is anything but that fact.  It also shows again that Sugimoto thinks he’s more critical in the gold hunt than he is.  Asirpa is key, he’s just going along for the ride and Hijikata has tried to eliminate him, as has Ogata, Tanigaki and Tsurumi.

3.) Asirpa is showing finally that she was impacted by when she shot Ogata.  About time, then again, Asirpa and Ogata are very similar characters with strong internal compasses and repress their feelings.

4.) Ogata has returned to wild-type.  The past few chapters he has been on fire.  He out smarted Vasily, and was able to defeat Usami.  Many of us wondered if his sniping days were over - he has proven otherwise, but him sniping Usami was both defensive and a highly tactical decision.  It seems that Ogata has gained a new will to live, he fought his way out of very difficult situations and did everything alone (and with the help of his Yuusaku subconsciousness).  It appears that Tsurumi’s statement of not wanting to have him fighting against you holds up and his own name that he is a single man but equal to one hundred.  Ogata also shows even if he may have emotions and feelings about how others treat/perceive him, he doesn’t like it cloud his judgement or actions.

5.) Usami got the death he wanted.  I’m a little annoyed that Usami got the death he dreamed of, he gained praise from Tsurumi and was told how much he cared about him.  Usami died happy in his arms.  Perhaps, this indicates a sort of guilt/responsibility that Tsurumi felt towards young Tokishige back in Niigata?  If he didn’t have Usami judo fight his friend, maybe he wouldn’t have snapped and become a perfect and loyal solider.

That’s all I have for now.

#golden kamuy #golden kamuy meta #ogata hyakunosuke #asirpa #sugimoto saichi #ushiyama tatsuma #tsurumi tokushirou #Usami Tokishige #hijikata toshizo #boutarou the pirate

[shirtlesssammy]

15x12: Galaxy Brain

Welcome back to the new recaps! We’ll be doing recaps on Thursdays now that the show airs on Mondays. 

Then:

Remember when death was welcome and we had no hope?

Now:

Four Weeks Ago:

Earth 2

At an unassuming Radio Shed, a woman casually strolls around getting creeped on by the store clerk. He’s just an eager salesman, but dude…(Also, I’m a bad fan and had to Shazam the song playing. I thought it was quite on the nose with the whole “I had a dream that I ate your heart” considering Jack’s recent activities. It turns out to be Louden Swain, and all you real fans must have been dying laughing at how perfectly placed the song was.) 

The dude is despondent when the woman leaves, but then a new customer arrives, eyeing up the wall of televisions. It’s Chuck. The guy gives his best spiel, but Chuck isn’t interested. “It’s monologue time,” he states.

Chuck explains his twisted life story. 

And shows us the world:

Anybody else wish we would have had a glimpse of Squirrel World in these television sets? Well, Chuck waxes poetic about all the worlds he’s created and how none of them bring him as much happiness as the world with the real Sam and Dean. “They challenge me. They disappoint me. They surprise me. They’re the ones.” Chuck then decides that it’s time to clear the board and get rid of everything but the world with the real Sam and Dean (WEEPS OVER THE “FAILED SPIN-OFFS” LINE. BOBO WE’RE SO SORRY.) 

Sioux Falls.

Our World.

Now.

We find Jody Mills having too much fun investigating the death of a cow. She gets a call from Alex and we learn that life keeps humming along for our Wayward women.

Once off the phone, Jody sees a flash of motion from a barn and heads to check it out. Someone attacks her from behind. JODY! 

At the bunker, Sam, Dean, and Cas discuss what to do about Jack and his deal with Death. Sam’s concerned because Jack doesn’t have his soul still. We cut to Jack looking at the carvings of DW, SW, AND MW. He lightly grazes the MW. We know exactly where his soulless mind is. 

He heads to his bedroom and he’s surprised when a reaper appears. 

Sam continues to question the plan of Billie’s that Jack will kill God. Cas fully trusts his little nephilim son. Dean’s spent some time with Death and thinks she has it figured out. 

The reaper tries to reassure Jack that Billie’s plan will work as long as he follows the rules --lay low, wait for instructions, don’t use his powers. They need to keep Chuck out of the loop. 

Sam interrupts the conversation and Jack lies about who he was talking to. Sam tries reassuring Jack that they’re very happy to have him home and that they will help him.  

Meanwhile, recently reunited husbands share a celebratory drink now that they’re family is back together. Cas can’t help but gloat over how right he was and celebrate his faith in Jack. Dean wants to celebrate getting revenge. I want to celebrate these two yahoos talking again! 

Dean gets a call from Jody. She’s in trouble. 

Sam and Dean head out and find Jody tied up in the barn. Dark Kaia attacks! She’s seriously badass, but no competition for the Winchesters + one Mills. She wants her spear back --and more to the point, she wants to go home. Sam wants to know why she even wants to go back to that place. She tells them the world is dying. She knows this because she still has a connection to our Kaia. YEP. Kaia is STILL ALIVE PEOPLE. Dark Kaia left her the tools to stay alive, and she has, but Dark Kaia wants to go back. And now the others want to save Kaia. 

At the bunker, Cas and Jack bond over a fun game of Connect Four. 

Sam, Dean, and Jody arrive back at the bunker --with Dark Kaia in tow.

*JODY AND CAS FINALLY MEET ALERT*

They all agree that Jack can’t use his powers to help Dark Kaia get home, but they have to save their Kaia another way. 

While they figure that out, they chain Dark Kaia to the kitchen table and give her a magazine to read. 

Jack thinks he’s found a great spell but John Winchester had to ruin everything and kill off one of the necessary ingredients. How that man is able to ruin things this far in the grave will never cease to amaze me. Dean sends Jack to check in on Jody and Cas. 

Jody and Cas discuss their almost daughter, Claire, and her quest for revenge. Jody tells Cas that Claire loved Kaia, and Jody doesn’t want to tell Claire about this recent development. It would be too much for her to bear if things don’t work out. 


Jack morosely peeks in on the stalled progress of Jody and Cas, then stops to talk to Alt!Kaia. She’s angry, accusing him of encouraging Kaia to make the jump to the other world. It’s his fault that Kaia is in pain and about to die. 

Alt!Kaia wanted to visit Earth Prime because it looked comfortable, but she finds it cold instead and hard to live in. She begs Jack for help in a way that makes you think she’s never begged for a thing in her entire life before. Jack dreamwalks with her and confirms that Kaia is trapped in the Bad Place and an all-swallowing storm is coming for her. 

Jack heads into the library, advertising his intent to the Winchesters that he’ll save Kaia from the Bad Place. Merle, the reaper from earlier, appears. She is…ENTIRELY unimpressed by this plan. Saving Kaia is “Winchester dumb,” Merle insists. 

If Jack tries to save Kaia, Merle is totally running off and tattling on him to Death. Jack reads the room and calls her bluff. “Go,” he tells her. He’ll open a rift with his magic and Merle can just DEAL with Billie’s wrath when she comes running. Merle’s not so hot on that prospect, instead reluctantly coughing up a plan B. The cosmic warding Amara removed from the bunkers is the key!

But FIRST our patron saint of long suffering salt, Merle, insults the Winchesters’ rune repair work. The Winchesters re-warded their walls against demons and monsters, but didn’t come close to the “cosmic grade stuff.” 

She can rattle up the warding temporarily to block Chuck’s perception, but she’ll need to add a little battery power to the attempt. She demands the use of “your angel” to properly run the spell.

Sam, our very best witch, recites the spell. Runes glow along the bunker walls and edges as the shielding spell takes hold. 

Heading out, the Winchesters agree that the plan is reckless, stupid…and it FEELS REALLY GOOD. They’re back to their roots, baby! Give me my dumb, poorly planned, big hearted missions any day.

Cas corners Jody, asking her to stay behind as well. He never bonded with Claire - and couldn’t given their history - but Jody did. He doesn’t want to picture a world where Claire loses both Kaia and Jody. The truth settles over Jody like a thick wool blanket and she agrees to stay behind. 

For Soft Cas Science:

Cas and Merle supercharge the wardings. 

Once the wardings are active, Jack slings out a rift to the Bad Place. Alt!Kaia smiles at last and ducks inside, quickly followed by the Winchesters. The Bad Place is rainy and windy and full of red-eyed monsters LOOK OUT! 

Alt-Kaia realizes that the monsters are just scared of a roiling gray storm and they head off to find Kaia. Dean greets her with a “Hey, kid,” and a hug! KAIA IS SAVED! 

Alt-Kaia, however, decides to stay behind. The Bad Place is her home, its ending be damned. The Winchesters race off with Kaia and Alt!Kaia greet the oncoming nothingness with open arms. 

They make it back through the rift and Jody gives Kaia a great big MOM HUG. Kaia’s eyes slip closed. She’s safe at last. 

A little while later, Kaia has availed herself of the bunker’s excellent water pressure or possibly even that amazing bathtub. She’s now wearing Jack’s spare sweatpants. Bless. 

She tells Jack that she survived by anchoring herself around a children’s rhyme her mother sang to her: Miss Mary Mack. Jack attempts to grasp another tiny sliver of humanity. Good luck, Jack. Many of us work on that to this very day!

Jody invites Kaia to live with her. “Will Claire be there?” Kaia asks and it’s…REAL CUTE GUYS. Wayward Sisters lives on, even if it’s off screen. ALL THE HEARTS

Merle dumps a big soaked blanket over the celebration. “If I cared for a second about saving that girl, I guess I’d say that was a victory,” she says with a weary sigh. I love this GRIM reaper. Sadly, she’s not long for this world. Billie’s scythe jabs through Merle’s throat and tears her into little cosmic pieces. 

Billie CANNOT BELIEVE these Winchesters. “Bending the rules already, Jack.”

“I tried to call you,” Jack all but squeaks out. 

No excuse, bud. She’s not mad, she’s disappointed. Billie explains that she sees the big picture, even if nobody else does. All the worlds except this one are dying. 

“It’s Chuck,” Cas surmises, and Billie rewards him with a no-shit-sherlock look for the ages.

Sam demands answers. “When I became Death,” Billie says, “I inherited Death’s knowledge and Death’s library. And in Death’s library, everyone has a book. Even God.” The books write themselves, in a wonderful bit of LIFE HAPPENS. Billie explains. “After God made the world…he wanted more. But he needed to create a perfect harmony. A swiss watch so this world could keep tick tick ticking in his absence.” Chuck built himself into the framework of reality. The Winchesters and Jack are in Chuck’s book. “This is your destiny. You are the messengers of God’s destruction.” 

Back at Radio Shed, Chuck watches his worlds get torn to shreds by horrible weather events and war. The hapless Radio Shed employee Chuck chained to his service looks exhausted, worn to shreds from serving the capricious god. (Definitely no symbolism HERE, nope.) He’s confident that Chuck will spare his planet. Right? RIGHT? 

“Everything’s just fine,” Chuck reassures him before leaving the Radio Shed. As he strolls from the shop, he tosses his empty cup aside as meteors streak in to destroy the planet.

That’s Win-Quotester Dumb:

It’s monologue time

Sir, this is a Radio Shed

You’ve got four of the same color connected so…given the name of the game I assume that means you won

One little measly life on the line and you’re willing to risk it all? That’s not just dumb. That’s Winchester dumb

Disobeying cosmic entities…doing the dumb, right thing…feels like we’re back

How’s it feel to be back? [silence] Good talk

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive! 

#spn recap #spn 15x12 #galaxy brain #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel #cas #jack kline #billie #chuck shurley #kaia nieves #jody mills #supernatural season 15

[fallforcs]

Set Fire To The Darkness

Art by: @nicole-nikla

Author: @celestial-fire-writer

Summary: Princess Emma of Misthaven has been the Dark One for ten lonely years, hiding away in her castle from the rest of the world, trying to find a way to destroy the darkness. One day, Prince Killian of Camelot seeks her out, hoping that she can save his dying brother. Emma, knowing Camelot is the best place to defeat the darkness, agrees, and the unlikely duo set off on an adventure together, comprised of trials, battles, family and true love.

Rating and reason for the rating: T, for mild violence.

Triggers: Mentioned death of minor characters, brief description of anxiety/panic attacks.

A/N: I’m so happy to finally be sharing my FFCS story! I loved working on this fic and I hope everyone will enjoy reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’d like to thank the mods for creating this lovely event and for helping out so much. Thank you!

Shout out to @snidgetsafan for beta reading some of my story although she was busy, thanks a lot! Thank you, @demisexualemmaswan for beta reading the rest, and at such short notice too! And many thanks to my artist who made such a beautiful banner for my story!! I absolutely love it, it’s amazing!

“Killian, are you out of your mind?”

Killian, the prince of Camelot, winces at the sheer incredulity in Belle’s voice. In all the years he’s known the lovely librarian, he’s never heard her so much as raise her voice or lose her temper or even sound particularly frustrated.

Until now.

“Belle, I know it sounds insane-” he tries, but she cuts him off abruptly.

“Insane is one word for it. Do you honestly think Liam is going to agree to this plan?”

Killian frowns. “He won’t be agreeing to anything, because I won’t be telling him.”

The war between Snow White and the Evil Queen has been going on for nigh three decades now. Camelot has been aligned with Misthaven and they are against the Queen as well, despite all her efforts to lure them over to her side. Liam, Killian’s brother and the king of Camelot, remained firm in his decision to ally themselves with Misthaven.

Five years ago, the Queen staged an uncalled for, unprovoked attack on Killian and his fiancée, Milah. Killian had lost his hand and Milah, her life. Fueled with rage on the behalf of his brother and his dead fiancée, Liam promptly declared war against the Queen.

This led them to the situation they are in right now.

Liam is bedridden, poisoned by the Queen, and only has a few weeks to live.

None of the best healers and sorcerers in the land could do anything to help Liam. When all of their attempts failed, Killian and Belle began their own research, working desperately to find a way to save him.

While searching through the many texts on magical ailments and cures in the library, Killian has come across a legend about of the most powerful being to ever live:

The Dark One, a mighty magician who has the power to alter the laws of magic itself.

Or so the legend told.

Belle is vehemently against this plan.

“Seeking out dark magic is never a good idea, Killian,” she insists, nervously wringing her hands. “And the Dark Ones are known for their penchant for making deals. Trust me, that is one price you do not want to pay.”

“We’ve run out of options, lass,” Killian says forcefully. “Liam only has a few weeks to live and I don’t plan on sitting around and waiting for him to die.”

“And you think I am?” Belle asks shrilly, and the pure hurt in her voice makes Killian flinch. He knows that Belle and Liam have had feelings for each other for quite a while now, although both are too stubborn to admit it. When Liam was poisoned, Belle was beside herself with grief, spending the few hours she wasn’t slaving in the library with Liam, trying to raise his spirits and hiding her worry from him. “I want to save Liam as much as you do! But if we resort to seeking out the Dark One, we’re liable to be killed and we’re not much good to Liam dead, are we?”

Killian nods slowly. “You’re right,” he says, and Belle almost sighs in relief but his next words throw her for a loop, “That’s why I’m going alone.”

“Killian, you could die!”

“If I’m trying to save my brother, then so be it I’m happy to,” Killian says resolutely. “And if I fail, I have faith that you will find a way to save him instead.”

Belle is quiet for a long minute and Killian wonders if he’ll have to try harder to convince her. But then she speaks, her tone resigned,

“You’ll need supplies for your journey.”

“I’ll pack them up myself,” Killian assures her, inwardly sighing in relief that he doesn’t have to resort to drastic measures. “In the meanwhile, could you please scrounge up any information you can get about the Dark One?”

Belle nods. “That I can do. When will you leave?”

“At night. No one must know about this save for you and me. I suspect that there are spies of the Queen among our court members. We cannot risk any of this getting back to her.”

“Agreed,” Belle says grimly before another thought occurs to her. “What shall I tell Liam?”

Killian shrugs. ‘I’m sure you’ll think of something. The castle of the Dark One, according to the maps I referred to, lies between the borders of Misthaven and Camelot. With luck, I should be back within four days.”

“You’re really doing this,” Belle says, exhaling loudly.

“Aye, that I am.”

“Just…just be careful.”

“Always am,” Killian says, but Belle simply narrows her eyes at him. Relenting with a sigh, he nods.

“I promise. Take care of Liam for me.”

Belle only nods. Killian accepts it, knowing that he’s leaving his brother in good hands.

It’s a two day journey to the Dark One’s castle.

Killian travels through most of the night, stopping to rest for only a few hours before he starts again. By the time he reaches the castle, he is immensely exhausted from the journey; yet triumphant that he has finally made it.

Now the next step is actually confronting the Dark One.

Belle had told him that the previous Dark One, Rumplestiltskin, had been killed ten years earlier. Not much is known about the current Dark One.

They only know that the she is a woman, who has kept to herself for the past decade, rarely coming out of the castle. Killian finds this strange, wondering why a being of such great power would choose to lurk in the shadows, instead of using her power to command nations and make the people of the world bow to her.

According to the texts he’s read, whoever kills the Dark One is doomed to take on the darkness next. Killian wonders if killing the Dark One was an accident, if this woman did not want the power at all and so is hiding away from the rest of the world. He can certainly sympathize if that’s the case. Of course, it then begs the question as to whether she will even help him now.

She has to. Killian does not want to think about what would happen if he lost his brother. He knows tragedy quite intimately, having lost his father to illness seven years prior; as well as his love and hand to the Queen’s Black Knights two years later. He cannot lose his brother. Even if it means resorting to dark magic, he will save him.

Killian enters the castle cautiously, his hand on the hilt of his sword and his prosthetic tucked behind his back, out of habit. It’s a huge, formidable fortress; the doors opening into a large, elaborate room which is covered with layers of dust, books and all manner of trinkets strewn about a large table in the center. In a dark corner, there lie the remains of what might have once been a spinning wheel, but the object is now destroyed beyond recognition.

A flash of gold catches his eye. Killian approaches the table and picks up a dream catcher that perches on the pile of books. A shudder wracks through him and he quickly drops it. He might not have too much experience with dark magic, but he can tell that the dream catcher is absolutely soaked in it.

Belle was right, this is a terrible idea.

But it’s too late to turn back now.

The doors at the back of the room swing open with a bang and Killian spins around, his hand tightening around the hilt of his sword. A woman strides into the room and pauses when she spots him, her eyes narrowing. Killian knows without a doubt, at this moment, that she is the Dark One.

She doesn’t look evil. Her face is hard and her posture stiff but she doesn’t seem menacing, only defensive. Her silvery hair is gathered in a severe bun at the nape of her neck, and she wears a long, sweeping dress of midnight black, a cutlass at her side. Killian takes a hesitant step forward, letting his hand fall from his sword.

“What do you want?” the Dark One asks. She sounds almost bored. Her voice is soft, yet seems to echo in the silence of the castle. Killian stares at her blankly for a moment before he recollects himself.

“My name is Killian. I am the prince of Camelot,” he says, a little surprised at how steady his voice sounds. “I…heard that you are a being of great magical power. I have come to seek your help.”

The Dark One simply watches him, her brow creased. After a long moment, she sighs and turns away.

“Seek help elsewhere. I’m not interested.”

Panic blooms in Killian’s chest.

“No, wait! Please,” She glances back at him, raising a brow at his frantic plea. “It’s my brother, the King. He’s been poisoned. By the Evil Queen,” For some reason, the green of her eyes blackens with anger at the mention of the Queen and her hands curl into fists. “He only has a few weeks to live, and he needs help. None of the sorcerers or healers in my kingdom have been able to help. Please, I’m begging you, help him,” Killian’s voice cracks. “He’s all I have.”

Silence reigns as the Dark One thinks his request over. When she finally speaks, her voice is curiously sympathetic.

“You’re the prince of Camelot, you said?”

Killian nods. “Indeed.”

“Tell me, does a wizard named Merlin reside there?”

He frowns, perturbed by at the strange question. “No, he died many years ago.”

The Dark One lets out a harsh sigh, and then glances to the side, a dark scowl crossing her face. Killian follows her gaze but can see nothing.

“Some of his spell books remain,” he offers. “If that could be of any use to you…”

It’s true that the spell books remain, but they are also treasures of Camelot, treasures that only Liam himself has access to. Killian knows his brother will be furious with him, but it will be worth it.

She looks back at him. “Then let us make…a deal,” She speaks the words almost reluctantly, glancing to her side again. “I’ll come with you to Camelot and help your brother, and you allow me access to Merlin’s spell books.”

“Deal,” Killian says instantly and her lips tug into a slow smirk. She crosses the space between them, the heels of her boots clicking against the floor. Killian swallows and resists the urge to back away. Her very presence radiates power and might, and it dazzles him.

The Dark One snaps her fingers and a large scroll appears, hovering in the air. She hands him a quill, and Killian takes it hesitantly, his fingers brushing against her cool skin.

“Sign on the dotted line,” she says smoothly.

Liam is going to kill me , Killian thinks wryly as he signs. When he draws away, the parchment glows gold and vanishes.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” the Dark One drawls. “Shall we, then?”

“Wait,” Killian stops her. “You haven’t told me your name yet.”

An odd expression flashes across her face and for a moment she looks strangely vulnerable.

“…Emma,” She says at last, slowly, as if she’s not used to saying it. “My name is Emma.”

A beautiful name, Killian thinks and then hastily shakes the thought away. The Dark One, no, Emma strides past him to the entrance and he quickly follows, thinking that she is dangerous; not just for the darkness flowing through her veins but for the strange effect she has on him.

Frankly speaking, Emma thinks this is a terrible idea.

When the Prince of Camelot, Killian, he said his name was, showed up on her doorstep begging for help, Emma’s first instinct was to turn him away. She has no use for random people who come hoping to gain from her powers, nor does she have any desire to use said powers. It’s been ten years since she became the Dark One, and in those ten years, she’d refrained from using her magic as much as possible.

Possible being the keyword.

Dark magic is like a drug. It entices you at every step, luring you in despite your best efforts to stay away. And if you use even a little, even if it’s just a tiny spark to light a candle, that’s it. It’s hopelessly addicting and even the smallest taste leaves you thirsting for more. Even the simple act of conjuring the scroll for Killian to sign had caused an itch under her skin, a terrible urge to use more and more of it.

Emma was born with light magic flowing through her veins, being the product of True Love. The very idea of giving into the darkness she had been cursed with had disgusted her, and she refrained for as long as she could. But in the end it had been too much; the darkness that was always flickering in the corner of her eye tempted her to the point when she eventually gave in, and there was no turning back.

Still, she stubbornly tried to resist. Ignoring the temptations of the darkness as best as she could, she kept from using magic as much as she could. Giving it up altogether was impossible, but resisting and struggling as much as possible… well, that Emma could do.

Once, she was a princess.

Once, she was the beloved of Misthaven, the heiress to the throne, the warrior princess who grew up with a sword in her hand and who joined the fight against the Evil Queen when she was merely eighteen, much to her parents’ protests. The Queen had almost won when she had teamed up with Rumplestilkskin to defeat them, but Emma had had a plan. A rather stupid plan, when she thinks about it now, but a plan, nonetheless.

On the day of the battle, she stole away and to Rumplestiltskin’s castle to find the dagger she knew could control him, thinking that that would be the first step to ending the war.

The dagger could control Rumplestilkskin. That was the extent of her knowledge.

Emma found the dagger, rode back to the battlefield to see Rumplestilkskin standing over the broken, battered body of her little brother, Leo. She had snapped.

Giving into pure rage and hatred, she had driven the dagger through his chest. As she did, Leo’s body vanished in a wisp of smoke, Emma realizing too late that his death was a trick and her vengeance was for nothing. However, her revelation was too late and she was consumed by the darkness.

Now, she is the Dark One.

Even now, she has futile dreams of one day defeating the darkness, of vanquishing it for good and going home. For she cannot return as she is now, cannot face her parents as the Dark One, cannot bear to see the horror and disgust that will surely be there in their faces when they lay their eyes on her. The darkness taunts her, telling her that it is a pipe dream, that what she wants can never be accomplished, that she should simply give up.

But Emma is nothing if not stubborn.

Through the numerous texts and books in the castle, she learned that Camelot is the place where the darkness was born and that the wizard Merlin was the only one who was ever thought to be capable of defeating it.

If Camelot is the place where the darkness was born, then surely it can be the place where it can be defeated.

And having access to Merlin’s spell books will make it all the easier.

Hence her reason for agreeing to Killian’s request.

(And perhaps she sympathizes with him because she knows what it’s like to lose a loved one to the Evil Queen. Emma has suffered much at the Queen’s hands, both directly and indirectly and she has no desire to see another suffer as well.)

It’s still a terrible idea, though.

“We’ll be traveling through the woods,” Killian says, breaking her out of her thoughts. “It’s easier than traveling through the towns. The Queen’s spies are all over the place and I’d rather not have her acquainted with my plans.”

“Fine by me,” Emma says shortly. She definitely prefers the woods to the towns. It’s been almost a decade since she has been in the company of actual, breathing human beings who didn’t approach her for reasons beyond wanting her power, and getting used to being around one person is hard enough, let alone towns and villages of them.

Though she’ll probably have to get used to it pretty quick once they arrive in Camelot.

This is really a terrible idea , Emma thinks with a stifled groan.

She glances at the man walking beside her curiously. Unlike most people who had dared to approach her, he had been quite calm and fearless when he had asked for her help. At first glance, one wouldn’t think that he’s a prince. The clothes he wears are quite plain - although that may be more out of a desire to go unnoticed than anything else and he doesn’t seem to have the stuck-up, snobbish nature that most royals have.

Of course, as a former princess herself (because Emma refuses to think of herself as a princess anymore, not after she practically abandoned her kingdom.) Emma really doesn’t have much room to talk. Her parents had always taught her to be kind and respectful to her subordinates, but the other royals at court didn’t always share their views.

Emma has always been good at reading people, a skill that seems to have been sharpened when she became the Dark One. However, she can’t quite get a read on Killian. He seems perfectly normal at first glance, but there are shadows in his eyes and a quiet tension in his shoulders as if he carries the weight of the world upon them. Again, Emma can’t help but sympathize.

“Why do you want Merlin’s spell books?”

Emma looks up at the question to see Killian studying her curiously as they walk through the woods. “You are the Dark One and you have plenty of magic at your disposal. Why would you need any more?”

“Light and dark magic are quite different,” Emma replies. “This has to do with, let’s say…a personal project of mine.”

“You could easily tear apart Camelot and take the books by force, if you wanted to,” Killian points out. “Why make a deal?”

“I may be the Dark One, but I still have honor,” Emma says sharply and he has the grace to look abashed at her words. “I wouldn’t simply hurt innocents to get what I want.”

“My apologies,” Killian says quietly. “I didn’t mean to assume, I just…haven’t had very good experiences with people of your kind.”

“Welcome to the club,” Emma says wryly. Killian gives her a long look before speaking again.

“Regina…the Evil Queen…what did she do to you?”

Emma stiffens at his question. “What makes you think she did anything?”

“When I mentioned her before, you grew angry,” Killian says and Emma reels, stunned at his perception. “Surely she did something to incur your wrath?”

Emma looks away, unwilling to answer. Killian catches on, thankfully and doesn’t push the issue.

They continue to travel in silence.

Whatever Killian had expected the Dark One to be like, it certainly wasn’t this .

Frankly, his mind had conjured up all sorts of terrifying images of monsters and demons cloaked in darkness with insincere voices and harsh deals. Instead, he has found a guarded, somber woman with haunted eyes and clenched fists. She seems to have a vendetta for some reason against the Evil Queen and Killian finds that he can hardly blame her for that.

The Queen has stolen from him, too.

Of course, Emma doesn’t tell him why she hates the Queen. Which is understandable, of course-she obviously isn’t the type who trusts easily or spills her secrets in the blink of an eye.

They trudge through the woods in silence and Killian stops only at sundown.

“Emma?” He ventures and she whips around to look at him, her eyes widening in shock, and Killian is confused for a moment before he realizes that he used her name for the first time. His heart pangs with sympathy, and he wonders just how long it has been since anyone called her by name.

“What is it?” Emma asks after a beat, a strange, soft note in her voice that sends a shiver down his spine. Trying to ignore the feeling, he continues.

“We should stop for the night and get some rest. We can continue at dawn.”

“Oh…right, of course.”

Killian frowns at the pause; it’s as if she never even considered the fact that they might have to rest at one point. Perhaps she doesn’t tire easily? Or pushes herself too hard? She certainly seems like the type.

Why does he care, anyway?

They find an empty clearing, and Killian offers his satchel to Emma, telling her to pick freely from his stash of food while he starts a fire. Soon enough, they are sitting on opposite sides of the camp, eating some of the meat pasties from Killian’s stash, an awkward silence hanging between them.

After his meal, Killian pulls out his flask and offers it to her, hoping to break the strained quiet. “Rum?”

Emma quirks an eyebrow, but accepts it anyway. “Are you sure you’re a prince and not a pirate?” she asks dryly and Killian chuckles.

“Perhaps I’m a bit of both.” He had never been an orthodox prince anyway, always preferring the taverns and the open seas to his castle. Before Father’s death, he’d been lax in his duties, serving as a great source of frustration for Father and Liam. Killian had sobered up quite a bit after his father’s sudden death, but it wasn’t until after losing Milah that he threw himself into his princely duties; especially duties that pertained to winning the war against the Queen. He’d once thirsted for outright vengeance, but Liam and Belle had talked him down, serving as voices of reason to break through the anger and sorrow that had surrounded him.

“We should get to bed,” Killian says presently. “We need to be well rested if we are to leave at dawn.”

“Sleep,” Emma tells him, her voice quiet. “I’ll keep watch.”

Killian opens his mouth to protest-they are a quite a way from the villages within the domain of the Queen, and it would be ungentlemanly on his part to let her keep watch while he rests - but something in her face makes him stop, and he instead agrees reluctantly.

“If you’re certain.”

She gives him a terse nod and he obeys her wishes, lying down on his side with his back to her before he closes his eyes.

Sleep does not come easily to him that night. Whenever Killian turns, subtly, to glance at Emma, he finds her curled up under a tree, fiddling with an unfinished dream catcher, her movements fevered and hasty as she hurries to complete it. Her eyes are almost black with the shadows that lurk in them and her fingers tremble from time to time, causing the twine she’s weaving to slip out of her hand, eliciting a curse from her before she returns to her task.

The flames have burned down to mere embers by the time Killian slips into a restless slumber, full of dream catchers and Milah’s laughing eyes and darkness swallowed by fire.

The nights are really the worst, Emma reflects, as the sky blushes pink with the early light of dawn. If there’s one thing she misses about being mortal, it is sleep. It has been a decade since she has slept, or even felt that physical need to sleep, for that matter. She has been spending the nights by weaving dream catchers and immersing herself in memories of the past, in hopes of chasing away that darkness that always lurks by her side.

It never works.

With a sigh, Emma tucks the finished dream catcher away into a pocket of her dress and grimaces at the sight of her fingers, rubbed raw from the twine she had been weaving all night. The marks will disappear soon, but Emma hates the thought of Killian noticing and asking her about it; as he undoubtedly will.

Emma absently rubs at the marks on her hands, flinching when the darkness cackles.

Go on, dearie, vanish them away. After all, you don’t want him to see you for what you truly are: a monster.

Shut up, Emma thinks savagely, magic sparking under her skin with the force of her anger.

As if on cue, Killian stirs and Emma draws back her magic, breathing in deeply as she tries to calm herself.

He sits up and rubs the sleep from his eyes and gives her a lopsided smile. “Good morning, love.”

Emma raises a brow at the endearment and says nothing, but warmth builds in her chest.

The darkness hisses in disapproval, and retreats.

Killian takes an apple out of his satchel and offers it to Emma, but she declines, wrinkling her nose. Ten years as an immortal being, and she still isn’t quite comfortable around apples.

Well, given her family history, it’s understandable.

Killian looks puzzled at her aversion, but lets it go, taking a bite out of the apple.

“Why did you not sleep last night?” he asks casually, and Emma sighs, having expected him to ask.

“Dark Ones don’t sleep,” she replies shortly and rises, brushing leaves off her dress. “We should get a move on.”

“As you wish.”

While they continue travelling, Killian keeps up a light stream of conversation, Emma’s replies and comments are few and far in between, but she enjoys listening to him speak. It’s been a long time since she was given the comfort of good company, and even the small talk that the prince makes is welcome.

Killian speaks of his brother often, clear admiration and love in his voice when he does. Through what he tells her of him, Emma finds herself respecting Liam, he sounds like a good and honorable man. Killian does not say why Camelot is at war with the Evil Queen, however, a shadow crossing his face at the very mention of it. Emma doesn’t ask, knowing from experience that some things are just too painful to talk about.

The pleasant time comes to an end soon, as the sound of heavy footsteps clamoring through the forest makes them pause and look at each other in dismay.

“Black Knights,” Killian says grimly and they both draw their swords.

There are about a dozen of them and the leader gives Killian an ugly smirk. “Well, if it isn’t the Prince of Camelot. Far from home, aren’t you? And who is your…companion?”

He leers at Emma and she gives him a smile that is all teeth and no humor. Killian remains defiantly silent, his knuckles turning white as he grips his sword tighter.

The leader nods at the other knights. “Kill them.”

The knights may be well trained, but they are no match for them. Killian is a skilled swordsman, Emma notices, disarming the first who charges at him and running the second through. Emma, on the other hand, steadfastly ignores the darkness that whispers to her, tempting her to use her magic to kill them all and instead wields her cutlass to either disarm or wound them so they are unable to get up. She only kills the ones who arm persistent; shuddering as every drop of blood spilled adds another black patch to her already darkened heart.

Emma has killed before, of course. Not too long after she became the Dark One, Black Knights of the Queen came to her castle, looking for answers about what had happened to Rumplestiltskin. When they found that the new Dark One was actually the Princess of Misthaven, they had laughed cruelly, taunting her even as she tried to ignore them.

“The Crown Princess has gone dark,” One of them taunted. “I wonder how the people of Misthaven would react to this. They would surely turn on Snow White and Prince Charming, and the Queen would win.”

Emma snapped.

Before she knew it, she was striding across the expanse of floor to him and he got little warning before she plunged her hand into his chest and took a hold of his heart. He let out a cry of pain and his fellow knights gasped in fear.

Emma ripped her hand out, clutching the beating organ as the knight gripped at his chest, staring at her with fearful eyes.

‘Go ahead,’ the darkness whispered. ‘Crush it.’

“No,” Emma mumbled blankly, gazing down at the heart, her hand trembling. “I can’t.”

‘Yes, you can,’ the darkness hissed. ‘He deserves it. He deserves to die.’

Emma’s grip around the heart tightened, and the knight let out a pained gasp as he collapsed to the floor, begging for mercy. She ignored him, her gaze focused on the darkness that hovered at her side, encouraging her.

‘If you let him live-let them live, they will tell the kingdom about what happened to you. They will turn on your parents and the Evil Queen will have the opportunity to kill them. Is that what you want?’

“No!” Emma gasped out, her voice tortured. “I can’t let them die!”

‘Then do it. Crush his heart.’

“If I kill him, I will become just like him. Like Regina.”

‘It’s not murder, dearie, it’s an execution,’ the darkness tempted. ‘Think about the many he must have killed while serving the Queen. It’s what he deserves.’

“You deserve to die,” Emma told the knight, mindlessly parroting the darkness’ words as she squeezed the heart tighter. The knight screamed in pain and rasped out broken pleas.

“Mercy, please! I’ll do anything-“

He abruptly cut off as the life faded from him and his body hit the floor. Emma stood still, gazing at the dust seeping from between her fingers.

The other knights made to move, to run away. Emma spun around, her hardened gaze freezing them in place.

‘Don’t show them any mercy,’ the darkness said. ‘Kill them.’

Emma raised her hand and twisted it. Suddenly, the knights were clutching at their necks, struggling for air as an unseen pressure curbed any of their attempts to draw in breath. Emma held it up for a few minutes until they collapsed to the floor, dead.

‘Very good, dearie,’ the darkness said, before promptly vanishing.

The dull crimson haze that had covered Emma’s vision disappeared as well and she gasped, staring at the bodies that lay around her in horror.

“No. No! What have I done?!”

Her knees weakened, and she sank to the ground, drawing in harsh, labored breaths. “No….” She muttered, as darkness engulfed her. When it vanished, the gold of her hair had faded to silver, her skin had become unnaturally pale and the armor and breeches she’d worn before had turned to a leathery costume of stark black.

At that moment, Emma knew (and the darkness never failed to reassure her of it) that there was no going back.

Killian lets out a sharp hiss of pain, rousing Emma from her memories, and she whips around to see him gingerly brushing his prosthetic across his right shoulder, blood seeping through the thin material of his shirt. The knight who injured him raises his sword, preparing to lop off his head and an urgent bolt of panic rushes through Emma. She hastily waves her hand, and the knight flies into a tree and promptly falls unconscious.

The other guards, stunned by Emma’s display of magic, take to their heels and flee.

Killian sinks down onto a log and with a bit of struggle, manages to lift the sleeve of his shirt with his prosthetic, inspecting the wound with a grimace. Emma hovers awkwardly. The wound isn’t too deep, but it looks nasty. And painful.

“I could, uh, heal it. If you want,” Emma says hesitantly. Killian glances up at her, looking rather surprised at the offer, and shakes his head.

“There’s no need, love. I…noticed that you were rather averse to using your magic during the fight. I don’t want you to needlessly use it on my behalf.”

Emma’s heart does a little flip in her chest, so startled and touched is she at his perception. She sits down next to him and offers him a genuine smile.

“It’s no problem. Really.”

Killian’s cheeks tinge crimson and he ducks his head shyly, holding out his arm. Emma takes his hand in hers, pretending not to notice the shiver that wracks through his body at the contact. She pauses momentarily, shutting her eyes. She knows she’s already promised to heal Killian’s brother, but this, somehow, is different. It shouldn’t be, really. But it is, and the thought of messing it up frightens her far more than the thought of failing to heal his brother does.

“It’s alright,” Killian murmurs gently and Emma opens her eyes in shock. He smiles up at her gently. “I trust you.”

Emma’s heart stutters painfully in her chest at his words and without another thought, the magic flows through her body. Killian lets out a gasp as the wound closes smoothly, not even leaving a scar. Emma smiles in triumph, withdrawing her hand.

“Thank you,” Killian says gratefully. Emma gives him a short, jerky nod, her fingers still tingling from where she touched him (and not from the magic) and glances down at his arm, her attention diverted by the crimson tattoo that decorates it.

“Who’s Milah, on the tattoo?”

The warmth in Killian’s eyes vanishes, and he quickly stands, yanking down the sleeve of his shirt to cover the tattoo. “No one,” He says quietly, sheathing his sword and slinging his bag over his shoulder. Emma stands as well, realizing his aversion to discussing the topic.

“We’d better get a move on,” Killian continues, avoiding her gaze. “If we move fast, any knights that are still around won’t be able to catch up.”

“Right, let’s go.”

When night falls, they are only a few hours away from Camelot. They stop and set up camp as they did the night before, and Killian glances at Emma as he lights the fire.

She has not spoken since he dismissed her question about the tattoo. Killian sighs as he thinks of it…the knowledge of what had happened five years ago is so common in Camelot that no one has questioned him about it in a long while. Emma’s question came as a shock, and his first instinct was to shut her down completely, the wound left by Milah’s passing still raw and bleeding; even the loss of his hand not comparing to it.

Killian looks at Emma again. He fears that he might have offended her by his silence on the topic. He’s not sure why he cares about her opinion of him so much. It’s true that she’s the key to saving his brother, but it’s much more than that. She’s not the cold, ruthless demon he had pictured in his mind, but instead a rather complex woman; a witch who avoids using her magic, who remains awake during the night and weaves dream catchers. She healed his wound like it was nothing, and her touch had sent flames shooting up his arm. She carries the weight of the world upon her shoulders and her eyes are full of old pain and buried hopes.

“Emma?” He begins tentatively and she looks over at him, raising her eyebrows in silent question. “I apologize for being short with you earlier, it’s just that-“

“It’s alright,” Emma interjects. “I brought up a painful topic. I apologize for that.”

“How do you know it’s painful?” Killian asks defensively. Emma smiles wryly.

“You’re something of an open book,” She says simply. “And it takes one to know one.”

“You lost someone?”

Emma nods. “A lot of someones, actually,” She says. Killian’s heart pangs in sympathy.

“Milah was my fiancée,” He begins haltingly. “She was killed by the Queen’s black knights,” Killian holds up his prosthetic. “It’s how I got this.”

He expects to see pity in her face, but finds nothing but a quiet understanding. “I’m sorry,” Emma says sincerely.

They remain in companionable silence, after that, the only sounds being the crackling of the fire and the occasional snapping of a twig. It feels like they are closer, somehow, as if at least one of the many walls that stand between them has been broken down. Killian finds himself drifting off soon, and the last thing he hears is Emma’s whispered ‘goodnight’ before he falls into a deep slumber.

Emma does not weave her dream catchers that night.

Instead, she thinks of things she hasn’t allowed herself to ponder for a long time. She thinks of the way her mother’s brow crinkled every time she laughed, of how her father lovingly cradled the back of her head every time he hugged her and of the way she and Leo would run around the castle, staging mock sword fights and driving the staff to near distraction.

She thinks of Killian and the gentleness of his smile when he told her he trusted her.

She thinks of the way using her magic had felt right , for once, when she wielded it to vanish away Killian’s wound.

And for once, the darkness remains silent.

The next day, they reach Camelot by noon.

Emma swallows apprehensively at the large number of guards and courtiers waiting at the gates to greet them, or rather, to greet Killian.

Killian, as if sensing her discomfort, slips his hand into hers and squeezes reassuringly. Emma glances up at him sharply, his touch sending heat through her body.

Killian retracts his hand and gives her a last smile; just as a dark haired woman comes running out of the gates and towards them.

“Killian!” She hugs him tightly, and Emma takes a step back, irrational jealousy flaring in her gut. Is she his lover? Or his wife, perhaps? He’d never mentioned having one, though.

“ Belle ,” Killian grunts. “I can’t breathe, lass.”

The woman, Belle, draws away slightly and sniffs. “I was worried,” she says. “Can you blame me?”

Belle glances past Killian at Emma and her eyes widen. “Is that-“

Killian releases her and nods. “Aye. Emma-” he turns to her. “This is Belle, the castle’s librarian. Belle, Emma.”

“You succeeded,” Belle breathes, a large grin lighting up her face.

“Did you doubt I would?” Killian teases and then his eyes grow serious. “How’s Liam?”

“Not good,” Belle says somberly. “He’s finding it hard to even stand, now. And he’s worried about you.”

Killian rolls his eyes. “Of course he is,” He mutters, but there’s affection in his voice. “Bloody idiot won’t even worry about himself. Well, there’s no time to waste,” he nods to Emma. “Shall we?”

“Of course.”

Belle looks nervous. “Uh, maybe I should talk to him first. He’s not going to be happy that you, uh-” She glances hesitantly at Emma.

“Brought the Dark One into his home?” Emma finishes for her, dryly, and Belle flinches, as if waiting for Emma to blow up in her face. When she does nothing of the sort, Belle looks visibly relieved and leads them into the castle.

“Wait here,” she tells them when they stop outside the king’s chambers and slips into the room, shutting the door behind her.

Emma and Killian wait in awkward silence and she catches him wincing when the sound of raised voices reach their ears. They hear Belle’s voice, soft and pleading; and then a noise of assent before Belle exits the room, looking harried.

“I take it my brother isn’t exactly an ideal patient?” Killian asks with a forced grin. Belle looks unamused.

“He wants to talk to you,” She informs him and Killian nods, glancing back at Emma.

“Go ahead,” Emma tells him. “I’ll be fine.”

Killian smiles and Belle narrows her eyes, looking back and forth between them sharply. Emma ignores her curious gaze, but feels heat creeping up her neck.

Killian casts her one final glance before entering the room.

“Hello, Liam,” Killian greets his brother with forced levity, his heart sinking at the sight of Liam’s condition. His brother is gaunt and pale, black veins from the poison creeping up his arms.

“What the bloody hell is wrong with you?”

Well, at least it seems like Liam still has his temper.

“Liam-” Killian begins, but is abruptly interrupted.

“You brought the Dark One into our castle?”

Liam speaks the words with disgust and Killian feels a sharp jolt of anger rush through him. He forces it down, trying to maintain his calm.

“It’s the only way to save you.”

Liam scoffs and Killian flinches at the harsh sound. “By resorting to dark magic? Aye, sounds like a wonderful plan.”

“I’d rather use dark magic than watch you die,” Killian snaps defiantly and Liam’s eyes flash.

“After all that we’ve suffered-“ He begins lowly. “After all that you’ve suffered because of dark magic-shouldn’t you be disgusted at the very idea of seeking it out for help?”

“Any magic that could be used to save your life could never be dark,” Killian says passionately and Liam seems to soften slightly at that. But the next moment, he’s protesting again.

“And the Dark One , at that, Killian…do you know how dangerous that is? He could have killed you.”

“She, actually.”

“What?”

“The Dark One is a woman.”

Liam raises his eyebrows at that, but continues. “Regardless, how do we know that we can trust her?”

“You can trust me ,” Killian says steadily. “You can trust me that she’s not lying, that she really is ready to help you.”

Liam regards him in silence for a long moment and then sighs in relent. “Very well, you can send her in.”

Killian nods, relieved, but before he can call Emma in, Liam stops him. “Wait. I know that the Dark One makes deals. What did you promise her in return?”

Killian shifts uncomfortably, reaching up to scratch behind his ear. “Ah…about that…”

“Spit it out, Killian.”

“I promised her access to Merlin’s spell books.”

“You did what ?!”

“Alright, I’m calling her in,” Killian says quickly, ignoring Liam’s outraged protests. He hurries to the door to open it and ushers Emma in, smiling weakly when she raises a brow at him.

“Good to see you’re still alive. I heard shouting.”

“Right as rain, love,” Killian promises, and over Emma’s shoulder, sees Belle’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline. “Come on in,” He mumbles hastily, blushing.

Emma notices, and smirks at his embarrassment before sweeping past him into the room.

Liam pushes himself up on his pillows and tries to look as intimidating as possible, but Emma doesn’t look the least bit fazed by the effect.

“Hello,” She says softly. “My name is Emma, I’m-“

“I know who you are, Dark One ,” Liam says tersely and Killian groans, wanting to punch his brother. Emma looks unaffected.

“I was going to say that I’m here to save your sorry ass,” Emma says calmly, and next to Killian, Belle chokes. “But it’s nice to see how grateful you are.”

Liam goes red at the chastisement and Killian struggles not to laugh, reflecting that Emma really doesn’t seem to give a damn about whether they’re royalty or not. Then again, she is the Dark One; she has no reason to be intimidated by them when she could easily snap their necks in the fraction of a second.

For some reason, that really doesn’t bother him at all.

“My apologies,” Liam mutters, and Emma makes a noise of dismissal, moving closer to the bed. She observes his condition in silence, the inky veins travelling up from his arm, disappearing into the sleeve of his shirt. The veins on his chest are obscured by his clothing, but can be seen inching up from the collar of his shirt, dangerously close to reaching his face.

Emma releases a deep breath. “Alright,” she murmurs. She positions her hand over Liam’s chest, slowly rotating it, stretching and motioning her fingers as if to draw something out. Emma’s arm shimmers a bright gold and Killian stares, transfixed, unable to look away.

This may be dark magic, but it also may be hands down the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Beside Killian, Belle squeezes her eyes shut, clasping her hands together; as if sending up a silent prayer.

Liam’s body glows, and a ripple of magic pulses through the room, nearly knocking Killian and Belle off their feet. Liam gasps in shock as the veins marring his skin vanish, the color returning to his cheeks and the strength to his limbs.

Killian sags in relief and before he can even say or do anything, Belle rushes past him to the bed, practically collapsing on it as she flings her arms around Liam. His eyes widen in pleasure, and he draws her closer, pressing a kiss to her head.

Emma backs away from them, looking visibly exhausted. Killian lays a tentative hand on her shoulder, smiling at her gratefully.

“Thank you, Emma.”

“No problem,” Emma says brusquely, but her pale face flushes, her mouth curving into a pleased smile.

Killian feels the oddest urge to kiss that smile from her lips.

Coughing, he hastily backs away, just in time as Liam and Belle part from their embrace.

Liam stands up and offers Emma a courteous smile. “I owe you my life, milady.”

“There’s the gratitude,” Emma quips and Liam has the grace to look abashed. “It’s no big deal,” She continues. “As long as your brother there follows up on our deal, of course,” She gives Killian a pointed stare.

Belle looks confused. “Wait, what deal?”

“Access to Merlin’s spell books in exchange for the King’s recovery,” Emma says breezily and Killian shifts uncomfortably under Belle’s incredulous stare. “That’s the deal we made.”

“I’ll retrieve the spell books for you,” Liam says briskly. “Belle, would you escort Lady Emma to the library? Killian, you should accompany them.”

Killian sees Emma’s lips twitch into a knowing smile, clearly understanding that Liam wants him to go along for Belle’s safety. Thankfully, Emma doesn’t seem insulted by Liam’s lack of trust in her, only amused.

Before they leave, Liam strides up to Killian and hugs him. “Thank you, little brother,” he murmurs. “I was right to trust your judgment.”

“ Younger brother,” Killian corrects him, but he can’t hold back his delighted smile.

“It’s quite the collection you have here,” Emma remarks when they step into the castle’s expansive library. “Do you manage this all by yourself?”

The question is directed to Belle, who flushes.

“I have help, of course,” She stammers, still clearly intimidated by Emma. “But mostly, yes.”

Emma hums in reply. The library in the castle of the Dark One was possibly as expansive as this one, but that had more of texts concerning dark magic and ancient spells. Most of the books had been dangerous, even; the spells written in them could be blown off the page and towards a target. The library itself had been dark, musty and unorganized; and the airy, bright and neat room in this castle is a stark contrast to it.

Belle goes to arrange something at the counter, and Emma and Killian find a table at the back and settle down.

“So,” Emma begins casually. “How long has Camelot been at war with the Evil Queen?”

“About five years, now,” Killian replies. “Why?”

“Just curious,” Emma mumbles, picking at the sleeve of her dress. Killian clearly doesn’t buy it, and opens his mouth to question her further, but is interrupted as Liam appears with the spell books. Emma’s eyes light up at the sight of them. There are only a couple of them, but they could be the first step to finally defeating the darkness.

The darkness cackles in amusement. Quite naïve of you, dearie , it sneers. Haven’t you learnt by now? The darkness cannot be vanquished; you’re wasting your time with this little endeavor. Your time could be spent in a better way, like taking revenge on the Queen for all that she has done.

Emma firmly ignores the darkness, clenching her fists under the table in an attempt to curb the prickling under her skin.

“These are all of them,” Liam says, setting them down on the table. “But it’s getting quite late. I asked the servants to prepare a room for you, so perhaps you could rest for the night instead.”

“Thank you,” Emma says, deciding against mentioning that she really doesn’t need rest. “That’s very kind of you.”

“You’re welcome,” Liam says and turns to Killian. “There’s a Council Meeting. Your presence is required.”

“I just got back,” Killian protests but Liam just gives him a stern, no-nonsense look and he sighs and acquiesces, rising to his feet.

“I’ll see you later,” He tells Emma with a rueful smile and she nods, ignoring Liam’s suspicious frown.

The room that has been prepared for Emma is large spacious, a huge, four poster bed by the window as well as a desk, a vanity and a wardrobe. It’s not unlike Emma’s own bedroom back when she used to be a princess, and for a minute, she aches with homesickness, wishing for nothing but to go back to those simpler times.

The wardrobe has been furnished with clothes as well, most of them beautiful dresses of bright colors, ranging from cotton to satin. Emma ignores them completely, finding a grey silk nightgown and putting it on. She has no intention of sleeping, of course, but it’s far more comfortable than her black dress.

Emma sits at the desk with one of Merlin’s spell books open, a roll of parchment next to it. This particular book is in a foreign language, but thankfully, during her time as the Dark One, she dedicated a lot of her time to learning new languages. This one is a bit trickier than most, but Emma sets her quill to the parchment determinedly, ready to do whatever it takes to get some answers.

As the hours pass, the light dims and the shadows lengthen. Just as Emma flicks her wrist to light the lamps in her room, there’s a knock on her door. She rolls up the parchment and tucks into the book before going to the door to open it.

It’s Killian.

“Good evening,” he greets. “I just wanted to see if everything’s alright with your room.”

“Its fine,” Emma assures him. “Your brother is very kind,” Killian looks a bit awkward, standing in the doorway, and she steps aside. “Would you like to come in?”

Killian looks startled. “I’m not sure that would be appropriate.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “I’m not inviting you in for anything inappropriate, just so we can talk more comfortably.”

Killian gives her rakish grin, though the effect of it is lessened by his flushed face. “I wouldn’t object to….more pleasurable activities, milady.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Emma says dryly although she is rather surprised that he even tried to flirt with her. He’s never made an advance before. Still, it must be easier now that he doesn’t have the threat of his brother’s death hanging over him. “Come on in.”

They sit side by side on the huge bed and talk about many things and Killian asks her how the progress with the book is coming along.

“Slowly,” Emma says. “But I know I’ll get through soon.”

“Why do you want those books?” Killian asks. It’s not the first time he’s asked her this and Emma isn’t surprised, knowing her never bought her lies before. Still, she doesn’t tell him the truth.

The Dark One lies, the Dark One tricks.

“Why every great wizard does,” She says offhandedly. “To gain more power.”

“You don’t even like using your power,” Killian points out.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be using it to level your kingdom,” Emma says acidly, her temper getting the best of her. Killian looks taken aback.

“I know you wouldn’t do that,” He speaks the words which so much certainty that it makes her heart ache. Emma ducks her head, feeling guilty.

“Sorry,” she mumbles. Killian waves it away.

“S’alright, Emma.”

He lingers a bit more than is strictly necessary, talking about such mundane things that Emma wonders if he’s doing it on purpose to spend more time with her. Then she shoots the idea down, not wanting to explore that line of thought now. Or ever.

Killian chuckles, dragging Emma out her musings and she looks at him inquiringly. “What?”

“Nothing,” He says with a grin. “I was just thinking that if Liam knew I were here, he’d certainly kill me.”

Emma frowns. “Why?”

“Well, it’s not very gentlemanly to be in a lady’s quarters at night.”

Emma snorts. “Aren’t you the type of prince who prefers the taverns and towns over the comfort of his own castle?” She’d know. She was the same.

“A rake I may be, but I still believe in good form,” Killian insists. ���And as for a lady such as yourself-“

Emma cuts him off. “I’m not a lady,” She says shortly. “I’m the Dark One.”

“You may be the Dark One, but you are still a woman,” Killian murmurs, his eyes sweeping over her form in a manner that leaves her pulse racing. “And a breathtakingly beautiful woman, at that.”

Emma swallows, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks. Suddenly the large, spacious room feels far too small, the respectable space they had put between them suddenly not enough. She searches his eyes for the lie, but finds nothing but sincerity.

Her eyes flicker to his mouth, then, and the irrational urge to haul him into a kiss startles her out of her daze.

“I think it’s time you go,” Emma breathes, curling her hands into fists so she doesn’t give into the temptation of touching him. Killian nods slowly, seemingly as dazed as she is.

“Right. Of course.” He rises and holds her gaze for a long moment before giving her a short bow. “Goodnight, milady.”

Killian leaves the room quickly and Emma allows herself to collapse on the bed, drawing in her breaths harshly.

What the hell had just happened?

When Killian is done with his duties the next day, he goes straight to the library to see Emma. Belle barely acknowledges him when he enters, practically buried in a pile of books.

He finds Emma at the back, writing on a parchment while referring the books scattered on the table. Killian sits down from across her, waiting patiently for her to finish.

Finally, Emma sets down her quill and looks at him expectantly. “What?”

“Good morning to you too, Emma,” Killian chuckles, a little relieved to see that she doesn’t seem to be bothered in the least about the moment they had shared the night before.

Looking back on it, Killian honestly doesn’t know what he was thinking. Going into her rooms in the first place had been a bad idea. Calling her beautiful an almost kissing her, for Killian is sure that if she had not asked him to leave he would have definitely kissed her-was an even worse idea.

But Emma had looked so relaxed, the nightgown she wore giving her a younger, girlish appearance, that Killian had let any rational thought fly out of the window.

“Good morning,” Emma replies. “Now then, what did you want?”

“As charming as ever, I see,” Killian teases. Emma actually laughs, as if enjoying an inside joke, and the sound is like music to Killian’s ears. “I simply wanted the pleasure of your company.”

“Don’t you have Council Meetings and princely duties?”

“Done,” Killian gives her a mock pout. “Are you truly that eager to get rid of me?”

Emma huffs, looking amused. “Fine, you can stay. Just don’t disturb me.”

“As you wish, milady.”

Killian busies himself with an administrative text, but ends up not paying much attention to it; constantly distracted by the curve of Emma’s jaw, the way she frowns in frustration upon encountering something particularly trying, the few strands of hair that slip out of her normally immaculate bun when she rakes her fingers through it in frustration.

Bloody hell, Killian thinks, forcing his gaze away from her and back to his book. I’ve got to stop this.

Emma sets down her quill after a while, rubbing at her tired eyes with a groan.

“Alright, love?” Killian asks in concern, the text forgotten.

“Yeah…just…this isn’t exactly easy,” Emma sighs. “I’m getting there, but…..” she rotates her neck, wincing at the tension.

Before Killian can think twice, he gets up and moves to stand behind her. Emma twists in her seat to look at him.

“What are you doing?”

“I thought I’d help you relax,” Killian murmurs. The dress she’s wearing today exposes her back and shoulders and when Killian ghosts his palm over the bare skin, Emma stiffens momentarily at the contact.

“Is this okay?” Killian asks tentatively. Emma hesitates for a moment and nods.

Encouraged by her assent, Killian settles his hand at the base of her neck and begins to gently knead at the muscles, slowly easing out the knots. Emma lets her head fall back with a soft groan of approval. Killian freezes at the sound, heat rushing to his cheeks, but continues with his task, forcing himself not to react to the little sounds she makes.

Killian rubs at her shoulders next, massaging until he feels all the tension seep out. He then moves to gently toy with her hair, twisting and weaving the strands that have escaped her up do.

He should move away. He really should, it’s probably the gentlemanly thing to do, but Killian doesn’t and Emma doesn’t tell him to, either, her eyes closed in content.

She is like a siren, Killian thinks, rousing feelings and desires that he has not felt in a long time, causing his broken heart to beat again.

He wants to kiss her, right at the spot where her pulse flutters in her neck, to map out the freckles dotting her skin with his lips and teeth, to draw out those intoxicating sounds from her again and again.

Killian lets out a barely audible groan at his own thoughts. What is this woman-this beautiful, mysterious woman-doing to him? He hasn’t felt such a swift, powerful attraction to anyone in so long, no, not since Milah-

Milah.

The reminder of his lost love is like a swift punch to the gut. Killian steps back from Emma like he’s been burned, eliciting a small noise of confusion from her as she turns to look at him.

“I-I’m sorry,” Killian gasps out, his mind whirling, the very thought of Milah sending flaming agony and guilt through his veins. “I-I have to go.”

Before Emma can say a word, Killian turns and strides out of the library.

Emma knows that she has been starved of physical affection for a long time, but this is just insane.

As she slowly got to know Killian over the past few days, it quickly became obvious that he was a very physically affectionate person, casual with his touches.

Every touch sets her off, causing an intense buzz in her veins. His touch shouldn’t affect her this much, but it does, heat flaring in her stomach at the slightest brush of skin against skin. And as for Killian’s gentle way of easing the tension from her shoulders, it had left her positively addicted. Every rational part of Emma’s brain screamed at her to get away, but she was helpless to move. Killian might be a mere mortal, but he has still bested her.

But then Killian had sharply pulled away, leaving the library with stammered apologies. Emma sits at her table quietly, her work abandoned as she tries to figure out the reason for his hasty departure.

He probably came to his senses, dearie, the darkness taunts. He must’ve finally realized that it’s the Dark One he’s dallying with, not a normal woman.

“He doesn’t think that,” Emma mutters aloud, digging her nails into her palm until she draws blood. The wounds vanish instantly, but the sting of the act remains. Then Killian’s words from the previous night come rushing back to her.

“You may be the Dark One, but you’re still a woman.”

He wasn’t lying….was he? Emma’s ability to detect lies has always been uncanny, since long before she became the Dark One, but her emotions always tend to cloud her judgment.

They were merely pretty words, the darkness says immediately. Don’t believe a thing of what he says. You know better than that. Everybody lies. Everybody leaves. There’s no use getting attached.

The darkness is probably right, Emma thinks.

Everybody leaves. Everything good vanishes.

Killian is no exception.

Knowing she won’t get any more work done, not now, Emma gathers up her notes and storms out of the library, ignoring all the fascinated courtiers and maidservants who stop to gaze at her as she passes them by. She sighs in relief when she reaches the solitude of her chambers, slamming the door shut.

Emma hates this. She hates caring so much about what Killian thinks, about whether he’s lying to her or not, about him. She hates the burn of rejection in her gut when he left her hastily. And Emma hates the longing she feels for him to return, to make her smile with his small talk and attempts at flirting.

And she absolutely hates the acute pain in her heart at the thought of him just being someone who leaves her in the end.

Killian escapes the castle for a while and rides to his favorite spot to think, a cliff that overlooks the sea. The sight of the waves crashing over the rocks and the ships in the harbor and the sea gulls flitting around the cliffs calms his heart slightly, the pain ebbing to a dull ache.

What was he thinking?

To be harboring such romantic thoughts about a woman is surely a dishonor to Milah’s memory. When she died, he’d sworn to himself to remain faithful to her memory forever, to never love again.

And the worst part is that Killian doesn’t even know if this is love. With Milah, it had been easy. He’d fallen hard and fast and knew without a doubt what his feelings towards her were.

But with Emma, it’s different.

He knows that his heart beats faster whenever she’s around, that a rare laugh or smile from her builds an indescribable warmth in his chest, that he always wants to seek her out and be by her side, that he wants to chase away the shadows in her eyes and the sadness in her heart.

But he doesn’t know if he loves her.

And that’s probably the worst thing out of this whole mess, not knowing .

Light footsteps sound behind him and before Killian can turn, Belle appears by his side suddenly, offering him a kind smile as she sits down.

“Everything okay?”

Perceptive as ever. Killian lies, trying to play it off as nothing. “Of course, lass.”

Belle hums in disbelief, clearly not buying it. “Uh huh. Then why did I see you leave the library as quickly as you did? Not to mention, Emma did the exact same thing not too long after.”

Killian curses inwardly, knowing that he must’ve hurt or offended her with his abrupt departure. He can deal with her hating him, but he can’t stand the thought of her being hurt because of him.

There it is again.

“You’re falling for her, aren’t you?” Belle asks knowingly. Killian stiffens.

“ Belle -” he pleads. “Don’t.”

Belle crosses her arms and looks at him expectantly. “Don’t what?”

“Just don’t,” Killian says shortly. “I can’t fall in love with her.”

“Why in the world not?” Belle demands.

“Milah. I’d be dishonoring her memory-“

“That’s utter crap and you know it,” Belle snaps and Killian blinks in surprise at her curse. “You know Milah would want you to be happy, not wasting away like this.”

“Wasting away?” Killian repeats indignantly.

“ Yes. That’s exactly what you’re doing, shutting the world out, even Liam and I at times and not allowing yourself to fall in love.”

When Killian says nothing, instead staring at the horizon, Belle sighs and reaches over to take his hand.

“You deserve this, Killian. You deserve a second chance at love.”

“I-”

“Just because you’re falling in love again doesn’t mean you’re loving Milah any less,” Belle says patiently. “You’re honoring her memory by moving on.”

Killian simply nods, absently brushing his prosthetic over the tattoo on his arm. Belle sighs, and pulls him into a one armed hug.

“Come on,” She says presently. “We should get back to the castle.”

The next day, Emma is back working in the library again. Belle throws her an odd look when she enters, but quickly covers it with a welcoming smile. A little puzzled by it but deciding to brush it off, Emma returns to the books.

A passage in one of Merlin’s books makes her pause. The word ‘Excalibur’ is mentioned, along with a theory about it being a weapon with the ability to destroy the darkness.

Excitement surges through Emma, her heart racing and she quickly flips through the pages. Sure enough, Merlin has written the details of how the darkness came to be. The first to be tethered to it was a woman named Nimue and Merlin broke the sword Excalibur in half, using one half to create the Dark One dagger, which he tied the darkness to. The other half of Excalibur was set in a stone, not too far away from Camelot, only to be drawn out by its rightful owner.

Emma closes the book and leans back, thinking. If only she could get her hands on this ‘Excalibur’ and translate the rest of Merlin’s works, then maybe, just maybe she could finally destroy the darkness.

Of course, there is the problem of finding Excalibur. And according to what Merlin wrote, only the rightful owner of the sword could draw it out of the stone. Emma isn’t quite sure as to what that means. Does that mean the Dark One, as the dagger that controls her is the other half of Excalibur. Or is the meaning a little more traditional, the rightful owner being someone of great courage and a true heart?

If that is the case, then all is in vain, Emma thinks a little bitterly. After all, she has none of those things.

Still, it’s a start.

Emma rises and hurries to Belle, who is sorting out books at the counter. “Are there any books on magical artifacts here?”

Belle nods. “Yes, anything in particular?”

Emma hesitates before she answers. “Anything that mentions the sword Excalibur.”

Belle looks skeptical. “Excalibur’s only a myth,” she points out. “Are you sure that’s what you’re looking for?”

“ Yes ,” Emma says impatiently. The darkness is hissing in disapproval and she can feel it struggling for dominance, to try and quell her desire to destroy it. Magic threatens to seep from her hands and Emma clenches them into fists, ignoring the burn.

Belle, thankfully, doesn’t seem to notice and is about to agree to her request when the doors to the library slam open.

The young librarian swings around with a scowl, ready to scold whoever it is but falls short when she sees Liam and Killian stride in, looking tense.

Emma carefully averts her gaze from Killian’s, clenching her fists even tighter as the darkness continues to struggle.

“What’s wrong?” Belle asks worriedly, her gaze darting between them. Liam and Killian share a glance before the older brother speaks.

“Bad news,” Liam admits, quiet fury in his voice. “Misthaven has been overtaken by the Evil Queen.”

Liam’s words, while said under a calm façade, absolutely knock the breath out of Emma. She staggers back, suddenly finding it hard to breathe, her vision blurring.

Oh God. Oh God.

“Are you certain?” Next to her, Belle is speaking frantically, but Emma barely hears it.

Then Killian speaks, his voice strained and it’s enough to break Emma out of her daze. “I’m afraid so, lass.”

“The King and Queen,” Emma says suddenly, through gritted teeth and the other three glance up at her in surprise. “Are the King and Queen, the royal family, are they still-“Her voice cracks and a shudder wracks through her. “Are they still alive?”

“We-we don’t know,” Killian answers slowly, his eyes narrowed in confusion. “They are nowhere to be found, apparently, they might have gone into hiding…“

And then the dam breaks.

Suddenly there’s a crash, and then chairs and tables are upturned, decorations hanging from the ceilings are shattered and the shelves shake ominously, books falling to the floor.

Belle lets out a little shriek, Liam stumbles back, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword.

Killian, astonishingly enough (when will he stop surprising her?) takes a step forward. “Emma, what’s wrong?”

Emma clasps her hands together desperately, as if that will stop her magic from going out of control and her gaze darts around, flitting from Belle’s fearful eyes to Liam’s distrustful ones and back to Killian again, to the gentleness in his face and she breaks and for the first time in a decade, she feels like she might break down into sobs then and there.

“I can’t-“ she chokes out because it’s hard to breathe and her family might be dead and-

And then Emma does what she does best, and runs.

When Emma runs out of the room, leaving chaos in her wake, Killian hesitates only for a moment before following, ignoring Liam’s calls, faintly hearing the sounds of him and Belle arguing as he moves further away from the library.

“He can’t, she’s dangerous , she might do something-”

“No, she isn’t. Not to him, at least. Let him go to her, Liam.”

Killian finds Emma soon enough, huddled in a stairwell, her skirt hiked up as she hugs her knees to her chest, her body shaking uncontrollably.

Killian’s heart hurts at the sight.

“Oh, Emma.”

She glances up sharply and then shakes her head fervently as he comes closer. “No, don’t. Don’t. I might hurt you, Killian, you can’t-“

“You won’t hurt me,” Killian insists, kneeling down before her. “I’m not afraid of you.”

“ Damnit Killian-“

“I mean it,” Killian says. “I could never be afraid of you, love.”

Emma actually shrinks away at the endearment and Killian’s heart sinks, but he plows on.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

Emma remains silent for a long time, stubbornly picking at the hem of her skirt before she finally gives in.

“I told you my name was Emma, when we met,” she begins haltingly and Killian frowns, confused, but doesn’t interrupt. “That was the truth, but I also didn’t tell you something else. I’m actuallyPrincess Emma, daughter of Queen Snow White and King David.”

Killian’s jaw drops as he struggles to process the information.

Bloody hell.

“I-everyone thought the princess was dead,” He splutters out. Emma lets out a harsh, humorless laugh that makes him wince.

“As you can see, the truth is far worse,” She mutters and Killian wants to refute it, tell her she’s wrong, but Emma continues.

“Nobody knows the truth. Not even my parents.”

“What happened, love?” Killian asks, almost dreading the answer.

Emma sighs and averts her gaze. “It was Rumplestiltskin,” she murmurs. “The previous Dark One. He tricked me into thinking he killed my little brother Leo.

“There is a powerful dagger that can control the Dark One. It is also the only object capable of killing the Dark One. I knew that at the time…I just didn’t know that whoever kills the Dark One is next in line.”

“And you killed him to get revenge,” Killian guesses. He hurts for her, wants nothing more than to take her in his arms and comfort her, but knows she will never allow it. He settles for simply reaching for her hand, not taking it in hers, but simply drawing soothing circles over the skin.

Emma gazes at the movement of his fingers, seemingly fascinated before answering. “Yeah. And the rest, as they say, is history.”

“I’m sorry,” Killian whispers. “You shouldn’t have had to go through that. No one should.”

Emma nods. “If my family is dead-” she begins.

“They aren’t,” Killian says firmly. Emma laughs bitterly.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Call it hope. Or optimism. Or something.”

“You sound like my mother.”

“A wise woman, to be sure.”

Emma laughs again, but this time it’s not forced, and it’s like music to Killian’s ears.

“Our army is preparing for battle,” He says presently. “We leave at dawn tomorrow.”

“I’ll fight with you,” Emma says immediately and Killian smiles.

“I’d expect no less, love.”

He almost says my love and holds himself back at the last moment, instead giving her a last smile before he goes back to the library to explain things to Liam and Belle.

And hopes selfishly, for a day when he might be allowed to call her his.

“Rest up well,” Liam tells Killian as they exit the Council Room that evening. “We have a long day tomorrow.”

Killian acquiesces with a nod. Liam had softened a bit after hearing Emma’s story and did not hold the incident in the library against her, much to Killian’s relief. They went to the Council Room to discuss battle plans after that, and two hours later, are finally done.

After wishing his brother good night, Killian heads straight to Emma’s chambers, not even hesitating before he knocks. Emma opens the door, and his heart practically stops at the sight of her. She’s wearing a silvery dress that clings to her figure, the sleeves belling out elegantly and her hair is braided loosely, draped over her shoulder.

 “Eyes up here,” Emma teases when he takes a little too long to recover and Killian coughs, embarrassed.

“Sorry, love.”

“No problem. Was there something you needed?”

“Actually yes,” He extends his hand to her. “If you would come with me, there’s something I’d like to show you.”

Emma raises a brow at this but agrees readily enough.

“You know, if you just told me where we’re going, I could easily poof us there,” Emma says as Killian leads his mare out of her stall. He chuckles.

“Call me old fashioned, but I prefer this method of travel better,” Killian teases and Emma huffs. “Trust me, you’ll enjoy it,” He continues. “Shall we?”

Emma hoists herself up behind him and he can hear the smile in her voice when she speaks. “Lead the way, then.”

They ride away and to a meadow Killian had discovered a few years ago blooming with middlemist roses. Emma lets out an audible gasp when they arrive and dismounts from the horse, looking around in wonder. Killian grins in triumph.

“ Wow . Killian, this is-it’s beautiful ,” she says, awed. “It doesn’t look quite real.”

“There’s still beauty in the world, Emma,” Killian says. He takes her hand in his, interlacing their fingers together as he leads her out into the field. “All you have to do is look for it.”

Emma smiles at him gratefully. “Thank you. For bringing me here, I mean.”

“You’re most welcome,” Killian bends to pluck a flower and moves closer to Emma, tenderly tucking it behind her ear. Her cheeks flush, the same pale pink of the middlemist rose. “ Lovely ,” He murmurs, gently stroking her face; her eyes falling half-shut at the caress.

They remain there in silence for a while, standing far closer than is appropriate and Killian takes Emma’s hand again.

“I’m afraid,” she says suddenly and Killian glances down at her, his brow creasing in confusion.

“Of what?”

“Of facing my parents,” Emma says softly, barely a whisper. “I don’t want them to see what I’ve turned into. A monster .”

Killian flinches at the self loathing in her voice and squeezes her hand tighter. “You’re not a monster, Emma.”

She shakes her head. “You don’t know. The things I’ve done, Killian-“

“I don’t need to know,” he says firmly. “I see you . The woman who saved my brother when he lay at death’s door. Who healed my wound without a second’s thought in the forest. Who saved me from the Black Knight that tried to kill me.”

When Emma says nothing, Killian continues, determined to get her to see what he does. “After all of that, how could you call yourself a monster? You’re not. And your family will see that, too.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because they’re your family and they’ll always love you, no matter what you’ve done.”

Emma meets his gaze, tilting her head to one side. “You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”

Killian nods. “I’ve done a lot of foolish things, Emma. When Milah died, I was consumed by rage and hatred for the Evil Queen. I tried to seek revenge, but it only resulted in endangering Liam and Belle. Yet, after all that, they forgave me.”

“This is different, though.”

“It doesn’t matter. They will forgive you.”

Emma nods shakily. Suddenly, she says,

“Merlin’s spell books. I was lying to you about why I wanted them.”

“Aye, I gathered as much.”

“I’m…hoping to destroy the darkness.”

Killian looks at her in shock and she continues. “I know that the darkness was first born in Camelot, and that Merlin had something to do with it. That’s why I wanted the books.”

“Because you think he might have a way to destroy it,” Killian guesses.

“Yeah. I think I might have had a breakthrough, but there’s still a lot more to be done.”

“You’ll do it,” The conviction in his voice makes her look up at him in surprise.

“You think so?”

“I’ve yet to see you fail.”

Emma says nothing, seemingly at a loss for words. She simply holds his gaze, her green eyes brighter than ever.

Then she pulls him closer, pressing their joined hands to his chest as she kisses him.

Killian stills in shock for a moment, before closing his eyes and responding in kind. The kiss is sweet and tender, tasting like gratitude and affection. Emma sweeps her tongue over his lips and he lets out a soft sigh of pleasure, opening for her.

When they have to part for breath, Killian moves to kiss her cheeks, the curve of her jaw, the hollow of her throat. He can’t get enough of her, Killian thinks, as he presses an open mouthed kiss to her pulse point, teeth scraping over skin. Emma lets out a little, keening moan at his ministrations and drags him up to kiss her again.

“ Emma ,” Killian murmurs against her lips. If there was any doubt before, it has all vanished. He knows what this is. “Emma, I-“

“Shh,” she interrupts, cutting him off with a kiss. Killian groans against her mouth, cradling the back of her head as he pulls her into him.

“ Later ,” Emma promises, pressing a kiss against his jaw. Killian struggles for a moment before giving in.

“Fine. Later, then.”

The next day, they prepare to leave Camelot by the early light of dawn.

Belle is to remain behind, and Emma watches from the sidelines as she says goodbye to Liam and Killian. Belle hugs Killian fiercely, murmuring something in his ear that makes him flush in embarrassment before releasing him. Emma idly wonders what it is. She doesn’t feel jealous, knowing quite well that Belle has eyes only for the older of the brothers and even if she didn’t, from what happened the previous night, Emma has it on pretty good authority that Killian’s feelings for herself go way beyond platonic.

“ Emma, I- ”

There was no doubting as to what he was going to say. It scares Emma, but also leaves her with unspeakable joy, warmth flooding her at the thought that Killian is capable of loving her despite what she is.

But there are more important things to worry about.

Like the war. And the Evil Queen. And her family.

A low murmur ripples through the air and Emma glances up to see that Belle has shocked the entire crowd waiting to see them off, and the army, by pulling Liam into a fervent kiss. Emma can’t help but grin at the sight.

Liam seems just as shocked, but returns it with equal fervor.

Killian is grinning like the Cheshire Cat at the sight.

Then they ride away from Camelot, the mood becoming somber once more at the reminder of the grim battle ahead.

Misthaven is in chaos.

Now that the Evil Queen has taken over the castle, the common people don’t seem to be satisfied with sitting back and waiting for the battle to be over. They have joined it, instead, fighting against the Queen’s knights ruthlessly, wielding pitchforks and axes. Although the Black Knights are well versed in combat as compared to the peasants, they are hopelessly outnumbered.

The army of Camelot waits at the border, awaiting Liam’s orders.

“It’s clear that the Queen has employed most of her army in eliminating the rogue warriors outside the castle,” Killian begins.

“Which means the castle will be left unprotected,” Emma finishes. “We can sneak in, rescue my parents and take the Queen by surprise. The rest of the soldiers can take out her army, so she’ll be left defenseless. ”

“Except for her magic,” Liam points out.

“I think you’re forgetting that you have an extremely powerful sorceress on your side,” Emma says dryly. “Leave Regina to me. I’ll deal with her. She has a lot to answer for.”

Yes, you can finally kill her , the darkness suggests.

No one’s killing anyone, Emma retorts inwardly. Get out of my head.

And much to her astonishment, the darkness retreats.

Emma doesn’t dwell on it, returning to the discussion. “There are underground passages that lead into the dungeons. I can guide you through them. Regina has most likely imprisoned my family there.”

Liam thinks it over for a minute before nodding. “Sounds like a plan. I’ll go give the soldiers their orders.”

He walks away and Emma is about to follow, but is stopped by Killian.

“Wait, love.”

“What is it?”

In response, Killian tugs a chain over his head, one that she hasn’t noticed before, except for the previous night, because it’s always hidden beneath his clothes. There’s a beautiful ring attached to it, silver with a crimson stone set in the metal. Emma’s breath catches.

“You’re not gonna get down on one knee, are you?” she jokes weakly. Killian doesn’t smile, looking solemn.

“This ring belonged to Liam,” He begins. “Given to him by our father. Liam gave it to me when he became King. It’s what’s kept me alive, all these years.”

Emma glances up at him sharply.

Killian presses it into her palm, curling her fingers over it. “I want you to have it, love.”

“I can’t die today, Killian,” Emma says gently. “I’m immortal.”

Killian exhales. “The Dark One is immortal. But the strong, brave lass I know- you aren’t. Keep it, Emma.”

“What will protect you, then?” Emma asks.

Killian grins at her. “I have you by my side, love. What more protection do I need?”

Overcome by emotion, Emma leans into him, pressing her forehead to his, shutting her eyes. In a few minutes, they go into battle, to face possible death.

But for now, they can have this.

I love you , Emma thinks, but doesn’t dare to say it aloud.

The underground passage leading to the dungeons is exactly as Emma remembers and she guides Liam and Killian through the twisting, maze-like pathways with little difficulty. There are a few of the Queen’s guards stationed there, much to their surprise, but Emma makes short work of them, knocking them unconscious with her magic.

Liam looks impressed. “Nice work, milady.”

Emma nods in thanks and hides a grin. Liam’s opinion of her has bettered considerably and she can’t say she’s disliking it too much.

Everything abruptly goes to hell then, as the sound of running reaches their ears and before they can react, or do anything, a dark haired man rounds the corner, catching hold of Killian and holding a knife to his throat.

“Killian!” Liam draws his sword, but the man presses the knife hard enough to draw blood.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warns. Emma snarls wordlessly, raising her hand to dispose of him, when something makes her pause.

The man looks strangely familiar, his defiant glare and the blue of his eyes tugging at a long lost memory.

Then he looks at her and lets out a cry.

“Emma?!”

And that’s when Emma instantly knows.

“Leo?” she croaks out, her eyes watering. Leo promptly lets go of Killian and runs to her, embracing her tightly. Tears flow down Emma’s cheeks as she hugs him back. It’s her little brother, who’s all grown up now.

“Gods, Emma,” he mutters into her hair. “We thought you were dead.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Leo pulls back to take a good look at her. “What happened to you, Emma?”

Terror seizes her, she knows that this is the moment of truth. But there’s no point lying now. She can’t .

“Because they’re your family and they’ll always love you, no matter what you’ve done.”

The memory of Killian’s words gives her a boost of courage and she swallows before answering.

“I turned into the Dark One,” Emma says steadily. “Rumplestiltskin, he tricked me into thinking he murdered you and I-“

“Oh, Emma.”

And then Leo is hugging her once more and Emma cries again, because Killian was right and he doesn’t hate her, and-

“You’re all grown up now,” Emma says with a half laugh, half sob. Leo snorts, drawing away.

“It’s been ten years, sis.” he glances at Killian and Liam and frowns. “But who are they?”

The brothers, who had been watching the reunion in silence (Killian smiling proudly all through it) look at each other before Liam answers.

“I’m King Liam of Camelot. And this is Killian, my brother.”

Leo’s eyes widen and he lets out a sheepish laugh. “Oh, you’re our allies. My apologies, I thought you were part of the Queen’s army.”

“Speaking of,” Emma says anxiously. “Where are Mom and Dad?”

Leo sobers. “Regina captured them. I managed to get away, thankfully, and I’m here looking for them.”

“So are we.”

“There are more Black Knights stationed further in the dungeons, guarding them.”

“Not a problem,” Emma says, her eyes hard. “I can take them out. Are there any more in the castle?”

“Yeah, but not many,” Leo replies.

Emma nods and turns to Killian and Liam. “You two should go take care of the rest of the knights. Leo and I will find my parents and after that, I’ll go face Regina.”

Killian looks upset at the idea. “Emma-”

“ Please ,” Emma says quietly. “This is something I have to do.”

Killian holds her gaze for a long moment before nodding. “Alright.”

“Let’s be off then,” Liam says. “You stay safe, milady.”

Emma grins and nods. But before they go, Killian hastily turns to pull her into a lingering kiss. Forgetting about their audience, Emma clings to him desperately, tears burning at her eyes.

“Come home to me,” she murmurs against his lips when they part.

It’s not quite an I love you , but it will do for now.

“I will.” Killian vows.

And like that, he’s gone.

“What was all of that about?” Leo demands as they run further into the dungeons.

“Shut up,” is all Emma says, but she’s smiling, clutching at the chain around her neck.

The Black Knights guarding the cell Emma’s parents are trapped in barely get a warning before she knocks them unconscious with a blast of her magic. Leo whistles, impressed.

Snow and David come running to the bars and when they see Emma, expressions of pure shock appear on their faces.

“ Emma? ” Snow breathes, as if barely able to believe what she’s seeing.

Emma melts the bars with a wave of her hand and then she’s running into her parents arms, the tears coming back in full force as her mother tackles her into a bear hug and her father cradles the back of her head, kissing her forehead tenderly. Leo joins the embrace, slinging his arm over Emma’s shoulders.

“We thought you were dead,” David whispers brokenly. Emma nods guiltily.

“I’m so sorry,” she says and then recounts her tale again.

When Emma finishes, her parents are crying as they pull her to them again.

“We’re so sorry we weren’t there for you, Emma,” Snow murmurs, clinging to her daughter like she might disappear any moment.

Emma shakes her head. “It was my fault for not seeking you out before. I just-“ her voice breaks. “I was so afraid that you’d despise me,” she confesses.

Snow cups her cheeks in her hands. “Emma, you are our daughter,” she says firmly. “Never think for a moment that we do not love you.”

When their tears have been dried, David finally asks,

“Did you come here by yourself?”

“No, she came with Camelot’s army,” Leo says wryly.

“Camelot?” Snow questions. “I know they’re our allies, but how on earth did you get affiliated with them?”

“It’s a long story,” Emma says quickly. “We really don’t have the time-“

“You could at least tell them that you’re engaged,” Leo butts in. Emma splutters and David’s face turns purple.

“Engaged?!” He demands, outraged. Emma tosses her brother a furious glare.

“We’re not engaged! Where did you even get that idea?”

“What’s the ring around your neck for, then?”

“What it is , is none of your business,” Emma retorts smartly. “Killian-“

Snow gasps loudly. “ Killian ? The Prince of Camelot is courting you?”

“We’re not courting,” Emma says defensively. “And anyway, don’t we have more important things to discuss right now? Like ending this war once and for all?”

Her parents sober up instantly at that. “Right, of course,” David says. “What’s your plan, Emma?”

“I’m going up against Regina,” Before they can protest, Emma holds up a hand. “I’m not taking no for an answer. We all know that I’m the only one capable of facing her right now.”

“We can be back up,” Snow argues, but Emma disagrees.

“Liam and Killian will need help with the rest of the Black Knights. You three can to that. I’m facing Regina alone.”

Snow and David clearly realize that there’s no point arguing with her, and sigh and relent.

“Be careful,” David says softly.

Emma smiles. “Always am.”

“That’s all, I think,” Killian says as he pulls his sword out of the body of the last knight, grimacing at the blood that coats the steel. Next to him, Liam nods, exhausted.

“Aye. What now?”

Before Killian can reply, they hear the sound of footsteps and swing around. A tall woman with steel grey hair, dressed in black, with a wicked smirk on her face strides into the hallway.

The Evil Queen.

“You,” Killian snarls and Liam holds him back, just barely.

“Hello, little prince,” Regina mocks, but her smile disappears when she sees Liam, angry confusion replacing it. “How are you-you should be dead-”

“Unfortunately for you, I’m not,” Liam says with a grim smile. “Perhaps this time you’ll fight fair, Your Majesty.”

“Oh, how naïve of you,” Regina practically purrs. “I never fight fair.”

Before Liam can blink, she snaps her fingers and suddenly he is bound by an invisible force, unable to budge an inch. Regina moves towards Killian swiftly and plunges her hand into his chest. He lets out a cry of pain, his head slumping forward.

“No!” Liam shouts in panic, desperately fighting against his bonds.

But before Regina can rip Killian’s heart out, a shockwave of magic pulses through the room and the Queen is thrown to the floor. Killian gasps in relief, clutching at his chest and then looks upwards.

It’s Emma.

She walks towards Regina, eyes black with anger, the air around her crackling with magic, looking like an avenging angel ready to destroy whatever stands in her path.

Regina looks up at her, eyes narrowing in uncertainty. “Who are-”

“You should’ve done your research first, Regina,” Emma says coldly. “Then maybe you would’ve known better than to touch what is mine .”

The possessiveness of her tone sends a sharp thrill through Killian.

Regina stands up, studying her carefully. “You’re the Dark One, aren’t you? Rumple-”

“I killed him, ten years ago.”

“Who are you?”

Emma bares her teeth. “Guess.”

Recognition dawns over Regina. “You’re Snow’s daughter, aren’t you,” her face twists in a sneer. “Well, well. I do wonder how your mother took the news of her daughter going dark.”

Emma ignores her taunts. “I’m not here to talk, Regina. I’m here to defeat you, so let’s get on with it.”

Regina snorts. “Please. You might be the Dark One but I can tell you never bothered training your magic. You’re no match for me.”

“Well then, let’s test that theory, shall we?”

Without further warning, Emma draws back her hands and emits twin bolts of grey light, sending them straight towards Regina. The older woman stumbles back, but quickly regains her footing, conjuring fireballs to throw at Emma.

Emma dodges them nimbly, the last one singeing her hair, but she barely flinches at it, attacking again.

The fight continues like this for what seem like hours to Killian but in reality are only a few minutes. Regina begins to get visibly tired, her earlier boasts falling flat as the Dark One’s magic proves to be superior to hers. Hope flares brightly in Killian’s chest, thinking that they might win.

But he thought too soon.

“You’re good, Dark One,” Regina sneers between pants. “But you made a mistake.”

Emma raises a brow.

“You revealed your weakness.”

And before Emma can do anything, Regina swings around, and sends a greenish-black bolt of magic towards Killian. It hits him squarely in the chest and he collapses to the ground.

The last sounds he hears are Emma and Liam’s panicked voices calling his name before everything fades to darkness.

“No! What have you done?!”

Emma gazes at Killian’s unmoving body in horror. Her magic threatens to fly out of control again, pure fear coursing through her veins.

Regina chuckles and thrusts her hand out and suddenly, Emma crashes into the wall. She slumps down on the floor, raising her hand gingerly to the blood that flows down her forehead.

“I may not be able to kill you, but I can at least incapacitate you,” Regina says, stalking over to Emma. At that moment, Snow and David enter the scene, but neither women notice them.

Emma pushes herself up with some difficulty. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, Regina,” She waves her hand and blasts her back, and before the Queen can stand again, restrains her with magic.

“You can’t run now,” Emma snarls, towering over the woman.

Regina laughs mockingly. “Are you going to kill me?”

Yes, the darkness insists. Make her suffer for all that she has done.

“Your parents will despise you, you know,” Regina continues. “They do so hate the idea of killing. And you’re the exact same. Dark One or not, you won’t do it.”

Do it, the darkness commands, it’s voice rising to a high shriek. Don’t go back to being nothing .

“You’re nothing,” Regina hisses. “You’ll never be able to protect them. Any of them.”

Something in Emma snaps. The weight of the ring against her chest burns and all the memories of being too weak to fight the darkness, of losing control wash over her, and-

“I am not nothing!” Emma growls , her hands clenching into fists until her knuckles turn white. “I was never nothing! I don’t need to kill you to prove a point. I will never turn into what you are. I amstronger than you ever will be!”

Emma reaches into her pocket and pulls out a black leather cuff. Regina glances at it, and her eyes widen in fear.

“I won’t kill you,” Emma says. “But I will make sure you never hurt anyone again.”

And in a swift motion, she clamps the cuff over Regina’s wrist.

Abruptly, the magic holding Liam down vanishes and he stumbles forward. Emma backs away from Regina and into the arms of her parents and Leo.

“You did it, Emma,” Snow praises. “Oh, we’re so proud of you.”

Emma gives her a weak, watery smile and then glances at Killian, her eyes widening. She runs to him, kneeling beside his prone form.

“What’s going on?” Emma looks up frantically at Liam’s stricken face. “All of Regina’s spells were cancelled, he should’ve woken up, too.”

She reaches over to feel his pulse and it’s like a punch to the gut when there’s nothing.

“ No,” Emma whispers. Behind her, her parents are murmuring sympathies, but she ignores it, shaking him desperately.

“Killian, please,” she begs. “Please, come back to me.”

“Can’t you do anything?” Liam demands, his voice shaking. “Your magic-”

“I don’t even know what’s wrong with him.” Emma says brokenly.

There’s a terrible pain eating at her heart, so dreadful, that Emma can barely hold herself up, slumped over Killian’s body; her breaths coming out in heaving pants.

She never told him she loved him .

The thought just sends a fresh wave of agony through her and Emma sobs like she never has before, clutching at the lapels of his coat as she begs him to come back to her.

“I love you,” Emma whispers and as a last, desperate resort, she presses her lips to his.

For a moment, nothing happens.

Then a wave of pure love rushes through her, nearly knocking her over. Emma barely has the time to register to startled gasps of the others before her vision turns a dazzling white, light magic swirling around her.

When she opens her eyes again, the darkness is gone and Killian wakes with a gasp.

It’s a flood of warmth and magic that jerks Killian into wakefulness, his eyes flying open as he gasps for breath. He sees Emma immediately and lets out a low cry of surprise.

The silver of her hair has turned to gold, silky waves that spill down her shoulders and chest. The black dress she’d worn previously has transformed into garments of pure white.

She looks like an angel .

“Emma,” Killian breathes, reaching up to cup her cheek. She lets out a little, relieved cry, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Killian,” Emma says. “I-I thought you were-”

“I’m fine, darling,” He reassures her immediately. “I didn’t mean to make you worry,” Killian sits up, gazing at her in wonder. “Wha-What happened?”

Emma looks down at herself, then, as if not having noticed her transformation before. Her voice shakes when she speaks.

“The darkness,” Emma whispers in awe. “It’s gone .”

“Gone?” Killian repeats. “How?”

“True Love’s kiss,” Emma realizes. “When I kissed you, it broke the curse, and-”

The breath flies out of Killian’s lungs. “True love?” he croaks.

Emma meets his gaze and smiles, gently brushing her knuckles over his cheek. “I love you,” she says simply. “I’m sorry I didn’t say it before, I-”

Killian doesn’t let her finish, pulling her into her arms, burying his face in her hair. “I love you, too,” He says, his voice muffled. “And you have nothing to apologize for, my love.”

Emma wraps her arms around him tightly, holding to him as if she fears he’ll disappear any moment. “I didn’t need Merlin’s help to defeat the darkness, in the end,” she says, sounding awed. “I didn’t even need Excalibur. All I needed to do was open my heart to love.”

Killian chuckles, drawing away. “I told you you’d do it, Emma.”

Emma laughs, a pure, delighted sound before she pulls him into a kiss. And this time, when Killian kisses her, it feels like coming home and the darkness and walls which separated them have finally been vanquished.

When she releases him, Liam embraces him, calling him a ‘bloody idiot’ and ordering him to never nearly get himself killed like that again.

(“I’m the King, you know. You have to obey my orders.” “Whatever you say, brother.”)

Emma is in the arms of her family, all of them laughing and crying at the same time as they cling to each other. Snow then moves to hug Killian and Liam, thanking them profusely for their help. David shakes Killian’s hand, thanking him gruffly for ridding Emma of the darkness. In the background, Leo elbows Emma slyly and she scowls at him in response.

When Camelot’s army comes back, victorious and Regina is locked away in the dungeons, Emma turns to Killian, grinning brightly.

“I’m glad I met you, Killian,” she says, brushing her lips against the corner of his mouth. Killian turns so he can kiss her properly, relishing in the sound of her pleased moan when his tongue slides over hers.

He breaks away, and rests his forehead against hers.

“I’m glad I met you, too, love.”

Fin

#ffcs 2018 #fallforcs #fall for captain swan #blind date with a fanfic #cs ff #cs ff au #set fire to the darkness #shadowyfirehawk #celestial-fire-writer

[autumnfanfiction]

16.

Robyn and Chris spent the whole day shopping and taking photos so she could make a scrapbook for memories. Their journey was actually beginning, and it would begin tonight with what Chris had planned for them. There was no way they would leave Paris without him proposing to her. It was something that was a constant thought, and he couldn't wait. He took her everywhere her heart desired and watched happily as she tried on different clothes, shoes, and whatever else caught her eye. He would buy the whole store for her if she wanted him too. He helped her pick dresses, and honestly all of them looked good on her––– she just had that power, she could make anything look good. She was the most beautiful girl in the world, and he was eternally grateful for her.

He had to wait for her to fall asleep to slip away and do what he needed to do before night came. It seemed time was rushing because it was now evening and he felt his anxiety pick up––– he was so nervous, so jittery, he couldn't sit still for the life of him. He went to the jewelry store he saw earlier to see if he could find the perfect ring. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he trusted that he would know when he spotted it.

He entered the store and was greeted right away. He smiled and walked over to the section that held engagement rings, and they all shone brightly in his face. He looked at all of them carefully, seeing which one would catch his attention. He went through each row and walked down further not seeing anything striking until he reached the end––– there it was. The ring. It was beautiful, and Robyn just had to have it. He informed the store associate that had been following him quietly waiting to be summoned what he wanted. The woman smiled before getting it out and handing it over to him. "It's a 14K white gold Swarovski ring, the stones are made of crystals." That sealed the deal for him because he knew how much Robyn loved Swarovski crystals and to have a ring like that was a must. "I'll take it." She smiled and said she would have everything ready for him in a moment. Meanwhile, he kept looking around for other pieces of jewelry. He ended up buying her earrings and a bracelet that had similar details to the ring.

"Thank you." He said then smiled sweetly at the associate

"Good luck tonight, sir. I hope she says yes."

He thanked her again before exiting the store.

-

When Robyn woke up, she was told by Chris to get dressed because they had evening plans. Everything was already laid out for her to wear including two velvet boxes at the side. She went to take a shower, and she had a knot in her stomach knowing something special was going to happen. She was dying to find out what it was so she washed thoroughly and quickly before drying herself and going into their bedroom. On the bed laid this light purple tulle dress with a strapless neckline with an A-line silhouette. Next to it was a pair of strappy sandals that matched the dress. She put them on before looking over to the mirror admiring herself. She opted to put her hair in a ponytail and not wear any makeup tonight before opening the velvet boxes. Her eyes widened at how beautiful the earrings and bracelet were. Chris definitely knew her well because she absolutely loved them.

Chris was waiting for her in the living room. He went simple deciding to wear a burgundy cable knit sweater, matching colored suede detail trainers, and black slim fit chinos. Robyn had spoiled him during this trip as well getting him a diamond encrusted watch that adorned his left wrist and a pinky ring and twin diamond encrusted bracelets that adorned his right wrist. She didn't have to get him anything, but he appreciated the fact that she wanted too.

"Reeses, you look sexy." He looked at her, and his dimples were rooted in his face seeing her. She looked like she came straight out of a fairytale––– she was his queen, and he made sure he let her know it through his actions and words.

"Thank you, you look... Wow."

She giggled, and he stood up giving her purse to her before holding her hand in his leading them out the room.

-

Chris and Robyn walked the streets of Paris laughing and running around the city as Autumn leaves drifted down. They were having so much fun from spending time at the carnival that was nearby, riding the Ferris wheel and sharing kisses under the moonlight. To them playing with sparklers and Robyn writing "YOURS" in the air as whispers of wind passed through, basking in the feel to be in a place filled with wonder, and beautiful sights embracing it with tender hearts, to them finding walkie talkies. They looked at each other, clearly having thought the same idea. Chris was crouching behind a bench, while Robyn stood near a cafe, not too far from him.

"Buttercup, do you copy?"

"Loud and clear. Over." Robyn giggled because it would be them to play with walkie talkies. They could make anything fun and that's what she loved most about their relationship. He made her laugh and she had been missing that for almost half the year before meeting him.

"Bend. Over."

"Bend what? Over."

"That ass. Over."

She giggled. "Reeses, you're nasty. Over."

"And hung... Over."

"I'm done with you. Over."

"Won't be saying that when I beat it up and make you cum. Over and out."

Chris walked over to Robyn making a face, and she laughed before kissing his lips. They placed the walkie talkies down before stumbling into the nearby dimly lit cafe. Chris held the door open for her and slapped her ass as walked past him. She gave him a wink before entering, and they took their seats. They kept it simple ordering croissants and coffee.

"Write something beautiful," Robyn told him suddenly. He took a napkin and asked for her red lipstick. He wrote his last name first then wrote her name ahead of it. She beamed before leaning over kissing him. His hand rested on her thigh stroking it lightly.

"You better chill before I pull up on your dick."

"Yuh gon put yuh pussy pon mi cock?"

Robyn looked at him amused and in shock while he laughed uncontrollably. "Christopher, I have nothing to say to you."

"I think you've bitten off more than you can chew in that department anyway."

"You better swallow your words."

"Or you can just swallow me."

"Chriiiiiiis."

He laughed softly before bringing her hand up to his lips to kiss. "Will you be able to put up with me for another year?"

"I'm looking forward to it."

-

Chris' plan was now beginning to be set in motion. He led her to this pathway that had dim lights illuminating the ground. Once they reached the end, the ocean was still and shining brightly. Soon they noticed a man on a boat was waiting for them with soft music playing. Robyn squealed and turned to him. "You planned this?" He nodded before she hugged him tightly. He helped her into the boat before getting himself in. Once they were situated the man started rowing the boat to the destination in tow.

Robyn smiled at the man. "Good evening, I'm Robyn. What's your name?"

"Bonsoir mademoiselle, I'm Enzo. How are you this evening?"

"I'm happy."

"I see, tomber amoureux de quelqu'un est très spécial. To fall in love with someone is very special."

Robyn looked at Chris lovingly before stroking his cheek. He turned his face to kiss her hand. "T'es l'amour de ma vie."

"C'est l'amour," Enzo said smiling

Robyn's eyes widened, and he laughed at her expression. "If you wanted my panties all you had to do was ask."

Enzo and Chris laughed, and Robyn held his face in her hands. "You speak French?"

"A little bit. I'm no expert, I just know some of the romantic love phrases. The simple stuff. I said you're the love of my life."

"Shit, you're really working it."

He leaned in smiling. "Not as much as I love really working you."

"Chriiiiiis we're not alone."

"Oh, no mademoiselle. Don't stop because of me, go right ahead. L'amour est dans l'air. Love is in the air."

-

They arrived where Chris told the man to take them the day before. The Eiffel Tower was just as majestic and beautiful at night as it was during the day. This is where he was going to propose to her because where better? He made sure everything was set before he brought them onto the boat. He hired a photographer to take pictures, an orchestra to play what seemed to be her favorite song at the moment, which has become their song. He could hardly wait as he got out the boat quickly and helped Robyn out. He thanked Enzo and gave him some money for his hospitality before guiding them towards the Eiffel.

The view was amazing, and Robyn couldn't put into words how much love she felt for him at this moment. It was a feeling she couldn't classify other than it being Autumn. It felt like when she received his first letter; a feeling of change and new beginnings. It was their favorite season because it's the season they fell in love, and being able to breathe in the cold air, feel his gentle touch, while having him close to keep her cozy teased her emotions and senses. He went to great lengths to make sure their mini rendezvous was perfect. It was more than she could imagine and she felt like she was floating on clouds.

Pictures were being taken secretly and when it was time Chris guided her to the deck. He stood behind her while she rested against him, laying her head on his shoulder. He looked at his watch then looked at the sky waiting for what he planned for to happen. It was now midnight in Paris. On cue, a blimp passed by slowly with the phrase "THE WORLD IS OURS... WILL YOU MARRY ME?" It didn't register in Robyn's head until after a few seconds and when she felt Chris back away from her. Her heart started pounding in her chest, and she turned cautiously seeing Chris down on one knee with the most beautiful ring she's ever laid eyes on shimmering in the light. She stood there with her hands over her mouth and tears coming down her face. She started to recognize the faint music and realized that an orchestra was here. She looked around and saw a few photographers at different corners smiling, waiting to take pictures of this glorious moment.

"There is no one else for me, I begin and end with you. I'm madly in love with you. I'm so in love that I can never fall in love again. I want you and the sunrises and the sunsets, however much we can have together. Only you have given, give, and will ever give me this feeling. You started out as my best friend, and I want you to end as my wife, will–––"

"YES."

They met each other six months ago, and she never expected they would make it here at the start. She never expected to find somebody that loved her so much. But she knew better than to measure their love in time. Their connection wasn't long, but it yielded so much growth, with the briefest, yet the most memorable encounters. Since falling in love with him she opened up, she became vulnerable, all for him because he was worth it. Everything transformed and her world was beautified. Now she was standing beyond the man that was the cause of it all. She only had one answer.

His smile was from ear to ear as he slid the ring on her finger before throwing up a thumbs up. Fireworks were in the sky, and the blimp continued to pass by saying "SHE SAID YES." and cheers were heard. Chris and Robyn went over and waved at the bystanders and onlookers before focusing on themselves. Chris spun her around as the orchestra began playing the instrumental to their song. "May I have this dance?" Robyn accepted his hand, and they began slow dancing. Their movements natural, their bodies taking over, moving on their own accord. Chris held her close before singing their song in her ear.

I, have never been so much

In love, before

What a difference a true love made in my life

So nice, so right

Loving you gave me something new

That I never felt, never dreamed of

Something's changed, no it's not the feeling I had before

Oh, it's much much more...

#chrianna #chrianna ff #chrianna fanfic #chrianna fanfiction

[you-want-fuckign-cicadas]

Into The Abyss, part 1

So I wanted to write Screws, Ink, and Stuffed Toys, but I hit a block in my brain and wrote this instead. It’s Screws, Ink, and Stuffed Toys still but if Felix (@smoresthehalloweenqueen) was also there and Henry Wright had no idea there were animatronics there

More under the cut

Deep, deep down into the abyss, there is a place called Level 14. It's where the Projectionist roams, unhinged and so, so angry. It attacks everything in its sight, mauling the unlucky soul until it returns to the ink or, in some cases, becomes another body that's a host for an “ink heart”.

That's its whole deal. Mauling people. It's not a good thing to do, but nevertheless, it does it anyway.

It's also where anyone who travels by the “ink” ends up. Which is unfortunate for them, since they're usually dumped out in the middle of the maze, and sometimes even directly in front of the Projectionist, who then mauls them, as per usual. Life goes on and no changes are made to the timeline due to the person immediately dying via being mauled.

Then, there are the occasional outliers who last a little longer. These people inevitably end up getting killed one way or another. Whether it's being absorbed by “Bendy” or sacrificed by Sammy, experimented on by “Alice” or overrun by Searchers, desecrated by the Butcher Gang clones or murdered by Bertrum, or...well, you get the idea. They've all ended up dead no matter what.

Except for Henry, of course. He's an old man, but he's a stubborn old man, and he utterly refuses to die. It's a good quality, but annoying for the creatures of the studio. The general consensus was that he really should be dead by now, but nope, there he was, still alive and looking just fine for a guy who was 63 years old. So far, he's the only person to have survived the studio.

Well, he was, anyway.

Outside of the studio, it is a bright, sunny day, probably near the beginning of fall. Leaves were starting to turn, the air is actually not death itself for once, and it is just good in general.

This, of course, has no effect on the studio itself, which continues being a hellhole like always. Not that it usually mattered, since everyone inside is dead or insane. Sometimes both. Usually both.

However, on this particular day, the Projectionist's feeling particularly maul-y. Nothing dares venture down into Level 14 when it's feeling like that. Just its luck, then, that the ink brought something to it.

There is a splashing noise as a red-headed young man falls into the ink. He comes up shortly afterwards, coughing up a little bit of ink. Speaking of ink, he is now absolutely covered in it. Just like literally everything else in this hellhole.

He looks up right as the Projectionist rounds the corner, getting a nice eyeful of very bright light. The Projectionist screeches, prompting his fight-or-flight response, which is...well...run away from the very tall scary monster that is trying to kill you. A good, rational response, or it would be if said monster wasn't faster than you.

The Projectionist is just about to catch the man when he finally gets to a Little Miracle station and immediately takes the opportunity to hide inside it. The monster, now not having him to chase and maul, walks away, continuing on its set path.

The man lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. “Well, that was exciting. Let's never do it again.” To himself, he thinks, Well, Felix, you didn't die and you didn't kill anyone else. I'd call that a win.

As Felix opens the door, he spots the fresh, dead corpse of a Butcher Gang clone and decides to go the opposite direction of that.

It takes a while, but he finally finds his way out of the maze. As he walks towards a set of stairs, he keeps an eye out for the Projectionist. It doesn't come out, instead sticking to its path in the maze, and Felix climbs the stairs without incident.

Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he sees an elevator. Or, rather, he sees an elevator shaft. The elevator isn't currently there, and the button is jammed, meaning that he's stuck down there, probably for a while.

He stands down by the elevator, fiddling with his clothes in a vain attempt to get some of the ink out of them. All it does is make a nice ink puddle that his clothes then suck right back up. He sighs and sits down, wondering if that clunking noise he hears is a threat or not.

Meanwhile, on Level 9, Henry has just finished off the last of the Butcher Gang clones for “Alice”. By now, he is sincerely hoping there are no more fetch quests, or that he'll at least be able to take a break.

No such luck. As soon as the thought crosses his head, he hears “Alice” through the speakers. “I hate leaving work unfinished. Luckily, I have you to pick up the pieces. But you'll have to go down, down, into the abyss.” She laughs wickedly. “Take the lift down. Say hello to an old friend.”

Henry waits for the gate to open. It does not. “Alice” keeps speaking. “Sending you a little present. A little firepower. Take good care of it. It belonged to an old friend.”

The weapon capsule slides open and reveals a Tommy Gun. Henry gapes at it for a few moments, completely taken aback by this new development, before carefully poking it. When it does not immediately turn into a pile of ink, he takes it. The gate opens, and he leaves, heading straight for the elevator as always. “Boris, look what I have!” he says, brandishing the Tommy Gun happily.

Boris, always full of silent wisdom, cowers.

When the elevator reaches Level 14, Henry steps out and nearly hits a person in the face with the butt of the Tommy Gun. Said person squeaks and moves out of his way, in a decidedly human way. Henry looks at the man, taking in his very soaked-in-ink appearance. “You an ink creature?”

“No?” The man looks extremely confused.

“Good.” Henry lowers the Tommy Gun he'd been pointing at the man. “My name's Henry. Yours?”

“Uh...it's Felix,” Felix says, looking down. “Joey Felix Drew.” Seeing Henry's expression, he raises his hands up to show he has no weapons and squeaks, “Please don't kill me.”

“Aight, kid, but only because you don't look like my Joey,” Henry says as he puts the Tommy Gun down again. “My Joey is getting a face full of lead the next time we cross paths.”

Felix looks even more worried for his life after Henry says that.

“Anyway, I gotta find 5 ink hearts,” Henry states after a few minutes. “You want to come?”

Felix looks out over the ink maze, considers making a run for it, and then remembers the large Tommy Gun Henry has. He nods quietly. “Just a warning, though, but there's a monster out there.”

“There's a monster everywhere. It's normal.” Henry shrugs. “You just gotta get used to it. Besides, I have a gun now. It's a lot more fair than when I had a bent pipe.” He adds the last part in a vain attempt to soothe Felix. It's not working.

As Henry walks down the stairs into the murky ink, Felix follows, much more cautiously I might add. He keeps his guard up, following close behind Henry, but not too close. I don't want to be on the receiving end of that gun.

Clearly, Felix has been taking Henry's warning far too seriously.

That's the essence of what's going through Henry's head at the moment. He has a Tommy Gun, he has a job, and now he can do said job, and as long as he never puts the Tommy Gun in with the hearts he can go back to the surface and shoot Joey Drew in the goddamn face.

Although...it would be nice to use it to break down “Alice”'s door. I wonder what her expression would look like when I was the one threatening her.

He picks up an ink heart. Weird. Squishy. I hate it already. I need five of these? Henry frowns at it. They're very small.

He can hear Felix behind him. The man – boy? - seems very on edge. He must have had a close encounter with whatever is down here.

Suddenly, there's a flash of bright light. Felix catches up with him and pulls him over to a side passage. Henry lifts the Tommy Gun just slightly.

They both jump when “Alice” starts speaking. “Sshh...there he is. The Projectionist.”

It takes about a minute before Henry says, quietly, “That is not the Projectionist.”

Of course, then it starts screaming at them.

Do y’all hate me yet

#story #not my oc #screws ink and stuffed toys #joey felix drew #henry wright #HENRY STOP THREATENING RANDOM PEOPLE #YOU PIECE OF-

[rem-is-best-almond]

Thoughts on the Special DwD Event あなたも私もホントはアクマか!？Are you and I both Devils?! (01.05.2016)

After almost 2 years of waiting for a DVD release for this event, I decided to take it upon myself to use Twitter’s shitty search engine to search Event Reports for it and I honestly don’t regret it??? But at the same time it just added to my salt that this won’t be seeing a DVD release anytime soon :))))))

Note: Contains Spoilers, proceed with Caution though since we all won’t be seeing this any time soon or probably EVER, might as well just spoil yourself 8D These are all based off a detailed Report I read on twitter IN JAPANESE about the full event and it’s the closest I will ever get to experiencing it (which I really REALLY want to) so your guess is just as good as mine unless you don’t understand Japanese then feel free to ask me anything :D

THIS.EVENT.WAS.THE.BOMB.

It was a flurry of Emotions even for me, who basically just read a Report for it so imagine if I actually was there???

Basically, you could call this event something that was meant to be remembered for both the cast and the audience and it’s honestly a shame we won’t have anything to remember it by (Except for Event Reports and I’m SOOO thankful to that person who went through all that scribbling on her note pad throughout the whole 2 sessions JUST to write a full detailed report on it, you’re the True MVP) .

Though onto the actual content during this event, they actually went with something like a Musical Short Story with some fun seiyuu corners in between scripts. The event being split into two sessions: Day and Night, have different titles for the short stories similar to how the anime episodes were titled; The Day session was titled “The Charleston of Reminiscence and Dreams” and The Night Session, “The Minuet of Reunions and Farewells”. Though both sessions are basically the same story, they actually have 2 different outcomes. Meaning if you only bought the Ticket for the Day session, you wouldn’t be able to see the other outcome of the story and vice versa.

Like, can you believe it?? That this whole event was basically built on the concept of having a choice like in an interactive Visual Novel and the choice was whether you bought the Ticket for the Night session or The Day session X’DD  Though those who were willing to pay for twice the price for both Tickets get the best of both worlds and Avex (The main organizer) gets them ticket sales yet doesn’t release a DVD for the Event :))) (I’m salty OK?)

Back to the topic at hand, you can say that this short story was something like a mildly self aware alternative timeline set after the events of the anime that was also the producer’s personal crack fic… with its own good and bad end…yeah, this was wild but it was a good kind of wild and everybody cried at the end (Of the Night session that is, details coming up) so :’D

Here’s a summary of the story…or basically the whole story www:

The story starts off with Lindo narrating about the life of the Tachibana family four months after the events of the Anime ( Which is around the time of this event, Avex you genius), he and Ritsuka continued going to school whereas Maria continues her career as a Translator. Lindo apparently still trains his exorcist skills but of course, hopes that he wouldn’t have to use it again. He then talks about the atmosphere around the school being lonely, noting how lifeless the school’s greenhouse was, or how there wasn’t anybody kicking down classroom doors now, or that weird student flying up and down from the third floor,neither is the pomeranian that was constantly yelping nor that weird chorus that came out from the Third Library every time he passed by it, but most importantly how there wasn’t signs saying “Mushrooms are strictly prohibited”  around the school compound anymore, other than that, life was fine and dandy for this Siscon. On Top of that, Ritsuka’s frilly apron was officially his now as he’s mainly the one doing the cooking in the house www

Meanwhile in the Demon realm, Glax calls upon Rem and gives him a brand new mission to accomplish and that is *drum rolls* to host a Radio broadcasting program and win the heart of all the civilians in the demon realm to vote for him as king now that Maksis is revived wwwwww Urie and Mage wish Rem good luck and were off to spend their own leisure time before he pulls them back and says that Glax wanted the four of them to host it wwww Urie tries to find an excuse saying that he was busy preparing for a party with his butterflies and Mage says that he had to give his underlings Training until Shiki, being the one that actually doesn’t mind joining, chimes in and says that if they hosted the Radio Program in the middle of the night, the broadcast tower in the demon realm might just be able to transmit its signals to the Human realm as well which means that Ritsuka might be able to listen to their program and Urie and Mage were officially in with the group lol.

They then proceed to think of a Title for their Program and decided to go with Shiki’s idea: All Night Makai (Basically All Night Demon Realm www). To which Mage, Urie and Rem (Rather adorably) say out the title in a rather confused tone, splitting the three words in random places among the three of themselves until Shiki got annoyed and asked if they just hated him that much that they aren’t including him in their mini charade and the three of them say that there’s just a weird sense of Deja Vu as if they had experienced the very same thing somewhere… like this was another timeline. The four of them ponder about this with Urie noting that it’s probably true as he had caught wind about how the activation of the Forbidden Grimoire had caused several Parallel worlds to occur which resulted in a confused Mage as he struggles to keep up with their ‘foreign’ language though still mistakes Jikansen (Timelines) for Shinkansen (Bullet Train) in Japanese LMAO. Rem basically explains the game mechanics of the DwD game describes it as two different doors that lead you to several outcomes depending on which door you choose and Mage finally gets it by saying that “It’s just like a Game!” (To which I snickered cause this level of foreshadowing is glorious).

The four of them got back to coming up with a content for their program and came to a conclusion that they’d each do their own mini segments: Urie’s lectures on “Amor” : A sure way to gain the heart of your beloved’ (Urie has some glorious English www) , Rem’s “I’ll tell you what really happened back then” (in which he tells you something you didn’t know about certain scenes involving him in the anime lololol), Mage’s ハジゲテイッチャワ(whatever-the-fuck-those-Katakana-actually-mean) NIGHT and Shiki’s ‘Are you shivering with excitement tonight?” (Where he attempts to make you go ゾクゾクするね～ with him). The program ended up being a success and managed to rake in a 90% rating but Shiki just had to pour cold water over the other 3 saying that it’s because they’re the only Radio broadcasting program in the Demon realm LMFAO. The four then pondered about whether Ritsuka was able to listen to their midnight program.

Back in the Human realm, Lindo decides to listen to some Radio after completing his daily exorcist training and actually comes across their Program but doesn’t recognize any of their voices and isn’t able to catch the pun in the Title wwwww. He thinks of letting Ritsuka listen to it but it dawned on him that she was having a sleep over at Azuna’s and laments that it’d be a long night without her XD At Azuna’s place, Azuna presented Ritsuka with an assortment of Creampuffs from Ritsuka’s favorite pastry shop, Aspiration  (In the night session, Azuna’s showing her newly bought pink pajamas instead) when she suddenly sighs in relief much to Azuna’s confusion. Ritsuka confesses that she had a nightmare where she dreamt of Azuna dying protecting her and was just glad that it was all just a dream ;;; Azuna says that she’s had the same dream too and wonders if it’s something that happens in another Timeline ( geez, I wonder :”))  ) but tells Ritsuka if that were true, she wouldn’t regret a single thing about it, because Ritsuka’s her precious friend. Ritsuka responds saying that she too would do anything to save her if Azuna ever got into trouble. Kaze no yokan starts playing and Ritsuka and Azuna took turns singing each verse, ending it with a duet during the final altered verse of the song.  

The scene changes back to the demon realm and Mage has some big news for the other 3. He heard news about the Forbidden Door connected to the Human realm (I’m assuming it’s the Gates of Gehenna?), which was said to open only once every 99 years, was going to be open in a few days and says that he’s jumping on the chance to go back to the human realm. Urie and Shiki decide that they’re going too but Rem hesitates, saying that there isn’t a reason for them to go there ;w; ( Boy was probably worried about Glax being furious at his departure…) The others urge him to be more open about what he truly wishes for and this is where the script cuts to a session featuring exclusive monologues for each boy (including Lindo), talking about the what ifs of their relationship with Ritsuka (kinda disappointed that the monologue was the same for Rem in both sessions but eh whatever, he had a solo performance at the end after all lol) . The session ends with the Reprise version of Mademoiselle (which had the same arrangement as the one sung by the stage play cast in the first musical, slow and rather bittersweet).

Rem finally decides that he really wants to go see Ritsuka (after 4 months of not seeing her XDD) but rejects Urie’s idea of fooling his father into thinking that they were at the broadcast station by pre-recording their weekly radio program (in the Day session, he agrees to go along with it) and instead says that he’ll try his best to inform his father about this straightforwardly. At night, the gate finally opens and the four of them enter it while hoping that wherever they end up at isn’t a threat to their lives =v= (Shiki on the other hand wants that to happen ww) The four of them ended up arriving back at the third library and the music for Warewa Shikou Gakuen Setokai starts playing (cause why the hell not). Meanwhile, Lindo and Azuna are on their way to the third library after witnessing his exorcist pendant glowing brightly and as Lindo puts it: ‘Fiercely saying “Say Yes!”’(Yeah, wtf lmao) when Ritsuka comes running after them, saying that her king crown was glowing too, much to Lindo’s dismay as he had told her to stay at home wwww. The three of them burst into the library and came face to face with the four devils, much to Ritsuka’s joy as she happily greeted all of them but of course, Rem first :3 The trio immediately surrounded her (before Rem could get to her I assume www) and are onto their usual banter about who she had wanted to see first but is warded off by Azuna’s holy water (reference to episode 8 www) lol. Lindo whines about Ritsuka not listening to him by choosing to chase after them and the trio chirped about how that’s so Ritsuka lmao. While they’re at it, Rem and Ritsuka reconcile with each other and Dance with Destinies starts playing, before being cut off after the first verse as Rem proposes that there is another way that they could be together.

Day Session Ending: Before Rem could make a decision, Glax bursts into the scene, furious that Rem tricked him. It’s revealed that Rem’s excuse for not being able to obtain the Grimoire was because he chose to help a human, which Glax already considers a punishable sin so finding out that it wasn’t only a human but the grimoire itself, Glax drags the four of them back to the Demon realm, saying that he would engrave it in Rem’s body to never do such a thing again as an Arlond ;;; Ritsuka is heartbroken but Azuna and Lindo reassure her that they would definitely meet again someday. We then cut to a scene where Rem laments about how weak he was for not being able to confront his father about his decision  and vows to be stronger so that he could see her again someday.

Night Session Ending: Dance with Destinies starts playing again at the fourth verse and the lyrics are adapted for Rem. He chooses to live as a human beside Ritsuka and the trio note how he has changed and are amused at what possibilities the future would have for the 2 of them. Lindo (Hatano Wataru was unexpectedly crying at this point lol :”) ) asks if that was even possible, and Urie tells him that there’s actually plenty of devils living in the human realm in the guise of regular people and points to the crowd below the stage XD Mage then exclaims to the crowd that from now on, they’re Rem’s senpais when it comes to living in the human world ( AWWWWW). Shiki notices Lindo crying but he denies it and says that it was just his holy water and tearfully says SARUBESHII LMFAO (This part was mostly an ad-lib because it was unexpected www). The story comes to an end as Rem promises Ritsuka to never let her go no matter what and that the both of them will walk together towards the future.

Ah, what can I say, this short story (yeah, short XD) was actually pretty fun and filled with all sorts of emotions. The thing that I’m most surprised about is how Timelines were brought up quite a few times in this story and they even managed to have it related to the activation of the Grimoire. I liked the fact that it was self-aware that it could be a different Timeline on its own (which it was, judging by how Azuna was alive in this story and its rather cracky moments) and honestly thought that it was much more ‘Timeline -themed’ than the movie was even though the theme of the movie was supposed to be “Timelines”. The nods towards the game’s existence and how the different routes in it can also be described as timelines was honestly creative imo and it’s just such a shame that the movie didn’t utilized this concept. Although the songs were mostly reused, I liked the fact that some of the lyrics and music arrangements were adapted to fit the current situation and I thought that it was a pretty smart move by the producers to maintain a sort of live musical feel to it. The only disappointment I have is that I wish Ritsuka had more dialogue and that she’d be the one to narrate the first few lines of the story instead of Lindo. Like I want to hear her thoughts on life after the events of the anime and of course her thoughts on Rem and the others being gone, it felt that she had more of a passive voice in this story and I can’t help but wonder if it’s the producers attempt to not make the story ‘too’ RemRitsu inclined but eh, at least we got a live duet lol (I’ll just hope that they’re saving it for a more serious sequel, let a girl dream). Another thing worth mentioning in this story and probably my most favourite part of it, is the relationship between the four devils. They had so many comical dialogue with each other it’s hard not to love them in this story :3  I also really liked how Lindo narrated the story at the beginning with how oblivious he is about why those things were missing in school www. This is especially hilarious if you know just who those quirky habits belong to =w= Glax and surprisingly, Holland (in Rem’s segment of the radio program) do make an appearance in this story but only as voice recordings, to which I wonder who voiced Holland lol (I hope it’s Subaru =v= ).

As for the seiyuu part of this event. there was actually a segment in between the script where they had to respond to comments from the fans in the audience and decide whether they’re a human or a devil in the day session wwwww , whereas they had to respond to comments about the anime in the night session (Reader: Hatano Wataru). I found it pretty sweet that they actually try to make out who was the person that wrote the comment in the crowd and acknowledge them especially that part where Souma asked a fan if they’re saying her pen name right www (They were debating whether it’s said as U-S-A or just usa lol). Like I mentioned in my summary of the story, Hatano Wataru cried during the finale of the story but managed to stabilize his voice when he was singing Unmei no Coda and BL(U)CK BASIS (short versions of both) right after. He explains that the reason for his tears was that he thought that scene with Souma and Himika was beautiful (He’s such a proud senpai ;w;) so everyone starts calling him Mama Lindo lolol (Souma: Okaa-san? XD). The final cast comments came after Pentacle’s version of Kakusei no air (Which actually has an official recording but it’s only available in the 1st volume of the BD for the anime :”D) and things got emotional for everyone, especially Souma as he started crying during his turn ( He was kinda holding it back all this time) ;;; I actually translated his comment but I haven’t posted it here so here it is:

;w;

Honestly, it’s really such a shame and an even bigger Mystery as to why this Event didn’t have a DVD release. So much heart was put into it only for it to remain as only a memory OTL  At first, I thought it was mainly Rejet’s problem but turns out, it was Avex who was the main organiser and I’m just so???? Though I jokingly think that it’s because the cameraman forgot to record the whole event so they couldn’t make a DVD =v= I honestly hope that isn’t what really happened though cause it’d be really 何で神様？！ORZ and I’d feel really bad for the Cast cause the songs that they only get to perform once live didn’t get recorded , to think that Souma really wanted a DVD release as well…

Overall, this event was indeed a special one and I’ll forever be salty that it won’t be having a DVD release nor an official recording album for the event-adapted songs. Why wasn’t this the movie instead?

#dance with devils #special event #anata mo watashi mo honto wa akuma?! #seiyuu event #Rem Kaginuki #Rem Arlond #Saito Souma #Lindo Tachibana #Hatano Wataru #Ritsuka Tachibana #Akaneya Himika #Azuna Kuzuha #Matsuda Risae #Urie Sogami #Urieganof Fuser #Kondo Takashi #Mage Nanashiro #Mage Gangartua #Kimura Subaru #Shiki Natsumezaka #Kirael #Hirakawa Daisuke

[vocatharsis]

Cogs’ TS2 Apocalypse Run (IX)

<< Previous | Next >>

Earlier this year, I started revisiting The Sims 2. After a bit of messing around, I decided I’d take a shot at doing an apocalypse challenge run (specifically Phaenoh’s tiered, mod-enforced version). I didn’t succeed the first time, and didn’t document it with screenshots etc. anyhow, so in this second attempt I’ve resolved to do both. 

(Lots of screenshots & commentary below the cut. If you’re into Sims, nostalgia, challenge runs, and/or silly reflective commentary, feel free to read on!)

THE SMITHS’ FREE STATE, PART 9 - SO LONG, SHELMERDINE

Two mercifully-timed birthdays -- i bet he steals answers on homeworks too -- bidding the founder farewell -- oh goodie, some crap I can clean off the floor -- Muuuum, stop plaguing my sleep -- people in uniforms -- I imagine Foucault would be proud (or not).

Welcome back! Now, this is a sad chapter. The character I started this run with, Shelmerdine, is going to die of old age pretty soon. She’s had a fantastic go of it - managed to max all skills before elderhood, survived the terrible interval in which greyhairs had complete free will, reached perma-platinum for her aspiration. But now it’s time to bid her farewell. 

As a small mercy, she’s set to pass on the day after the two toddlers Aaron and Forseti are eligible to age up via birthday cake, so I won’t have to deal with the toddler ‘relative dies’ fear tanking both of their aspiration meters the day before they start childhood. 

First, let’s do Forseti--

He looks nice when he’s happy ^^

And I waited until morning to age Aaron up, since everyone was kind of tired at that point. 

Yippee!

Love Forseti’s little jump there. 

As I’ve established before, kids & teens aren’t currently allowed to go to school, nor use any skill-building object that isn’t also simultaneously fun. So childhood in the apocalypse is all about grabbing whatever skill points you can, with whatever objects aren’t banned. The most obvious of these is playing chess, for Logic: 

It seems that, with his really low Niceness score, Forseti is inclined to make unconvincing attempts to cheat while playing with others. Attempts of the “hey, look over there” variety, which always end with the other person turning around just as he’s moving he pieces around. I’ll need to find a way to make sure he doesn’t tank his friendships with father and/or brother while he earns his smarts.

Age-rollover time is fast approaching. It’s time to say goodbye to indomitable old Shelmerdine. 

Of course, I had to get a photo with all of her descendants in it. Then she said goodbye to each of her children individually.

*sniff*

And here comes bonesy... 

You guys remember how the death sequence for fulfilled Sims goes, right? It’s a hell of a thing. The Grim Reaper hits on you...

... tells you to pick up an unexplained suitcase (which might contain anything from what was in your Sim’s personal inventory to their emotional baggage, I dunno)...

... and hands you an extremely ethnic-looking alcoholic cup-thing.

And then you become a ghost.

BYE-BYE, SHEL, YOU WILL BE MISSED.

poor, poor Kent

Back to business; I decided on a solution to the “Forseti pissing people off during chess” problem. Basically, he plays on his own in a corner of the basement,

although I will say that this has a second benefit: Juan needs to level his Logic, too! It’s the only skill he needs maxed to be a master architect. 

Both of the careers I’m intending for Aaron and Forseti also require some Logic, but even if this weren’t the case, maxing Logic actually increases the skill-gain rate for everything that isn’t Body or Charisma by 25%, so it’s still worthwhile. 

Get a load of this guy:

Name’s Amar Ku. I was completely blindsided by this guy walking down the street, since I’ve never seen him before. Is his hair dyed, or...? Upon greeting him, he did the ‘Kiss Kiss Darling’ gesture, which means he’s a socialite; he must be Juan’s replacement, rolled randomly to fill the gap in the townie roster when he married in.

Panoptica’s got all the skill points she needs to win that final promotion, so I just have her building some other skills to fill her aspiration meter. Like Body skill!

(Note: They can’t do Yoga until they have 3 points in the skill, which means they have to level it by doing radio exercises. These are annoying because they drain Hygiene and Energy, and build the skill more slowly than pretty much any other method. im not gogna have fun)

Meanwhile, Forseti, as our first absurdly-neat descendant, gets to experience the joy of building Cleaning skill really quickly from actual cleaning, as opposed to reading books:

You can’t see it in this picture, but he’s smiling. His Fun need actually increases a little while he’s scraping crap off a toilet seat. Jeez, Forseti.

Oh, minor thing for any 90s kids and/or incidental Homestucks that might be reading this -- the household’s crappy stereo was on while Panoptica was working out, and I had it set to the ‘Techno’ station ‘cos the classic default Salsa mix was getting on my nerves, and then I hear, of all things, a no-vocals version of Chromeo’s ‘Fancy Footwork’ come on.

(I mentioned Homestuck; it was the song used in this fandom meme that I didn’t discover until after the comic had ended [*slight sniff*]. Gods, it’s catchy.)

Upon discovering said song’s presence in the game, I promptly moved the table with the stereo on it up a floor so I could hear it better. Here’s Panoptica doing her jog-on-the-spot routine.

And getting buff, apparently.

Looking good, looking good

Oh, I seem to recall saying back when Kent died that ghosts usually take a night to register that their remains have been moved elsewhere, so Shelmerdine’s debut as a ghost was unlikely to take place on the roof. 

Unfortunately, unlike Kent, she did clamber down the ladder from the attic to the floor with all the beds on it, making it really impractical to send anybody up there for some shuteye tonight. If I send them to bed, they’re guaranteed to cancel out of the action at some point, and let the ghost do its Scare action, which drops each of the victim’s needs a bit.

I realised at this point that I actually have more Sims than I do beds, so I worked out a solution to this one-night problem: buy a bed for the basement.

John starts work earlier than Panoptica, so he had priority here. Otherwise, they took it in turns to kip underground until dawn broke and Shelmerdine buggered back off to the Styx, at which point everybody who didn’t have a job collapsed into their own beds.

Well, today’s the day that Panoptica, with any luck, will get promoted up the final rung of the Intelligence ladder! There’s a chance it might take two shifts, even with an almost-full mood. Here she leaves the house in... I don’t know what kind of coat, while Forseti falls victim to my ever more ambitious experiments with the in-game camera:

(I honestly need to brush up on my vocab for types of clothing, I think. When I do write creatively, it’s quite often urban fantasy-type stuff, and it’ll help me to form a clearer picture of how characters look...)

This here below would be a great picture, if only the yellow sports car didn’t have a wonky interior that didn’t show up when you moved the camera inside

Like seriously Panoptica has a great photo face, it’s a shame

The snow actually thawed for a little while (since it’s always Winter, this only happens when it doesn’t snow for a couple of days in a row) leaving behind some puddles... which of course I sent Forseti to mop up so he could get more experience.

Night falls, and both goasts come out to play, in this rooftop graveyard of empty fridges. (I can’t sell them right now, due to restrictions - I just buy a new one and dump the old one up here.)

And does Panoptica get her final promotion? She does!

Time for some lowkey family celebrations! Here’s Aaron coming outside to give her an after-work hug:

And here’s Juan, being all romantic, though I swear he looks more like he’s just grinning rather than puckering up...

Now I can do lots of new things! Including:

> Let people come inside the house, even if they aren’t already a family friend

> Redeem Popularity aspiration perks (letting John build friendships faster)

> Use the Ask pie menu to scout out townies with good skills/jobs, and

> Chat on/answer the phone! 

This makes things much easier. Also, Panoptica’s got a snazzy uniform.

Heh, now both second-generation kids have dark green uniforms.

So, Panoptica has succeeded in living up to the name I gave her! A pleasant development. It’d have been a shame if I’d given her that name only to see her fired by a chance card or something. (I’d probably have thought about Law Enforcement for her, but that’d have required her to max Body, which would be annoooooying, at least until Juan lifts Architecture.)

So, another successful update, another restriction lifted, another gravestone for the roof... hm. I’ve covered a lot of ground here; I think two more updates maximum before I catch up to where I’m currently at with the run.

Stay tuned, and thanks for reading! 

(If you’ve read through this and/or any of my other updates, please let me know if there’s a particular style in one that’s more enjoyable to read than the others. It’s fluctuated a little as I figure out how best to do it. Thanking you in advance!)

#the sims #the sims 2 #ts2 #my posts

[stevetervet]

Tasmania

Marketing executives of Australia, I bring good news. Your advertisement campaigns are working on my five-year-old daughter. Ivy only needs to hear the words “Did someone say KFC?” and she’ll instantly launch into a chorus of I Love It by Icona Pop. When asked what she hoped would happen in 2021, she didn’t wish for anything existential or even material, but rather answered: “That I get to watch Holey Moley.” But there’s one brand which stands out among the rest. We’ll pull up behind a ute at the traffic lights and hear from the back seat those immortal words: “Oh, what a feeling - Toyota.”

And there were certainly plenty of those moments as we started the new year with a road trip around the island state of Tasmania - 240km south of the mainland across the heaving Bass Strait. Right until the last moment, it looked like the trip might be scuppered by COVID as clusters in Sydney and Melbourne prompted other states to shut their borders but on this occasion, we were in the right place at the right time and the Apple Isle lay before us.

Needless to say, there were a few raised eyebrows along the way when we declared we had travelled from New South Wales - at one point we were even removed from a queue and had to answer further questions from management before gaining entry - but Tassie’s welcome couldn’t have been warmer. The people we met were so friendly and as for the place: well, where do you start?

At the beginning, I suppose, and the absolutely stunning Cataract Gorge in Launceston. Photographs simply can’t do its forested cliffs, glassy lake and ancient boulders justice and the temperature of the public swimming pool in the centre of the gorge took our breath away for a second time as Rachel wisely watched on with the towels poolside. We emerged from the water shivering - and with fellow tourists peering down bemused from the chairlift above - but very much refreshed.

Launceston, the second-largest city in Tasmania, hadn’t been forecast as one of the trip’s highlights but it proved to have been rather under-sold. The macaque monkeys (behind glass) in City Park, the windswept Tamar Island Wetlands and the hands-on Queen Victoria Museum were free attractions you’d pay good money to see elsewhere and Riverbend Park, in the city centre, boasts the best children’s playground I’ve ever seen. It’s no exaggeration to say Ivy would have spent all day there, so vast and varied is the site. Peering down over the park are four huge grain silos, now converted into a plush hotel with a fancy restaurant on ground level. Pricey, yes, but quality grub.

When you’ve been to Peppa Pig World, the bar for any other ‘world’ is set pretty high but where Seahorse World in the Tamar Valley might have been lacking Grandpa Pig’s Little Train, it compensated with a genuinely interesting tour of the tanks and even a chance to hold a little seahorse. From this breeding centre on the banks of the Tamar, seahorses are shipped to aquariums all around the world so if you’ve ever seen one, it probably came from there.

Our four nights in town were spent above a pub - better than it sounds or than we thought when we first pulled up - but there was a change of pace when we hit the east coast.

We quickly realised the weather in Tasmania can change almost as quickly as Boris Johnson’s COVID response and so it was that we huddled on a beach somewhere along the Bay of Fires eating our picnic lunch wrapped in jumpers and waterproofs as some pretty mean waves pounded the white sand. Even us crazy northern hemisphere types weren’t about to try swimming here.

Conditions at our east coast base were more clement, and naturally we hit the pool hard but also made full use of the other sports facilities - putting green, table tennis and basketball court to name but a few. Ivy’s ping-pong skills have improved exponentially since the turn of the year and some of our rallies were even worthy of the name. But every now and then comes a wild shot from the other end of the table which forces you to take evasive action as if facing a Pat Cummins bouncer.

Down the coast we drove, into the spectacular Freycinet National Park where the views across to Wineglass Bay are postcard-perfect. Peer over the edge and it’s a sheer drop to the rocks and waves below, look down at your feet and lizards are scurrying for cover. Disaster was averted at the last minute when the family parked next to us managed to retrieve the stuffed toy whose temporary loss had sent a little girl into floods of tears. What looked like a little elephant had in fact only been dropped a few yards from the car park at the top of the cliffs.

Swansea was a handy stopping point after that - a bit different to its Welsh namesake - but it was now all about the long run into Hobart. Of all the driving we did in Tasmania, less than 5% would have been straight and flat at the same time and those sweeping bends and undulations were never more evident than on the Tasman Highway which hugged rock faces and followed the bends of the Prosser River on the challenging and invigorating approach to the state’s capital.

Hobart, with a population of 250,000 or so, must be the hilliest city I’ve ever visited. There were cars parked at angles that didn’t look natural and even a walk to the closest intersection could be enough to raise a sweat.

But on flat ground a stone’s throw from the waterfront, the Salamanca Market truly showcases Hobart in its best light every Saturday. From tourist tat and cuddly toys to ornate wood carvings and local farm produce, there’s something to lighten everyone’s wallet although by far the longest queues were at the coffee vans. Classic Australia. The pandemic has forced Salamanca to trim its stall numbers and patron capacity, although social distancing in a market is about as likely as it is on the London Underground. However, in a part of the world which is totally COVID-free at the time of writing, mingling in a Tasmanian crowd carries none of the worries it would elsewhere.

Our thoughts were constantly drawn back to the UK not only by the daily news bulletins - reporting daily infection rates higher than Australia has faced in 12 months - but also its role in shaping Tasmania as we know it today. Nowhere is that more evident than Port Arthur, the former penal settlement where thousands of convicts were shipped in the 1800s for crimes ranging from cheese theft to murder. The remains of the penitentiary and neighbouring prison buildings are beautiful; their stories by comparison quite chilling and utterly thought-provoking as to the physical treatment and mental disintegration of so many men, young and old, having been extracted from their homeland with no hope of ever returning. Walking around the site makes you acutely aware of your liberty, even more so in the current climate.

You see, for all the places we visited in Tasmania, for all the experiences, the food tasted and selfies taken, it was simply the freedom to choose and to move which we had to be most thankful for. With the majority of our friends and family locked down on the other side of the world, doing it tougher than ever, there was absolutely nothing about our trip to take for granted.

It’s said Australia is the lucky country, and that rings true to an extent, although political choices have more to do with the state of play around the world than luck. Australia’s consistently tough stance on international arrivals during the pandemic has been a huge factor in keeping the COVID numbers here so low. Two week in hotel quarantine, at your own expense, is mandatory. Around the corner from where we were staying in Hobart was one such hotel with two soldiers guarding each door. Rules are rules here and they don’t muck about. On the one hand, it’s reassuring that we are in such a safe corner of the world right now - but what about getting back to England to see those loved ones again? When will a journey of that nature be feasible and, more to the point, when will Australia relax its stance to the point where we know we can make a ‘normal’ re-entry to the place we now call home? Forget the quarantine, simply getting a plane ticket is like finding a needle in a haystack. We hope to see you all again soon, we really do, but it's just impossible to put a date on that happening.

Meanwhile, sun-kissed Hobart looked a picture from the top of Mount Wellington and equally from the water as we took a ferry to MONA (the Museum of Old and New Art). The exhibits here were all to an incredibly high specification but often weird for the sake of being weird. More rewarding was the time we spent outside in the grounds, watching a band on stage while chowing down on chicken burgers (in the case of the meat-eating members of the family).

Another ferry carried us and the car to Bruny Island, where the pendulum of Tasmanian weather swung like never before. One minute we were slithering along muddy unsealed roads in search of the Cape Bruny Lighthouse (where the winds were too strong to reach the top of the walking track), the next emerging into warm sunlight at the Truganini Memorial overlooking the ‘Neck’ - a narrow spit of land joining the north and south parts of the island.

After the best part of a week in and around Hobart, it was nice to put the hammer down and cruise through the straw-coloured Midlands on the way north. A long line of red bricks running the length of the high street in Campbell Town bore the names (and crimes) or convicts who had not even survived the epic voyage to Australia, dying in transit. There were reminders everywhere of Tasmania’s convict past; less so the treatment of its Indigenous people.

While we had already been exposed to the island’s varying landscapes and weather patterns, entering Cradle Mountain-Lake St Clair National Park can only be likened to walking through the wardrobe into Narnia. Gone was anything even resembling summer as harsh alpine vegetation stood out against steely skies, with a cold wind blowing down the back of the neck in the way that makes you instantly reach for hooded tops. The steep climbs and harpin bends were all worth it just to witness the spectacle at altitude approaching 1,000 metres above sea level. “It’s due to snow the day after tomorrow” said the girl behind the Visitor Centre counter as she handed over our shuttle bus tickets. You could spend days bushwalking around Cradle Mountain, if you like that sort of thing, whereas we chose the hop- on-hop-off approach and still copped a fair pasting from the wind, rain - and UV. The chance to see Tasmanian devils and quolls up close, as well as a wombat in the car park, further added to the experience.

Back through the wardrobe into summer, or at least a north coast variant of it, and the final stop on our tour at tiny-but-picturesque Boat Harbour Beach. With water so clear you could almost count the grains of sand on the bottom, and rock pools and caves to explore every time the tide flowed out, the beach in itself might have fully sustained our four-day stay had the temperature been a smidgen higher.

As it was, we ventured slightly further afield to The Nut at Stanley (where one of the information boards mused ‘when is a nut not a nut?’ - an important consideration for allergy sufferers), Sisters Beach (horizontal rain although not unpleasant) and to Burnie one night to see Little Penguins emerge from the sea and return to their burrows. In rather less salubrious surroundings than the corresponding experience on Phillip Island, the night sky was pierced by the luminescent green glow from a nearby BP filling station. David Attenborough meets Alan Partridge, if you will.

Soon enough, those penguins would be heading back into the Bass Strait and so it was for us, boarding the Spirit of Tasmania for our overnight crossing which marked the end of our Tassie adventure. Housed in a cabin at the extreme bow of the vessel, our plunging path through a sea that was even choppier than normal felt like taking a ride in a washing machine being hit with cannon fire, so loud was the metallic crash of the hull against the waves every few seconds.

So the mouth of Port Phillip Bay had never looked more welcoming and it was a relief to set foot - or rather, wheels - on terra firma back in Melbourne.

But what a journey. In the land that time forgot, the extraordinary diversity and natural beauty of this island have carved out unforgettable memories. The devil is in the detail and I’ve no doubt we’ve only scratched the surface.

Oh, what a feeling - Tasmania.

[lovexthexflash]

My Drop Of Rain

Westallen AU fic by me (lovexthexflash), Chapters:1/1

Summary: Westallen AU fic: One may encounter a treasure and not even know that at the time. The realization may come too late. And the rest of one’s life will be spend in search of the lost and abandoned.

  A man approaches the curtained window in a small apartment. The drops tap on the window sill, creating a melancholic melody.

  27 years old man with shaggy brown hair. Dark circles are visible under his beautiful green eyes. He wears simple blue jeans and a warm gray sweater. Despite the fact that it is comfortable in the room, he opens the curtains and being unable to hide his trembling, crosses his arms trying to warm up. The monotone melody did not deceive him. It is raining outside.

  The man looks out the window. A young guy without an umbrella is standing on the sidewalk and getting wet in the rain. He does not even try to take cover. The man sees from the window that young guy’s windbreaker is soaked through. But the young person does not move. He only turns his head from side to side, as if he is waiting for someone, and the emotions from the upcoming meeting are much stronger than those inconveniences that he feels because of the incessant drops of water.

  Observing this view from the window, the green-eyed man remembered the most beautiful day from his life.

***

A few weeks ago

  The same kind of rain was flooding the streets of Star City in 2017. People who were caught by its cool drops. A couple was rushing under an umbrella in tandem, embracing each other.

  The railway station was not very crowded. Rush hour, when office clerks were going home, already passed.

  Loving couples were embracing without paying attention to others, apparently having decided to not lose a second of the precious time, which was provided by fate for their romantic relationships. Trembling young mothers with small children kept leaning towards their flesh and blood to make sure that their hands were warm, and all their skin was securely covered. Teenagers were quietly talking about something in the corner, hiding from the rain with old peolpe. All of them wanted to get home as fast as possible to brew their tea or even drink a glass of wine or beer to warm up in this bad weather.

  A guy about 27 years old was sitting on the bench and typing something quickly on his phone. He was wearing the usual, unremarkable classical clothing of casual style. A tweed shirt was hidden under a thick blue sweater. His dark trousers were ironed neatly, the boots were clean, even though it was raining outside. He lifted his green eyes in the frame of long eyelashes from the screen and, as if verifying the data, looked at the clock hanging over the arch, from where everyone was waiting for the train to appear. The scoreboard winked with orange numbers. The time was 20:00. A slightly breathless colombian man in a formal suit with a long coat sat down on the bench next to Barry. The young man put the phone into his pocket, turned to his neighbor and, smiling, started a routine conversation of people who meet by chance:

  - “The weather’s bad, isn’t it?”

  The colombian man supported an eternal and inexhaustible "weather" theme:

  - “Yeah! This rain unexpectedly caught a lot of people but I expected it and put on a coat before going out.”

  - “Oh, yeah, you’re lucky.” – said Barry. After a short pause, he asked, - “Do you know when the next train will arrive?”

  The colombian man was as old as Barry, he kept an emotional distance and answered as correctly as possible:

  - “This depends on where you want to go.”

  - “I’m going to Central City. My father lives there. I’m here first time, so I can’t navigate myself.”

  The colombian man looked at his watch slowly, bending his left hand, and replied:

  - “Ok. The train going that way is leaving in 10 - 15 minutes. Pass the Greenwich Bridge, pass one station, and get off on the next one. You will be in the right spot. Maybe you should write it down.”

  Barry nodded and held out his hand to the man:

  - “Thank you... I will remember. Barry.”

  The colombian man shook his strong hand and added with surprise:

  - “Sorry?”

  Barry smiled broadly:

  - “That is my name. My name is Barry.”

  - “Oh, I’m sorry. I did not hear. Well, I'm Cisco. Just Cisco.”

  - “Nice to meet you.”

  An awkward silence hung between the new acquaintances. Barry apologized and reached into his pocket, pulled out his mobile phone again. Meanwhile, Cisco was looking for something in his case. Barry looked at his phone and said aloud:

  - “Oh, damn! My battery is dying!”

  Cisco got distracted from the contents of his case and said politely:

  - “As usual, when you need it,” - and, having heard the sound of the approaching train in the distance, added, - “Your train, Barry!”

  Barry got up from the bench and hung his backpack on one shoulder. He looked at his mobile phone, as if expecting a miracle to happen. But the message was inexorable: “Low battery.”

  The train stopped at the platform. The people rushed to enter, as if this could speed up their reaching the comfort of their apartments. Barry nodded to the man with the cloak:

  - “Thank you, Cisco!”

  Cisco smiles at him and sincerely wishes:

  - “Good luck!”

    The train car was half empty and everyone who entered it from the platform found a place. Barry sat down by the window. There was no one next to him. The train was moving at high speed, passing some houses. Everything was flickering and rushing past so quickly that it was impossible to study anything in detail. Barry looked through the window a little and took the mobile phone out again and dialed the number.

  - “Hello, dad! I'm on the train, I’ll be there soon...”

  Not allowing the owner to continue the conversation, the phone squeaked plaintively and turned off. The battery died.

  - “Damn it! Indeed, at the most inopportune moment. Now I cannot miss that bridge. And I forgot what it is called.”

  Worrying, he looked out of the window again, glancing across the aisle to the other side. He looked to the left, then to the right. The bridge appeared. The train stopped at one of the stations. Barry regretted that there were no fellow travelers next to him. He got up and went towards the other passengers. The wagon came to life. Some passengers were getting off, others were getting on, bringing the smell of rain in. The train was standing still. Completely confused and not knowing what to do, Barry went directly to the woman sitting in a corner place, and asked hastily:

  - “Excuse me, have we passed the bridge yet?”

  The lady looked at him, clearly torn from her thoughts, and answered stammering slightly:

  - “Which bridge? You know there are a lot of bridges in this city, and we have already passed few of them. Where are you going?”

  Barry did not listen till the end, being afraid that he missed his station. He said brief words of gratitude and almost ran to the exit. The doors closed as soon as Barry jumped out of the wagon. Being confused, he was standing on the platform. There were no people as everyone hurried on to continue their journey home. Barry didn’t know what to do and where to go now. He looked around, realizing that the appearance of the station was unknown to him. He went to the information desk. There were an elderly woman and a man in a uniform of a guard sitting behind the plastic partition. The young man knocked on the window and it opened. There was a dutiful smile on the woman's face, which did not touch her tired eyes:

  - “Good evening. How can I help you?”

  Barry rejoiced, expecting his problem to be solved:

  - “Hello. It seems I am lost. Can you help me?”

  - “Yes, sure, what’s wrong?”

  - “You see, I think I passed my station. I have to go to Central City. Someone will meet me there.”

  The woman sighed with sympathy:

  - “You didn’t reach your destination yet, young man. It is another 50 miles to Central City.”

  Barry lowered his hands and hit the window sill slightly, giving the way out to his anger at himself.

  - “Hey, young man! Easy! It is too late. The train will arrive at 6:30. Do not worry! You'll spend the night here at the station. You will go home in the morning. There are empty benches and a machine with cookies and coffee in the corner if you get hungry.”

  The woman pointed at the benches and closed the window, making it clear that the

conversation was over. Barry stepped away from the booth and went to the benches. He sat down covering his face with hands. After a while he looked at the station clock. It showed 22:00. He took his mobile phone out of his pocket and tried to turn it on, but the battery was dead. He slightly beat his fist on the palm of his hand, took a deep breath and tried again. It didn’t work.

  Time passed. The clock at the station showed 23:00. Barry could not sit still. He was getting up, sitting down, lying down on a bench, slipping a backpack under his head. In boredom he got up and went to the exit.

    It was still drizzling outside. Barry was not even trying to hide. It seemed it was all the same to him. He went along the sidewalk and came to the alley leading to a small park. The lighting along the alley seemed to be inviting him for a leisurely walk and to think about something sublime and eternal. Barry had nowhere to hurry and he even felt a special feeling of charm of this strange night. He was no longer angry at himself for a stupid mistake. He was walking with small steps, admiring at the place, which seemed so mysterious and at the same time absolutely safe. He felt that he got a little wet, and droplets of rain were dripping from his hair, trying to make their way through the collar of his shirt. He saw a covered bench and noticed the silhouette of  the person sitting there. Barry soon saw it was a girl. Despite the canopy above the bench, her umbrella was open, and it was difficult to see her face. The enamored couple passed by laughing aloud, and happiness was heard in this sound. Barry went to the covered bench, looked at the girl and asked, trying to keep his voice as soft as possible, being afraid of frightening the stranger:

  - “Goodnight. Can I also take refuge? I don’t have an umbrella, and it seems my clothes are starting to get wet.”

  The girl looked at him. She had beautiful eyes, a clean and well-groomed face. Her curly hair were wet with rain. She had a black light raincoat. Without saying anything, she moved slightly to the side, making room. Barry sat down nearby without looking at her. After a moment she told him in a soft, gentle voice:

  - “Do you love rain?”

  Barry did not expect that the girl's first words addressed to him would be like that. He felt a mixed sense of surprise and confusion. He did not know what to say to the girl. But it seems that the answer was not important to her, because after a short pause she added:

  - “I love it!”

  Barry was sitting silently, looking to the right and to the left, occasionally throwing glances at the stranger and admiring her profile. Just to do something, without hope that a miracle would happen and the phone would work, he pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket again and looked at the dark screen. Actually, this was quite expected, but he hid his embarrassment behind this gesture.

  Time seemed to stop in this enchanting place with a mesmerizing knock on the canopy. Barry could not say exactly how long they had been sitting on the same bench, their shoulders were slightly touching. Perhaps, the silence lasted about five minutes or, maybe much longer. Barry was the first to interrupt it.

  - “It's quite noticeable.”

  It seemed to him that she even shuddered when she answered:

  - “What?”

  - “That you love rain. You are sitting with an open umbrella, but your hair is wet. This means you’ve been walking with a closed umbrella.”

  He noticed from the side how a smile appeared on the girl's face. But she didn’t turn her head in his direction and didn’t look at him.

  - “How smart you are! Like a famous detective!”

  Barry put his cell phone into the pocket, replying:

  - “I’m trying.”

  They were silent again, but Barry decided to take the initiative. He turned his head and looked at her.

  - “I am curious, what is such a beautiful girl doing in the park at this late hour? Alone. Do you live nearby?”

  But she didn’t turn to him. She looked straight ahead, answering with her silvery voice, touching the most secret corners of his soul:

  - “You’re curious.”

  Barry decided to dilute the situation with humor, but it turned out to be ridiculous and too ambiguous from the inexperienced guy:

  - “No, seriously. You do not even know me. What if I'm some kind of a maniac and attack you now? Or a criminal whom the police is looking for? Aren’t you afraid?”

  Neither fear nor alarm could be detected in the girl's voice. She joked enjoying the frivolous conversation:

  - “How do you know they aren’t looking for me? Where is the guarantee that I'm not a criminal?”

  Barry laughed noticing:

  - “Oh yeah... You would be a beautiful criminal.”

  - “Is this a compliment?”

  Barry smiled broadly and unconcernedly.

  - “As you wish. You made me laugh. I had such a terrible day, you won’t believe it. And by the end of the day, or rather, at the beginning of the new one, you gave me such positive feelings. I didn’t even think that I would be able to laugh today.”

  The girl continued to look straight without turning and moving. She sighed:

  - “I readily believe.”

  Barry continued:

  - “You know, sometimes you want to talk to someone, pour out your soul. I met you, talked to you and felt so much better. You are a cure for sorrows.”

  The girl laughed again without looking at the interlocutor.

  - “Did you compare me to a medicine? That’s interesting.”

  - “Definitely - yes, you are a medicine.”

  Both laughed as his assertion sounded so direct. The rain was not stopping. On the contrary, it was intensifying. Water was flowing from the roof of the shelter.

  - “I had a terrible day, too. But the rain made me forget everything. Under the rain you can hide your tears and sadness. Rain is my weakness. I will get totally wet, but I will continue to stand and enjoy every drop that is falling.”

  Barry was looking at the girl for a long time, being unable to take his eyes off her.  She interrupted the pause herself:

  - “You’re silent.”

  Barry shuddered, as if he woke up after hypnosis.

  - “No… Sorry? I got distracted. I don’t know. The rain brings slush and I don’t really like it. But judging by your words, it’s as if you were born in the rain.”

  - “You are right. How do you do it?”

  - “What?”

  - “Read my thoughts.”

  - “Well ... You are so in love with the rain that it is not difficult to notice.”

  The girl voiced her thoughts:

  - “If it hasn’t started raining, I would not have appeared here, and you would be sitting here alone.”

  Barry picked up the topic and expanded it:

  - “Yes... If I didn’t go to my friend’s party at the other end of the city, I would not be late for my train and would not get lost. Actually, I would not have come here and would not have met you.”

  - “Do you regret it?”

  Barry looked at her again, looked away and lowered his head. After a short pause he answered her:

  - “Yes, I regret that I went there. And the most ridiculous, and maybe sad, is that the battery died on my mobile phone. My father is probably tearing his hair out worrying about me.”

  - “As for me, I don’t regret I met you. You are a good companion.”

  Barry did not expect that she would say this. He looked at the stranger again.

  - “Thank you! No one has ever told me this before. Sounds trivial. But it is nice to be considered a good company.”

  - “No one has ever told me I am beautiful.”

  Barry's surprise was completely sincere:

  - “Are you kidding? You are very beautiful. You have unusually beautiful eyes. I cannot stop looking at you. I do not believe that no one has ever told you about this. It's easy to fall in love with you from the first glance.”

  - “Have you fallen in love with me?”

  Barry looked away. He got confused and began to make an excuse, embarrassed:

  - “No... No, of course. But, it's easy,” - he looked at her again and continued, - “to fall in love with you.”

  Silence ensued again. It was only possible to hear the water drain from the canopy above the bench.

  - “I wish this rain would stop sooner.”

  - “It won’t be soon.”

  Barry looked at the girl, admired the beauty of her hair, and then interrupted the song of the rain again:

  - “Do you live here?”

  - “Yeah, this city is beautiful. A few years ago I moved here to work.”

  - “Yeah, it’s beautiful.” - but now he was watching her.

  All of sudden, her telephone made a notification sound. The girl read her SMS and stopped smiling. She closed her umbrella and was about to get up. Barry grabbed her arm and asked anxiously:

  - “Are you leaving? Has something happened?

  The girl was holding an umbrella in her right hand.

  - “ I just have to go. And you have to go to your home. It’s too late.”

  The stranger got up from her place. Barry released her hand. He was watching how she was leaving. The girl kept walking and moving away from him and suddenly, he remembered that he hadn’t her name or telephone number.

    Time passed. Barry was going by the subway thoughtfully. He was dressed in a light black windbreaker. It was dark outside. The train stopped at the same station. Barry got off on the platform, passed by the booth and waved his hand greeting the same persons on duty.

  A man in uniform said to his colleague:

  - “Look, he's here again.”

  The woman shook her head and replied:

  - “For the fifth time. What did he find here? Two weeks ago he said that he was lost.”

  - “So, maybe he found someone?!”

  Barry went out to the street. The rain accompanied him again. He went to the park to that very bench. People were passing by. Someone was running to not get wet; the others were hiding under umbrellas. He was all wet, but he just looked at the empty covered bench, without entering it. The rain intensified, and he got all wet.

    This was repeating again and again. It was raining. Twilight came down to the city. Barry was wearing a brown jacket and a hat. He was standing near the covered empty bench and whispering quietly:

  - “Where are you?”

  He lifted his head up and looked at the sky. Drops of the rain were falling on his face.

  - “Where are you?! You said that you love rain! I come here every time it rains! You were brought here by the rain! You're like a drop of rain – you appeared and disappeared! Can you hear me? When you asked if I had fallen in love at first sight, I was frightened and answered: ‘No.’ I lied to you! And I do not regret even for a moment that I lost my way that day. Forgive me for not stopping you that time. I

will not get tired of coming here! Every time it rains I will come back to wait for you!”

  Barry lowered his head and said more quietly:

  - “I will be waiting for you!”

    Barry was lying in his bed in the dark room. His father, Henry Allen, sat next to him, anxiously touching his head:

  - “You have a fever. I'll bring you medicine."

  Henry got up, but before going to the kitchen, he came to the window and said, - “It's raining again. When will it stop?”

  Having heard the words of his dad, Barry jumped out of his bed and started to dress. Henry looked anxiously at him and asked:

  - “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

  Barry ignored his dad’s questions and put his jacket on. Henry tried to stop him:

  - “You are sick. You have a fever, a high temperature. You cannot go outside. You need bed rest.”

  Barry persuaded him gently:

  - “Dad, I have never asked anything from you. Please understand and don’t stop me.”

  - “But where will you go?"

  - “To search for her... She will come today.”

  - “Who? Where will she come?”

  - “She is... my drop of rain! And I feel that today she will come there.”

  Barry left and closed the door behind him.

***

  The guy standing at the window shook his head. During this time, he recalled every detail of that single meeting. Looking at the person, that was getting wet in the rain on the street, Barry recalled himself. He closed the curtains and left.

  After a while, Barry was beside the unfamiliar guy, holding an umbrella over his head and holding out his jacket to him. And by doing so, he looked at the opposite sidewalk and saw the girl he just thought about. She was alone and wearing pretty red dress under her black coat with red lipstick to match her dress. Barry couldn’t believe his eyes that he finally found her. Turning to the boy, he says:

  - “You can keep them.”

  - “Thank you, sir.”

  No longer looking at the young man, Barry was walking to the girl. He couldn’t get his eyes rid of her, because he was scared that if he does this, she will disappear. When he got close to her, the girl looked in his direction and smiled:

  - “You again.”

  - “Guilty.” – he said smiling and she laughed.

  - “If we saw each other again a few weeks ago, I would have thought that you’re spy on me.”

  - “How will be that possible?! I even don’t know your name.” - he said playfully.

  - “Well, I don’t know your name either, remember?”

  - “My name is Barry. Barry Allen.”

  - “I’m Iris. Iris West.”

  - “Well, Iris, you may not know but I was searching for you everytime when it’s raining. I was hoping I can see you again.”

  - “Oh, really? Why?”

  - “Maybe I have an attraction to you.” - he answered playfully.

  - “Maybe I have an attraction to you too.”

  - “So… where have you been?”

  - “Remember when I got SMS? It was saying that my mother suffered a crash and she was in the hospital.” - tears appeared in her eyes. - “She didn’t survive the night.”

  Without thinking Barry pulled her into a hug.

 - “I’m sorry.”

 - “Doctors could not do anything to help her. Her heart just… stopped.”

 - “Don’t think of that. Continue living your life. Your mother would want that. I know how you are feeling. My mother died when I was 11 years old.”

 - I’m sorry, Bear.

 - “Bear?”

 - “Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean…”

 - “No, it’s nice. I like it. You can call me that. You can call me whatever you want.”

 Iris smiled. She has beautiful smile. Barry thought to himself.

 - “To be clear, today I tried to ‘continue living my life’. I had a date with co-worker.” – Barry didn’ say anything so she continue – “Two hours ago I was supposed to go on a date. My first real date since my mother died, but… at the last second I just… I couldn’t do it. At that second I remembered you and our conversation. When we talked, I had the feeling that I knew you. So freely I talked to you and I think that you know what I’m talking about. I felt some special bond to you. Also, you were very handsome, funny and made me compliments. I just… In that moment I wanted you by my side. Just to be there and comfort me.”

  - “Now I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.”

  Iris smiled again.

  - “And… I was searching for you to tell you that...”

  He didn’t continue and Iris saw that it’s torturing him, so she asked:

  - “What?”

  - “I think, no, I’m sure that… I fall in love with you from the first glance.”

  - “Oh! Wow, Barry…”

  - “No, please leave me explain. I know I lied to you about that, but how someone will say or know that for sure? For that reason I was searching for you. To tell you how I feel and ask you if you feel that way. Now I know 1000% I love you.”

  - “Well, I think somehow I hinted that I love you.”

  - “Well, I won’t be sure if you don’t say it clearly.”

  - “I 1000% love you, Barry Allen.”

  They laughed.

  - “I love you too, Iris West.”

  Then they kissed. Barry gently stroked his tongue over the soft flesh on the inside of her mouth, and she completely lost her ability to think. She could only feel, but, oh ... how she was feeling. Her skin tingled ... every inch of it, though he barely touched her. Iris melted. Her body was looking for the warmth of his.

  He ran his fingers in her hair, enjoying her silky softness. 

  - "Have I told you," - he whispered between the kisses - "that you are the most beautiful woman I've ever met?” 

  - “No, you haven’t.” 

  - “Well, you are. And sweet, and funny…” – he couldn’t finidhed, because her lips were on his. 

#my drop of rain #Barry Allen #barry #Iris #iris west #barry and iris #cisco ramon #cisco #au #Henry #Henry Allen #nora #nora allen #The Flash #first kiss #First Meetings #Fluff and angst #love at first sight #based on book #westallen #westallen fic #francine west

[dunewizard]

Session 3: The Cutlass

I wrote a write up for the last D&D game I was a player for, we’re attempting a duet campaign, so I finally got to play my Evil Aligned Gunslinger Drow character Carric Do’Rae! (Level 4 Rogue with 2 Revolvers found from the Dungeon Masters Guide)

I wanted to post one of the write ups here, i’d keep it under a readmore, but yeah! I added Heroforge figurines to help visualise people and scenes. Carric is a bit edgy and definitely isnt the type of character I go for, I just realised a Chaotic Evil character isnt... fit for most party scenarios. Its got a killer end to the session so if you do feel like reading a session recap written in first person - be sure to read to the end! :D

Session 3: The Cutlass

  I surfaced in Southern Luskan, amidst the graves of the dead I rose as the zombies would. I knew The Cutlass was in the south side of town, and under the cover of the midnight moon I stepped out to the streets and hugged the darkness like a shield. I didn't get far before I felt like I was being followed, that hobgoblin from earlier was wreathed in an ominous shadowy cloak, I nodded to him but he seemed intent on getting me back on my mission. Fair enough.

Heading towards the wall I figured I must have been close to the docks, the stench of the muck I was in earlier has washed into the very cobbles that dot the ground in this city. Their stench brought in from seagoers and tradesmen alike, and speaking of them, a sextuplet of ne'er-do-wells approached me reeking of alcohol and rage. I kept to myself but I was more than ready to hit them up the moment they took a step in the wrong direction. They opted to call me out. "Oy! What do you think youre doing walking the streets at this hour?" they queried, slurring their words as they spoke. "I could ask you the same question, do you really want to do this? Incur the wrath of the mighty Spirton Baensek?" I bluffed. They seemed bewildered, the name was shared by someone I would care to forget from my past, but their name became a bit of a personal joke, so i used it. They seemed to ignore the name, and replied in turn with their own - I admit, I wasn't impressed with them in the slightest. At first I took them for a shift of Luskan Guards coming off work, I hadn't seen what they perhaps wore for a uniform so this was the best they had, I mean they appeared to be a Navy division perhaps. But it was evident from their demeanour and their willingness to slash me to death with their cutlasses implied they were Pirates to some degree, once they said they were the So-and-So Pirates, I knew they were little to no threat to me. “Oh! So youre not Luskan Guards? Well that makes this easy!” and With a quick flourish I doffed my cloak and drew my revolvers, I aimed them at the gang.

"Uh oh lads, he's a Wizard," they whispered among themselves "We'd better scram." They began to cower. "Uh - Sorry! Sorry Mr Baensek - we'll be on our way! Don't turn us inside out!". I put my cloak on once more, and motioned for them to clear off, and out of my way. I turned to watch them leave, and out of the corner of my eye I see the Hobgoblin was inches away from sending a deadly arrow into the eyes of their charismatic leader. At least I had a watching angel in case things go sideways. I reached the Inn, a brothel it seemed, brazzieres and bodies were being thrown everywhere upstairs, and stabbings were going on in the lower floor that contained the bar. Quaint. I didnt plan on staying long. There were two tough looking Grunts outside standing guard, I take it they wouldnt like drow - but I wonder about Elves in general. I posed as my Wizard persona Mr Baensek once more and held my tinderbox like a book. Without so much more than a "Get out of here you rapscallion - filthy - no good - snake in the grass - back biting - arrow slingin - stinking ELF" I was sent away like a street rat. Welcoming. Well, I needed to get in, and I didn't feel like waiting outside this location for the next 5 days on the hopes my man Morick wants to pay them a visit, even if I knew what he looked like I'd be up the River Rauvin without a paddle. So I needed a better plan. I took to the thieves highway up on the rooves, hoping to land a shot on one of the bouncers.

Hiding atop a roof, I aimed my Shortbow and took a shot.

His large frame was such a large and easy target.

He dropped like a feather brushed by the wind. Screaming in pain.

Noticing the noise I hightailed it out of there, I had a plan to circle the block and take a similar shot on the other bouncer, who hadn't moved from his post. Dedicated I guess. No one suspected a thing, noone was helping the sod on the floor - this town has been the first I can agree with in a long time. I couldnt quite find my mark on the second bloke, this angle was weird, but I wasnt going to risk being spotted here. I wedged my feet into the beams supporting a drainage pipe and attempted to fire a shot hanging off the side of the building, it was the closest to a sure thing that I had. Something shifted in my weight, and suddenly I realised I was too heavy - but it was too late. I began to fall towards the floor, I didnt want to miss this opportunity, so I aimed my bow while falling, and pincushioned the second bouncer. He dropped like a stone much like the first. But I was falling now, and I was falling fast. Reaching out I managed to grab onto a ledge, and met my falling speed perfectly. In fact It was so perfect that my momentum was held and sent me through the nearest window - waking up the resident of the house, an old man. In bed, barely awake, he begins fumbling for a broadsword under his bed, I was swift in taking his life. I drove my shortsword through his gullet, and he coughed blood everywhere, but it seemed he was not done dying - so to be sure I pulled his covers over him and made sure to stuff his mouth with his sleeping cloth. Meanwhile I could hear outside - the boucners were screaming about "Finding that damned Elf". Looking to the old man's meager table, there was some charcoal and writing paper with scribblings of death threats and extortion papers. I scribbled a note quickly: "Shut up about Elves" - a simple effective note. I tied it to another one of my arrows, and sent it into one of the bouncers who had began to stand. After reading the note he walked over to where I was, calling out to the old man - telling him to knock it off with his notes. This moron was creating such a ruckus, why didn't I just kill them and call it a day? Ugh. Searching around the Old Man's apartment I located the sword he was reaching for, I've never quite held something so hefty - let alone knew how to use it, I threw the sword out over my shoulder, not quite looking at where it would land. As luck would have it, the sword met the mouth of the bouncer quite well. In fact it slid down his gullet like a wet fish, killing him instantly. Bizarre  These encounters took me all the way to morning, as I approached the bar it was coming to first light, parting the nightly fog. Stepping over the bodies of the bouncers, I made my way inside The Cutlass. A crew were cleaning up the exploits of last night, a small crew of women in bodices and corsets were on cleanup duty - they quickly tried to shoo me out, telling me to come back at midday when they open again. I had to insist, I was in a hurry to find Morick. I announced my business, that I was after Morick, I had heard he frequented this bar, and that I could find him here. I would be willing to pay for the information, and flicked the Hostess of this Inn a lantanese golden coin. A hush fell upon the room, "oh no, theyre that poor" I think to myself. I reach for my gold bag, and can you believe it, one of the maids were already reaching to grab it! The nerve! I kick the swine in the stomach, and with her out of grabbing distance I draw my Revolver and point it at her head. "You don't want to see what this does" I warn.

With eyes crossed, looking at the barrel, she stands up and begins to shuffle away. The Hostess suddenly straightens herself up, asks her workers to leave us alone - and takes me a little more seriously. I mean, I've come in with some serious money by the sounds - and I am willing to kill on a single attempt at thievery in a town famous for it’s thieves? I'm glad I made that impression, because it was dead on. 

I sit at the bar with one hand on my purse, and the other hand on my gun, I couldn’t trust anyone except except my guns - that much I knew. The Hostess takes my measure and inquires what I'm looking for, I repeated that I need to locate Morick and that I was lead here, the rest was a mystery to me. I knew that money talked, so before she could land a deal I placed my price on the table. 5 Lantanese Gold Coins. The gold alone would likely have been enough but that crystal in the Lantanese made them a near collectors item this far from Lantan. I lay them on the bar and pushed them to her, I then made a case for her. "You don't really like this backwash town do you? With this sort of money you could sell this place and head as far as Baldur's Gate, if you fancy. Start up somewhere new, somewhere fresh, away from the grime of this city. I know I won't want to stay long, why should you?" She considered this for a moment, and the reserved look on her face knew it was enough for her, but for good measure to secure accurate information I threw in an extra coin anyway - she could have made an attempt on my life if she wanted, and then I'd have to kill her, so I'm working good faith into her now. In the true illuskan way, she sells her information of Morick as soon as she sees that 6th coin hit the bar.

She told me that he doesnt really come to this bar, but it was a bit of a trap to catch out those who wouldnt know any better, or learn how to be worth his time. Turns out Morick is a big time thief, assassin, and general ruckus-maker. His real haunt was a second location, across from the Winter Palace on the second floor. She warned he was known for his traps, so I should be prepared to dodge or disarm a bunch if I plan to break in uninvited. She then explained that If I were to flash a light at the 2nd story window facing the street, I may be granted entry but I'll need to learn the pattern as it changes every week.

Rats

She then explained that it'll take her a day and a half to skip town, so I'm not to make my move until she's ready. We'll see if I honour that with time. We’ll see if I honour that in time. This whole conversation was observed by the Bard who was sitting on the other side of the bar. I wasnt threatened by his stance, he was idly tuning a fiddle hoping I wouldnt notice him, I wager. He has been checking out the bag of Gold I have swaddled to my person. I turn to him, and address him directly. "Bard, I'll give you some of this money if you write a song about me - detail the fearsome might of the dreaded Gunslinger, Carric Do'Rae". 

"... Sir... pardon... but what is a Gunslinger?" he said, quivering almost. At this point, one of the bouncers who were bleeding out just an hour earlier came to, and woke up. " YOU! " he screamed, pointing at me.  He began to charge across the room at a breakneck pace. 

While not breaking eye contact with the bard, I raise my right Revolver over my shoulder, and with a BANG I plant a bullet between the eyes of the brute, killing him instantly.

"... That's a Gunslinger"

#D&D #DnD Writeup #Carric Do'Rae #Carric is probably one of my favourite OCs I just wish he wouldn't be so evil #Drow am i right

[xbakugobakugobakugo]

muffy goes to hell

 i didn’t edit this and i wrote it on the high of no sleep. but still.

Buffy steps off the bus already regretting every single life choice she had ever made. Next to her, a fellow teammate checks her watch, which reads: 6:27 AM. After an hour bus ride, it’s still before sunrise. 

“Yo, Driscoll!” Marty shouts as he jumps off the bus. “Spikes?” Buffy tosses him her spike tightener, shivering in the crisp October air.

Somewhere nearby, someone lets out a scream as he discovers the forty foot hill that opens the course. Meanwhile, twenty Jefferson kids go about pitching a tent so they can shiver underneath a roof instead. Then they throw out snacks, which are banned unless throwing up on the forty foot hill is a desirable option. Buffy, who has already consumed a banana at exactly four hours before her allotted race time, shakes her head at the embarrassing runners who snack on stale uncrustables before the race. 

“Marty,” Buffy whispers, waiting to see if he hears her through his headphones. He doesn’t—he’s too busy thinking about the twenty or less minutes of death they’re all about to go through. Buffy decides to do the same; she visualizes sprinting at the beginning, feeling strong in the middle, and then feeling like she’s carrying Andi, Jonah, Cyrus, Marty, Libby, Amber, Reed, and TJ on her back as she wheezes to the finish line. 

Great. Can’t wait. 

Cross country is the only sport Cyrus refuses to show up and cheer for. Even Cyrus won’t show up with sunscreen, glittery signs, and moral support. Instead, Buffy’s mom comes out to one meet a month and Marty’s dad shivers in the car so he can drive him home. Andi wished her good luck the night before, with that awkward emoji face next to it, meaning—“you’re dumb for doing this sport, but good luck anyway!”

The morning slogs on, and Buffy drags Marty to the single bathroom which was last cleaned in 1985. They wait forty minutes, only to be retrieved by angry captains saying: sorry, it’s pre-run run time. Buffy tries her best not to throw something. 

At TJ’s basketball games, or Amber’s figure skate shows, or Cyrus’s musicals, Buffy can usually bring herself to smile. Enjoy the experience. But now, as she runs a mile before her actual race, in 40 degree weather, at 7:30 in the morning, she’s starting to feel like she’s smacking her head against a wall. Repeatedly.

“Stretch!” Marty calls out once they get back to the tent, which is being blown into the air. He smacks energy gum, which is probably, definitely some form of steroids but no one seems to care.

Buffy avoids ripping her muscles out by—reluctantly—stretching, and mostly just staring into space and seriously considering her life decisions. Marty, meanwhile, listens to screaming rap music (raccoon in da blender, obviously, along with heartbreak lake), and halfheartedly reaches for his toes. 

Finally, there’s only twenty minutes until the race, and they both put on uncomfortable shoes which have spikes sharper than the wing of Amber’s eyeliner if she tries hard enough. Marty laces her shoes, and Buffy laces his. They whisper a cross country blessing to each other: “bless our shoelaces, our timing chips, our jerseys, our nerves, and our results.” Then Marty writes the words “Plus Ultra” on her arm and she writes the words “Go the distance” on his. It’s an age old tradition with no explanation, but it’s the only way to prepare for what they are about to experience. 

At the starting line, in a mixed girls and boys race, Marty gives Buffy a quick hug, then proceeds to ignore her, because she’s competition. Buffy imagines Cyrus is there, counting down the seconds until the gun is fired. And when it goes off, and her mind goes blank, and her legs start to move, she clears all thoughts of friends out of her head. She sees nothing but green field, feels nothing but biting cold, thinks of nothing but the steps in front of her.

Of course, that works the first 100 meters, but by the second 100 meters she has Boomerang by JoJo Siwa in her head and is trying to resist surgically removing her own mind for blessing her with this song. And of course, the song syncs in line with her footsteps and breathing, so it doesn’t go away. The entire race.

Marty’s mind is completely blank because he’s too busy dying a slow death to put anything into his head. Except, somewhere in the second mile, he starts to think about anime, and it’s all over. The energy gum has given him enough energy to finish the race in less than eighteen minutes, but it’s also given him enough energy to play through every single episode of attack on titan in his head at full volume in the span of four hundred meters. And then to do it again. 

Somewhere in the second mile is also when Marty permanently passes Buffy, offering no acknowledgement. Buffy just keeps running, feet pounding and Boomerang raging. The finish line is nearing sight, except not really, and they still have a mile and a half left. Buffy accidentally-not-accidentally stabs someone with her spike, who may or may not have been Iris. Who knows? It’s common knowledge that no one is responsible for what goes down in a cross country race. It’s a sacred, untouched time. 

While Iris bleeds from a single spike-shaped hole in her leg. Marty’s feet nearly fall off because someone had the bright idea to fill one quarter of the course with cursed concrete. He considers, several times, untying his shoes and running the rest barefoot. He doesn’t, though, because surrendering one’s shoes is just like surrendering one’s weapon. He thinks about stale uncrustables and also the even-more-stale-and-possibly-moldy knockoff uncrustables Cece bought for the same. Meanwhile, Buffy fever dreams of baby taters as she realizes they have to once again run straight up a forty foot hill.

A vertical, forty foot hill. 

Cross country skiing is almost, (almost) preferable to the trek up the final hill. Almost. Buffy claws her way up the slope, makes it to the top, nearly throws up, and spots Marty a ways away already crossing the finish line. Some coach yells at her to speed up, but her ears are tuned out to spectators and tuned in to the jumping heartbeat in her chest and the absolute lack of breath she has. She even hallucinates TJ, Cyrus, and Reed in the crowd, wearing matching t-shirts to cheer them on. That, of course, (more than a single genuine cross country fan at a meet) is as much of a dream as her ever actually reaching the finish line. 

Fortunately, neither Marty nor Buffy throw up after tumbling over the finish line. Gus does, because he’s being forced by his parents to run and because social events make him nervous. There’s too much cross country camaraderie here, between the solidarity of guys wearing short shorts to the awkward, “inspirational” posts made by the most elite runners in the state. Buffy and Marty both made inspirational cross country instagrams, once, seeing as they’re milesplit famous and known by fellow jealous runners as the Jefferson lovebirds. The only picture Marty ever ended up posting (because he would rather stalk other runners and screenshot milesplit results to spam Buffy with) was an artsy shot taken just after a state race at one point, of Marty and Buffy kissing right across the finish line against a sunrise background. Buffy, on the other hand, posts daily story updates of every run she goes on, and recaps every single race in a long paragraph rant. Even TJ reads them, despite reluctance. Marty couldn’t be more proud. 

Once Marty is done dragging Gus back to the tent, some captain announces: now that everyone has finished running, it’s time to run (again)! Buffy, once again, plays through her life decisions in her head as she shuffles along behind her teammates at a speed slower than Cyrus’s mile time. Marty looks like something has sucked the soul out of him (because it has, and that (something) was 3.1 miles of soul-sucking fun). Finally, they finish, and stretch again, because why wouldn’t they? 

Buffy scrolls through several inspirational messages on her phone: from her mom, from Cyrus, the old one from Andi, and, shockingly, one from TJ. 

“Time for uncrustables!” Marty screams, interrupting her thoughts. Being a smart girl, Buffy grabs seven granola bars, three bags of (regular flavor) cheez-its, and eighty packs of Mott’s fruit snacks (because one never knows when the supply will disappear). Marty eats four bananas and every single honey uncrustable in the box, because he’s chaotic.

“Results? Times?” someone goes around asking everyone: the neurotic one. Buffy just throws him a look that says: ask me and I will push you off the bus. Marty, who lacks such a look in his repertoire, gets bullied into guessing his time, only to be met with a pitying glance from someone who didn’t even run the race.

“Hey Marty,” Buffy calls, “the Spoon after?”

Marty nods, and then nods some more. The only way to erase the trauma is to overeat baby taters and cry in a public place—sometimes, while flaunting the medals acquired in the race.

Somewhere in the corner, Gus is still throwing up. Buffy mentally prepares herself for another bus ride, only this one will be less anxious and more full of regret: that she didn’t run faster, that she ate all seven granola bars, that she showed up for the first day of practice and didn’t take up the trombone instead. Maybe she should have joined Andi’s crafting group, or Walker’s art appreciation society, or Cyrus’s thespian club. 

While she’s contemplating all of this with her nose pressed against the window, Marty comes over and puts an arm around her, then prompts falls asleep on her shoulder. Several teammates sing along in unison to high school musical and various rappers blasting through a tiny speaker. Everyone holds on to their seats, hoping that *this time* the coach doesn’t crash the bus.

There’s probably a lesson in there, about teams and relationships and bonds and being worth it. Unfortunately, the message gets lost in Buffy’s mind, which is operating exactly like she woke up at 4:30 in the morning—which, she did. And so, while reflecting on the last few hours of her life, Buffy’s eyelids slip down until she’s sound asleep between Marty and the window, catching up on sleep already so she can wake up and do it all again next weekend. 

#andi mack #muffy #marty from the party #buffy driscoll #tyrus

[planetorigo]

Terraria w/Kiana, Randbrip, MiniArt and Alo (w/ small bits with only Kiana) Part 4

- So Kiana and I played a bit on our own with only a few noteworthy things (we played on our own to look for more good items to gear the others up like Heart Crystals)

- We had a Blood Moon and there, we finally got a Money Trough and two Shark Tooth Necklaces which was very nice.

- I decided to just dig a random direction to try and find more Life Crystals. In the process I found a mushroom biome they had already found and a Marble Biome they hadn’t found before.

- While I was digging around, I went on a small platform that had a pressure plate. Guess what kind of trap it was? Well, lucky for me, I managed to grapple away before the boulder could hit and avoided it completely.

- Eventually, I came across another Minecart system which got Kiana excited. So she tried to see where the Minecart took her. And it took her straight into lava.

- Marilyn got a look update, no longer wearing a fez! As I drew, she has a witch hat because the enemy known as Tim tried to sneak up on me so I with help from Gavin and my Godly Code 1, I took him out and got his hat! Now I’M the witch!

- We finally got a Slime Rain and so Kiana, MiniArt and I worked on killing slimes to wake up the Slime King (because he’s not a major boss and I already made a boss item in a different world for this world for later).

- I ended up getting killed by the King Slime while Kiana got kicked out of the game so MiniArt basically dealt with the King Slime on her own for a while. Meanwhile, it took a long time for me to respawn before I finally did. Apparently that’s the cost of dying to a boss in multiplayer while someone’s still alive.

- When we got the rest of the crew on the world, I took them to the Corruption to fight the Eater of Worlds. He went down relatively easily so really I can’t remember anything too substantial about that one.

- Alo’s character Aloo was apparently erased.

- We fought the King Slime again (because I had the summon item) and apparently her computer crashed when the Slime was targetting just her (although it didn’t kill her). It’s truly a shame all things considered.

- As a result, we have a new Aloo, Aloo 2: Electric Boog (short for Electric Boogaloo).

- We took on Skeletron as well and thanks to all the DPS we dished out, we managed to defeat him fairly easily.

- We gave a try in the Dungeon. It didn’t go well. Because we didn’t do too well. One particular instance for me is that I was being cornered by enemies in different ways (being Cursed, being attacked by the charging guys) and this all came to a head where they pushed me into Spikes but since they were attacking me, I didn’t notice until I died it and it said I was impaled.

- I was pretty annoyed honestly.

- Alo ended up having to AFK and Goblin Scouts got in and killed her so I had to go back to take care of them. But after Kiana died and I decided to keep pressing my luck and going down to find at least one Chest which contained a Cobalt Shield, the best thing to have, I GTFO’d but we were unprepared.

- Death Count; Kiana - 26, Tori - 12, Alo - 19, Randbrip - 5, MiniArt - 7

At this point though, I’ve given up on counting deaths ‘cause it’s too much work to bother to remember. And by the time I’m writing this, we’ve done quite a few sessions with many more highlights... The highlights from those ones will be listed some other time but let me keep in mind here... All of this happened before a certain episode of Terraria 3. Anyways until the next update!

#Tori plays Terraria #PBG HC Discord