#in this same scene she says “I must go now” when link is being transported out of her divine beast when it's made pretty clear that no one

[the-bau-quinjet]

Secret's Out

Summary: Request! Reid and Y/N are secretly dating, but their business doesn't stay their business for long.

Warnings: Criminal Minds level violence

Word Count: 2974

a/n: Thank you for the request! I hope you like it :)

Sorry this took forever! It took me a while to think of case details that I liked and then I kept rewriting parts. I think I'm finally happy with it though!

Masterlist

"Spencer!" You pushed him away. "The doors could open at any moment! How are we supposed to keep this a secret if Morgan walks in on us kissing in the elevator?" You raised a brow at him.

"On average, elevators travel at a speed of 200 ft/min or about 4 seconds per floor. Being on the fifth floor means we have about 20 seconds to ourselves." He smiled triumphantly.

"Yeah, until someone surprises us on floor 3." You rolled your eyes, stepping out of the doors once they opened.

"I can't help it. I'm just... really happy with you." He whispered softly.

"I'm really happy too." You smiled at him. You were about to lean in when the elevator doors opened once again to reveal JJ and Emily.

"Hey guys, ready for another case?" Emily glanced between you suspiciously, but thankfully didn't ask any prying questions.

"Yep, let's go!" You turned quickly, walking into the round table room without so much as a glance back at the three agents by the elevator.

"What's with her?" JJ questioned.

"Said she didn't sleep well last night. Must be all the caffeine." He held his own cup off coffee up in solidarity before also walking to the round table room.

"Alright, we've got 3 dead in Billings, Montana. All three were law enforcement, and all three were found this morning around the city." You listened as Penelope introduced the details of the case.

"Could be someone who feels the police didn't do a good enough job protecting a loved one?" You threw out a theory.

"Or someone who feels wronged by the criminal justice system as a whole." Rossi added on.

"Either way, they likely won't stop until we catch them. Wheels up in 20." Hotch rose from his seat as he spoke, wasting no time in preparing for take off.

You all dispersed briefly to grab your go bags, meeting back at the SUVs to head to the jet.

Once boarded, it didn't take long for the conversation to start up again.

"When we land, L/N go to the morgue. Dave, Prentiss take the first and second crime scenes, they're only a mile apart. Morgan and Reid, check out the third scene. I'll head to the precinct with JJ."

With Hotch's instructions set, you took what little time you had left on the flight to go over the causes of death.

-

"Anything stand out to you on the bodies?" You asked the ME after going over the blunt force trauma and bullet wounds.

"There's tape residue and bruising on the wrists and ankles. Based on the state of bruising, they were likely held for about 3 days before they were killed."

"Thank you for your help." You shook hands, pulling out your phone to call Hotch.

"Hotchner."

"Hotch, they were held for days before they were killed. How did nobody notice they were missing?" There was nothing in the reports that indicated the victims were reported missing prior to being found.

"We just found the same pattern. They all used vacation days for various reasons in the days leading up to their deaths. Meet us back at the precinct and Reid can explain the whole pattern."

"Okay, I'm leaving now." You hung up just as you reached the SUV. Throughout the drive, you couldn't stop thinking that something wasn't adding up.

The victims were taken in the same day. It didn't make sense for the unsub not to escalate. So, why aren't any officers unaccounted for?

Suddenly, a truck crashed into your SUV, sending you flying off the road. A figure dressed in black opened the door and dragged you from the car.

"Agent L/N, it's so good to see you again." A male voice spoke, but you couldn't place it.

He hit you over the head with a handgun before dragging you to his own vehicle.

-

"Where's L/N?" Emily questioned when her and Rossi returned from the second dumpsite.

"On her way back from the ME." Hotch answered. "Did you find anything useful?"

"They truly are dumpsites. Both bodies were found by dumpsters, sending a pretty clear message." Dave replied.

"Same for the third site." Derek added on.

"All three victims were single and took time off leading up to their death. Nobody would've notice that they were missing until it was too late." Reid supplied the final bit of information gathered.

Hotch's phone rang before anyone else could comment. The frantic sound of Garcia's nails clicking against her keyboard echoed through the phone. She was talking before anyone could greet her.

"You need to see this, check your tablets."

Confused glances were exchanged as everyone, barring Reid, opened their tablets. Reid glanced over Morgan's shoulder to observe as well.

A seemingly live video that Garcia received a link to was streaming to the tablets.

A single woman sitting in a chair could be seen in the frame. Her wrists and ankles were bound to the chair with thick, gray tape and a bag was over her head.

"Garcia, what is this?" Hotch asked almost immediately.

"I was emailed the link just now. It's not streaming anywhere else online." Her reply came quickly, the sound of typing still filling in the silence.

"Can you trace it?" Rossi questioned.

"I'm trying, but it's being routed through multiple proxy servers."

"Did the email say anything?" Emily chimed in.

"No, it was just the link- Wait. I just got another email." She paused as the new email loaded. "It's addressed to Reid."

Every set of eyes in the room turned to Reid.

"What does it say?" He felt the nerves beginning to grow waiting for Garcia to read the words aloud.

"Dr. Reid,

I hope you remember me. What am I saying, of course you do. I've got something of yours that you might want back. You see Dr. Reid, you and your team ruined me. My family, my career, all of it, just gone. I thought I'd return the favor. A person's phone can be so informative. Tell me, does your team know about your girlfriend? I've so enjoyed getting reacquainted with her.

Happy hunting."

Spencer's face went white as he looked at Morgan's tablet again. His thoughts were racing. How did he not recognize you before? Even with the bag over your head, he should've known it was you.

"It's her." His words were barely a whisper.

"This is your girlfriend?" Morgan gestured to the screen again. Spencer could only nod in reply, his mind unable to focus on anything except you.

"Reid, listen to me. You've got to tell us everything you know about her. We'll have to split up. You can go back to Quantico with Emily and Morgan, the rest of us will stay here to work on our current case." Hotch was already devising a strategy to work both cases.

"There's no need." His words made sense to him, but sounded cryptic to the rest of the team.

"Kid, of course there is. We'll help you get her back." Morgan placed a hand on his shoulder, effectively shocking him back to the present situation.

"There's no need to split up because she's here. She's in Montana." Before he could continue, everyone was asking questions.

"Give me a phone number and I'll get you a location." Garcia was already typing away again.

"Are you sure she's here?" JJ's brows furrowed. She did her best to hide the hurt of her best friend hiding his girlfriend from her, again.

"Why would she be here?" Rossi added.

"How did she get here? Maybe we can track the transportation and figure out means of abduction." Emily was the only one thinking about the case.

Like ripping off a bandaid, Spencer blurted out the truth.

"It's Y/N."

He was met with silence in the room as everyone absorbed the information.

Garcia caught up first, a sudden gasp sounding through the phone.

"So, then that's Y/N... in the video..." Her voice wavered.

As if a switch was flipped, the team was back on the case.

"Garcia, get me a list of anyone who would have a grievance with the team." Hotch ordered.

"Go through anyone who was falsely accused. Start with cases in or around Montana. He would want to keep this close to home." Rossi specified.

"We've only had one case in Montana since Y/N joined the team." Reid supplied the knowledge as it came to him. "A name, I need a name." He muttered to himself, pulling his hair as he roughly ran his hands through it and over his face. "Garcia, look into Jameson Braddock."

"Got it." She immediately began a background check, searching through case files and news articles for additional information. "i'll get back to you with locations." With that, she hung up.

"Fill us in, kid. Who is Jameson Braddock." Morgan lead Reid to a chair, gently easing him into it.

"Our last case in Montana, Emily and I went to interview a witness." Emily nodded, the memories slowly coming back to her.

"He wasn't very forthcoming, and then he tried to run." She added on.

"Exactly, except he didn't make it very fair. We arrested him, but it turned out he was only guilty of selling alcohol to minors. When word of his arrest got out, the whole town thought it was for the serial rapes and murders we were investigating even though it was never confirmed."

"By the time we corrected the media, it was too late." JJ supplied, also remembering the man.

"So, he killed three officers just to draw us out back out here?" Morgan refocused the conversation on the current case.

"It looks that way now. The media knew we were coming, so he must have as well." Emily theororized. "If he followed us from the airport, he would've seen Y/N leave by herself."

"He likely didn't know about your relationship until he abducted her and went through her phone." Hotch paced the room.

"He's flaunting his power over us." Rossi chimed in just as Hotch's phone rang again.

"Garcia, what've you got?"

"Three addresses in Billings, Montana. Jameson Braddock has been on a downward spiral since your last trip there. His entire life fell apart, like he said. Divorced, his wife moved to Nebraska with their two kids. He lost his job at the high school, and was evicted from his house when he could no longer pay the bills." She listed the information quickly.

"He has ties to three addresses. Nobody has moved into his previous house, so it's vacant. He's got a small apartment in the northern part of the city which he pays for through working odd hours at Taco Bell. Finally, he briefly worked security at a now abandoned warehouse."

"An apartment wouldn't be enough space to hold her without the chance of someone hearing. She's not there." Rossi eliminated the location as an option.

"We'll split up to cover the warehouse and the house-" Hotch began, but Reid cut him off.

"No, we shouldn't split up. She's got to be at the house. The warehouse has no connection to his previous life. He wants revenge for our perceived wrongdoing, he wouldn't make his last stand at a new location." Reid was already putting on a bullet proof vest. Despite how his mind was racing, he refused to show how afraid he was.

"You're sure?" Morgan asked, on the fence about committing to one location.

"Absolutely." With that, Reid was out the door heading for the SUVs.

-

"Rossi, Emily head around back. I'll take the front with Reid. JJ and Morgan, the side door." Hotch instructed the team to split up upon arrival at the house.

Reid wasted no time in approaching the house. He was confident you were inside, but he didn't know what was happening to you.

The main floor was cleared quickly. Again, the team split up to cover the upper level and the basement.

Knowing you were likely downstairs, Reid immediately started that direction, JJ and Hotch following him.

It wasn't hard for him to find you. You were still tied to the chair in the middle of the room, bag over your head.

Before anyone could stop him, Reid lowered his gun and ran to you. He gently maneuvered the bag off your head, stopping his movements only when he felt something press into his back.

"Dr. Reid. So kind of you to join us." Braddock spoke maniacally, pressing the gun against Reid's head.

"Drop your weapon." Hotch commanded, but the man only cackled in response.

'Y/N... Y/N." Reid gently shook you in an attempt to wake you up.

"She can't hear you." Braddock singsonged.

"What did you do?" Reid tried to turn to him only to feel the gun press further into his head.

"Like I said in my email, you people ruined my life. They took everything from me, so I thought I'd try to return the favor." During his short speech, Braddock shifted just enough for JJ to get a clean shot.

He fell to the ground, gun clattering across the floor.

Reid moved quickly to remove the tape binding you to the chair while Hotch called for a medic in the basement.

The entire team watched as you were wheeled into the ambulance, still unconscious, none more scared than Spencer.

-

"She's going to be fine, Spence." JJ tried to reassure him, nonetheless his pacing continued.

"You don't know that. We don't even know what he did to her." He had one hand anxiously running through his hair, the other pinching the bridge of his nose in distress.

Just then, a doctor emerged from behind closed doors.

"F/N L/N." She called into the waiting room, slightly taken aback when the group of agents rushed to her.

"It was touch and go for a while, but she got here just in time." It was visible to even the least qualified profiler how relieved the team felt. Their previously tense shoulders relaxed, frowns turned to small smiles, wide eyes and raised brows pinched together with joy.

"What happened?" Emily posed the question everyone was thinking.

"In short, she was drugged. It's not clear what exactly was used, but it was likely a mix of drugs that attempted to stop her heart."

"Can we see her?" Morgan spoke next, cautiously eyeing Reid.

"You may, follow me." The doctor lead them through a series of hallways to your room. "She should be waking up soon."

With that the doctor left, allowing the team to file into the room. You looked strangely peaceful for someone who almost died.

"So..." JJ glanced between you and Spencer. "Girlfriend, huh?"

His eyes went wide. Instinctively, he turned to you for help, but you were still asleep. He opened his mouth to answer, but no words came out.

"Relax, kid." Morgan grinned. "We're happy as long as you two are happy."

Spencer smiled gratefully, looking at you with an adoring gaze. "We are happy."

"How long?' Emily gestured to your joined hands. Just before Spencer could answer, you groaned.

"I want to hear your guesses first." Your voice was raspy, but there was a clear smile on your face. "Also, what happened?"

The quickly explained the email Garcia received and the events that followed.

"Now that that's cleared up, do tell us how long you think we've been together. I know you've got a bet going." You narrowed your eyes, playfully glaring at each team member.

"4 months." Hotch begrudgingly admitted. JJ followed with 3 months, Derek and Rossi both betting 10 weeks, and Emily going with 6 weeks.

"Ha, you're all wrong." You smiled triumphantly, leaning closer to Spencer.

"Wait, we haven't heard from Garcia." Derek smirked as he rung her on speaker phone.

"Oh, my beautiful crime fighters. Y/N, are you okay?" Your smile widened at the concern in her voice.

"I am indeed, but I have a very important question for you." You glanced as Spencer briefly before continuing. "How long do you think Spence and I have been together?"

"Oh, I know this one!" Her excitement caught everyone but you off guard. "7 months, 2 weeks, and 3 days."

Spencer's jaw dropped as he stuttered out, "that's exactly right..."

"How'd you figure it out?" The group of profilers wore matching expressions of surprise as Penelope explained.

"Well, we had just finished testifying in the Bigelow trial. The whole team went out for drinks, and I could just see it in Y/N's eyes the next day that something wonderful happened. At first I just thought that she got some, but then I saw her and the good doctor in the kitchen getting coffee and I knew." Penelope's voice held a mixture of smugness and pure excitement.

"Babygirl, you didn't tell me?" Derek sounded genuinely offended.

"Y/N asked me not to." Even though you couldn't see her, you knew she punctuated the statement with a shrug.

"You knew, she knew?" Spencer turned to you in shock.

You nodded. "I could see it on her face the second I walked out of the kitchen. But she promised not to tell, so I didn't either."

"The two of you, thick as thieves." Rossi lamented.

"I love you so much." Spencer whispered into your ear as he pulled you in for a hug.

"I love you too." You whispered right back.

"Honestly, I'm glad the secret's out." You smiled at Spencer before looking at the rest of the team. "Although, I wish I didn't have to be kidnapped to tell you."

You spent a few more hours in the hospital before being cleared to go back to the hotel.

The next morning, you smiled to yourself as you were finally able to cuddle with Spencer during the flight home.

Permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner

@jesuswasnotawhiteman

@strawberryspence

@sebastnstn

Criminal Minds taglist:

@mac99martin

@goldeng1rl8

@measure-in-pain

#spencer reid x reaader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fic #spencer reid one shot #criminal minds fic

[shadowtarot]

Shin Megami Tensei And Megami Ibunroku Theory: The Inescapable Cycle

The following theory contains spoilers for: Persona 5 Royal, Persona 5 Strikers, Shin Megami Tensei V, SMT3, Persona 1 and the Persona 2 duology.

Minor Spoilers for: Persona 3 and Persona 4 along with 4′s spin offs.

Oh and spoilers for: Catharine Full Body

Strap in, this is going to be a long post.

So, I finished my long goal of beating SMTV yesterday, and...well a lot happened.

I went the path of the True Neutral Ending, which sees every character Aoi meets dying, only for Nuwa to insist we finish what she and her partner desired: To Create A World For Humans Alone. Doing this had us confront the trials and problems that the demons have caused for each other, and for humans. Surely by riding the world of demons entirely these issues won’t plague the new world right? Well, right before we say our farewells to Aoigami, we’re stopped by Lucifer, the demon who killed God. He invites us to go find him....basically in space. He had absorbed god’s power and as a result...knows a way to ensure that the wish of the Nahobino comes true...but his Magasushi had to be absorbed in order to do so. So yeah, in the True Ending of SMTV the final boss is Lucifer. Same as in SMT3. Fight is a lot easier but that’s not important.  In order to get this ending, you must fight Shiva...who will...in all other endings...destroy the world. So True Neutral is the only way to get what you want.  Lucifer in this game has KILLED YHVH and has ascended to a state HIGHER than Him as a result. By killing Lucifer...the Nahobino has gained that status plus MORE. But...the end credit narration dictates the fact that...the cycle that causes humans to give birth to Demons and Gods....can’t be halted. This Cycle has a name, told to us in SMTV by Ascended Lucifer: The Mandala System.  This system is said to be the reason why a universe always exists where the world is over-run by demons. Basically being the end all be all explanation to why pretty much EVERY FUCKING THING HAPPENS IN EVERY SMT GAME! But we think we can break it with Lucifer’s help. And yet...during the ending scene:

A god persists, the Nahobino, who created the world. Keeping those golden eyes that...resemble a Shadow’s eyes. Granted, all Nahobino/Demons have those yellow eyes. Hell, Demi-Fiend has ‘em too. But that’s when I want to touch on SMT3 for a tiny bit. Ever notice how a lot of the beats of SMTV match in the opposite way then in SMT3? And how the transporter used by Bethel looks just like the one in SMT3 but just...more detailed? And how there’s a 20 year gap between 3 and 5 coming out? The same amount of time mentioned since Tokyo was destroyed in SMTV? Heck both games end their True Endings by fighting Lucifer!  This links to SMT5 being a sequel of sorts for SMT3, and that’s pretty interesting. But...I want to put a pin in that until I finish SMT3 as this is all I’m aware of currently. Now I’ve been talking about SMT mostly so far, but I did say things here would tie into Persona. And to explain that, we need to talk about multiple universes. Let’s go back to where we talk to ol’ Lucy in SMTV. It’s a world between Heaven and Earth. Basically a realm beyond any world that exists. In space, in a pocket realm basically.  Every SMT game, and every Megami Ibunroku game by extension, has a persisting presence of Demons. They exist because of The Mandala System, and it’s explained that it’s humans that will always give rise to them. Sounds like the concept of the Collective Unconscious correct?  And Persona shows just how powerful the human mind is and how it’s will can cause all sorts of things: Persona 1 had a girl with psychic powers pretty much draw demons into the human realm, and the power of the human mind and soul allowed them to tap into their own demons, known as Persona. Persona 2′s Duology showed just how powerful word of mouth is, how strong bonds can defy a memory wipe, and just the fact that the end of these games saw the well known figures of Law and Chaos in those worlds just...nope out. And yet, despite that...issues still happen.  Persona 3: Humanity’s own desire for death brings themselves to the apocalypse. Persona 4: Belief in rumors and denial of oneself leads to their falsehood manifesting Persona 5: The minds of people themselves become warped due to life of a given person has lead them to a distorted state. Have you noted something? The world of Persona has become unstable. Because unlike every SMT game taking place in a separate world, Persona’s games have been taking place in the same Earth that was recreated at the end of Persona 2 Part 1. Meaning that Persona’s world has only hit the reset button once. Following the events of Persona 2 Part 2, the shadows of Persona’s 3 and 4 look...just like random monsters. The demons that we’re all used to can mostly only be seen by them being used by Makoto Yuki or Yu Narukami.  But as soon as Persona 5 starts, the shadows start looking like the demons we’re used to. Hell! Joker’s able to negotiate with the shadows like you would demons in Persona 1 and Persona 2′s duology and get them to join your side. By Persona 5′s logic, this is because the Metaverse is leaking information from the Collective Unconscious. But...the Collective Unconscious’s role has been mentioned a lot. The Door that Makoto Yuki is sealing Nyx inside resides on the edge of this place. It’s the bounds by which the Velvet Room operates. And we have groups of all forms in the Persona series trying to tap into it’s power.

Mitsuru’s Family, Shido’s Group, Dr. Maruki, EMMA, HELL even the villains from Persona 1 were trying to tap into it. 

But it comes down to something interesting, and that’s how the idea of Persona was given to the party of Persona 1. It was from playing something called “The Persona Game” and by doing it, you could pretty much summon Philemon and he’d grant you a Persona. (I know there’s more to it but that’s the gist of it).   Back during those older games, every time you’d fight a human character, they’d have a Persona. But the modern games make it a bigger deal that ANYONE has a Persona. And the reasoning is...no one knows of Persona. Most people that do either have one themselves, are studying one of the many branch offs that allow one to spawn a Persona. Or in Maruki’s case, both. The humans of SMTV have no idea about the demons and don’t even learn about them until the attack on the School. And even then, all the kids taken by said demons pretty much stay in the Fairy Village all the way until the end. And the world kind of gets re-created so yeah, no one’s gonna spill those beans. But...there’s a constant that goes through Persona, and that’s that the crisis that occurs is always because of Humans. They want to die, they want to escape the world they live in and hide in a lie, they want to control their own lives no matter what.  And the solution in the end is always by doing the opposite: Accept death but choose to live, stay true to who you are and not what people want, rebel against controlling people.  Climb that tower! Save the kidnapped people! Steal those Hearts! But are they going to be the solution? Nyx is sealed, and Eubruis can only be killed to buy time. The TV world doesn’t vanish and people can cause the Midnight Channel to appear again, and the Metaverse? It got tapped into again by EMMA. The Persona world doesn’t get a reset button, only a bandage. And even if it did, humans would just cause the world to recreate the issues they already got rid of. Demons and Shadows are born of The Collective Unconscious and will always exist because of The Mandala System.  And other beings beyond Sophia, beyond Igor, know that this a cycle that will happen. Because... Jose never specified who he worked for. I don’t think the Nahobino broke the cycle like Lucifer hoped. But, he does now exist with the knowledge of what effects the Atlus Multi-Verse. Victor appears in Persona 3, and deals with Demons and Angels in his own game. It’s safe to assume the links there aren’t too out there, epically since Persona 5 DLC exists in Cathrine Full Body. Not to mention Trisha is revealed to be Ishtar, so uh...there’s that. Hell, let me put a time line out like this: After the events of Persona 2 Eternal Punishment, Philemon and Narthotep leave the world alone to just observe and not interfere. Their non-involvement causes the Collective Unconscious to not be as easily tapped into. But yet, Shadows still spawn as freakish monsters. The events caused in Persona 3 and 4 as well as their spinoffs cause the gates to be opened wide. Suddenly Demons are spilling out, but can’t make it out into the human world due to the existence of the Metaverse keeping them from getting far. BUT GOLLY GEE HUMANS JUST GOTTA  ABUSE THAT SHIT HUH? During Persona 5′s events, Mementos gets fused with the human world, which doesn’t get enough time to heal as Maruki’s able to jack right into the slowly regressing state of the metaverse in Royal’s Third Semester. WHICH AGAIN DOESN’T GET ENOUGH TIME TO HEAL AS A FUCKING AI IS ABLE TO DO IT AGAIN AT THE END OF STRIKERS.

But let’s take a step back and talk about Jose. He states that he’s studying humans by exploring Mementos. He knows A LOT about mementos and his knowledge allows you to affect it. And as you open up more of Mementos via Persona 5′s plot, Jose’s able to explore more. After reaching the end of the new part of Mementos added on by Maruki and dealing with Plot stuff, you can find Jose there. Now, this small child is very vague about everything and never explains much about his task other than he ‘has to learn about humans’.  So what made him come all the way to the end of Maruki’s Mementos? He stated that the flowers made in that portion tasted artificial and “static-y” which indicated that this was a sect of Mementos forced on by Maruki.  Well...perhaps Jose’s master told him to study that final room while he had the chance. The only reason Jose fights you is to clear his head, nothing more.  Maruki caused a huge shift in the world, one that Jose’s master must be intruged by. Jose is NOT a Velvet Room Attendant, Jose is NOT a demon. Jose....is artificial. He was made with a purpose, that being to observe what is happening in other universes. In other worlds. I think, in desperation to find a true solution into how to break  The Mandala System, the Nahobino ...or whoever followed after him, created Jose and used their ascended power to send him into the unstable world of Persona. Somehow this world has managed to survive without a reset. At least, it has survived with only one reset to it’s name. It’s not the answer to a demon-free world...but something is going to happen starting with Persona 5′s next spin-off. And it’s going to affect not only Persona....but SMT as a whole. The Multi-Verse is at stake. No world is fully free from demons. Who will be the one to pull the switch? To free humanity from the pain it inflects on itself?

#smtv #smt3 #persona 3 #persona 4 #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #shad's theories

[spill-the-milk-tea]

Little Nightmares II: The Timeloop Theory

(AKA my personal theory on why Six betrays Mono, and how it ties into Little Nightmares I)

TW// mentions of suicide

Now going into the reasoning behind Six dropping Mono, I love the theory that Six drops Mono because she recognizes him as the Thin Man, and either because she thinks it will save him or herself or both, she chooses to drop him into what she hopes is some sort of merciful death. But I think this doesn’t truly take into account the time traveling that’s going on here.

What we know for a fact is that what we are playing in Little Nightmares 2 is contained within some type of time loop (this technically applies even if you subscribe to the theory that Mono is simply the next person in-line to become the Broadcaster.) The Thin Man is attempting to save himself from being betrayed by Six, and by using his powers of traveling through time and space, he sends his younger self back through the TV to try again. In doing so, he’s created a time paradox of sorts. This is supported by various promotional material which uses language like “Will you go back?” and describes the Thin Man as being on a “continuous journey.” (A lot of this info can be found on the wiki!)

What this popular theory doesn’t take into account is the overall timeline. In order for this time loop to have began, Six must have betrayed Mono for some reason other than the Thin Man’s existence. The Thin Man had a beginning, and thus before that beginning, Six had different reasons for betraying Mono. This time loop is a branch away from that original timeline, and thus the reasons why Six betrays Mono are contained in this time loop.

Isolating this particular timeline which Little Nightmares 2 takes place in, there are both benevolent and malevolent explanations that people have come up with for Six’s actions. Some say Six was trying to save Mono from himself, and somehow recognized him as the Thin Man (more on this later.) Others would point to Six’s consistent malevolence throughout the game and reason that she just has a natural need to kill and destroy for her own self-preservation. However, that interferes with the overall game timeline continuing into her going onto the Maw in Little Nightmares 1, because the reasoning there is that having her “soul” stolen is what causes her to develop that malevolent hunger for death.

The clues pointing to my personal theory have to do with the Glitching Children. Mono collects these throughout the game and clearly experiences some sort of painful interference when he does so. Part of my theory is that these are alternate timeline versions of Mono—memories, trapped in places that either caused him despair or gave him comfort. This directly connects to the stasis of Six’s soul, which when in the TV, is trapped in her despair/comfort zone, which is the Hunter’s Lodge with her music box.^

^ This relates back to my overall meta-game theory on the various metaphors contained in the Little Nightmares franchise found here (link pending)

My theory? The Six you meet in this game is not actually “Six.” It’s the memory of Six—her soul, her “Glitch” that we see stolen later in the game—because as I mentioned before, this is a time loop. The reason why she is so violent throughout the game is because she is the distilled memory of Six’s own despair. See, the thing I find funny about the TV time loop theory is that TVs can only show you recordings of things that already happened. I think the Thin Man created this self contained, so-called “time loop” based on his own memory, containing Six’s soul/memories which he stole from her.

It’s not a time loop—it’s a rerun.

That is why his younger self pops out of a TV at the beginning of the game. He’s simply being transported into a memory, or “recording” of the past. And he first meets Six in the place where her memory is trapped in the Thin Man’s TV—with her music box. This would explain Six’s erratic actions throughout the game. Not only her violence, but why she at first rebuffs Mono’s help. Because “Six” is essentially just Six’s memories, she remembers that Mono is the Thin Man and of course doesn’t want his help. It’s only when she realizes that she can’t escape the timeloop without Mono’s help that she forms this symbiotic relationship with him.

So the reason why Six drops Mono, at least within this rerun we are playing, is because she’s known all along that he was the Thin Man.

And honestly? This is delving into more personal perspective than logic, but I don’t think Six really wants to kill Mono. She spends the entire game pulling him out of the TVs, trying to create a new timeline in which they never meet the Thin Man and just escape out of the city together. But Six dropping Mono is unfortunately inevitable, because this is Mono’s memory. Mono, in trying to save himself from Six, trapped Six in this rerun. Six spends the entire game trying to escape from us. In her eyes, Mono is very well the villain. Mono could be the reason why the soulless version of Six that escaped the initial time loop goes on to commit the heinous acts in Little Nightmares 1.

Let’s also take a quick break to acknowledge this is all quite confusing (tldr; time travel) and recap: it’s important to remember that the “Six” in Little Nightmares, at least according to my hypothesis, isn’t actually real. In the timeline outside of this rerun, the real quote-unquote “original” Six** without her soul goes on to the Maw. This is the Six we see in the secret scene unlocked when we collect all the Glitch Children, as well as the one we play in the first game which takes place after Little Nightmares 2.

**not accounting for the branching timeline where Six betrays Mono for different reasons, technically irrelevant to the overall plot but still important to remember since it establishes the timeloop

This would also tentatively explain why the Glitch of Six is able to lead us to the Thin Man. This could be Six’s actual memory/soul, which is perpetually trapped in this rerun/time loop, or this could simply be Six in an alternate timeline inadvertently leading Mono for unrelated reasons.

This unfortunately doesn’t account for theories that the Hanging Man and the Thin Man are the same person; although I would argue since the timeloop is contained, technically the original soulless “Six” branches off into a different timeline on the Maw, and thus in that timeline The Thin Man could have manifested himself on the Maw through one of the televisions and subsequently hung himself. I mean, there are even grander theories that Six, in gaining the powers of the Lady, traps herself in some sort of time loop in which she becomes the Lady on the Maw, so who knows?

It also puts Six’s theme into a whole new light; every time Six consumes a soul and gains their memories, does she faintly remember her own lost soul playing the music box? What is this Six looking for, having lost all of her memories? I think this theory also explains more meta-game questions most people tend to have. For example, I find that when people reach the residential area of the game with all the TV-zombies, they tend to start wondering why Six and Mono are moving through the city at all. It’s understandable why they would want to escape the Wilderness where the Hunter was, even if he was dead, but why continue through the city if the goal was to escape danger? Large swaths of the game are spent in empty areas which are eerily quiet and host literally no enemies whatsoever. Why keep moving?

In the original timeline before the time loop, I think Six and Mono had a definite goal, a place they were going to that was past the city. I doubt it was the Maw, since Six goes there solely to indulge her newfound hunger—though perhaps her reasoning for going there was simply twisted after the Thin Man stole her memory, since the lingering of her music box theme suggests she still has very faint memories of who she was before she met the Thin Man. Keep in mind this “rerun” is based on Mono’s memory, so everything that occurs in the Forest all the way up until they meet the Thin Man most likely actually happened in the original timeline. But we never get to see where they were actually going to go since the focus shifts to surviving the Thin Man, because this time loop was created solely for Mono to cope with Six’s betrayal—which is unfortunately inevitable within the time loop he created (time paradoxes are fun.) Besides, even if against all odds Mono, with or without Six, actually managed to escape the time loop, I don’t think the Thin Man remembers or cares to remember his original plan with Six; thus, Mono wouldn’t remember either. So in that sense, Mono and Six are just these husks without memories, going towards a place that neither of them really remember why they wanted to go to in the first place.

Finally, I think Mono’s name, which literally means “1” and theoretically refers to the fear of being alone (Monophobia), acts as it’s own foreshadowing as to the true nature of the game. Since “Six” isn’t physically there in Mono’s rerun, Mono is actually alone throughout the entire game; he is simply reliving a recording, with the memory of a friend who has long left him. Expanding off that, one could argue that the Thin Man subconsciously captured Six because by trapping her in this rerun—though she always betrays him—Mono gets to keep being with his friend over and over again. After all, I think the saddest part is that one of the the reasons why this time loop is perpetuated is because Mono always tries to save Six. If the Thin Man captured Six and Mono continued to wherever he wanted to go, then the timeloop would end. But this is Mono’s memory. And Mono doesn’t know why Six betrayed him. All he knows is that Six was his friend.

I think the memory-time connection is something to think about even if my theory doesn’t account for all contingencies! It’s just my very complicated way of tying up most of the loose ends people complain about, as well as more neatly connecting Six’s motivations going from the prequel Little Nightmares 2 into Little Nightmares 1. It also neither demonizes nor justifies the actions of both Mono or Six’s character, and I personally find the overall story (or what we know of it) more enjoyable when neither character is viewed as an obvious villain to the other. Mono and Six being trapped in this rerun where they continue to hurt one another, once again, plays into my meta-game theory where much of the “Little Nightmares” franchise is a metaphor for childhood trauma.

We ultimately don’t know their true reasonings, only that they’re both suffering; Mono feeling betrayed and Six being either trapped or soulless depending on which timeline you look at. Just victims of circumstance—but there’s still that nagging question of why the “true” Six betrayed Mono in the first place!

Warning: non-theory opinions ahead

All very intriguing, and it’s sad, though understandable, that Tarsier Studios has chosen to move on to new projects when I feel like there’s so much more they could have explored in this universe. Bandai Namco has hinted at continuing the franchise, though I feel like the most they could do is release DLCs rather than an actual full game which would finish out the series in a satisfactory way. Not to mention the constantly retconned comics and vague responses suggest that the developers had no plans on ever making a cohesive timeline/plot, thus this whole theory is just a buttload of overthinking lol. While I respect games that leave open ended endings and unanswered questions, it’s just unfortunate since unlike other franchises of this genre, I felt like Little Nightmares had a ton of potential to be completed in some sense.

#little nightmares #mono #six #thin man #little nightmares 2 #little nightmares II #the runaway kid #little nightmares DLC

[bailesu]

John Rewrites Star Trek:  The Motion Picture

This movie is great thematically, visually, and musically, and a disaster in terms of plot and character and pacing and especially pacing.  Way too many scenes of actors trying to react to special effects that don’t exist yet.  Two new characters, who are largely wasted.

So what is the theme of STTTMP?  It’s the question ‘Is this all there is?’  It’s the classic mid-life crisis question and that’s where the cast is when the movie starts - the Enterprise finished its mission, they moved up the ladder, but they’re not satisfied.  It’s that feeling there ought to be *more*.  Even V’ger has this and so this has to be a movie about the quest to find meaning in life when you have achieved your original goals... and now you don’t have a direction.  This also functions as a cosmic question - does the universe have any higher meaning or are we just an accident?  Why do we exist?  Is this all there is?

So we open with Scotty dropping by Kirk’s office to ask about some parts they need for the engine refit on the Enterprise.  Kirk is now Admiral Kirk and we learn the Enterprise did a successful five year mission and now there’s a refit and a new commander for it, Matt Decker; we get a brief mention of the Doomsday machine here and the first mention of Will Decker.  They also mention that Uhura has been working for Starfleet intelligence, mostly deciphering Klingon transmissions.  

 Then Uhura enters, dropping a report on Kirk’s desk.  “Look at this,” she says.

Cue footage of the Klingons vs  huge glowing energy field which zaps them with a beam that methodically erases them.  We learn this field destroyed three Klingon outposts and that it came from beyond the Empire.  

Uhura says, “It’s on a direct course for Gamma Iotis, near the border of the Federation.”

Scotty says, “That sounds familiar.”

“It’s where Bones is part of a research facility.”  Kirk said.  “I will get you those parts, Scotty, and brief Captain Decker.  It’s the only ship that can get there in time and even then, it’s going to be a close shave.”

Kirk has a message sent to evacuate, but it’s too far for a direct connection.  But given the limits on how fast ships can move, it will get there before V’Ger can, right?

Cut to Gamma Iotis, where McCoy is having an argument with David Marcus over whether terraforming technology is a good idea.  David’s ideas involve the use of technology based off the transporter and who still hates transporters?  Bones, that’s who.

Carol steps in to get them both to backdown and approves David doing some testing on a small scale.  Then V’Ger attacks and they’re running for the ships when everything evaporates.

Cut to a shot where the entire moon is gone and V’Ger moves on.

Then we roll the opening credits.

We see Spock, meditating in a Vulcan facility.  He has achieved his goal, Kolin’ar, but he is clearly not satisfied.  The peace he was promised is not there.

And then he feels the attack on McCoy and all the souls on Gamma Iotis vanishing.  He does something (to be explained later) and then tells the head monk he must leave.

“If you return to the world of attachments, there is no turning back,” the monk warns him.

“The needs of others is more important than the needs of the one,” he tells the monk, who cannot argue.

Cut to Kirk, who is riding to the martian shipyards where the refit is underway, taking Uhura and Scotty with him.  The VIP ship is commanded by Sulu, accompanied by Chekov, who are both bored out of their minds.  Kirk tells him the reason he ended up here was that they all did so well that Starfleet was afraid to risk them.  They had become too big of heroes, and he mentions what happened to John Glenn.

Here we get the ‘Look at how sexy the Enterprise is’ shot but cut down to reasonable length.

We now meet Decker and Ilia.  The Deltans are a race of telepaths.  Most never leave their homeworld, but if they must, they shave their heads, because their hair acts as telepathic antennas and around people with no mental defenses, they would be overwhelmed; Ilia can still do telepathy by touch.  Deltans have a reputation for being incredible at sex but are not obsessed with it, unlike Roddenberry’s version.  Decker and Ilia were once lovers but he left to enter Starfleet.  She became discontent with the limits of her homeworld, having learned more of the universe from him and joined Starfleet to see other, different places, but now they’re assigned together and it’s awkward.  Especially as he is her commanding officer now.

Scotty runs off to install the parts.

As Kirk is briefing Decker on what’s going on, two things happen: They get a report that the mysterious cloud is headed towards Earth at ludicrous speed, and that it destroyed Gamma Iotis with no survivors.

Kirk decides they have to go NOW.  No waiting.  They take off and Chekov and Sulu are along for the ride.

Decker isn’t happy to have his boss riding him.  The hasty departure leads to the wormhole problem, which Decker and Ilia and Scotty solve as they’re the only ones briefed on the new equipment.

Then Spock joins them and tells them McCoy is somehow alive and dead at the same time, his katra is inside V’Ger.  All the katras of the dead are.

Cut to McCoy, who finds himself in a weirdly frozen version of Gamma Iotis III.  He can’t figure out what’s going on but has this feeling like Spock’s looking at him.

His efforts to figure out what the hell is going on leads to V’Ger talking to him through Carol Marcus, who was up to this point one of the frozen.  We find out V’Ger’s mission is to go out, collect samples and information, to learn all that is learnable and bring this information to the Creator.  McCoy is now data in V’Ger’s banks, only he can still act of his own will.  

V’Ger then ‘activates’ various of the other people, making them act strangely and explaining that he has spent a lot of time playing out various scenarios to understand how carbon-based lifeforms think.

McCoy is really angry over that and tries to do the Kirk Manuever (use illogic to make the computer blow out, but it doesn’t work).  He refuses to play along, and V’Ger becomes both angrier and intrigued.

They reach V’Ger.  It remembers the feuding between Klingons and Federation, learned from its scan, and sends out the Klingons, reconstituted but still under its control.  Sulu and Chekov get to show their stuff here and the Enterprise wins, but Spock realizes they are just puppets, reconstituted from data about them.

He also feels V’Ger’s loneliness and discontent.  This is where Spock goes in, with Ilia flying him in, to try to make mental contact; he talks to McCoy and senses V’Ger’s state of mind.  The world is nothing but a plaything and the playing means little; it knows all that is knowable, or thinks it does, and now it seeks to report to its Creator, hoping to feel fulfilled.  Ilia tells Spock about how she left Delta because she didn’t feel fulfilled there.  She wanted more but didn’t know what she wanted.

Uhura now figures out how to communicate with V’Ger in a way it can understand and it responds by sending Carol Marcus as its ‘probe’ and tells them they must tell it where to find the Creator.  This shakes up Kirk.  It believes the Creator is on Earth, according to its oldest records.

Kirk comes up with a plan on how to destroy V’Ger with the Enterprise; he and Decker have a big argument over whether Kirk is freaking out like Decker’s father did.  Cue flashback.  Then Spock tells them that V’Ger would barely even feel it.  They cannot defeat it by force.

Their only hope is to try to reason with it.  Spock feels V’Ger is lost and seeks a purpose.  He has too much knowledge and power and nothing fruitful to do with it.  He seeks a purpose.  Ilia agrees and feels terrible for it.

They enter V’Ger and confront it, discovering its origins.  It demands of Spock to know how McCoy stillhas his own will, and Spock indicates he has been in contact with him sufficiently to sustain him, a power born of his search for Kolin’ar, but one that also meant he could not be content with it, for he could not renounce his connections to others.

But V’Ger has no others to connect to.  It has mastered this plane but does not know how to rise above it.

And now we get the Decker and Ilia joining with V’Ger, to help it to ascend and to learn how to connect with others.  V’Ger restores everything he turned into data.  Then they ascend.

This is pretty barebones, but that’s how I would do it, to give everyone more stuff to do and try to also build links to exploit for the later movies.

The Genesis Device is adapted from V’Ger tech information David gained to refine his ideas.

Carol and David will return in movie two.

We can blame the devastation of Khan’s world on V’Ger :)

We set up the idea of katras for later use and help show Spock has a strong bond to McCoy as well, for when his katra ends up in McCoy.

#Star Trek #STTMP

[intubatedangel]

Cold Snap: Chapter 1

I’m back, again, hopefully a bit more consistently. This time returning to the world of Anna Swift with a story that’s been an idea for almost 2 years but couldn’t quite come together.  No resus in this part, just setting up the scene, but I hope you enjoy.

----------

Shona dragged her large suitcase up the ramp and onto the lower deck of the old water taxi. It had become almost like an old friend to her over the last few years, the point of seperation between home and college. She turned and waved to her parents, who stood back on the quay, watching thier daughter leave for the last semester of her college life. In truth she wasn't going all that far. Only a dozen or so miles as the crow flies, and within the limits of the same greater city area. But while the city had grown and expanded to absorb her old home town as a mere suburb, the city's transport links had not kept pace. While the rail network ran along each side of the river, it didn't cross at this end of the city. There were plans for new bridges, but they never materialised. And so, instead of taking a 3 hour trip on the city metro, Shona would take the trusty water taxi that had been crossing the river back and forth for as long as her mother remembered, and be at her dorm within 40 minutes.

A good idea really, she thought, pulling on the suitcase behind her, trying to get it rolling again. She cursed internally at her professors for giving them so much work over the spring break, the suitcase weighed down with what felt like half a library. A gust of cold wind blasted her face, and she thought of another curse, this one at the northern climate. To many, spring break was about running around on beaches nearly naked having parties and getting tanned. To say it would not be advisable here was an understatement. This far north, winter was still clinging on, to the point where snow lay on the ground just a few weeks ago.

Shona pulled her scarf up a little further as she dragged the suitcase toward the door at the rear of the cabin, where luggage could be stowed out of the way. She pushed it open then spun to grip the suitcase handle with both hands and haul it over the small threshold, staggering back a little as the wheels finally rocked over. A gust of wind sucked the door closed with a loud bang and shone flinched, glancing around to see if anyone noticed. Like public transport in most cities, no one so much as glanced at her.

She ducked into the luggage area, and her heart sank. All the lower shelves were full. She walked over, wondering just how she was going to stow the case. She vaguely heard the door behind her, then the sound of rolling wheels that approached and stopped beside her.

"Erm, would you like a hand?" A male voice said. Shone turned to him. He was young, maybe a similar age to herself, with black hair in that intentionally messy style. He raised his hands in a surrendering gesture. "Not infering anything about the strength of your gender...You just looked... and I need to..." He glanced at his own case, similar sized to hers.

Shona shook her head "Sorry, yes that would be great." She smiled. "We can each lift half." She commented, prompting a grin from the young man. Together they lifted her bag. Well, Shona steadied it at least.

"Student?" The young man asked, with a slight pant from the effort. Shona nodded, and opened her mouth to reply. "Wait, let me try and guess. Your on this taxi, so you must be studying at Central. That amount of books, over spring break no less, narrows it down. Medical students are already back, my roomate's doing Chem and says all the natural sciences work is based on their own labs now. And, I haven't seen you in any of my classes or on my floor of the library, so by process of elimination I'm going to say... History."

"Impressive." Shona told him with a grin. "You must be studying literature." She grinned at his shocked face. "My roommate is in that course. She can almost quote the entire works of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle at this point, and she told me that almost everyone goes through a Sherlock phase in that course."

He chuckles. "Well played. I must know the name of the lady who bested me." He said, with a mock bow.

Shona couldn't help but chuckle too, though it was drowned out by the horn of the water taxi, as it gave it's last call. Shona felt the familiar rumble as the engine got into gear and began to ramp up in power. "Shona. Shona Smith-Carlson. Yes it's double barrelled. Ardent Feminist of a mother refused to give up her maiden name."

"Well theres nothing wrong with that. Though by the look on your face you aren't too happy it."

"It's not that," Shona shrugs. "She just never shuts up about it. Still loves dad though." She trails off, the silence starting to become awkward. "What about you?" She re-directs. "I'm guessing your name isn't actually Sherlock."

He smiles. "Jack Davidson. Not literally, My dad's actually called Mark."

"You must have practiced that line." Shona said, trying not to laugh at the perfect delivery.

"Maybe once or twice, but it's a good ice breaker, don't you think?"  He replied with another dazzling smile.

It was a nice smile. The boat jerked slightly as it left the quay and started its journey across the river. Shona rocked a little, Jacks arm moved, lifting a little, not quite reaching out, but ready to steady her if she had stumbled, and Shona suddenly realised he was flirting. Why did this always happen? She fought to not roll her eyes. Her girlfriend was going to rib her again. She would have to let him down gently. She took off her scarf, wrapping it and putting it into one pocket, and then unzipped her coat. She caught his eyes flick down as all men’s do, then slightly to one side, catching sight of the rainbow badge.

He blew out a breath, then nodded with a wry grin. "That's a good move. I am out played once again. Though I suppose we aren't quite playing the same game are we."

Shona shrugged. "Sorry." She mumbled.

Jack waved his hand. "Don't be. Not like you can change who you are. How about we get my bag stowed and then we grab a coffee on the upper deck?" Shona looked at him, puzzled. "Your roommate. From what you were saying she's a year ahead of me. A bit of early information is always good."

Shona considered it for a moment. He wasn't being pushy or angry like one of those guys. And she was planning on getting a coffee. So she shrugged. "Why not, company is always nice."

Together they lifted Jack's case, a little lighter than her own, and placed it in the rack. But as he was checking it was secure, Shona felt a rumble. A different rumble, one that she had never felt before on over two dozen journeys. If she'd been outside, she would have seen a plume of black smoke rise out the tall exhaust stack. If she'd been in the cabin that qualified as the bridge of the boat, she'd have heard voices filled with panic as alarms squarked.

Shona and Jack started up the stairs in front of the luggage compartment, when there was another rumble, and a strange noise filled the passenger cabin as the whole ship vibrated. Shona stopped halfway up the stairs, looking behind her. Jack turned to her, three steps higher up.

"What is it?" He asked

Shona shook her head "The boat. Somethings wr..."

 Her voice was totally drowned out by the noise of the engine exploding.

**********

Officer Matt Jones sat on the small river patrol boat, bobbing slightly against it's mooring. He glanced at his watch. Just another 7 hours and 50 minutes of his 8 hour shift. He sighed, feeling that boiling anger as he rembered getting busted down to river patrol. Not even standard beat cop, river patrol. In March, in this city, where even the foolish wouldn't think of getting in the river. Only the desperate. But this section of the river didn't even have any bridges, ruling that out too.

"So..." The old timer, Winston, who was now his partner muttered. "Who did you piss off to land yourself here?"

Jones breathed out slowly, sending the anger with it. "You know Dean Campbell?"

"The head of HR Dean Campbell?" Jones nodded, Winston whistled. "What did you do?"

"I may have pointed out that he was... inadequate for the position. In somewhat more forceful terms. To his face..."

Winston spat into the river. "That would do it. Not that you are wrong of course, that little weasel has done nothing but damage to the department, but, not exactly the wisest decision.

Jones nodded. "What about you?"

"I asked to be here." Winston replied, prompting a look from Jones. "Coming up on retirement. The last thing I wanted was to be that stereotype. Always liked fishing, figured I'd get some boat time and avoid anything likely to finish me off before my service is done."

"That's fair enough I guess." Jones told him, sipping at the coffee, watching the old water taxi make it's way across the river. He noticed the black smoke, but thought nothing of it. "Does anything interesting happen here?"

"Wouldn't have picked this spot if it did." Winston replied. "Occasionally that floating wreck needs a hand when it breaks, but that's about it." He says turning to look. "Speking of which, that exhaust don't look too healthy." He said a moment before the radio squarked, lighting up an indicator on the emergency channel.

"This is the Beetle, may-day, may-day, our engine is...." The radio cut off as a gout of thick black smoke burst from the exhaust tube, and the distant boat seemed to lurch. A split second later the sound wave of the explosion reached them.

"Get us moving!" Jones shouted to Winston, as he grabbed at his own radio. "This is officer Jones, Badge number 4582. We have a major incident in progress on the river between....between..."

"Between North Inglebank and Trippers point!" Winston shouted.

"Between North Inglebank and Trippers point. Explosion on a water taxi, we are en-route, unknown casualties, unknown situation, requesting additional backup for evacuation and medical assistance!"

"Acknowledged Officer Jones. Relaying now."

Winston had gotten the speed boat unmoored, tossing a high-vis life jacket to Jones, before he gunned the motor and they began to cut through the waves, heading for the vessel that was now smoking from more than just the exhaust.

(Edit: Fixed some errors and details. A little out of practice.)

#medical drama #cpr #defib #resus writing #Anna Swift

[nike-shawn]

Hockey Shawn Part One

It’s here!! I really hope you guys enjoy my next series: Hockey Shawn! Let me know what you want to see later on, and happy reading! ⚡️❄️

⚡️ November 1st, 2020 ⚡️

You wake up early, before the sun. The hotel room is bathed in city light but the sky is dark, and you notice small snow flurries sticking to the floor to ceiling windows.

Snow. The first of the season.

Careful not to wake the sleeping boy next to you, you sneak out from underneath the duvet and pad to the bathroom where you splash cold water over your face. One quick look at the bags under your eyes and the mats in your hair could tell anyone what you were up to the night prior— you blush as you remember his calloused hands running over your soft skin, moving lower, lower...

You jump into a cold shower. The first seconds are miserable but you soon get used to it, as you always do. Water falls over your tanned legs and shampoo lathers in your hair as you try to hurry through all the steps. You’re going to be late for school, and you’re already skating on thin ice. Your boss, a stern, older woman with bright red glasses, has had her eyes on you since you accidentally let out a laugh at one of your kids’ senior pranks. (It was something to do with shaving cream and pencils— you can’t quite remember, but it definitely was hilarious). One more slap on the wrist and you’ll be firmly placed on her bad side.

Hooking up with a hot guy at a bar on a Sunday night was not the brightest idea you’ve ever had. You didn’t think it would lead to you sleeping in his classy hotel room, but here you are. You can just slip away into the darkness of the morning and he’ll be none the wiser. Of course, you’d love to leave with his number, but you doubt he’s staying in town for more than a few days judging by the lack of luggage he had in his room. You’re better off leaving before he cracks his pretty eyes open.

You towel off and cringe as you put last nights dress on. There’s nothing else to wear, but the thought of dirty clothes touching your newly cleaned skin makes you a bit sad. You push the thought away as you emerge back into the bedroom.

“Oh,” you jump, pressing a palm to your heart that is racing in surprise. “I didn’t think you’d be awake.”

The man who you forgot to ask the name of smiles softly, and you notice that he has an adorable lazy eye. “I have to get going soon too,” he replies. He runs a hand over his unruly curls and clears his throat. You watch as his eyes drag slowly over your body. “Did you want to borrow something?”

You awkwardly pick at the (very short) hem of your dress. “If you don’t mind,” you say.

“Not at all.” He turns to his now open suitcase and starts to shuffle the clothes around. You see a flash of red and black, something that reminds you of a jersey, before the lid closes and he’s offering you a plain white t-shirt and black joggers.

“Oh, wow,” you say as you take in the brand names of each item. “You don’t have to give me nice stuff; I’m not sure when I’ll be able to get it back to you.”

He shakes his head and motions for you to turn around. You do, and he starts to tug your zipper down, much more gently than he did last night. Your dress goes slack around your shoulders. “It’s no problem. Don’t worry about getting them back to me anytime soon.” You smile your appreciation as you pull his clothes on. “Though, I would really like to see you again.”

You blush. “I’d love to see you again, too.”

You turn to examine yourself in the mirror and you catch his eye in the reflection. “Here,” he says. His fingers dig beneath the waistband of your (his) joggers and he rolls it over a few times so the legs aren’t as slouchy as before. Your skin heats up from where he touches it. “Better, eh?”

You raise your eyebrows. “You’re Canadian?”

He just nods, that genial expression still light on his features. He’s really such a kind person, you think, as you grab your purse and dress off the floor. You really would like to see him again.

In an uncharacteristic bout of courage, you lean up and, with a grip on his shoulder, kiss him. You can feel him smiling underneath your lips.

“I hope to see you again soon,” he tells you.

“You too.”

You walk out the door and feel like you’re walking on clouds.

🍁⚡️🍁⚡️

That morning at school, your students are oddly energetic.

You’re trying to gather their attention when you overhear a couple of them talking about some sports scandal. You weren’t interested until you catch a name, one that was oddly familiar. “Shawn Mendes.”

Suddenly you’re transported back to the bar last night, completely sober and fighting annoyance at your best friends who were swooning over a boy across the room. He was obviously trying to stay on the downlow, since he was almost completely shrouded in the darkness of the far corner. “Shawn Mendes,” your friend told you, “he’s in big trouble these days.”

You must have pushed those words out of your mind because not too long after, the same boy ran into you outside of the bathroom. As soon as you locked eyes, you knew exactly how the rest of the night would play out. And you were right, of course, because you woke up in his bed. But if it weren’t for your students’ conversation, that entire situation with your friend would’ve completely slipped your mind.

Trying to push all those anxious thoughts away, you get through the rest of your day with little to no concern for Shawn. However, the second you get back to your apartment, you open up google and type his name into the search bar. Millions of results fill your screen— the first few being articles that reference an infamous video, a conversation between him and a paparazzi. It doesnt take you long to find a link to that particular scene, and you wait only a minute for YouTube to load before his beautiful face comes across your desktop.

He’s flustered, obviously so. It was from last month, so it hasn’t gotten too cold yet, and he’s dressed only in a light windbreaker and sweatpants with a logo you recognize on them. He looks exactly the same as he did in your hotel room, though his hair is a bit shorter. And, of course, he looks a lot angrier. “Get out of my way,” he says gruffly, wedging his way through the crowd of cameras. One person who was out of the frame must have refused to move, because Shawn says “I said, get out of my fucking way, man.” A few seconds pass and they’re all shouting things at him, things like “you and Maddy, huh? How is she doing? Have you talked to her?”

Then, there’s yelling.

The camera pans to the man in question, and all you see is Shawn’s fist collide with his face.

The video ends.

You stare at your computer in shock. Who is this guy? The boy in that hotel room would never do that, not in a million years. And why is he being followed by paparazzi? You figured he played some professional sport, but there’s a big difference between being on a team and being harassed by tabloids, wanting to know every last thing about your love life.

You check the sidebar for more videos of him, and you see a few referencing his “Greatest Plays” or “10 Times Shawn Mendes Made Me Swoon”, but then one towards the bottom catches your eye. “Shawn Mendes’ Career-Ending Accident”.

You’re too curious. You click on the video and feel your heart pound as it loads. It takes you to a hockey rink, the stadium filled with fans cheering loudly. The score is the New York Lightening 3, Detroit Cougars 2. The New York team is wearing the jersey you saw in Shawn’s suitcase. The camera finds him, the star of the show, and you find yourself smiling as you catch a look of his face through his helmet.

Then, a player on the other team comes up and shoves him against the edge of the rink. The hit itself didn’t look extremely hard— you hadn’t seen too much of hockey but you know that the players get hit much harder than that on a regular basis. However, this one must’ve hit somewhere that it shouldn’t have. Shawn falls to the ice and starts convulsing, the scariest sight you’ve seen in many years. The announcers of the game are rightfully concerned, and the crowd has fallen to a whisper. You find your palm over your mouth in shock.

Finally, after what feels like hours, he becomes still and a stretcher breaks through the crowd of medical professionals that have gathered around Shawn, shielding him from view of the camera. He is carried off, and before he disappears into the locker room, you can see him sitting up with a dazed look on his face.

You look over to the shirt and sweatpants he gave you. Last night and this morning with him seems so, so far away, and his picture in your mind has shifted dramatically. He’s an extremely famous hockey player who suffered an injury that has kept him from the game since this day over a year ago, and he has a famous ex-girlfriend who’s simple mention caused him to get angry enough to assault a cameraman.

His name is Shawn Mendes, and you need to see him again.

🍁⚡️🍁⚡️

The opportunity comes a week later.

Your friend convinces you to return to the same bar you went to last week. Convinces is actually quite a strong word for what happened— she mentioned her plans and offered for you to come along and you readily agreed. A part of you desperately wants to see Shawn again and ask him about his life, about all the things you had no idea about before. But you know that, in the off chance you did see him, you’d sink back into your shell and revert to the same thing you two did before. You’d go back to his hotel, have sex, and wake up the next morning beside him, all without any semblance of meaningful conversation.

You walk into the bar and immediately your eyes latch on to that corner where he stationed himself last week. There’s definitely someone there, but it isn’t your six foot something hockey player hookup. You fight the disappointment in your chest.

It’s for the best, anyways. Plus, tonight is Saturday, and last week you saw him on Sunday. Maybe he’s a Sunday night regular. Or, maybe he isn’t a regular at all. With a hint of sadness you realize that he most likely lives somewhere else and just flies in when he needs to be in the city. Why else would he be staying in a hotel?

“What’s wrong?” Your friend Lilly asks, gripping your elbow to gain your attention.

“Oh, nothing. Just distracted,” you say, smiling softly. You sit next to her at a bar stool and immediately lose interest in the scene. The bartender starts to flirt with Lilly and you fight the urge to roll your eyes. You wish Shawn was flirting with you like he is with her, but it seems like you’re fresh out of luck.

The night drags on and you spend a lot of it scrolling through Shawn’s Instagram. Most of the recent posts are sponsored, one for a sports drink and another for a protein powder, and both pictures are just of him with a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes on the balcony of a gorgeous high rise somewhere in the city. So he does live here, you think. You want to kick yourself for never getting his phone number. The next few are action shots of him on the ice, his cheeks flushed and his hair sweaty and matted against his head. He looks fantastic in his uniform-- no wonder the pictures have over a million likes each. 

“Are you ready to go?” Lilly asks, shaking you out of your Instagram stalking. 

With one last glance at that dark corner, you nod and grab your coat and purse. The two of you exit the bar not having paid for one drink thanks to Lilly’s flirtation, and you feel like a deflated balloon. You gained absolutely nothing from the past three hours when you could’ve met back up with the sweet, handsome boy you had a massive crush on who has some secret, intriguing double life that you want to know more about.

You walk back to the parking lot behind the bar and breathe in the very unfamiliar smell of the small patch of forest around the lot. In the city, you don’t get much of that natural, woodsy scent, but you welcome it, even if you can see right through the shallow gathering of tree trunks to the other side, which is classic, crowded New York City. You get lost in the view of the snow gathering on the branches. It’s beautiful.

“Y/N!” Lilly whispers. “Holy shit, is that him?”

You snap back to attention and follow Lilly’s finger to the tall, very familiar figure that’s getting closer and closer. If you didn’t immediately recognize that messy head of curls, you may have been scared. But instead your chest fills with butterflies.

“Hey, wow,” he says as he gets closer. His cheeks are flushed rosy red from the cold and the yellow streetlights illuminate his face enough for you to catch the sight of his adorable lazy eye. He is slightly out of breath and you figure he was on a run, taking a quick glance at his dry-fit long sleeve and leggings with running shorts on top. “Crazy seeing you here.”

You are almost stunned into silence, but Lilly covertly kicks your foot to get your attention again. “Yeah, hey. That is crazy. You live around here, then?”

“No, not really. I’ve been staying at uh... at that hotel.” You can see that he’s uncomfortable with Lilly being there, thinking that she may be unaware. Of course, you already told her everything. “Just went out for a run because I’ve been holed up all day working.”

“Us too. We came to the bar to let loose a little,” Lilly fills in for you. “Rough week at school.”

“You’re both teachers?” He asks.

“Yeah, high school English,” you answer. You start to realize that he knows your job before he knows your first name.

You both let a small silence blanket the conversation before he breaks it with, “I came over because I thought I recognized that shirt.” His blindingly white, straight-toothed smile is back. 

You look down, mortified at the memory of throwing on his plain t-shirt underneath a cardigan and tucking it into your jeans only a few hours ago, rushing through getting ready because Lilly was already waiting for you outside your apartment. It was the first thing you saw, so you grabbed it without any thought. 

You flush a deep red. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry; I didn’t even realize,” you stammer.

“No, no,” Shawn laughs. “Don’t worry about it. Looks better on you.” If you weren’t blushing before, you definitely are now. “Do love those sweatpants I gave you, though. Can I have your number?” You feel yourself smiling like an idiot, your embarrassment fading away. “Just to get the pants back, of course.”

“Yeah, definitely.” You reach into your purse to grab your phone as he hands you his, a new contact page already pulled up. You both save your name and number in each other’s phones. “My name’s Y/N, by the way,” you say a bit awkwardly.

“I’m Shawn. It’s really nice to run into you, Y/N. Hope I see you soon.”

“Just to get your sweatpants back, right?” You joke.

“Oh, yeah. Just because of the sweatpants.”

You both laugh a bit before waving, and you watch as he disappears back to the trail that he was running on.

Lilly whistles lowly. “Well, shit. You’re in for quite a ride with him.”

You had no idea how right she was.

Part Two

#hockeyshawn #Shawn Mendes Imagine #fluff #HOW DID YOU LIKE IT #Idk it's kinda long but it needed all that build up #PLS LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK

[buffyversefanfiction]

Slayer of Slayers

Warnings:I do not own, nor do I claim to own any of the copyright or characters within the Buffyverse which includes but not limited to the television shows Buffy and Angel, as well as the Darkhorse comics series’ continuation.

15+ Strong to moderate violence, Graphic to mild descriptions of gore, and torture, sexually charged scenes, sexual innuendos, mild to strong language, and practices of witchcraft.

M/M, F/F, M/F, GEN, OTHER +

PART NINE LINK HERE

Part Ten: Prophecy's Boy

Theo Frey’s affiliation with the first slayer was a strange one, his entire life mission was to become a slayer to eradicate all slayers, especially his birth mother Buffy Summers, and yet during a prehistoric time when everything and everyone was stripped away from him he had reluctantly formed some form of friendship with the primeval Sineya, bonding through their chaotic creation and so he joined her on some of her adventures in slaying until he was brought back to the present time, back to his current grievances, and surrounded by those ready for him to take his revenge. Theo never realized how deeply Sineya impacted her life until he saw her spirit on vampire island, her serving as a reminder to him of a simpler time where he lived his life without vengeance and how that led him to do good alongside the first slayer until he returned to evil crutches of vampire Drusilla and as the vampire/slayer hybrid stood right next to the unopened Hellmouth in the caves of vampire island, being surrounded by an undead army, he couldn’t help but think of the time he spent with Sineya. “They only call you a king because they do not truly know what you really are neither do you yet,” Sineya said to him through her telepathic ways, her words piercing his mind as she appeared as a spirit only, he could see, standing next to him. “Slayer of slayers is just another name, Theo, nothing but a name but none are what you really are…this is now what you truly are.” Theo looked around at his undead army to see if anyone else could see the first slayer knowing deep down that she was only appearing to him, appealing to a good side of him he thought he could bury forever, as she urged him to not bring about the end of the world, to change his ways, and accept his true destiny. “They need to pay they need to all pay!” Theo shouted, grabbing the attention of his fellow vampires who instantly cheered him on, believing that his words were words of war before he would proceed to open the Hellmouth. “They have paid the price already, as have you, and even her…there’s nothing left to pay except your destiny, and this is not it!” The primeval one replied to him telepathically with her cryptic words being said in his mind. “Your blood and your blood alone will open the mouth of hell, but you are so much more than your blood, a prophecy has been calling you long before your birth it is up to you if you want to continue ignoring it for a mission of vengeance or if you want to become what you were truly created to be.” Suddenly, Sineya’s spirit disappeared once again as Buffy, Faith, Angel, Spike, Illyria, Xander, Ruby, and Giles ran into the caves to meet Theo and his army, all equipped with weapons and ready to go to war if needed to stop Theo from opening the Hellmouth, as the slayer of slayer realized that one way or another, he was not making it out of Vampire Island alive…

Theo and his dedicated team of vampires fought against Buffy, Faith, Angel, Spike, Illyria, Xander, Ruby, and Giles viciously as Theo himself went head to head with the blue-haired goddess Illyria, the one who killed his undead lover Tobias, throwing a series of punches and kicks at the old one, making little to no impact, before Illyria proceeded to fight back against the slayer of slayers gaining the upper hand with ease as she showed her superior strength while beating Theo into submission as he fell to the ground, ready to be killed by the same woman who had killed the love of his life, but Angel quickly left his ongoing fight to rush over to his son’s side, eager to save him from being killed by Illyria. “He is my son Illyria, please do not kill my son.” Angel pleaded with his friend, who reluctantly began to walk away from both Angel and Theo before taking to fight in the ongoing war surrounding them. “I may have your DNA or whatever but you’re not my father, you never raised me as my dad did, you weren’t there like he was, and you will never take his place.” Theo snapped at his undead father as he slowly got back to his feet, bruised, and bloodied from injuries he had sustained in his fight against the blue-haired goddess. “You look pretty beaten up; she really did a number on you huh?” Angel replied, choosing to ignore his son’s cruel words. “I know you a slaypire or whatever now but somehow you managed to keep your soul, I’ve never heard of a vampire doing that before I mean I have a soul, but I’m cursed…literally. Yet again you are also the first male slayer, which is another mystery.” “We’ve come too far to stop now my army will not stop until my blood opens that Hellmouth over there…unless there is no blood to be spilled,” Theo responded, as he began to realize that he still had the chance to do the right thing, something which was only validated when the spirit of the primeval slayer appeared to him once again, this time standing next to Angel, who was oblivious of her presence. This time Sineya did not have to communicate telepathically with the slayer of slayers because the look on her face told Theo everything he had to know, her look told him that he had forced a destiny on himself that was never truly meant to be and now all he was left to do was decide whether he let that same destiny lead to him destroying the world or if he was able to do the right thing for the first time, as he suddenly began to finally feel his own humanity beginning to creep back in, as he felt all the pain and suffering he caused to his many victims, through his many evil deeds, as he concluded there was the only way to make up any kind of penance for the monster he had become. “You are right,” Theo admitted to the spirit of Sineya, confusing an unknowing Angel in the process. “There’s only one way my blood cannot be spilled and that is if there is none.” Theo quickly grabbed the wooden stake he spotted in Angel’s jacket pocket and plunged it into his own chest knowing that turning to dust was the only solution out of the hell he would otherwise cause onto this world, leaving his biological father Angel in a state of pure shock and horror as he screamed out “No” with the strength of all his voice, catching Buffy’s attention who turned away from her fight just in time to watch alongside Angel as the son they shared together turned to dust before their very eyes. Suddenly, a red smoke, like the one that had turned Theo into a slayer, formed above Theo’s ashes before it began to spread itself throughout the cave growing bigger as it did so, proceeding to attack, ingest, violate, and turn Theo’s undead army into bursts of flames before they eventually turned to dust leaving Buffy, Angel, and their friends stunned by their bittersweet victory, one that came at a great cost.

The End…NOT

“Hello?” Theo called out as he walked into a darkly lit rundown bar, before noticing a sign saying Willy’s Place, as he proceeded to walk over to the bar counter noticing the place was completely empty, the vibe completely dead, as he began to wonder if this was hell, heaven, or something in-between, when suddenly he felt a warm feeling rush through him, that which felt like love in its purest form and as he turned out he was shocked to find a woman stood behind him, with the softest smile he had ever seen. “You may not know me but I’m your grandmother, from your mother’s side.” Joyce greeted her stepson, the two have never met before. “I know this all must be very confusing for you but I’m here to help while I can.” “Not to be rude or anything but are you not supposed to be like dead or something?” Theo replied as he struggled to get his head around whatever the hell was going on. “Well yes, but then again so are you.” Joyce laughed off innocently. “You know you look a lot like your father, but you have your mother’s heart, no matter how much you try to hide it and that smile of yours is truly beautiful I just wish there were more opportunities for you to show the world that smile.” “They are not my parents; my parents died a long time ago and I am sorry, but you are not my grandmother either.” Theo snapped at his biological grandmother, although his snap was nowhere near as bitter as it once was. “Is this hell?” “No honey it is not hell nor is it heaven, consider this your second chance,” Joyce informed him cryptically. “You walked a path you were never meant to walk and the powers that be are just trying to get you back onto the right path, instead of fighting for another destiny why not try embracing the one that’s already yours?” Theo had no idea what Joyce Summers meant by her words but before he could ask her, he found himself magically being transported from Willy’s Place in the now non-existent Sunnydale to the rundown Hyperion Hotel in Los Angeles, where he walked into the lobby to find a beautiful dark blonde-haired woman stood behind the reception desk with a bright smile on her face that told him she was expecting him. “So, you are my guy’s second son I get vampires normally do not have to worry about you know condoms and stuff, but you’d think after the first son tried to kill, he’d wrap it up from there on out but then again if he’s not worried about losing his soul then he’s probably now worrying about impregnating people.” Cordelia Chase said, greeting Theo as he walked over to her. “You’re all kinds of messed up perhaps more so than Connor and he was raised in a freaking hell dimension by some unhinged hunter who very rudely blew up my friend’s club with us in it nonetheless but hey at least you’re not as bad as Angelus now that is the part of your father that you do not want to take after!” “So, which ghost from Buffy or Angel’s past are you then? Are you Angel’s mother?” Theo asked Cordelia, much to her own disgust, which was clear on her face, making Theo realize she must have been a former lover. “Oh, so you’re not Darla which I doubt because Connor’s her son…leaving you being none other than pretty little rich girl turned high being broke bitch miss Cordelia Chase. I must admit of all the stories I heard about the infamous scooby gang, yours were always the most amusing!” “Well, I guess you got your daddy’s brains, and his looks tell me which part of you is Buffy?” Cordelia wondered. “None I hope!” Theo quickly responded, making Cordelia cackle. “Good one sniveling little cry Buffy is more than enough for my liking.” Cordelia joked with the son of the man she once loved, before going on to hand Theo a room key. “A little friendly warning this guy is no friend of your mum or dads so be wary also his face is all kinds of yuck but hey we’re supposed to give you the full unbiased experience but seriously his face is not going to be easy on your pretty little eyes.”

“So, you are the son of the slayer and Angelus…I have been expecting you, my boy.” The Master announced as Theo walked into the hotel room to find the legendary vampire stood waiting to introduce himself. “From your actions, you are more of Angelus’ child than Angel’s which pleases me immensely to know the girl who slew me now has a beast within her own bloodline. However, I hope there is some of the slayer's DNA in you too after all she was the only one to ever beat me.” “You must be The Master, Dru mentioned you once or twice there sure is a lot of hype about you in your heyday you know before Buffy beat you like some newbie vamp,” Theo replied, mocking the master of vampires. “Tobias bought into all that hype but me not so much…so why the hell are you the latest stop on my supernatural soul train?” “You have this arrogance about you that most definitely reminds me of your mother but unlike her you have been beaten time and time again, therefore, making this arrogance of yours truly unearned.” The Master responded, taking a swipe at the son of the slayer in the process. “Mummy spanked you so hard you turned to dust, I think it’s about time you lose the attitude when in the presence of someone who earned their legacy in this world and the next!” “Now don’t start talking about spanking unless your intent is to turn me on.” Theo recklessly flirted with the infamous vampire. “You have what I call a pillow face, but I can work with it if you want to get freaky…” “Right!” Anya Jenkins shouted before storming into the hotel room, The Master quickly vanishing out of sight the moment Anya entered the room. “I’m taking into this appointment because that is just seriously unsettling, and I’d rather not metaphorically spew all over Buffy’s boy as I try to knock some sense into you.” “Oh, great another bloody ghost from their past!” Theo complained as he turned to face the former vengeance demon, quickly becoming tired of whatever the hell was going on around him. “I’m Anya formerly known as Anyanka formerly known as a vengeance demon, one of the best vengeance demons actually then I almost married your mother’s friend Xander until you know he ditched me at the altar and long before he knocked up the little brat we used to babysit,” Anya answered him, clearly unamused with Xander’s choice of partner to co-parent with. “Now I’m just Anya an ally to the powers that be, who’d have thought it…certainly not me anyway.” “Here’s the thing, I’m growing really tired of this bullshit, and after sacrificing myself for I guess the greater good I could really just do with a nap or something. I am so not in the mood for whatever is going on here nor do I give a damn that your man dumped you for someone younger it happens love get over it!” Theo quickly dismissed the former vengeance. “Sorry that your dead but I’m dead too so how about you go haunt the living? I suggest that knucklehead builder who broke your heart especially considering he has a thing for building prisons now and needs a good little scare for that alone.” “Listen here you little snot-nosed slayer, vamp, brat! I am over a thousand years old, and I will not be spoken to that by someone who is technically an error on human history.” Anya snapped back at the slayer of slayers. “Go get yourself a drink or something! Let someone else deal with you, I’m asking for a pay raise…come to think of it, does money still smell as good as it used to?” As Theo became more and more convinced that he was in hell, Anya took the look on his disapproving face to say he wasn’t going to answer her question, and instead of sticking around to force it out of him, she proceeded to leave the hotel room eager to get back to her own afterlife knowing that the next person to visit Theo would definitely be able to put up with his attitude better than she could, or rather was willing to.

Theo didn’t hang around for long before he decided to search for this infamous hotel bar that Anya had suggested to him, wondering if there was even a bar within this rundown, seemingly abandoned place, but after going up and down several floors he finally found the bar the former vengeance demon was referring to as he opened the door, walked through, and suddenly found himself transported to the dive bar he shared with Tobias, only Tobias was not behind the bar, a mousy blonde-haired woman was, a bewitching beauty. “It’s funny the places you wind up when you are not even going in that direction or at least so you thought. It’s hard to accept new paths that are laid out for you but sooner or later you just got to, or you spend forever unhappy and forever’s a very long time.” Tara Maclay informed Theo as he walked over to the bar counter, trying to work out who this bartender was and why they were in some dream-world version of his home. “I much prefer this bar to the last one I’ll give you that,” Theo admitted as he sat down on a barstool and waited for Tara to pour him a glass of whisky on the rocks, to which he quickly downed in one gulp upon being served it. “Which ghost of Buffy and Angel’s past are you?” “I was once Tara, now I’m something else entirely, I am no longer her, and yet her memories remain. It��s funny how they don’t tell you about that when you become a higher being nor do they tell you that despite how much you want to you can never truly reclaim your past, you can never truly get back to where you really want to be.” Tara revealed to the slayer of slayers, as Theo remembered a conversation, he had with Willow about a woman she had love and lost, and how her name was Tara. “I know she feels the same way,” Theo reassured her in a rare act of kindness, as he reached out to hold her hand to comfort the clearly saddened spirit. “See that’s the kindness, that’s signs of your soul, one that was too powerful to be destroyed by demons or anything else that has been thrown at you.” Tara genuinely replied as Theo took his hand back, uncomfortable by showing what he considered to be a weakness but was actually just plain old sympathy. “You have been fighting on the wrong side for all the wrong reasons Theo and I know you know that now even if you don’t want to admit it to yourself you want redemption, more than that you need it.” “Even if you were right, I’m dead now all done and dusted far too late to even try redeeming myself for all the terrible things I have done,” Theo replied, not wanting to admit to the former witch turned higher being that she was right, that he did want redemption, that he wanted to amend for the things he has done, that he had finally seen the error of his ways, and his hatred was placed in all the wrong places. “Oh, sweetie you’re not dead you’re just on a time out, which is sort of over now,” Tara replied before Tristan found himself being transported one last time, only this time he had been transported back to vampire island, to the very spot he had staked himself, standing in his own leftover ashes as he looked around the abandoned caves more confused than ever before as he tried to work out what he had just experienced, why he was back on that island, and what would happen next. “I told you there was another destiny for you, my friend,” Sineya revealed telepathically as her words once again pierced their way into Theo’s mind after her spirit appeared in front of the former slayer of slayers. “And now it has begun…you are no longer the slayer of slayers or the vampire with a soul intact, now you are at one with the very demon itself, this is your destiny!”

The End…of Volume One

Volume one - Slayer of Slayers Master List Link Here

VOLUME 2 COMING SOON...

#buffythevampireslayer #btvs #buffy #angeltheseries #buffyverse #buffyspinoff #buffyfandom #buffyfanfiction #angelfanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #lgbtthemes #lgbtcanoncharacters #childrenofcharacters #buffysummers #angel #bangel #faithlehane #willowrosenberg #xanderharris #rupertgiles #spike #spuffy #fangel #tillow #willowandtara #taramaclay #anyajenkins #joycesummers #cordeliachase

[aion-rsa]

Doctor Who: Why Does Everyone Keep Forgetting the Daleks?

https://ift.tt/3g81nbE

A scene that did not appear in New Year’s Day’s Doctor Who Special, ‘Revolution of the Daleks’.

SCENE: EXT. 10 DOWNING STREET, A PRESS CONFERENCE IS BEING HELD

PRIME MINISTER JO PATTERSON: …and so I introduce to you, our new, fully automated defence drones!

A “DEFENCE DRONE” GLIDES INTO VIEW.

JOURNALIST (RAISES A HAND): Hello, Jeff Typeface, Daily Exposition. Sorry but, um, isn’t that just a Dalek?

PM: A what?

JOURNALIST: A Dalek? About twelve years ago they transported the entire planet through space then rounded humans up in the streets and exterminated them?

PM: Hmmm. Doesn’t ring a bell.

ANOTHER JOURNALIST: Yeah, and a few years before that a bunch of them came flying out of Canary Wharf?

PM: Sorry, I’m completely drawing a blank.

JOURNALIST: Come on! They murdered one of your predecessors!

PM: Excuse me, but you can’t honestly expect me to remember every single British Prime Minister that suffered a violent death over the last two decades. We all know this job has the life expectancy of a Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.

PM’S ADVISOR: Actually, Prime Minister, talking of your predecessors, Winston Churchill did try this exact same plan with a very similar looking contraption during the War, and I hear that went badly.

PM: I mean, I’m sure I believe you. I’m just saying this is all news to me.

JOURNALIST: Very well. Moving on, how will these “Defence Drones” help us deal with the Covid-19 pandemic?

PM: See, now you’re just making words up.

Doctor Who has always been a series that points and laughs at fans who want to try and piece together a consistent continuity across all its stories, but even by Doctor Who standards, forgetting an entire global invasion barely more than a decade ago (y’know, just before most of the show’s viewers were born, you absolute fossil you) might seem like a stretch.

Of course, the real reason Jo Patterson couldn’t remember the Daleks is that unlike say, the MCU, where weirdness layers upon weirdness to create a world that almost counts as alt-history, Doctor Who is, on some level, always reaching to be set in “our” universe. The key conceit of the show is that you might turn a corner, find a blue box, and suddenly be whisked away through space and time to a world of adventure. Which doesn’t really work if the British town squares of the Doctor Who universe all feature memorials to the victims of the Daleks and diet pills have to be tested for Adipose DNA.

But at the same time, Doctor Who just loves a great big Hollywood space invasion, and making these two core ingredients of the show mesh is a nightmare for continuity.

Let’s, for instance, take a look at the life of recently departed Doctor’s companion, Ryan Sinclair.

Life of Ryan

Ryan was born in 1998 or 1999. As a child, he attended Redlands Primary School at around the same time London was hit by a “terrorist attack” when shop windows dummies started shooting people. A year later a spaceship crashed into Big Ben, although this was later dismissed as a hoax. That Christmas Day, when Ryan was around eight years old, every human with O negative blood got up in a trance and went and stood on a tall building while a gigantic spaceship hung over London.

Still Ryan is a kid, he doesn’t watch the news, maybe nobody in his family is O negative and let’s face it, news of a lot of this stuff probably doesn’t get as far as Sheffield.

However, even in Sheffield he would have seen the regular “ghost shifts” that appeared all over the world, and at nine years old he would have been traumatised to have his home, like so many others, invaded by Cybermen before they all got sucked away by something.

His family make the wise decision not to turn on the news that Christmas, so he doesn’t hear about the “Christmas star” attack, or later that year a hospital being teleported to the moon, and while he probably remembers grown-ups getting very excited by Harold Saxon getting elected, fortunately most of his tenure as Prime Minister was erased from history.

Read more

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Doctor Who: Which New Doctors Are Now Canon?

By Chris Farnell

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Doctor Who: the genius of making the Cybermen an ideology

By Chris Farnell

Ryan would have noticed when CBBC was replaced by a giant eyeball shouting that “Prisoner Zero Has Escaped”, and, shortly after turning ten, he definitely would have noticed when the entire sky was set on fire to prevent a Sontaran invasion.

And then of course, the Earth was teleported across space, planets filled the skies, and Daleks roamed the streets rounding people up. He would have been about the same age as future astronaut and Mars colonist, Adelaide Brooke at this time, and she was profoundly affected by the experience.

After that it’s possible the government may have rounded up him and his classmates to offer up to the 456.

To round the year off, Ryan actually turned into Harold Saxon for a bit. This was probably, on balance, the worst Christmas of the lot.

2011 was largely uneventful except that nobody could die.

Ryan went on to see the Tenth Doctor light the flame at the 2012 Olympics, was briefly into that whole “mysterious black cubes” craze before they got banned for some reason, and while he was in high school the entire Earth was covered in dense forest overnight but that disappeared, and nobody ever mentioned it again. The Cybermen invaded again. Then, not long after Ryan left school, the entire world was taken over by a species of really gross looking mummified monks who claimed to have always been in charge, before they also disappeared overnight.

Not long after that, Ryan met the Doctor for the first time and was shocked, shocked, to discover that aliens exist.

Cracks in Time

Steven Moffat did give us one handy explanation for why nobody in Doctor Who remembers the Dalek invasion, or the giant steampunk Cyberman that invaded Victorian London, and probably much more. In ‘Victory of the Daleks’ the Doctor tries to persuade Winston Churchill that using his own force of Daleks to secure the country was a bad idea, and he turns to Amy, who would have seen that invasion, to back him up. She has no idea what’s he’s talking about.

Later it’s revealed this is because the TARDIS explodes, destroying the entire universe with it. The cracks in time left by that explosion erased all kinds of events from history, including, handily, anything that would cause the human view of the universe to deviate too far from the real-world status quo.

Of course, that does leave some problems. Adelaide Brooke, again, clearly remembers the Dalek invasion and it was a moment so formative and influential on her eventual Fixed Point In Time that even the Dalek she saw (who, I remind you, was working on a plot to destroy literally all existence) didn’t dare exterminate her because of its influence on the timeline. And since it’s not implied the crack in time could bring anyone back from the dead, it does make you wonder what history says happened to Harriet Jones (former Prime Minister) and all the many others killed by the Daleks.

But maybe you don’t need a giant retconning Crack in Time?

Because while the Doctor has often waxed lyrical about humanity being indomitable, creative, and curious, there is also a lesser innate human quality the Doctor sometimes mentions: our absent-mindedness.

The Forgetfulness of the Daleks

As well as the Dalek incursions in ‘The Stolen Earth’ and ‘The Army of Ghosts’, there was another Dalek visitation of Earth in the ironically named ‘Remembrance of the Daleks’, which was set in 1963. During this adventure then-companion Ace points out she doesn’t remember anything about Daleks invading in the 1960s. The Doctor replies, “Do you remember the Zygon gambit with the Loch Ness Monster? Or the Yeti in the Underground? Your species has an amazing capacity for self-deception.”

Likewise, nobody remembers dinosaurs invading London, or the other time shop window dummies came to life and started killing people, or when the Earth encountered its exact twin. Without any cracks in time hanging around, Doctor Who falls back on an old staple of fantasy and sci-fi- that humans just ignore anything that doesn’t fit into their worldview.

As we’ve already mentioned, this turns up a couple of times in the new series as well. In ‘In the Forest of the Night’, the entire planet is overnight covered in forest for reasons that we’re not going to go into too closely because that story’s a bit of an embarrassment to be honest. As the forest disappears at the end of the story the Doctor says it will be forgotten outside of fairy stories, because that’s “a human superpower”.

It can even work two-way. In ‘The Lie of the Land’, the entire Earth is taken over by the gross-looking and mysterious “monks”. Using a psychic link, the monks convince humanity that not only are they humanity’s generous benefactors, but also that the monks have always been here, guiding human evolution. This is of course a lie, as the monks are actually one of the very few aliens not to have guided human evolution at some point.

After the Doctor does his thing and the monks’ statues are torn down, someone passes by the ruins of one and wonders what it was. Already, people are forgetting.

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Which, if you think about it, is a Doctor Who story in itself. Imagine being an alien visiting Earth. Humanity must seem like the Silence, but in reverse- as soon as they stop looking at you they forget you exist. The Doctor really ought to take a look at that some time.

The post Doctor Who: Why Does Everyone Keep Forgetting the Daleks? appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[riathel]

Thoughts about Shelley and the Unresolved Questions of Season 12

Well, I am writing a meta post about the Timeless Children and why I think it adds such an interesting complexity to the Master’s relationship with the Doctor, but in the meantime, while I process that finale, I wanted to write about something I’ve noticed this entire season.

The connection to the Shelleys and to Byron.

To TL;DR this post:  I think that next season, we’ll get an answer to who the Kasaavin are, it will tie into Percy having had the Cyberium in him (and it having been around Byron’s house), and we’ll get some huge development for Yaz, the Master and the Doctor, as they’ve all been in the Kasaavin realm.

Let’s recap all the times we’ve lingered around Byron and the Shelleys this season, shall we? This includes some very brief history lessons, and I will be including links!

Episode 2: Spyfall Part 2

We meet Ada Lovelace, who has a connection to the Kasaavin. She sees them in her dreams, she’s the one to rescue the Doctor from their realm. Brief history lesson: Ada Lovelace was an absolutely BRILLIANT mathematician and the parent of computers. She was also the only legitimate child of Lord Byron and his wife. She died in 1852 at age 36, taken far too young. I’ll post the scene here for benefit:

[Kasaavin realm] ADA: Please be assured all this will pass. I shall be recovered momentarily. DOCTOR: When you say recovered, what do you mean? ADA: The paralysis will fade. DOCTOR: You don't look paralysed. ADA: Not in this realm, but in my earthly aspect. DOCTOR: Right. What's your name? ADA: I am Ada. DOCTOR: And what do you think this realm is, Ada? ADA: I believe it to be my mind. Though I have not met another here before. DOCTOR: Then what do you think I am? ADA: I presume you are a consequence of my thoughts. DOCTOR: No. I'm the Doctor, and I'm very real. But you've been here before? ADA: Many times. When the paralysis subsides, I find myself fully back in my body, restored in the physical realm. If you are real, do you have your own solution for egress from here? DOCTOR: No exit strategy. Before I leave, I need to work out what this place is. Oh! Those fragments of light or energy, why are they surrounding you? ADA: They are always here with me. They place a word in my mind. Kasaavin? (One of the light creatures appears.) DOCTOR: Ada, step away. ADA: Do not be afraid. This is my guardian. DOCTOR: This is their realm. This is where they're from. But how did you bring us here? Unless... You can't be. But you must be. What, gateways? We go through you and arrive in your realm? I say realm. It's not a planet, not really a void. A separate dimension? Are we beyond our... my universe? ADA: Little of what you are saying makes sense to me, but I am concerned you'll be marooned here. When my guardian has returned... DOCTOR: They're not your guardians. ADA: I can offer you my hand. We may leave this place together. DOCTOR: I don't think that will work. ADA: How will you know if you do not try? Decide, Doctor.

Later in the episode:

DOCTOR: If you're Charles Babbage, then you're not just any old Ada. You're Ada Lovelace, daughter of Lord Byron and Annabella Milbanke, one of the great minds. ADA: I am Ada Gordon, madam. DOCTOR: 1834. Of course you are. Well, maybe one day, who knows, you might meet a nice Earl. This changes everything! This isn't an accident. Ada Lovelace in Babbage's house? You're clues. You're important.

Charles Babbage has the Silver Lady (aka the Kasaavin device) in his house, but Ada is the one who has been being visited by them.

DOCTOR: Ada, when was your first paralysis? ADA: I was 13 years old. That is when I was first transported to the place where we met, and I first saw an apparition. DOCTOR: And over the years, the paralysis recurs with the same effect? ADA: Yes. No doctor has ever been able to diagnose the cause. DOCTOR: Well, this Doctor may be able to. An apparition, from this machine. BABBAGE: Correct. DOCTOR: So, they take you, Ada, multiple times from here and they study you in their dimension, which means they can't be in this dimension for long. But maybe they gain an ally, a mastermind who builds them a machine which stabilises them in this world long enough for them to send spies and to spread their work and start a plan. 'Cause I've seen the map in his hut. Multiple Earths. Except not. Not multiple Earths. Multiple time periods. These creatures aren't just alien spies on Earth, they're spies through Time, through history, starting with you.

Or, at the very least, the Doctor assumed they were starting with Ada. Maybe they started earlier - with her parents. Or maybe the Master found out about the events of  The Haunting of Villa Diodati with the Cyberium - but we’ll get to that in time.

Again, Spyfall ends with a neat-ish conclusion as to them being focussed on “computing history” and “human DNA”

DOCTOR: I know what this is. A temporal map, showing every significant person in the development of computers through history, starting with you, Ada. This is the plan. See? BOTH: No. ADA: Wh... what is a computer? DOCTOR: Oh, forget you heard that word, otherwise I've just disrupted the whole of history. Again. Okay. Ah, my brain's fizzing. Good. The Kasaavin posted an agent on every person on that map, because that's what spies do, what Barton does. They gather all the data. Where does the DNA fit in? Kasaavin, technology, DNA. How are they all connected? Oh! Human DNA. That's what they were testing.

Episode 8: The Haunting of Villa Diodati

Gif by itberice.

This is the big episode, where I started to notice it especially. Huh, a bit a coincidence they’re doing Byron when Ada was his daughter. Interesting.

DOCTOR: Okay, so there was a spot of rain, and gale-force winds and a super-long walk. But I got us here, didn't I? And Mary Wollstonecraft Godwin, soon to be Shelley, screamed in your face. Quality historical experience, that. Gold. YASMIN: (sotto) On that night that inspired Frankenstein. FLETCHER: If... you'd be so kind. GRAHAM: Blimey. DOCTOR: Excuse me, Yaz. I was very clear about the rules. RYAN: Nobody mention Frankenstein, and don't interfere. YASMIN: And nobody snog Byron.

This is because, as Tumblr has already noted, Byron is a thot/fuckboi.

BYRON: She walks in beauty, like the night. DOCTOR: Of cloudless climes and starry skies. BYRON: I'm intensely flattered you're familiar with my work, Mrs Doctor. DOCTOR: Just Doctor is fine. I'm quite into Shelley's stuff too. He about?

Then enters the Lone Cyberman (aka Ashad). It is scouring the villa for Percy, to obtain the Cyberium, and cannot find him. When it starts charging up, it begins to quote Percy’s poetry (specifically Queen Mab book 2 and Queen Mab book 3)

CYBERMAN (glowing with energy): There's not one atom of yon Earth, but once was living man. (Book 2) The sword that stabs his peace; He cherisheth The snakes that gnaw his heart; he raises up the tyrant whose delight Is in his woe. (Book 3)

As the episode progresses, Ashad gets the Cyberium back from Percy (who has been dying with it). Even more interestingly though - the Cyberium wants to choose the Doctor.

DOCTOR: And it chooses me. Interesting. Time Lord magnetism. Looks like I'm the true Guardian. (The Cyberium passes into the Doctor.) CYBERMAN: Surrender it or I will execute you. DOCTOR: I'd be very careful with those execution threats. I can feel it already, fusing to me. It feels very at home. Recognising great host material. Not to big myself up, but I don't think it'll vacate me without a fight.

But now we know - she’s not just a Time Lord. So can the Cyberium sense that? Did it know? Or perhaps, even if she were just a Time Lord, it would have preferred her... Anyway, this deviates too hard into my other, upcoming post. I think this episode, the Villa episode, was VITAL in determining what will happen next season.

Episode 10: The Timeless Children

MASTER: Look upon my work, Doctor, and despair.

This is an homage to Percy Shelley’s sonnet, Ozymandias, which contains the iconic lines:

“My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings; Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair! Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.”

Oh, cute, what a fun little addition, I first thought when I heard it in the finale. (It now occurs to me, while writing this, that the Master might have quoted Shelley to the Doctor because he knows she loves his work. My poor shipper heart.)  

Then I thought - hang on. That’s a lot of “coincidental” involvement with the Byrons & Shelleys in this season, especially when the rest of the plots have been so deftly woven with surprises.

The Master mentions to Ashad/the Cyberium that he has the entire Matrix in his head and then he ends up absorbing the Cyberium into him, linking it with him in ways that will have consequences we haven’t even seen yet. It all sets up such a juicy, interesting thread into the next season.

Summary:

What does it all mean? Who can say? I hope this will give us some answer for what the Kasaavin are, where their universe is (is it beyond the Boundary? is it another Boundary?), how the Master found them (was it in the Matrix? did the Time Lords know about them?)

Most importantly: I think Yaz will play a huge role in the next season, given she was in the Kasaavin realm, as will the Doctor and (I suspect/hope) the Master again. This Kasaavin plot-line is still left unresolved, and I will be incredibly interested to see what Chibnall’s plan contains.

This could all just be a very cute, season-long homage to Byron/Shelley... but... it’s very suspicious. Especially given they have an entire two episodes focussed on them/their progeny.

If anyone has any other examples of Percy & Byron or descendants in season 11/12, please add them through reblogs! :D I worry that I haven’t gotten every single moment, or that I missed a couple of them.

Links to biographies:

Ada Lovelace Mary Shelley Percy Shelley Lord Byron

#doctor who #doctor who spoilers #dw spoilers #thirteenth doctor #dhawan!master #best enemies #ashad #spyfall part 2 #the haunting of villa diodati #the timeless children #dw meta #just a fun little meta post about something i found really curious! #thoschei #thirsacha

[sallyhasopinions]

Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman

Today I was trying to ease myself back into this whole process after skipping a day by choosing a shorter movie than average, the 2003 direct-to-video Batman: Mystery of the Batwoman. This was a mistake, as it took me in the neighborhood of four hours to watch it and take notes. This movie is an hour and fifteen minutes in length, but I take notes like I’m going to be tested later and I had to keep pausing to catch up. It’s animated and filled with superheroes, so the pacing was faster than I was prepared for.

Spoilers below; you’ve been warned.

I took fifteen pages of notes for this plot description.

Note - In the interest of relative brevity I am going to assume that readers have at least a passing familiarity with Batman.

The film opens on a seemingly innocuous car hauler and following car driving through the night before being intercepted by a mysterious Bat~woman~, who interferes with the disguised cargo, revealing it to be weaponry, and battles the men in both vehicles. This fight draws the attention of Batman and Robin, coincidentally cruising by in their jet, who interfere to save the lives of the truck drivers and make note of this mysterious woman who is totally jacking their brand.

As Bats stresses over who could possibly be behind the mask, the Penguin is visited by criminal colleagues Thorne and Duquesne, who break the news about the ruined shipment and the newest Bat on the block. The Batwoman also appears on the news, and Commissioner Gordon even questions Batman directly about who she is, though he has no information.

At Wayne Tech, Bruce sits through a presentation by clumsy employee Dr. Roxanne (Rocky) Ballantine, where she demonstrates a new alloy of “programmable” metal that can be made to take different shapes. Bruce invites her to dinner, but their evening is interrupted by the appearance of the Bat-Signal.

Commissioner Gordon, along with detectives Sonia Alcana and Bullock, have recovered the weapons destroyed in Batwoman’s battle and identified them as high-tech plasma rifles of unknown origin. Batman deduces from the distinctive keychain holding the truck’s keys that they have come from a business owned by the Penguin, Thorne, and Duquesne.

Investigating the shady business, Batman and Robin find Batwoman already there and causing trouble. The boys step in to help when she is surrounded by thugs, only to find out from her that she has rigged bombs in the rooms below them, and they all need to make their escape. As the building is destroyed, she explains that they were manufacturing weapons for illegal export. Batman demands to know who she is, but she tells him he’ll have to figure it out himself and escapes. He tracks her to Duquesne’s home, where he gets into a tussle with some bodyguards and Duquesne himself demands that Batman leave his property.

Now suspecting Duquesne’s daughter Kathy to be the Batwoman, Bruce and Alfred spend the next day tailing her as she goes on a shopping spree. She incidentally recruits Bruce to help her escape her bodyguards in a shopping center, and he agrees. The two of them speed off in her car and she tells him about herself, her mother, and how she blames her father for her mother’s death before they are located by her bodyguards and she agrees to go home.

Batman immediately passes on his suspicions about Kathy and her potential motive of revenge for her mother’s death to Commissioner Gordon, Sonia, and Bullock, and shares the information regarding the Penguin’s illicit weapons factory. The police put a tail on Kathy while Bruce researches her on his own.

Batwoman breaks into Thorne’s office to photograph evidence from his files as Thorne and the Penguin decide their next steps in completing their arms deal in light of the destruction of their factory. She is discovered, but escapes after a scuffle with the men. Later, Kathy overhears her father Duquesne raging as he discovers that the Penguin, with Thorne’s support, has called in additional help to complete the deal.

At Wayne Tech, Rocky shows Robin how to reach a game’s bonus level. Bruce reminds him that Alfred is waiting for him. Rocky tells Bruce she has been working late, but their casual chat is interrupted by the arrival of Kathy Duquesne, who has dressed up and come to ask Bruce out that evening.

Sonia and Bullock follow Kathy and Bruce to the Iceberg Lounge, a club owned by the Penguin and filled with Duquesne’s associates. They are greeted warmly by the Penguin himself. Bruce asks Kathy about her intentions in bringing him to a place full of her father’s associates that are sure to report to him, and she takes offense to his tone and excuses herself from their table. Meanwhile, the Penguin takes a telephone call from his new associate, who has agreed to assist with their arms deal and will meet him at the club shortly. Batwoman, lurking in the shadows of the Penguin’s office, is spotted as he completes his phone call. She restrains him with a metallic device and begins questioning him about his new associate, but the Penguin manages to push a panic button under his desk, causing two of his lackeys to come to his aid just as he reveals that it is Bane who will be helping to facilitate the arms deal.

The fight that ensues sends Batwoman through the office wall and crashing onto the club’s dance floor, causing immediate chaos and confusion. Sonia and Bullock outside the club call for backup as patrons flee the continuing battle. Just as the Penguin has Batwoman cornered, Batman swoops in to prevent him from shooting her. Batwoman is able to escape and as she flies away, Batman sees that Kathy is standing in a nearby doorway - she cannot have been Batwoman. Distracted by this revelation, Batman is caught off-guard by a chair to the back and is knocked into the pool at the center of the club. The Penguin starts shooting into the water as Batman sets up an underwater explosive to destroy the pool and serve as a distraction to allow him to slip away. 

Bruce escorts Kathy safely home, where they exchange apologies about the evening at the door. They nearly kiss, but are interrupted when one of the bodyguards enters and tells her that Duquesne is looking for her. Kathy leaves with the bodyguard once again. 

Batman and Sonia discuss the information they’ve uncovered at the lounge. Sonia points out that Kathy must not be Batwoman as they were seen at the lounge at the same time. Bruce provides Sonia with a piece of the restraining device that Batwoman had used on the Penguin as a piece of potential evidence. Sonia intimates that Batman saved her life nine years prior, during an arson fire set by Thorne’s lackeys, and that this incident is what led to her becoming a detective. Working in the batcave, Bruce identifies the material used in Batwoman’s restraining device as the same programmable alloy that Rocky was working with at Wayne Tech.

Rocky goes to prison visitation to see her boyfriend Kevin, who has been serving the past four years after being convicted of a crime actually committed by the Penguin. She tells him she is trying to get someone who works for the Penguin to talk, and Kevin expresses his displeasure that she is putting herself in danger by spying on known criminals. Kevin breaks up with her, telling her not to waste her time when it will be another five years before he will even be eligible for parole. She returns home and finds Batman waiting for her. He accuses her of being Batwoman, explaining he is aware that her boyfriend was framed and that he has found her more advanced designs for her alloy on her home computer. Rocky denies that she has done anything illegal, and Batman warns her about the dangers of continued vigilantism as Batwoman.

Thorne and the Penguin meet up with Duquesne to go meet with their new associate, tailed by Batwoman. After discussing the terms of their agreement, Bane and the Penguin go over their plans to transport the weapons that night, sailing them out to international waters onboard a luxury cruise ship. Batwoman listens in.

Batman abruptly realizes that he knew Rocky’s whereabouts during one of the previous Batwoman sightings, thus she cannot have been Batwoman either. Alfred passively remarks that she can’t be in two places at once unless she has the power to duplicate herself, causing Batman to consider that Kathy and Rocky could both be using the Batwoman persona. He asks Robin to investigate any possible link between the two women and goes to search for further evidence himself.

Batwoman returns to her secret lair with the details of the criminals’ plans in hand. Rocky appears from the shadows and says that Batman is onto her and will surely ruin their plans. As she worries, Kathy also enters the scene and agrees with her that Batman has been catching on too quickly. Batwoman points out that he thought Kathy was Batwoman only two days before and was now accusing Rocky, so he would probably move on to suspecting someone else soon. Removing her mask, Batwoman - revealed to be Sonia - assures them that she would know about it if he had any new theories. They are too close to success to quit now, and just have to stop the shipment tonight.

Batman breaks into Kathy’s room and begins searching for evidence that might tie her to Rocky or the Batwoman persona. As he stands in her art studio, flipping through her sketchbook, Robin contacts him to report that he has found no connection between them. Batman, however, recognizes one of the sketches, and tells Robin that the two women just needed someone to introduce them.

Kathy and Sonia review their plans to infiltrate the cruise ship carrying the weapons. Rocky provides Kathy with a bomb to destroy the weapons onboard, and Kathy sets out as Batwoman to disrupt the shipment. She boards just as the ship is leaving the harbor and successfully reaches the weapons cache, but as she is preparing to set the explosive she is suddenly attacked by Bane.

Thorne, the Penguin, and Duquesne are waiting for word of their success when the telephone rings. Bane has called them to report that he has captured the Batwoman and is waiting for them in the harbor. The three men hurry to leave.

Sonia is watching the ship from a rooftop when Batman joins her and accuses her of knowing Kathy. He shows her the drawing from Kathy’s sketchbook - a younger Sonia - and says that the two of them took art classes together. He then accuses that she also knows Rocky, Sonia attempts to deny this, but Batman knows that they were roommates as college freshmen. He continues his accusations by identifying her as the mastermind of their Batwoman scheme. Sonia, obligingly, delivers her Motive Rant about her desire to get revenge on Thorne for having ruined her parents’ business with his arson fire. As they stand in a moment of tension, Sonia’s phone rings. Rocky has called to report that something has gone terribly wrong with their plan, and asks Sonia what they are going to do.

The Penguin, Thorn, and Duquesne take a speedboat to rendezvous with the cruise ship in the harbor. Unknown to them, Batman and Robin follow via submarine. Onboard the cruise ship, the trio meet with Bane, who has captured Batwoman. Bane explains that he called them once he figured out who she was, and removes Batwoman’s mask, revealing Kathy to her father and his associates. Thorne and the Penguin immediately accuse Duquesne of duplicity, while Bane shows them the bomb she intended to plant onboard.

Duquesne and Kathy argue bitterly about their mutual feelings of betrayal. The Penguin realizes that he also saw Kathy and Batwoman at the club at the same time, and thus she must have accomplices. He threatens her with toxic gases, much to the dismay of Duquesne. Bane restrains Duquesne while the Penguin continues interrogating her, only to be interrupted once again by the arrival of Batman, who disarms Thorne and begins to battle Bane. Kathy, her hands cuffed behind her back, manages to kick the Penguin away and get her shackled hands in front of her before Batman grabs her mid-Tarzan Swing. They flee as Thorne shoots one of the plasma rifles at them, causing large amounts of destruction.

Bane contacts the crew to have them begin sailing out towards international waters as quickly as possible. Robin tails the cruise ship in the submarine, while in-costume Rocky and Sonia fly in, awaiting a signal from Batman. Thorne and Duquesne argue, while the Penguin notices that the bomb is missing, causing Bane to threaten Duquesne. Batman and Kathy have escaped to an engine room, where he removes her handcuffs and informs her that her friends are here to rescue her. Kathy plants the bomb, warning him that it can’t be removed without detonating and they now have two minutes before the explosion.

Thorne and the Penguin retreat to the speedboat, where they are spotted by the other Batwomen, who disarm them and demand to know Kathy’s location. Kathy and Batman escape to an outer pool deck, only to discover a chained and beaten Duquesne being swung above the pool by Bane. Bane tosses Duquesne into the pool, and Kathy dives in after him while Batman meets Bane. Underwater, Kathy attempts to unchain her father while Batman and Bane fight. When Bane is knocked from the higher deck of the ship while tangled in his own chain, Duquesne and Kathy are both rapidly pulled out of the water. Batman manages to ensure that they are on the deck before the bomb detonates, knocking him off the higher deck.

There are several inexplicable explosions that follow the bomb blast. Fire rapidly overtakes the weapon stores, which leads to another, larger explosion. The crew abandons ship. Rocky is seen flying with her cape and cowl on fire, which she removes. Sonia has been knocked into the water by the blast. Rocky swims to rescue her, but the Penguin spots her from the speedboat and attempts to run them over. Robin deflects the speedboat with the submarine, and takes Sonia aboard, leaving Rocky free to pursue the speedboat.

Bane and Batman continue their battle, which Batman, outmatched and injured, attempts to flee. Kathy is dangling by her cape from a piece of debris over a crater in the damaged ship. Duquesne looks over the ledge above her, sees her in this predicament, and crawls away. Her cape begins tearing, and she struggles to hold onto it, until a life ring is thrown down. Kathy grabs onto the life ring and Duquesne hauls her up to safety.

Thorne and the Penguin lament the sinking ship as they depart on the speedboat, commenting that at least it will take some Bats with it as it sinks. Rocky suddenly grapples onto the back of their boat from her rocket glider. Thorne attempts to shoot her down, but she uses the cable to entangle a buoy, which jerks the speedboat to a sudden stop and throws Thorne and the Penguin into the harbor.

Batman and Bane continue to fight, with Batman deploying a restraint device much like the one previously used on the Penguin by Batwoman. This manages to incapacitate Bane long enough that Batman can grapple himself away just before the ship strikes a bridge and runs aground. The impact causes Bane to fall into a pit of fire that is entirely without context. Batman dangles from his grappling device attached to the bridge, injured by Bane and struggling to hold on. Sonia, on her own rocket glider, manages to rescue him before he falls into the flaming debris below. Rocky and Sonia, Batman in tow, both confirm that Kathy and Duquesne are secure on another boat. Firefighters attempt to extinguish the blazing wreck as Commissioner Gordon and Detective Bullock observe the scene from a police boat. Sonia, unmasked, flies over to them to deliver the injured Batman to Commissioner Gordon.

At police headquarters, Sonia packs up her desk. Batman appears and expresses his belief that the city is losing a good cop with her exit. She reminds him that she is lucky she is not being prosecuted for her actions. Batman gives her an envelope, which he explains contains exculpatory evidence that will allow Rocky’s boyfriend Kevin to be released, and leaves.

Rocky and Kathy loiter outside the prison. Kathy explains that she used to hate her father, but now feels sorry for him since he’s been locked up. She inquires about Bruce, who she says has not been in contact with her since their disastrous date. The pair are interrupted by Kevin, freshly released. He and Rocky embrace, apparently no longer broken up. Kathy leaves them, only to find Bruce leaning against her car, waiting for her. The two of them drive off together as the credits music begins.

Do I even have the energy to review this?

It’s now been seven hours since I started watching this movie, which I was neither over- nor underwhelmed by. Consider me demiwhelmed maybe. The scene at the Iceberg Lounge includes an inexplicable pop song called Betcha Never which is performed by a cartoon cameo of the actual artist, Cherie, who was not to my knowledge even remotely recognizable or notable to the target audience of animated Batman films at the time. Overall it has not aged super well. 

The Metrics:

Bechdel Test: Failed. The three women don’t get a ton of screen time together, and when they do, they are exclusively talking about men.

Mako Mori Test: Failed. Each of these women is motivated solely by a desire to act against men who have wronged them, and do so whilst partially usurping the identity of another man. One of them is acting against a man who wronged another man and not herself.

Representation, etc:

For a movie that’s nominally about three women it’s kind of a shitshow in how it perceives and portrays women, even aside from the issues of their motivations mentioned above. Kathy is a major victim of this in particular.

Early on in the film, Alfred makes a reference to the Rudyard Kipling poem The Female of the Species. This is a fairly common cultural reference, but a sexist poem espousing sexist views. 

Kathy Duquesne is shown to be an avid and frivolous shopping enthusiast. At one point, while shopping, she says “Worst thing that could happen is I’ll need a size eight,” which is one of the most disturbingly open instances of body-shaming I’ve ever heard in media meant for CHILDREN.

Kathy is catcalled repeatedly by men who are presumably associates of her FATHER at the Iceberg Lounge, and this is not treated as harmful or even particularly bothersome to her.

Kathy’s father literally raises his hand to backhand her and tells her to shut up after she has been unmasked. This is, again, children’s media.

Bruce receives a brief call from Barbara Gordon in which she behaves jealously about the idea of a Batwoman and is openly flirtatious with him. Bruce appears to be in his 30s, Barbara is away at college and presumably no older than 21. Bruce gets out of this conversation by rustling papers and pretending his cell signal is breaking up.

All three female characters have essentially identical body models and extremely similar facial features. It would be extremely difficult to tell them apart if they weren’t designed as a white/black/latina trio.

When Rocky rescues Sonia who is at risk of drowning in the harbor, the way they are drawn and physically interact seems very much a creation by and for the male gaze. They also somehow manage to float in the water at about lower ribcage level, keeping those breasts well above the surface in clear defiance of the laws of physics.

There’s a ~fun~ little nugget of homophobia at one point when Rocky and Bruce are chatting. Rocky mentions that she is working late, but her boyfriend is very understanding. She then asks, “what about yours?” Before Bruce even reacts, she panics and corrects herself, clarifying that she meant girlfriend. Bruce, to his credit, responds that he doesn’t have anybody special.

Final Scores: 

Deaths: Batman doesn’t like killing people, so probably none. Bane did fall in that weird pit of flames though.

Smooches: None. Nearly one, interrupted.

Sex: None; this is for kids.

Substance Use/Abuse: Nope.

Violence: Moderate to heavy by kids standards, but I’d say about average for the superhero genre.

Profanity: None. 

Watch with Kids: I have real problems with the way women are portrayed in this and I probably wouldn’t let a child watch it.

Watch with Parents: Nothing in here is NSFP.

Sally Says: This is probably for DCAU/Batman fans only. Y’all, it’s been over nine hours since I started watching this freaking movie. It’s technically tomorrow for me now.

#movie review #film review #movies #films #dcau #review #bechdel fail #mako mori fail #batman mystery of the batwoman #sally has opinions

[7deadlycinderellas]

If the summer of our lives could just come again, ch31

Ao3 link

 Winterfell

Everyone was beyond exhausted. Bags under the eyes, sluggish movements and dim conversation had become the norm.

Then the mammoth showed up. It’s stride barely even notices the trench, now widened the earth shaking.

The Free Folk all hope that the Night King did not count any of the giants among his soldiers.

Ygritte’s arm shakes as she looses arrow after arrow trying to fell the beast. All the others in line do the same. The arm she took the arrow in has begun to feel warm, but she does not fear corruption so much as reopening the wound.

It’s just as the beast over the castle walls has been hit enough to stumble, that Rowan comes behind the archers to warn of an impending call to the trees, so that they could kneel and brace themselves.

The first time they had had an archer fall clear over the ramparts, his neck broken. He’d risen far too quickly, and they’d been forced to burn him. Remembering it made the hair on the back of Ygritte’s neck stand up. They still hadn’t seen any sign of the Night King.

Close to the pull of sleep, Arya had told her once about it before, muttering with her eyes half closed about how she had stabbed him with her little dagger and he had shattered as if made of glass.

This time, Arya is woken from sleep by the shaking of the earth. She sputters a bit before turning to Ygritte.

“Do they need me back?”

Ygritte shakes her head. Better to let her sleep. Arya was a damn good archer, but there wasn’t much that could be done until the snow let up and the visibility improved.

Other than trying to keep them from climbing the walls.

In the Great Hall, Ned’s shoulder still burned, even as he left his cot. He went against Maester Luwin’s advice the minute he’d heard.

The Hunter’s gate was overrun. Val and the other Free Folk were cutting down all they could see, slashing and cutting down the wights left and right.

“Best we’re trying is to let the bodies pile up and block the opening,” she tells him, hacking at a wight dragging along the ground with her dragon glass axe. “And once they do, we’ll set fire to the lot.”

The plan works, to Ned’s shock. Once the fire is burning and the pile stops twitching, several of the largest of the Free Folk make to block the broken gate with empty wagons full of whatever they can find to weigh them down.

But while they are doing this, a cluster of wights have made their way inside the keep.

The one Ned sees used to be a woman, he thinks. She lumbers, jumping on a young squire from behind, before one of the other squires slices her skull from the rest of her, and scooping her remains into the fire.

With a start, Ned realizes the fighter carrying the dismembered wight is Rickon. His youngest son is now a figured smeared in dirt and blood, his hair slicked with sweat and snow.

Ned spins, following the sounds of the screams, the clang of steel, waiting to find a target he could direct them to. Eventually, a scream he recognizes pierces through.

He follows as fast as he can, finding Robb on the ground, a wight’s teeth sunk into one arm, his other flailing, trying to reach his sword where it had fallen. His arm is already beginning to take on an icy hue.

Ned’s muscles snap as he springs as fast as he can. But his movement isn’t necessary, as the wight is seized by one of the Free Folk and pulled away. But even as the threat is gone, Ned sees Robb’s arm, torn to bits, with lines running down it glowing an eerie unworldly blue.

The sight makes him freeze nearly, the sight of his first born child, the sounds of the battle rattling in the back of his head. His stillness is interrupted when Val comes to him, picks up the sword from the cobblestones and in a single quick movement, with barely a grunt of effort and a sickening crack, severs Robb’s arm at the shoulder.

His screams ring out through Winterfell.

“Give me your torch,” she tells one of the Free Folk, and Ned watches as she holds the fire to the wound until it seals and the smell of perverse cooked meat fills the air.

“Help me get him to the Great Hall,” she orders, and though Ned moves to help, he realizes Val’s words were directed at Gendry off beside him, who takes the fallen torch in one hand, and carefully lift’s Robb’s uninjured arm over his shoulder.

Once they are out of sight, that part of the keep is once again quiet of screams, at least for this moment. Ned’s shoulder burns worse than before.

Ned is later glad that he isn’t on the east side when it happens.

Brienne watches later as Gendry pulls two soldiers onto the back of his horse.

“The same fever?” she asks him. An illness of some sort had been passing through those stationed on the east side. With no time for proper food or rest, those who caught it had been dropping like flies. Brienne feared it wouldn’t be too long before it spread to other parts of the keep.

Gendry nods.

“Luwin’s having me quarantine them in one hallway outside the Great Hall. He fears them infecting the injured.”

He doesn’t tell her about the one he’d left a few days ago who had had a violent seizure when he’d come to check on them, his limbs shaking and mumbling fever dreams.

He nods to Brienne before turning to leave with the ill men.

Brienne surveys the meager forces manning the east wall again, as if by going through them again, they might suddenly grow, might suddenly be less haggard and starved.

As if they somehow might stand a chance.

As Brienne dismounts to go and check the archers on this side of the wall, the ground shakes, but not like before. Not like what the trees did.

And she hears the telltale sounds of stone beginning to crumble. The tiny chinks that have built up as the dead continued to slam and pile up against it, until parts of the east wall begin to crack and fall.

In the Godswood, Jon wakes with a start, to find Rowan shaking him.

“Your glove began to peel off,” she tells him, and he rights it. “You must be careful of frostbite.”

Yes, Jon thinks, frostbite.

Even trying to reclaim his tiny bits of sleep, he reaches out to the outside. He sees the second mammoth, the one who rammed the east wall and caused it to begin to crumble, and his eyes snap awake.

The trees don’t know too much of what to make of the Night King, other than he is heading south, fast, far too fast. Jon thanks all the gods that he seems to be limited by normal means of transportation.

The trees speak again to Jon now, unbidden. They say they will help again, but he does not understand their words this time. He feels the touch they would give to him, the assurance. That what they are about to do will take a lot out of him, and that he should brace himself, but not just physically.

Stumbling wildly out of the visions, Jon backs himself to the trunk of the weirwood, and lowers himself to the ground. Rowan presses closer to his side, and with his eyes trailing shut once again, Jon wishes Ygritte could be here with him too.

When the images pass through his mind, images of another him and another battle, he just lets it slip through him.

 Greywater Watch

Sansa and Shireen pour over the harp for days that turn into weeks that turn into months.

“I learned to play in King’s Landing,” Sansa muses, “From Leonette Fossoway. But I was so anxious and frightened all the time, I’m afraid I was quite a poor student.”

“I learned a bit in lessons as a girl,” Shireen adds, “But not too much. I wanted to learn the lute instead.”

And a frozen bog in hiding from the rising dead isn’t quite the best place to try and relearn, but they do what they can.

“Great-grandfather’s fiddle’s around here somewhere,” Meera tells Jojen one afternoon when the soft pings of the plucked strings are ringing out again.

“Waiting for a Reed who’s not an embarrassment to the art of music,” Jojen agrees.

At that moment, the scene is interrupted by Bran sticking his head in from outside and calling out to Sansa. He’s holding a rolled up scroll from the leg of a bird, so Meera and Jojen both follow Sansa to find out what’s going on.

Shireen looks around the table and realizes she’s alone again. Oh well, it never lasts long, there’s not too many places to hide in a keep this size.

It doesn’t even last five minutes, as Lord Reed re-enters from the back end and sits on the opposite side of the table from her.

Shireen nods, and greets him. She never learned too much about House Reed, aside from its allegiance to the north, but they’ve been good enough hosts.

There’s a long bit of silence, when he asks.

“You’re an only child aren’t you Shireen?”

Shireen nods. She remembers having always wanted siblings, but thinking on her parents as nearly an adult, she suspects it might be better that she didn’t.

“I heard about your father at the Wall. I’m sorry.”

Shireen nods again. She’s tried so hard not to think about it.

“With him gone, I guess I should go home to Dragonstone after this. I don’t know if my mother- I should probably just try and do my duty.”

Howland studies her. His gaze isn’t penetrating, but she still feels exposed.

“Is that what you want though?”

She smiles softly.

“I don’t want my house to die out, though I did think I would have a little more time...When I was little, I used to listen to Maester Cressen talk about his training, and I wished I could go to the citadel. I know they don’t let women in, but I always thought maybe I could sneak in at night, or something of the sort. I do at least have a huge stack of writings that I might be able to convince them to be worth reading now.”

Howland’s face has turned serious, and Shireen wonders what it was she’d said. The others have returned from whatever was being carried on the raven, but are on the other side of the room. He watches as Shireen tries to catch Jojen’s eye, hoping for a hint of if the letter was important.

“Are the two of you close?”

Shireen’s face turns pink.

“We’ve found some...very unusual common ground.”

Howland puts his face in his hands. His voice softens so the others don’t over hear, but is unexpectedly rough,

“When this is over, and you leave this place...convince him to go with you, in whatever capacity that is.”

Shireen blinks in shock.

“Don’t you want him home, safe?”

“Of course I do. But I don’t think he will be safe if he’s home. It’s not so bad here in the winter, but come spring...this environment is harsh. Illnesses spread through us like wildfire. In the spring the swamp gas rises. Jojen’s already fallen to Greywater fever once. I don’t worry about Meera, she’s strong-”

Shireen chuckles. A few days prior, Meera had climbed part way onto the roof of the keep to free Una when she had become entangled in a snare, with very little regard to her rapidly swelling abdomen.

“But Jojen never has been. He was always a fragile boy. And even though his mother and I always told him how important his visions were...we all knew that this was not a good place for him. I don’t want him to leave home and die like last time, but I want him to die earlier than he needs to even less.”

Shireen watches the others, solemn.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

The moons go on, and Sansa and her can’t make heads or tails of the harp. Once, when Sansa plays, Shireen notes that one of the runes on the side seems to light up, but despite her scribbling it down as fast as she can, they have yet to get that reaction from any of the other runes.

One morning, one the Reed’s lookouts come to report that men have been spotted marching along the causeway from the south.

“What? What banners are they carrying?” Sansa demands.

The lookout couldn’t see them in the snow, so Bran sends Una south.

When she reaches the men, Bran reports.

“House Tyrell, but they aren’t displaying their banners, I could only tell by their armor. And they’re being led by Jamie Lannister.”

The distaste in his voice is prominent.

“Should we tell the men to try and stop them from getting through?” Meera asks.

There’s a long pause.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Bran says slowly. “They’re not traveling under the banner of the crown. We should at least see what happens if they make it through and encounter the Others.”

There are nods all around. Bran spends the next weeks in and out of Una trying to discover why a company of soldiers, but not from King’s Landing, would be coming north.

One night when he had left her and nearly immediately fallen asleep, he dreams of the Night King coming for him in the Godswood. It wakes him in a cold sweat.

He’s just managed to calm his heart, when he realizes Meera’s sitting up on her side of the bed, hunched over.

“Hey-” he reaches out to touch her on the shoulder. “Is it the babe, should we call for the midwife?”

She shakes her head, and Bran sighs in relief. She should have at least a moon’s turn left.

“It was back before, when I left Winterfell,” her voice shakes. “It was snowing so hard, and I could barely sleep. I hadn’t slept alone, or been alone at all really, in so long…”

He rubs his hand along her shoulder and reaches for his cane beside the bed.

“Come on, lets get some tea.”

But when they reach the table, they aren’t alone.

Shireen’s muttering about fire, and Sansa says something about the crypts. But it’s not just them, but others within the keep, awake and speaking quietly.

Jojen is the last to join them, looking confused at everyone else.

When he sits, his only words are.

“That was a green dream. But I’ve never had one like that before.”

“Doesn’t make sense,” Sansa responds, “The things we saw really happened.”

There’s a long silence, interrupted only by the rustling of the others waking.

“But only you lot remember that these things happened,” Shireen says slowly, “The rest of us see this as new.”

They sit in silence again as this washes over them.

 White Harbour

At White Harbour, Theon sits up with a jolt. They’re still on the ship, surveying before they disembark.

In the dark, he gropes his way out of the cabin before finding Yara on watch. Her eyes meet his, and her terror he feels must be mirrored on his own.

Yara stares at him steadily, before looking back out to the land in front of them.

“We do not sow. Remember our house words. We are here, we are Ironborn. We will not go down with the dead.”

Her words are enough, at least safely at sea.

Gliding on the air above them all, Danaerys jumps when her vision shifts, finding herself aboard Rhaegal again instead of Drogon like she had in the vision, and wonders at what could have made that seemingly small thing different. Much moreso, she is confused by the memory of her own feelings, her nearly arrogant certainty. She steels herself in the darkness, running a hand along Rhaegal’s scales. It would be wrong to admit she has no such certainty now.

 The Kingsroad

Jamie’s arm is too light. This is the first thing that registers when he wakes. His arm is too light and it seems to flop around of its own accord.

But it’s not just his arm weighing him down, but the memory of Cersei’s betrayal.

She had begged him to find a way to stop Father sending her back to Casterly Rock, and he’d been plagued by guilt over it. Now he questions why. His whole life he’d tried to spend in her service, and what did he get in return for it? Now with this memory, though hazy and rapidly fading, his guilt begins to lighten.

When the first light comes, he orders the men on. His guilt does begin to rise, when he recalls what he suspects they will find at the end of the Kingsroad.

 King’s Landing

Margaery had found the necklace among her things ages ago, and she had also noticed the stone that came loose. She had kept it in her personal effects, close, planning to bide her time.

In the moons since she had sent Jamie away, Joffrey had become increasingly paranoid. Rambling on during council meetings about the rumors and correspondences with the Targaryen girl, even lashing out after being reprimanded by his Hand, his own grandfather.

She spends several days observing routines, finding the best time. Night time would be too obvious, too many servants who might take the blame.

The visions that pass over them all don’t even seem to phase Joffrey at all, to Margaery’s disgust. Breakfast provides the perfect distraction. Especially since breakfast today is fried fish, complete with their tiny bones.

Especially since it seems everyone else in the keep awoke in the same fugue state Margaery found herself in. Her maid had looked at her as though she had seen a ghost. She fingers the jewel tucked into her pocket. Her dream did nothing but spur her on.

In the Great Hall, everyone has gathered among the breakfast spread, no one much meeting others eyes and bumbling about, confused. Only Joffrey is already eating, licking the greasy batter of the fried fish from his fingers.

The jewel dropped its way easily into the goblet of red wine. She hasn’t even have the opportunity to sit down before Joffrey’s hand snatches it away.

“Far too early for a queen. Wouldn’t want you ending up like my dearest mother.”

Margaery lets him take the goblet and place it to his lips. And she waits.

 Winterfell

Ned’s shoulder burns anew when he wakes. At least he knows he’s alive.

Robb jerks awake on the cot in the Great Hall. Only an arm, at least there’s that.

Gendry doesn’t even quit moving as he drags a man with a broken leg from the rubble of the east wall.

Brienne grips her sword tighter, the word ‘knight’ echoing in her mind.

Up on the ramparts, Arya stares straight ahead. She squeezes the dagger at her waist, and dares the Night King to come this time.

Beside her, Ygritte rolls on her side and mutters, “Gods, I hope someone killed that fuckin’ kid.”

In the Broken Tower, Benjen stares across the horizon, looking for the figure he imagines must still be coming for him.

In the Godswood, Jon touches his stomach and chest where the stab wounds had been, takes a deep breath, and tells the trees thank you.

“Do you think this will help?” he asks them, the tongue feeling more natural on voice now somehow.

“Unknown. But we’ve done what we can.”

Jon hopes that it’s enough.

#game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #time travel fix it #gendrya #fic

[jarienn972]

A Simple Spell - Chapter Twelve

A Captain Swan Supernatural Summer Tale

I honestly did not plan for this latest @cssns​ chapter update to take so long. I had the majority of this finished over Thanksgiving weekend, but then an awful upper respiratory infection started making its way around my household. The past few weeks have been a blur and I feel like I've been completely out of touch. I finally managed to get the haze out of my head and finish up this chapter.

There are two chapters left in my outline so expect some big reveals coming! I really appreciate everyone who has read, shared and commented along the way. Thank you so much for sticking with me with my first AU!  Thank you @kmomof4​ for being such a great cheerleader and I’m sorry I made you wait so long for the next chapter.  And as always, thanks to @lassluna​ for her beta assistance along the way and to @cocohook38​ for her incredible artwork!

Read from the beginning or get a refresher:  One  Two  Three  Four  Five  Six  Seven  Eight  Nine  Ten  Eleven           Also on AO3 and FF.net

In such a remote area, the process of extricating the unconscious Captain Jones from the root cellar had been a time-consuming challenge. Since the ambulance wasn't off-road equipped, the paramedics had been forced to hitch a ride in Graham's 4x4 and utilize the SUV as an improvised transport vehicle. After a few tense minutes of concern as the team determined the best way to carry the wounded man from the cellar, Emma finally breathed a sigh of relief when she saw her friend loaded safely into the back of Graham's vehicle.

She would have been happier to accompany Killian to Storybrooke Hospital but since space was limited, she remained behind to return the borrowed ATVs and then returned to the Sheriff's station with David. He parked the cruiser in the alley behind the station and they entered through the rear door near the break room. David ducked into the break room to start a pot of coffee brewing, needing a caffeine boost after their busy morning. Emma continued into the squad room, dropping her gear atop her desk as she collapsed her weary body into her chair. She was exhausted, mentally and physically, but she was incredibly relieved as they'd managed to locate Killian quickly and best of all - alive. Of course, the outcome hadn't been entirely perfect as they had no idea who had abducted the captain or why, but at least they had a few leads.

After delivering Killian and the paramedics to the ambulance, Graham returned to the house in the woods to gather evidence. David wanted fresh eyes on the crime scene - to search both the main house and the root cellar, primarily tasking the deputy to find the identity of the current occupant. David would have handled it himself, but he was worried about his little sister and what her state of mind might be after finding the man she was dating unconscious and injured in a hole in the ground. And he became even more concerned when he strolled into the squad room to see her tossing items out of her desk, frantically hunting for something.

"Problem?" he asked quizzically.

"Yeah - my mother's journal… I can't find it…," she replied, emptying what remained of the top drawer onto the floor. "I put it in this drawer before we left - I know I did!"

"You sure? Maybe you put it in the bottom drawer instead?" he suggested, but it only earned him an unpleasant glare from his sister.

"I put everything in here together - the box and both books. The box is still here," she said as she lifted it for him to see. "And so is the other book, but the journal isn't anywhere to be found…"

"Well, I doubt it just vanished. You're absolutely sure it was in your desk?"

"Yes, David - I'm sure. Someone must have taken it off of my desk."

"Emma, come on… Who would break into a Sheriff's station to steal a diary?"

"I don't know. It makes no sense, but then not much that has happened this week has made any sense. What if this was just another part of our so-called warlock's sick game? What if he kidnapped Killian as a diversion so he could get his hands on that journal? He was probably afraid that mom might have left clues."

"Considering she lost, I can't imagine they'd be good clues," David quipped, but she didn't appreciate the sarcasm.

"Maybe she left clues about what not to do?" she retorted, her frustrations nearing the boiling point.

"Maybe… Look, why don't you head over to the hospital and get an update on Captain Jones' condition? I know you're worried… I'll keep searching around here and see if the book might have just been misplaced. The rest of the paperwork can wait until Graham gets back here."

"Fine. Just please, let me know immediately if you find it?"

"I'll bring it right to you. I'm sure it will turn up. Now - go. I'm trusting you to get the Captain's statement when he wakes."

"I will. Thank you, David." Wary of leaving any of her mother's other items behind lest they vanish along with the journal, Emma scooped up the box and the spellbook. She wasn't going anywhere without these now, certain that Gold had hung onto these things for a reason. She hoped David was correct and the journal was around here somewhere, but she wasn't feeling particularly positive right now. She was certain someone had taken it while they were rescuing Killian, but why? The answer to that question would likely be the key to unraveling this entire mystery.

**********

Emma arrived at the main entrance to Storybrooke General hospital a little after 2pm and, after a brief spat with the head nurse, was directed to Killian Jones' room and provided a synopsis of his current condition. He'd needed some minor surgery to repair the damage to his wounded shoulder and he was also being treated for some mild hypothermia after being in the damp, chilly root cellar for an unknown length of time. The staff was baffled by his lingering comatose state as none of his injuries would explain why he remained unresponsive. Dr. Victor Whale, the lead physician overseeing Killian's treatment, suspected that drugs might be involved and and ordered blood samples taken and sent to the laboratory for processing. Until they had those results, everything was pure speculation.

She found herself staring at the shell of a man laying before her on the hospital bed, one who bore little resemblance to the brash Captain she'd first encountered days ago. Maybe it was the flimsy hospital garb he wore in place of his dark leathers, or perhaps it was the silence of his sharp tongue, but either way, she felt as if she were in the presence of an entirely different person. There was a vulnerability to the man in front of her and Emma couldn't help but feel a little bit of sadness for him - both for his ordeal and for the fact he had no family to be here with him.

She had already spoken to his first mate, Mr. Smee, to advise him that the Captain had been located and was currently hospitalized. The skittish little man had stopped by briefly to check in and say thank you, but hadn't stayed. In the Captain's absence, the task of running the Jolly Roger fell upon him so he couldn't stick around long. His crew was likely the closest thing to family that Killian Jones had but there was still distance. It was another bit of kinship that Emma felt with Killian. She'd spent years alone after her mother died, and yet even when she'd found David and the rest of her ever-expanding family, she wasn't as close with them as she'd been with her mother. She and Killian were both essentially orphans and her gut was telling her that she needed to be here for him.

As Killian lay sleeping beneath a pale blue blanket drawn up to his bandaged shoulder, Emma sat quietly in a padded wooden armchair in front of the room's large window, focusing intently on her tablet screen. She may not have her mother's journal, but that wasn't going to stop her research. She was fiercely determined to make sense of all of the week's strange events. Nothing about the things that were happening sat right with her and she needed to figure out why.

She'd received another message from Belle not long ago which fueled her study. The librarian had uncovered a few articles that she believed would be helpful to the deputy, emailing Emma copies of anything she could send electronically. She also advised that she'd located a few books that were pertinent to Emma's interests. After returning Belle's call and arranging to have the books delivered here to the hospital, Emma had started perusing the electronic files immediately. There were quite a few scans and links to look at, but she figured she had some time to read before Killian woke.

But she also had plenty of time to think - maybe too much. All of the week's events seemingly stemmed from her casting the true love spell - the spell that was now mysteriously missing from the book she'd recited it from. How had she seen it in there before when Zelena had recited another from the same book? Had it been visible only to her or had it existed within those vellum pages only to disappear once recited? And then there was that stupid spell itself… She'd felt so compelled to cast it, but had she now drawn innocent bystanders into its mix? Unlike her mother's situation, she knew that both Killian Jones and Walsh Gibbons were real. Unless Killian's entire crew was an elaborate ruse, they'd been sailing with him for years so Captain Jones wasn't imaginary. And Walsh - she'd known him for a while now. They'd dated when she lived in Boston so he was real enough. Now both men's fates were intertwined with hers and for what? So some greedy, needy warlock could cheat her out of her powers if she couldn't figure out which man was her true love?

The whole damned situation irked her. She certainly wasn't the first witch to cast a spell to find love. The very fact that these spells exist was evidence that others had been every bit as hopeful (or maybe desperate) as she'd been. But had she stumbled onto this particular spell by accident or had it been predestined? Had the warlock chosen his victims in advance or was it mere coincidence that both she and her mother had become his victims?

No one had yet mentioned who the warlock's first chosen opponent had been or whether that person had been kin to Emma's family so that had been one of Emma's questions for Belle. There had to be some sort of record as to who that unlucky person had been and fortunately for Emma, Belle had been successful in locating a name. The first opponent had also been a woman - a powerful witch by the name of Ursula who had arrived to Storybrooke from the West Indies in the early 1900s. Belle hadn't been able to uncover any information about what the warlock had used to trick her, but the reports from the time stated that she'd not only lost her powers, but also her voice. A month later, she'd been found floating in the bay, apparently having drowned herself to end her suffering.

What sort of sadistic bastard was she dealing with? He clearly enjoyed preying on women, but why? Were they easier targets or were their powers stronger? Knowing she'd fallen pretty easily for the trap, Emma assumed women might be easier to coerce, although her powers certainly didn't seem to measure up to her mother's or to what she'd read about Ursula's. Had Emma been targeted because of some weakness the warlock had observed? And why did he feel it necessary to resort to so many games?

Magical deals be damned - something wasn't adding up here.

Emma had entirely lost track of time when she heard a faint rap on the room's door. Glancing up, she was somewhat surprised to see David's face peeking around the doorframe. As he passed through the entrance, she could see that he had a stack of books tucked beneath his left arm and a carry-out bag from Granny's clutched in his right hand.

"I figured you'd text me first," she greeted her brother as he deposited the books on a narrow counter beside the sink and dropped the bag of food onto her lap.

"Mary Margaret insisted that I bring you something to eat and as I was leaving Granny's, I ran into Belle who said she was bringing these books over for you. Since I was already on my way over, I figured I'd save her the trip and brought them myself. Unfortunately, I didn't manage to find the journal you were looking for."

"I didn't figure you would," she replied dejectedly. "I'm quite certain that someone took it while we were searching for Killian."

"Pretty bold to steal something from a deputy from inside the station."

"Even bolder if they abducted and stabbed Killian to provide themselves a diversion," Emma added.

"Agreed. How's he doing anyway?" David asked, jabbing a finger in the direction of the slumbering man in the bed behind him. "Any change?"

"No. He's still unconscious, his heart rate is extremely slow and his breathing is unusually shallow. Dr. Whale said that there's no real medical reason for it so he's running some tests to check for drugs or other substances that might be in Killian's system."

"Could be some really strong knockout drugs, but I guess we'll have to wait and see. I really would like to get his statement and get this crime linked to a perp…"

"There's no way to know how long it will be until he wakes, but in the meantime, I've got some reading to do."

"I see that. What's the subject?"

"Some history and some stuff about warlocks and wizards, but without the magical school and British accents… Well, al least no accent until Killian wakes."

David shook his head at the exhausting thought of doing this much reading. "I'll leave you to your studies then but I'll check back in a few hours."

"Sounds good. Thanks, David."

"You're welcome. And I do hope your captain here wakes up soon."

"Me too," she said as David strolled through the doorway and turned out of her line of sight. As she stood, she inhaled the tempting aroma of onion rings as she placed the take-out bag on the windowsill and took a couple of steps over to the counter to retrieve the books. Her eyes were drawn to the figure on the bed and she couldn't help but stare at him while picking up the first book from the stack. Mythology of Supernatural Beings was the title and the book cover was emblazoned with a devil's trap pentagram. This wasn't going to be light reading but she was ready for the challenge. She had a few suspicions about what was really happening in this town but she wasn't yet ready to share her theory - or the choice she'd made. She fully intended to put an end to these silly games permanently but she needed to be sure.

**********

Emma hadn't realized that she'd dozed off until she felt a tap on her shoulder. She woke with an involuntary shudder, stunned for a moment until she recognized the face of the brunette nurse who'd been in and out of the room all afternoon.

"I'm sorry, Deputy Swan. I didn't mean to startle you, but you have a visitor downstairs in the lobby."

"Oh… Alright then… Thank you, Michelle." Emma closed the book on her lap and placed it over onto the windowsill before pushing herself to her feet. Maintaining a vigil at a hospital bedside wasn't the most comfortable way to spend a day. "Would you have Fred keep watch on this room and page me if anything changes while I'm gone?"

"I'll be happy to, Deputy, although any changes in Mr. Jones' condition don't seem likely at this point."

"I know. Wishful thinking on my part. His case is still active and I still need to get his statement." Emma was reluctant to leave Killian's side, especially when they'd yet to identify his abductor but she knew that Fred the security guard wouldn't let anyone past without proper authorization. Killian would be fine for a few minutes while she went downstairs to see who was waiting for her so she stepped into the elevator and took it down to the ground floor. When the doors parted, she made the left turn into the main hallway, strolled past the security checkpoint, gift shop and snack bar into the open space of the entrance lobby, not expecting the person she found standing there.

"Walsh? What are you doing here?" she asked incredulously.

"I hadn't heard back from you all day so I got a little bit worried - especially when the other deputy said you were here."

"I'm fine. It's just been a very hectic day. I've been waiting here all day waiting for a kidnapping victim to wake up so I can get a statement."

"Is that why you had to leave the diner this morning?"

"Partially," she replied, not wanting to divulge too much information. "Just the usual chaos that is the life of a deputy sheriff in Storybrooke."

"I'm sure," he chuckled before sighing with relief. "I'm just glad you're alright and… well, I was going to see if you would like to join me for dinner?"

"I'm sorry, Walsh. I really can't. This is still an open case and David and Graham will really need my help to catch the kidnapper." She was trying to let him down easy, using work as an excuse so she didn't have to reveal that she really just wanted to be here with Killian. "I would love to, but maybe another night?"

"Of course. I understand," he replied in a quiet, dejected tone, his posture now echoing his visible disappointment. "Please, call me tomorrow. I really would like to have one more evening with you before I head back to Boston."

"I'd like that, too," she insisted.

"Well, I hope he wakes up soon so you can close your case."

"Me too," she said as she gave him a quick hug that turned out far more awkward than she'd expected. She'd wanted it to be a nice, friendly gesture, but she wasn't feeling as though her sentiments were being reciprocated. Walsh had wrapped his arms around her back, but she sensed no emotion from the embrace - at least not the sort of emotion one would expect from someone claiming to be concerned about her. "I'll see you later, Walsh."

Then again, perhaps she was reading too much into things after everything she'd been reading. As Walsh vanished out of the hospital's front doors, the little gears inside Emma's head were going into overdrive so she decided to call one person who could help clarify things a bit - Graham.

She yanked her phone out of her jeans pocket and dialed his number, worried that she might get his voicemail, but he finally answered on the fourth ring. "Hey Graham. Turn up anything?"

"Not much," he replied. "The place was pretty bare. I pulled a few fingerprints, but those will only help us if the person is in the system. Oh, I did find some interesting scraps in the fireplace that lead me to believe that those dust voids on the mantle were from photographs. I bagged the scraps as evidence but I want you to have a look at them."

"I'd love to see what you've got. Can you bring them by the hospital?"

"Yeah. I just got back to the station, so give me a little while and I'll be over."

"Sounds good. Oh, Graham - did you happen to talk to someone and mention that I was here at the hospital with Captain Jones?"

"No. Only people I've spoken with were David and the search party, but as I said, I just got back. Any particular reason?"

"No, that's okay. Just had some curious people stopping by and asking questions, you know?"

"Probably just someone trying to get the scoop for tomorrow's paper… Any changes though?"

"'Fraid not. Seems like it's going to be a long night."

"Alright. Well, I'll see you in about an hour or so then."

"See you then," she said as she disconnected the call, strolling over to an unoccupied, quiet alcove off of the entrance hall, needing to make another call with more privacy. Walsh was long out of view, but her conversation with Graham left her ill at ease. Graham hadn't spoken to Walsh so how the hell had Gibbons known she was here? And how had he known that the kidnapping victim was a man? Something smelled rotten here…

She scrolled through her contacts to find the number belonging to Mayor Regina Mills, dialing it even though Regina would be none-too-happy to hear from Emma again today.

"Hello, Emma," Regina's voice greeted her in a flat, disinterested tone.

"Regina, I need your help with something," Emma stated, keeping her voice low in case prying ears were nearby.

"Again? What spell did you cast this time?"

"Yes, again… And I didn't cast another spell. There have been some odd developments in the case."

"Such as? Robin told me that you found Captain Jones. Was there something odd about that?"

"Nothing specifically about finding him, but there are a lot of other things that aren't making sense… Regina, if I'm right, this town is dealing with something more powerful than a warlock…"

"You're probably jumping to conclusions, but just what do you think is going on?"

"I don't want to get into it over the phone. Can you come down to the hospital? I don't really want to leave here until he wakes up."

"Then call me back when he does."

"That's the thing, Regina - no one has any idea when he might wake up. He's been unconscious since we found him, but Dr. Whale can't find any medical reason why."

Regina's ears perked up at those words. "He's not injured?"

"He was stabbed, but not severely enough to be unconscious this long."

"I'll be there in half an hour."

***********

Regina seemed to have a permanent scowl etched onto her face today but at least she showed up promptly. Emma had advised security that Mayor Mills was on her way and to let her pass, not that anyone really would have dared to stop her. Emma wasn't really sure where to begin as Regina pushed open the door and entered the room, taking a side-eyed glance at the dark-haired patient on the bed as she passed.

"Well, at least he's good looking…," Regina quipped. "Now, just what the hell is going on, Emma? What was so secretive that you couldn't say anything over the phone?"

"I'm not sure it's safe to talk here…," Emma said as she pushed herself to her feet. "I'm worried that someone might be watching…"

"Then we make some privacy," Regina stated as she withdrew her ebony wand from inside her pantsuit jacket and waved it with theatrical flourish, producing a force field that sealed the room off from the rest of the world. "There - problem solved. You know how to set up a protective spell. Unless your magic is slipping, you're really distracted by this."

"Look, Regina, let me preface this by saying that this has probably been one of the most overwhelming weeks of my life. I've been here in Storybrooke for a few months, but I've been bombarded with more surprises and secrets this week than I could ever have imagined, so if what I have to say sounds crazy, imagine what has been going through my mind for the past several days."

"Noted," Regina replied without emotion as she sat down in the chair Emma had vacated.

"Okay, so I've been told by everyone this week that my mother was once a powerful witch who was tricked out of those powers by losing a challenge set up by a warlock, but what if that story isn't entirely true?"

"What about the story do you think is false? We've been told for generations that the warlock gave this town it's magic. It's our town's legacy, Emma. You've known that story for a few days and you already think it's wrong?"

"It just doesn't seem like a warlock would be powerful enough, not to mention that he'd have to be immortal to keep coming back here after all these years… I think we're dealing with a far more powerful being…"

"Seriously, Emma? A few months into the study of magic and you're suddenly an expert at identifying warlocks and magical beings?"

"Don't berate me, Regina! I may not be a magical expert, but I'm not an idiot and I'm a good enough detective to know when the clues don't add up. After skimming through my mother's journal and researching some stuff Belle sent me, I think we might be dealing with some sort of trickster."

"A trickster? You think that Loki is running amuck in Storybrooke?" Regina scoffed, rolling her eyes at the deputy.

"Loki is just the Scandinavian name for a trickster," Emma stated firmly, the irritation in her voice increasing. "There are other names for them in other cultures, but whatever you want to call it, a trickster fills in some of the holes in the story. Tricksters like to play games so these ridiculous challenges make more sense. This crazy true love spell… Killian being kidnapped to try to throw off my decision and whatever is affecting him now that's keeping him unconscious…"

Regina stabbed a finger in the direction of the sleeping Killian Jones. "That? That's magic - dark magic."

"What?" Emma wasn't sure she believed what she was hearing. "Magic? What does magic have to do with this?"

"When you called and said that they couldn't find any medical reason, it reminded me of a dark potion I'd only ever heard of before. A sleeping spell."

"Sleeping spell? Those are a thing?"

"We're not talking Sleeping Beauty here. It won't make him immortal and sleep forever. If this is the potion I think it is, he's stuck in perpetual sleep. He can only be awakened with the antidote - assuming whoever cursed him made one - or by a kiss of true love."

"A kiss of true love? So it is like Sleeping Beauty… And if he is my true love, he'll wake up, but if he's not…"

"You lose your powers and he'll stay like this forever," Regina deadpanned the obvious.

"Thanks for not making my decision any easier…," Emma sighed as her eyes drifted over to Killian's peaceful-looking face. She had no idea if he could hear what they were saying. Was he screaming at her on the inside? She hated that so much hinged on a seemingly impossible choice.

"So you haven't determined which one of them is your true love yet?" Regina questioned.

"No, I haven't. Every time I think I have it figured out, my brain thinks up something that changes my mind… It's incredibly frustrating and there's no way to just wave my wand and fix things…"

"If you had asked, I would have told you that matters of the heart generally aren't best served by magical shortcuts," Regina reminded her.

"I know - I screwed up… All the good it does me now…" Emma lamented as she sat down on the bottom corner of the bed. "It's my fault that he's stuck like this…"

"How is this sleeping spell your fault?" Regina chastised her. "You may have cast a spell that brought him into your life, but you didn't make the potion or give it to him. You don't even know for sure that your love spell is related to what happened to him…"

"I'm pretty sure they are," Emma replied defensively as she felt her phone vibrating in her pocket. "Hold on a moment…," she said to Regina as she fished out her phone to see Grahams name on the display. "It's Graham. He has some evidence for me to look at." Regina nodded, uninterested in whatever evidence the two deputies were going to discuss. "Hi Graham… Yeah, room 306… Okay, thanks… See you in a bit."

Emma disconnected the call as Regina stood up brandishing her wand to lower the conjured protective barrier. "Better drop the protection spell so your partner can get in. Was there more you wanted to tell me or can I go now?"

"You're not going to weigh in with an opinion on my theory?" Emma wondered.

"I'm reserving my opinion until there's more evidence," the mayor insisted, seeing Graham's face in the doorway. "I'll talk to you later."

Emma nodded as Regina traded places with Graham, her heels clicking on the tile floor as she strode into the hallway while Graham took a tentative step into the room.

"Why was Regina just here?" Graham inquired quizzically.

"We had some coven business to discuss," Emma told him, which was only a partial lie. The conversation was about magic and spells. Graham didn't need to know more than that. "So - what did you find out there?"

Still hovering next to the door, Graham reached into his coat pocket and removed three sealed evidence baggies that he passed to Emma. "I found these scraps in the fireplace. Somebody tried to burn some photographs and I think you'll find these interesting…"

"Well, let's see…," she replied as she took the plastic bags from his hand. The remnants of the photos weren't very large and they were badly scorched, but Emma could make out some of the detail. The first black and white scrap showed a portion of a woman's face. She appeared to have dark skin and jet black hair, but the photo was so coated with soot that it was difficult to tell. Emma didn't recognize the woman in this photo but her eyes lit up at the familiar face. "This is my mother," she announced, pointing at the burnt image of a blonde haired woman with long, flipped bangs that were vintage 1970s. "It proves Ozmund Welch or whoever was living out there did have a connection to my mother."

"You may want to look at that last one…"

Shifting the two images she'd already seen to the bottom of the pile, Emma's jaw fell slack at the third imagine. "Son of a bitch…" she muttered, yanking out her phone and tapping one of the contacts. "Graham - stay here and don't let anyone through that doorway…" She darted into the corridor with the bag still clutched in her fist, leaving a bewildered Graham behind. She had the phone to her ear awaiting an answer, bypassing the normal greeting when the person on the other end answered. "Regina - are you still in the hospital?"

"I just walked outside. What is it?"

"Meet me in the lobby. There's something I want you to see," Emma implored as she stepped inside the elevator.

"Fine," Regina replied, pivoting on her heels to return to the lobby. "This had better be good…"

"It may answer one of our biggest questions…" Emma explained before her phone lost service inside the elevator.

Regina was waiting for her when the elevator doors parted at the ground floor and as soon as the other passengers came and went, Emma ushered Regina over to the still-unoccupied alcove she'd called from earlier.

"Alright, Emma… what is this about?"

"This," Emma stated as she held up the evidence bag for Regina to view. "Look at this… Graham found it in the fireplace at the house where we found Killian."

"What am I looking at here?" Regina queried, squinting her eyes as she glanced at the scorched photo, trying to make out the image.

"It's a photo of me." Emma said as she showed Regina the other two remnants. "And here's one of my mom and a really old one of a woman I think was the first victim… I understand the possible connection to my mom, but if he's got photographs of all of his opponents?"

"That's a little disturbing, but you said this would help give some answers. I don't understand…"

"Regina - this isn't a recent photograph of me. It was taken in Boston a couple of years ago. The dress I'm wearing was from an undercover sting - the same case I was on when I met Walsh!"

"Could it be a coincidence?" Regina asked, but she already doubted that herself.

"Do you believe in coincidence?" Emma retorted. "If this warlock or trickster, or whatever the hell he is, was stalking me then, he had to have already known who I was. I didn't even know I had magic back then, so how did he? Only someone who knew my mother could possibly have known that which meant they had to be connected to Storybrooke…"

"Which means…?"

"I think it means Walsh is no innocent bystander. I don't think my true love could possibly be someone who was already plotting this game years before I knew I was playing."

"Well, there's only one way to know for sure…"

"And that is?"

"You make the choice that Captain Jones is your true love and then you get back up there and kiss the holy hell out of that man."

#CSSNS #captain swan supernatural summer #cs ff #cs au ff #witch emma #a simple spell #sorry to leave it there but the next chapter had to start with the kiss

[sugar-petals]

02 | Cinder → pjm

↳ sequel to cygnet (m). 

SUMMARY: You have rescued Prince Jimin from the lair of robbers. But your carriage encounters a group of Prussian knights on the way back to Bavaria.

¬ PAIRING: jimin × reader ¬ GENRE: smut, angst, historical au  ¬ WORD COUNT: 8.7k

¬ WARNINGS: rated m | fingering | oral sex | sub!jimin | femdom | brat taming | cum play | ruined orgasms | punishments | assault mention | brief scene with gore

¬ A/N: The last part! That means it gets sexy 💛 Cygnet & Cinder pt.1 linked in m.list.

Some curious peasants gather behind them, trying to see past their heavy armors. The brigade kneels when you exit the carriage and beckon the tall soldier Meinhard, heading the group, to lend Anna a hand when she steps down from the coachwoman’s seat. She still limps. He has recognized her riding into the courtyard from afar already.

“It’s a pleasure,” Meinhard bows, “to see you back at Hohenzollern castle, Y/N. We will contact Queen Luise to send the doctors.”

You shake hands, both grips firm. 

“I wish we would have met under different circumstances. Is the brigade well?”

“They are,” Meinhard affirms, patting his chest armament. Polished and sturdy as ever. You miss wearing it.

“And the Queen? I hope we don’t disturb her.”

Meinhard looks pale now. In the background, other members of the brigade gather at the other end of the carriage and usher out the Prince.

“It hasn’t been easy since the King is dead. But now that you’re here. It might really cheer her up. Come, we will have something to eat and drink.”

The hall is clad in jet black banners. So is the silhouette on the throne at the other end of the room. It is so unlike Palace Linderhof. Everything, just about everything. You approach with hastened steps, passing the royal guard and Baronesses who seem to recognize you. Bowing to the Queen on the black carpet, thick and ample with the Prussian eagle imprinted on it, feels like a trip to the past. Luise emerges from the throne to step down for a greeting.

“It seems like neither of us is in good condition, Milady,” she says.

“We meet unlike the way we parted,” you stop before the throne. 

The nodding Queen’s garments are heavy on the carpet. Being eye-to-eye now, you see her tired eyes waver. Her hair has greyed almost entirely.

“I can’t believe the entire kidnapping scenario, it, just repeated itself!”

“Your doctors are skilled. I am sure they can do something for the Prince. Thank you for welcoming us so courteously.”

It had been a risk. The path to Hohenzollern was long enough, too.

“The brigade will take care of your carriage.”

“Thank you, my Queen. I hope we do not burden you. Meinhard said there are problems with the relations to Austria, too.”

“This room should not be black as it is for months. The King has passed away when the New Year began. I’m glad you’re here. The feeling is different.”

You remember. It was a long period of illness that had haunted the King ever since.

“There’s nothing wrong about grieving for as long as needed, your Majesty.”

“All the Counts and Margraves and Baronesses, everyone is telling me, Queen, you should do something enjoyable! Maybe they’re right. But I still never felt well since New Year’s Eve. And Austria is a lost game.”

“There’s a reason why you’re Queen and they are margraves,” you shrug. “Their advice might be well-natured, but I think— you need more time, Luise. Don’t pressure yourself too much. Or let yourself be pressured.”

You squint down the hall where the royal guard and nobility of Hohenzollern stand and converse.

“That is very true,” the Queen looks down on the rings adorning her hands. “All this tragedy is taking away my common sense.”

You shake your head right away.

“No ruler is perfect. Even the Duke Leopold.”

“You’ve been at Altfried Castle, Y/N?”

“Mostly for archery.”

Now, the Queen looks genuinely surprised.

“I’ve never seen you touch an arrow in the years you were here.”

“I know. The entire stay was very, I guess, unlike myself.”

She hums, thinking. The Queen’s gaze wanders over Cygnet at your belt.

“You did take up sword fighting again, did you. This blade is familiar.”

Almost by instinct, your fingers graze over the hilt.

“If it lightens up your mood, I can ask one of the margraves to test his fencing skill against Cygnet.”

“Maybe another time,” she wipes a grey strand out of her face. “I’m rather concerned that the King of Bavaria is currently falling into the same state as I am since his son is gone.”

“Meinhard has been smart enough to send a knight out to spread the word that the Prince is safe here.”

“Not a herald straight to Castle Linderhof?”

Again, you shake your head.

“Rumors and chatter travel faster than horses, your Majesty.”

The eyes of the Prussian nobles in your back feel all too palpable now. Luise seems to notice.

“I will lend you my best stallions regardless. For you, Anna, the Prince. Three of the fastest I have. You’ll be back with Albrecht in four days.”

“One stallion is enough. Only the Prince needs one. We have two horses already.”

The Queen crosses her arms. 

“Friedrich and Gretchen are slow, swordmaster.”

“They are the horses Anna and I cherish. They might be scaredy-cats, but we stick with them. They always bounce back.”

“At least a fourth horse for other things you have to carry, Y/N.”

“Good idea, my Queen.”

Because there is something of utmost importance to transport. Your barrel. 

“The Palace must be worried sick about Jimin.”

“I will take care of it, Luise,” you adjust your cuffs. “We depart to Bavaria as soon as the Prince feels capable.”

A large gathering of nobles and locals blocks the entrance of the Palace. You have to use your bow to keep some handsy peasant boys jeering at bay.

“Oh look, the Prince’s babysitter! Back in town! Saving her reputation!”

Shooing them away draws even more derision in the crowd. Other people, more enthused, throw bouquets that you wish they would rather lay down at the gate. Gretchen becomes all jittery already, flicking her ears back and forth with every pack of flowers or hats tossed by. 

You gaze across your shoulder about every five seconds to see whether Anna and Jimin manage to get through the cheering masses. Some people tug at the Prince’s clothes and laugh. You even see some servants from the Palace kitchen doing it. One of them, wearing an apron, even tries to smack Jimin’s butt from an odd angle, and almost hits the horse instead. Others, concerned, try to touch his bruises. He spurs his horse, but even more citizens flock to him.

“Prince, Prince! What happened!”

Nothing hardly moves forward until you whistle, making both Friedrich and Jimin’s horse go faster, parting the people. Even the fourth horse with the supplies and cargo finds its way, and you can be glad having secured everything in place twice. In the distance, the hysterical nobility in their best gowns comes down the center alley of the Palace garden.

The throne room is more packed than the coronation and opera ball were combined. Blue and white banners are pulled up on all sides. Murmurs oscillate from all sides. The jester cackles, sizing Jimin up.

“Why is the Prince wearing rags? Has he turned scatty? Where are his muscles?”

“Those aren’t rags. This is clothing that fulfills what it must do,” you grit at the jester. “The Duke of Altfried has let me customize them for fights. I passed them on in good honor. He was cold.”

Jimin brushes off the doctors and servants gathering around him trying to put him into a heavy purple coat with fur and pearls.

“And I’m not a Prince who’s only there to look good.”

A guilty silence spreads in the room.

“I want to wear these things,” he points at his trousers. “It doesn’t take me two hours to arrange back and forth. All that sewing and buttoning and draping and stuffing and lacing. I don’t want it.”

The servants look disoriented.

“Fine, but we’re having a festival—”

“I don’t care about your celebrations! We just arrived here! Didn’t you want to know what happened?”

The anger in Jimin’s voice makes Anna, close behind you, almost gasp out, alongside the nearby Princess.

“You have to care,” Albrecht makes his way through the mob, comes to take the Prince aside. You are close enough to hear what he says to Jimin in a low voice. “Play along. The entire palace is here.”

“Dad...”

“We’ve heard the stories of what occurred days ago. They only want to see you and talk about it. What do you think being a monarch is like. ”

“Walking around on heels and indulging gossip?”

“Very wrong,” Albrecht’s face goes into a deep frown. “Being King comes with responsibility and keeping your head up high.”

“It’s all I see you do. Heels and cake. Heels and fucking cake! And gathering people just to laugh at me. Everyone here looks dressed up like you’ve been enjoying your time while I was gone!”

The King, more and more disgruntled, lowers his voice even more, all while the Prince grows increasingly red in the face.

“Jimin. I am rather worried about our alliances if you approach the throne this way after my death. You’re not making a good impression to the people as a rag Crown Prince already. The jester... has a point.”

You can feel your heart drop just by watching Jimin react.

“Didn’t you just say it’s not about looks? All you think about is that since I came back. What’s wrong with you, father!”

“I was worried. You’ve seen how I cried when we came down the alley. And I am happy to have you back. I sent every soldier I had to get you.”

Jimin points at you, fuming.

“Then why did Y/N find me first? She didn’t even know about most of the things that happened!”

Albrecht looks defensive now.

“There is a reason why I had selected her as your personal guard. She feels when you’re in danger even kilometers away.”

The entire room is in chaos. Jimin is boiling with blank fury. 

“She left me, she left the Palace, she went to Baden-Württemberg! She wasn’t my guard anymore. And still cared more than you did, father!”

Alarm on the King’s face. His gaze shifts to you now, too.

“What has Y/N accomplished other than plunging you into misery and bragging about being first in line?”

Loud discussions in the crowd. Anna growls something behind you, now almost as angry as Jimin. Before she can speak up, you lean back towards her, stern.

“We’ll open it. Get the cargo, Anna.”

You take off the lid, displaying the content of the barrel for the masses to see. The people closest to you give immediate way, screaming. The throne room crowd becomes dense at the edges when the nobles at the center stumble backward.

When the King and Queen look at you incredulous, you turn the vessel upside down to let its content slump down on the marble ground. Two heads with two arrows each in them roll out first. And then, Steinburg’s chopped off hands. Terrified shrieks in the audience. The jester cowers behind the musicians.

You place the empty barrel firmly on the floor. 

“I’ve sullied my blade for scum like this, my King and Queen.”

“It reeks, put it back!” the jester squeals. 

Instead of doing so, you scan the rows of onlookers.

“Kitchen assistant! Come here.”

A blonde young man steps forth. Hesitant, and hunched over. He wears an apron with mittens stuffed inside the front pocket. He is the boy from the handsy crowd at the gate.

“Me?”

“Preserve these in your beer. Of the mediocre kind.”

“What!”

“I want to keep a daily reminder that nobody will lay their hands on the Prince. Now pick this shit up. Do it fast before I add you to the collection.”

Natasha plays the flute with ease so enviable that apart from the audience, even some musicians peer with intent. They find it quite outrageous and fascinating at once how the young lady taps her feet. The festival guests dance around the maypole chanting to the rhythm of the waving flags, wielded by the clarion players who seem quite content with their new task. A string quartet under an oak tree engages in a bubbly tune, with young boys from Linden town letting tambourines jingle for the finale of each song. Only few clouds in the sky.

The czarina, settled at a swan-shaped statue fountain and comely as ever in her light blue gown, watches some villagers hand out pastry and drinks. She hardly gifts you a glance, which comes as no surprise, and rather seems to have spare gazes for King Albrecht’s storytelling at the other end of the garden that constantly sends claps and cheers over. Enthused as always. The same stories, as always.

Opposite to you, Jimin sits at the pond on a blanket. With a simple beige tunic on, he chews up every bit, you stuffing him with apple dumplings and plenty of currants. May weather. A few pigeons already strut around the alley hunting for leftovers. It’s almost as if all springs and summers of Bavaria converge in one place. Manifold flowers gleam in full bloom between trees and marble statues. Jimin’s mouth is already sticky with crumbs and apple juice. 

He looks more vibrant. Fresh. The bags under his eyes have faded. He licks off your fingers and can’t help loosening the tunic around his collar bones so you can have a look at his newly gained pounds, and a muscle, trained from fencing, here and there. You indulge in ogling without much second thought, and in feeding him until—

The Queen Therese, clad in poufy vestments that resemble much of what she had worn at the last coronation, approaches. The dancers have dispersed on the field and in the forest behind the Palace already. Time passes fast at Castle Linderhof. Only the czarina still rests at the fountain while the King sits close. Natasha is nowhere to be seen. 

“Your father needs to have a talk about some things,” the Queen addresses Jimin. To your surprise, she not only turns to him. “Y/N, you will join in, too.”

Only reluctantly does the Prince rise from the blanket and pat his tunic, removing crumbs. The alley seems less bright and sunny with its roses when you walk across, eventually reaching the fountain. Too sunny.

Albrecht seems to struggle with the words when he addresses you. His beard looks more deformed than usual. He’s been twirling away at it for the entire festival despite being engaged in telling stories.

“Now that, well. Yekaterina is here,” he begins. “And we had a good time celebrating.”

Jimin shifts from one foot to the other. Not a good sign. Battle stance. The czarina looks at either of you from the corner of her eye in the meantime. The Prince keeps his head down.

“Dad, just say what you want to say. It’s about the marriage, isn’t it.”

A sigh. The King folds his elaborate blue coat to one side where it cascades down his shoulder.

“The situation is. With you, Y/N. We have to stick to either the royal lineage. Or make a political arrangement. You don’t, see, fulfill either case.”

And there it is.

“My King,” you try to cut his sermon short. Jimin ruffles his hair, frustrated already. But Albrecht continues.

“The Princess has chosen the former. The lineage. She married in the same rank, the Prince of Saxony. It is a favorable union. He’s a nice person, too. For Jimin, as you know, the Queen and I thought about the alliance with Russia. And Yekaterina is still interested.”

Jimin raises his glance to meet the King’s. He’s trying hard not to glower.

“But I am not.”

You step closer toward the King.

“Does the Prince have to marry in the first place?”

Diplomacy. 

“Geez! He will inherit the crown of Bavaria,” Albrecht says, earning another scorn from Jimin.

“Not if my sister becomes Crown Princess instead.”

Stillness at the fountain. The Queen is the first one to react.

“You reject the throne, Jimin?”

The answer is more than a firm yes seeing how hardened the Prince’s face has become.

“It’s gotten me in nothing but trouble. My sister wants it more than I do. Isn’t it!”

“The Princess is an ideal heir,” you agree. “I have no doubts she can rule Bavaria just as well. She’s said so many times that she wishes she could do it. Saxony is not a bad alliance.”

The King twirls at his beard again.

Now, the Czarina speaks.

“What trouble, my Prince?”

Accent-free German. You feel a cold tingle run down your spine at how sultry her voice is. Jimin, however, doesn’t respond. Instead, he shoves back both sleeves of his linen garment, revealing scabs and dark blue spots. Both the King and Queen wail out at the sight.

“That trouble,” Jimin says. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Is this from the ambush?” Yekaterina rises from her seat as if to inspect Jimin’s wounds up close. But he tugs down his sleeves just in time.

“It was worse than that. They did unspeakable things.”

You can see how the czarina’s curiosity in his scabs slowly changes into a realization.

“The robbers did what?!”

“Exactly what you think,” Jimin steps back from the fountain.

Yekaterina, on the other hand, turns to the king.

“Why didn’t you tell me? That’s disgusting! I’m not touching him.”

“Czarina, please,” the Queen takes her by the arm, as gentle as a feather, but to no avail. Yekaterina brushes off Therese’s hand.

“He’s weak. He even left his jewelry with the robbers. He’s walking around like this!”

She points at the Prince’s vestment as if it were a potato sack left in the kitchen corner. Albrecht seems all the more indignant.

“Czarina!”

“Look at his nanny having to take care of him like a baby. Sitting around on a blanket having a picnic. Pathetic. It was a mistake to believe the letter. I thought he was a valiant Prince.”

“Jimin is a valiant Prince!” the Queen stutters, tries to appease the Czarina Romanova anew. “You have seen him slice the apple!”

“He left his own family. That is treason in Russia.”

“Yes. I did,” Jimin gestures, “but I’ve changed my mind.”

Yekaterina rolls her eyes so blatantly, you have to suppress an all-too-familiar puking reflex.

“I saw that,” she taunts.

The King butts in with his most pacifying tone.

“Well, see it like that. This isn’t Russia, czarina. We have different standards.”

“But if we marry, it might be. Our empire is growing. Bavaria has good resources. It has the strength that Russia embodies, too.”

You tap your foot twice.

“That hubris is concerning. The czarina is beautiful. But foul-mouthed toward the Prince! Do you think he will be happy? You think Bavaria will last as it did with an alliance like that, my King?”

Albrecht strokes the back of his neck. Yekaterina gathers all of her bouffant dress and pushes Jimin and the Queen aside. Judging by her direction, she’s headed toward her chambers in the North wing.

“Wait!” Therese exclaims and tries to follow, but the Czarina is adamant in her walk.

“I see I’m still not welcome. Forget your alliance, this is war. I want a carriage to Moscow in two hours.”

The orange tint of dawn spreads on the valley like the blanket both of you share. Cinder leans close to the oven next to Cygnet, both sheathed. Jimin lies at your chest. Warm and cozy in the light of the oil lamp. You rake through his hair with your fingers, then, a wooden comb from the nightstand. Between its tender strokes through his locks — the Prince's kisses are blissful. He's hooked at your bottom lip.

The hooting owl at the window settles with her family in a tree nest close by when you hear the last servants leave the corridor. Your chamber is silent until he finally speaks.

“I never thought you’d go to Altfried Castle in those two years.”

“We had a lucky streak. The Duke was kind enough to shelter Anna and me.”

“I hope they treated you well there,” the Prince caresses your arms.

“He’s taught me a lot about when to play fair.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry I was so angry at you.”

“I didn’t behave,” Jimin sighs out, “like the most reliable either.”

“Don’t say that,” you put aside the comb. “I was in the wrong about that.”

“Should have put more pressure on mom and dad,” he speaks in a sunken voice. “With cancelling the wedding, and such.”

“You did now. Don’t beat yourself up.”

“I get why you had something against me going to Saint Petersburg. The people aren’t so nice there as I thought.”

“Bavaria values honor. Russia is about power. You’ve heard her.”

The owls are bustling outside.

“I wish I hadn’t. She will resent us so much.”

“The feeling is mutual. But let her sulk forever. You see what happens when someone tries to appease the Romanovs. It’s better to be straightforward. I wish she would respect you, too.”

“And you?” Jimin looks up now. “She called you names as well.”

“That’s part of a swordmaster’s life. Steinburg did, too.”

“The disgusting—”

“He had his schtick to call me your harlot.”

“He said that?”

“His moment of glee was rather short.”

Jimin grumbles.

“I’ve heard that he was behind the conspiracy at Hohenzollern as well. When the Duchess Walthilde was kidnapped.”

“It was an ambush back then, too,” you nod. “I’m not surprised. Steinburg has been notorious. He must have been filthy rich as well. Sold Cinder on the market. Probably other weapons, too.”

“Couldn’t hate him more.”

“The merchant who bought the sword from him was a lousy fighter.”

He sits up, arms crossed.

“Did you see him use it?!”

“Yes, against me. Was the first and last time he would wield it.”

“Oh, right. Anna said you had a duel at the castle. You won it back just like this?”

“As I said,” you laugh. “He was lousy. An easy defeat. I was stupid enough to pay him 210 mark even after I won.”

“210! I will ask the King to reimburse this!”

“Not necessary,” you shake your head. “Can’t complain about my earnings since I’m part of the royal defense again.”

“Part of the family, you mean.”

“If you think I am—

“You are,” Jimin leans back down to kiss your cheek. “They can say what they want.”

“Then that, too.”

Jimin lies down completely again. You pick up the comb once more. And continue brushing.

“There’s a specific reason I ran away from here before the robbers caught me.”

“I figured. Your parents.”

The Princes’ eyes are downcast in the lamp’s shine now.

“I didn’t think my family felt whole after you left.”

“It wasn’t really leaving,” you bring the comb down the sides of his hair. “Leaving means dignity. I climbed down the tower and got shelter in Linden town. I sent a herald to Anna, she came with the two horses, we rode to Altfried Castle. It was the least appropriate goodbye.”

“That sounds graceful compared to what I did.”

“What happened, my Prince?”

Again, you cease to comb.

“It was with an empty food carriage. We had a banquet the day before. I didn’t feel well.”

“Oh...”

“They had delivered bread and potatoes. I sneaked into the vehicle at dawn. I didn’t even know where it was going. I didn’t say goodbye to anyone. We had a huge fight, dad and I. During the banquet.”

“What was the fight about?”

His tone sounds stern enough to be alarming.

“You.”

The comb slips from your fingers and lands on the mattress.

“I don’t... want to stay here, Jimin. This place is not good for us.”

“I know. Me neither. But I don’t think they’ll let us go.”

“They can’t force us. And the King already knows that I don’t like being at the Palace.”

“But where should we go to? Saxony? I don’t know a place where they will accept us when we split with mom and dad like that. The fight at the banquet drove us apart enough already.”

“It’s not a split,” you exhale. “We just have to get away from all of this for some time. I left the Palace, then you did. Actions speak volumes about where your priority is.”

A sentence from the Golden Lesson. He had still memorized it.

“Yeah. It’s not here.”

The Palace is the last place where you want to linger.

“Now we have a chance to leave together before they start with their marriage thing again. I don’t want it. I’m not a Crown Princess. Much less a Queen. It’s not me.”

“Me neither. Crown Prince. King, I mean.”

“They probably try to kick me out anyways. You’ve heard what Albrecht said.”

“The lineage or alliance thing.”

Annoyance flashes across his features at the mere words.

“Yes. They’ll try to get rid of me soon enough. Anna overheard a conversation of the equerry this morning. The Queen is packing for a journey to Austria.”

“Really, what? Austria?” 

Jimin looks panicked.

“She is looking for ‘suitors’. I didn’t understand it at first, either.”

“They want me to marry Austrian royalty now!”

“Not too loud, my Prince!”

“I loathe them.”

“I don’t like the Austrian nobles either.”

They had plunged Queen Luise into more grief than necessary with their endless claims to Hohenzollern.

“My parents, I mean. Don’t care about what goes on in Vienna. I need to get away from Albrecht, he’s behind this. I hate him.”

The oil lamp flickers much like the eyes of the Prince.

“We can’t go to Saxony. But maybe, back to Hohenzollern. They have treated us the kindest. I thought we were welcome there.”

“I never thought about this.”

“We can— keep her good company. Luise”

Jimin negates fast. His voice is fragile.

“Therese... will want to get me back.”

“Then she will fail trying.”

Applause from the small round. Luise signs the document with a telling smile. One servant comes to pick up the scroll on swift feet after the seal wax has dried, leaving the throne room empty except the three of you. You catch Jimin mustering your brigade armor about every other second while Luise rises from the table.

“Off to Saint Petersburg it goes,” the Queen remarks, and screws tight her ink cartridge.

“You’re a blessing, Luise. Really.”

“I’ve been friends with Prime Minister Dmitriy for almost two decades,” she shrugs, assorting her writing feathers with lenience on the table. “He will understand.”

“He will?”

“According to him, the Czarina is having a lot of tantrums since the question of an arranged marriage came up.”

“Well, I can understand that,” you reply. All too well, in fact. “Just hoping that she didn’t really mean war when she said it.”

“Let that be my worry, Y/N. Hohenzollern has always had better ties to Russia than Bavaria.”

Jimin’s exasperated look only affirms the Queen’s statement.

“And— what do we do about my parents?” he brings forth while you turn toward the end of the throne room that opens into the royal garden. A bit languid, and Luise follows. You still feel a bit stiff in the armor, but you can feel how it melts onto your body already like it used to do.

“They’ll show up here,” Luise says. And you know it. Sooner or later. "But they won't complain when they see that you've found a purpose here."

"A purpose?" Jimin asks, catching up on the way outside.

"The brigade, Y/N will be busy recruiting soldiers again. It's like when she started. And we have more good news."

"Oh?"

"Natasha will spend half the summer here. I heard you're fond of her."

The youngest in House Romanov. You haven’t heard of her in ages. But the image of her dancing at the maypole festival is vivid in your mind.

"Natasha!"

"Yes. She wants to familiarize herself with Germany. A very inquisitive, headstrong girl."

"She really persuaded her parents, didn't she."

"Quite so. Well. The Premier minister does have, you see, interest in stronger ties to our county."

Jimin looks completely caught off guard. You're not surprised. Bavaria's relationship to the czar family had been dealt far too many blows.

"The entire House of Romanov?"

"Yes. Natasha had an easy time requesting to stay here."

"I like her," you reply. The garden terraces open up around you now, and Jimin steps into the pathways between apple trees framing the area. He is off to pick up some of the fruit in no time, while you walk toward the main terrace of the garden with the Queen. 

"Don't teach her archery all too soon," Luise twinkles from the corner of her eye. "You can do the melee with the Prussian Barons first. There are some Margraves who want to challenge you for fencing, I heard."

"Cheers, I take that one. It will be entertaining, surely."

In the distance, Jimin wanders about collecting apples, and you complement Luise on her new bright yellow gowns that blend into the garden landscape almost seamlessly. 

The onset of a late afternoon brings two knocks on your chamber’s door. Still feet. And waiting.

"Come on in!"

A second later, Jimin's head peeks through the frame. His hair is neatly led out. Natasha, prancing around as always, had teased him until he let her brush it in the morning. 

Jimin coos.

"Not climbing today.”

You beckon him across the room from your seat. He sways over in his far-too-long night blue gown, giving him the semblance of the water nymphs in childhood fairy tale books.

It catches his eye almost instantly— the weaving loom. Not too large, just wide enough to fill one corner of your chamber with it. Jimin seems to already guess what you're doing.

"I'd weave it," you let your digits glide through the nimble threads, "for your birthday if it wasn't in October."

The Prince, however, is hypnotized. He didn't hear.

"That looks complicated."

You tilt your head from side to side. Chuckling a little.

"Anna showed me. And nothing is more intricate than fencing anyways."

He keeps on pacing around the loom, eyeing its frame and the colorful yarns splayed out before you. The freshly polished brigade armor perched at the other side of the room doesn't seem to faze him just one bit for once.

"Is it something like a banner?"

"Almost."

"Hm. That pattern looks familiar. Coat of arms there?"

He points two digits at the loom's end where an outline begins to form, made from suave yarn.

"Similar to the neckerchief, you see. It's like a scarf."

Frozen. Jimin seems to be struck by lightning.

"Oh!"

"It's just... Made with the Hohenzollern emblem. New home, new coat of arms."

You twirl the threads anew for the next row, striking a flaxen tone in the pattern. A step on the pedal of the loom lifts the frame for you to glide the sliding shuttle through. It doesn't come very far. The Prince puts his hands around your torso from behind.

First, you can only hear him sniffle, however silent, and you think he might have a cold. But then, he starts to tremble. 

The Prince is crying.

"I don't deserve this," Jimin sobs, making your shirts’ collar feel damp already by rubbing his eyes against it. "Why do you do all this for me!"

The sliding shuttle goes back to its former place among the resting bowl of yarn. You turn, facing the Prince with earnestness.

"Hey. Cause I want to. Simple as that."

Jimin sniffles.

"Really?"

"Swordmaster's promise. Okay."

"But—"

"I don't care if you feel undeserving. I do what I do. With all due respect, my Prince."

The loom chair creaks a little when you lift from it. Jimin doesn't let go from his hug for a minute, or more. You take time rearranging his gown crease by crease so he can walk properly despite the long hem. Most of the chamber servants still aren't used to finding clothes for him each morning. The overly decorated ones he rejects, while the casual gowns in stock don't really fit his small build. Therese has already requested a tailor.

"It's just. I still can't grasp these things. That we're here."

"Believe it or not. We have a spot to settle."

"I, I like it here."

He eases into your touch more than ever now.

"Do you remember our first meeting?"

"'Course I do."

The Prince's feet are slack while walking, so you guide him up-close toward the bed to sit at the soft edge.

"I don't think we ever had a better mock duel than that one," you say, sitting down just an inch next to him.

"True."

You do recall the second time at the ball, where the Czarina would cast the fateful apple. Looking back, this duel seems far away compared to the first one, even if you had met at Hohenzollern half a decade ago. 

"That was back when I enjoyed tournaments."

"I was a little hellbent," Jimin wipes his nose, descending into your lap. 

"Oh, you wouldn't believe how much prejudice I had myself."

"Yeah, I know."

"Haughty Prince Bavaria coming all the way just to prove his fencing skill."

"I wasn't that bad!"

"You weren't."

He wasn't.

In fact, the Prince had won your favors in the duel under Queen Luise's watchful eye. You had led the brigade since years of earlier adolescence. Plenty of hands-on experience. Nevertheless, Prince Jimin had been a passionate opponent trying to claim his spot first in line. He had been daring. Rebellious. Things turned out different. He lost, but you had gifted him a mentorship. It surely wasn't the dire consequence he had feared when you pinned him to the ground at the unrelenting tip of Cygnet. King Albrecht approved. A guard for the Prince was an ideal compensation for his loss. 

"Was it the footwork?"

"Yes. That impressed me."

It really did. You had to make him your disciple. Even Luise agreed that it was almost inevitable given how eager Jimin was. The Prince's blade, Cinder, forged in the Alps, had been compelling, his stance elegant, his face a refreshing sight. Almost rare. His body sculpted and so unlike everyone at the brigade.

And so, you left Hohenzollern Castle, and headed toward the bustling heart of Bavaria. Linderhof Palace had been too beautiful not to stay. The Prince's parents had been kind.

"We both had better reputations back then, I guess."

"Sure did. But we weren't as happy."

The glance you level at him conveys more than just a simple 'Don't you think?'. Jimin, albeit still teary-eyed, looks more determined.

"I want to be as happy as when we first crossed blades."

You shake your head right away.

"Don't be a square, my Prince."

And he's incredulous.

"What do you mean?"

"We will be much happier than that."

Now, the Prince looks so bashful that even the red light of dusk from the windows feels like a faded color by comparison.

"A lot of promises tonight, Y/N."

"Yes, that's my second one."

"Did you drink wine today, eh?"

"Don't you tease. Bodyguards don't chug booze. Always alert."

"Who knows. Luise has one of the best vineyards and vintners of the county."

"If you don't believe me, you can have a taste and judge for yourself."

You fondle at the sides of his garment, delighting in the blush.

"A... test?"

"Yes, a test."

"Fair enough. Let me see how drunk you are, swordmaster."

Pressing his torso against yours elicits a soft curve to his spine. Your grip is tight on his waist. Jimin doesn't spend much time just exploring your lips with his. His nervous tongue dares a much steeper dip the more you lean in. He does twirl around, as if searching, probing. Jimin is needy. 

Your bodies calibrate already. They're used to it, from training. Your hands preoccupy themselves with massaging his upper arms. To release the last bit of tension. To soften them up. Jimin keeps on circling his tongue against yours, not leaving out an inch to send a gentle tingle down your neck. He knows how to please. You explore his mouth with your tongue all the more fervent and look him in the eye. You’re yearning, too. 

When he withdraws to catch a breath, you have to take several seconds not to stumble over your own words. 

"Is the test over?"

"A kiss is not enough, my honorable dame. If you allow."

“Indeed?”

“I want to do more than just prove myself.”

His tone piques your interest all the more now.

"I'm listening."

"Cinder... is not the only proper sword I have. I'm applying for lessons, Y/N."

His eyes are like gleaming coals in the rays of sunlight from the horizon.

"Sounds like a nice blade to fit my taste."

"You can claim it yours if you want, Master."

"Not spending a single mark on it, I tell you that."

Jimin laughs with his whole body. You are glad to see him relaxed.

"Gotta be thrifty now that you blew out the entire budget."

"Hey, you brat. That was more than worth it," you recline into the mattress. The silky pillows give you a warm greeting. Jimin makes sure that his blue robe doesn't tangle any more than it already does around his ankles when he slides toward the center of the bed himself.

"What are you in the mood for, then?"

He scoots even closer, settling on a pillow himself. His profile is stark against the sun.

"I've heard you crook a finger nowadays, my Prince."

"You want to see if that's true, don't you. Might be a little awkward, still."

"Hence the lessons."

"Right."

“Then prepare yourself, disciple.”

After loosening its cord just enough, you shove down the hem of your pants a little. Jimin rebalances on the pillow, now leaning toward your face. Another kiss. The test is indeed not over. And gladly so.

His right hand, and of course, he takes the more trained one, snakes down your belly. Nowhere near as nonchalant as it would during practice with sabers, gripping handles and blocking attacks. Jimin couldn’t be more on edge. 

"First part of the lesson is dancing."

"Dance?"

"Keep on moving. Stay fluid."

"Yes, Milady."

Jimin loosens his wrist before tracing around. He finds the right spot between your labia waiting for him, continues the movement. The touch of his fingers comes as a sentiment of deep, pleasing relief to your abdomen.

"You dance well, Prince."

"Just following the instructions."

"You want a second trick, hm."

He doesn't have to answer. The stimulation between your legs is just enough to reply.

"The clo—Agh! So good."

"Could it be removing some garment?"

"Yes, Jimin."

The night blue gown soon hangs off the edge of the bed, grazing the floor. It almost looks like a waterfall bumbling from the mattress. Your own pants soon join. Jimin is careful to remove them without doing away with the cord, or crumpling up the underwear.

"Alright."

"That was elegant."

"Stop flattering me, master."

"Have all the reasons to."

Jimin knows what you mean given that your gaze has wandered south on his body's delicate map.

"I, uh," he fumbles around your loins again, resuming what he started, mumbling along.

"Shh."

You reach where the sun tangents his hips yourself now, weighing and stroking. It is easy to pump up and down given how subtly curved and much like a saber's handle his cock is. Jimin didn't lie about proper.

He's whimpering.

"Do you... like how it feels?"

"You're in good form, Prince."

He's candid in the dusk illuminating the window. You stroke him more.

"I was— worried."

"I know, Prince. No more need to. We take it easy."

He emanates a sweet scent for you to take in. Since your joint arrival at Hohenzollern, he has found and frequented the bath behind the garden chapel a lot after training when most of the regulars were busy having a meal. Maybe it’s the smell of apples, too. 

"Sword's got stable grip."

Shifting close, you begin rubbing his shaft between either of your legs. He's warm. Flustered. And pliant under your guidance. The arousal peaks with him fondling across your pubes. But Jimin, after a series of rubs, gently brushes off your hand from his cock.

"Y/N. The last thing I want is knock you up. Your armor can’t fit a baby bump."

You have to catch yourself.

"Goodness. Jeez. Y—yes. Yes, right."

"That's not for us."

“Sorry. I got carried away. Your dick is so pretty.”

“It belongs to you now.”

His hands linger at your thighs. Jimin’s cheeks are tinted with deep blush.

"Maybe another kiss is for us," you say, spreading your legs further and slowly tugging him in by the neck. 

"Oh yes, my dame. Oh yes."

Prior to kneeling between your legs, Jimin pushes his hair back. It obstructs his eyes yet again when he leans down, putting either lip tightly around your clit. He's sucking and licking against it, calmer now. You take it as your task to hold Jimin's bangs out of his face yourself in the meantime. The waves of heat sparking from his mouth couldn't be any more soothing.

"Tastes like apple," Jimin mumbles into you.

"Oh, really?"

"Apples in May. Something like that."

There it is. The infamous eyebrow play again. You’ve missed it.

He goes on licking. Never ceases to lift his bottom lips from your labia. You exhale from what feels like beyond your diaphragm.

"Not, not too much, Jimin. Slow down."

"Am I doing it wrong?"

"No, no, I just... We haven't even started. Don't do the eyebrow thing. You drive me fucking wild."

"What, my eyebrows? Don't get it."

"You never noticed?"

"What's up with them?"

"They do this, this sexy thing when they go up."

"Um, like that?"

He's wiggling and cocking them up.

"Don't! Jesus Christ!"

He really is a brat.

"Maybe you can let my hair fall down again."

You deem that a very good idea. Especially since Jimin has more space to thrust his head in reverse. Your brain turns mushier by the minute Jimin's tongue starts to dip, leaving wet traces wherever it ventures. You pull him in further at the nape of his neck. 

"You're beautiful, Prince," is the only coherent phrase that your mind barely constructs. The way he bobs his head is like a perpetual nod. “I love it when you serve me.”

"Too good," he murmurs between sucks, fully taking in your taste, your warmth.

"You are too good. Who are you kidding. Fuck, Jimin."

His hands are slowly roaming around your abdomen.

"I've lost two and a half years with you," the Prince nips alongside your inner thighs now. "Got no chance to mess around. You can't imagine how many times I need to do this to make up for that."

"We took mighty long."

"I thought about this every night."

"Tell me."

He stops, props himself up. With a wet chin. And still, a high-strung voice.

"It was— So indecent. Dirty, almost."

"Huh? Loud sex in the barn?"

Jimin laughs.

"Not that indecent!"

"Not?"

"Filthy in a way, ah, it was really... fucking like rabbits. You were rough with me, and. And I liked it."

His tone is exasperated from going down on you, but still laced with tempting.

"You call that dirty? I've heard stories at Castle Altfried, nothing compares."

"I can imagine."

"Someone admitted to masturbating underneath a banquet arrangement. Hidden by just the tablecloth."

Jimin huffs out.

"Yikes! Perverted."

"One maiden said she had sex with one of the local knights in the church. They could hear the priests rehearse while he came inside."

The Prince scratches his head.

"That'll be a, uh, holy baby."

"The Duke himself was rumored to own something like a torture chamber where he could be strapped to furniture."

Jimin almost stumbles over his own words.

"To, torture chamber!"

You shake your head with vehemence.

"Not exactly one with spikes and gadgets. I asked the Duchess about it. She said it's just for playing around."

"What playing around could that have been?"

"Something," you twirl at his bangs, "like we did during training. Making you sweat a little more for a lesson."

The Prince understands almost immediately.

"Endurance training? Didn't do that in a whole while."

"Many things to catch up with."

"Is it that endurance gives me your favors, Milady? You were liking it when I was hanging off your window."

Oh well. You really did.

"I like it when you're honest about what you want."

And he does have your favors.

"Tell me yours, I tell you mine."

"I want just one thing served on a silver plate."

The Prince seems to ponder for one second more after he opens his mouth to speak.

"Commitment?" he thus asks, and makes sure to meet your eye even through the curls in his face.

"That's the golden plate, not the silver one. The silver plate is for your cute ass."

Jimin can't help but flush again.

"You can pinch it."

"I'll make an entire picnic out of that. That's not going to be just pinching."

"Are you sure you aren't the perverted one, Y/N?"

Jimin twinkles.

"I admit to it," you reply.

"So is there a bronze plate also? You sound like you have many of those."

"Bronze plate's for your cum."

"Freshly served?"

"All milked out. Mixed with my spit."

"You want to—"

Yes, you do.

"Lay down, my Prince. Keep your hands above your head."

Swift, Jimin reclines. You can see how bulging his neck veins are.

"Fresh out the bath," he says, splaying his hands against the bed frame.

"You smell good."

Once Jimin holds onto frame properly, you level above his crotch. His stiffening cock responds to your hands working the base and perineum, and your mouth propping at its tip after carefully aiming to take him in at the right angle.

"Oh shit—"

The Prince almost jolts up. Not only does he smell good. Jimin tastes just as nice. Panting, making his hands tug against the frame where he holds onto it, all you hear is his blissed out sighing.

“Keep your hips still, Jimin,” you scold, cock half in your mouth. “Naughty Princes get punished for moving.”

Slicking your lips down his perky shaft comes with an overly sloppy, awkward noise. You look up to meet his eyes seeing if you haven't thoroughly embarrassed yourself, but his lids are shut.

You figure sloppy isn't a bad thing. Making use of the saliva pooling between your lips, you suck in Jimin's cock a bit deeper. Letting it rest on your tongue for a moment makes the Prince fidget. Hollowing your cheeks out only fortifies your suction on him, and make the tremble of his legs palpable under your torso. He fights hard not to move his hips. 

The throbbing between your legs is still heated. You reach with one hand to stimulate, the other pumping Jimin's bubbly dick hard. Rubbing him comes with more sighs and commentary until your tongue becomes sticky at its back. Pre-cum. You can't blame him for being the early bird.

Little curses.

Outside, the sun melts into the horizon line.

Much as if Cygnet would call you to find a good manual hold, the jerking hand eventually transfers into a smoother rhythm than before. You have to be careful not to bite down on him given how unpredictable your jaw has become, so loose. Knowing that Jimin is all too close, you decide to have some fun edging him through it.

"How's it going over there, disciple," you pop off. And let your nails dig into his balls. 

"Ah!"

"I've seen and heard a lot of things in life but a Prince without proper grammar?"

Delivering another firm squeeze brings back a spike of pleasure jolting through his limbs.

"Nnh—!"

You keep on squeezing. He's whiny. His hips buck. You can feel that he's on edge, too far, with steep highs and lows of his ribcage. 

Bit after bit, after a final firm caress stopping short just before his peak, Jimin's cock eventually spurts out a milky thread over his stomach. Almost like a fountain. The rest of his cum only leaks out ruined in scarce bits, making Jimin beg, and whine, and groan his soul out. 

“Look at you, brat,” you flick against his balls grinning, and go on milking out his jizz. “How do you like that. Your hips moved.”

“Shit...! Oh god...”

Licking off parts of it from his stomach gives you the satisfaction of tasting him once again. Hot, and even stickier. He's left such an adorable mess. You leave gentle strokes alongside his torso.

"My wonderful Prince," you smile, watching Jimin in his afterglow. Exhausted, faint, but happy. “You like punishments, do you.”

A nod. He drools. Your gaze is fiery.

"We have to— work on endurance," he says. "So much about you defeating me."

"Got the elegance down already. We're only getting started."

"Can you," he brings his hands down toward your arms. "Kiss me hard, please."

You lean over, letting a trickling bit of semen melt into Jimin's mouth. Letting it smother all over his lips is twice the delight feeling how plush they are. Jimin's fingers sneaking, then dipping into your core comes at the guidance of your own hands, making the kisses even sweeter to taste.

The wave of heat following his soft rubs opens your mouth wider for Jimin to twirl his tongue in until your shivering body fades into the pillows where he hugs you. The last bit of stimulation brings you over the edge devouring the taste of his mouth and biting down on his lips hard until your orgasm subsides with slower contractions. Jimin has licked your mouth clean now. He is jittery at your chest. Clinging. You pull the bed’s yellow blanket over and whisper to him. Ruffle his hair. Cling back tight, and breathe in the apple scent of his skin. 

"That was delicious," you kiss his forehead. “You royals astound me every day.”

The little treats are spiked with bright decor, almonds, and cream. Jimin balances four of them on his porcelain plate, maneuvering through the queue at the buffet. The people step aside wondering how the Prince of Bavaria could walk around with just a simple ensemble of gauze and strangely ruffled hair.

"You're not wearing the armor?" he asks, settling back at the table next to you and Natasha. "The entire brigade does!"

Indeed— your belt is empty, too. Cygnet's missing weight at it makes you fond, but maybe, a bit uneasy. You're still getting used to it.

The people around carry plates to their own tables set up in the chapel's yard while you cast the Prince a gaze a little smug, tempting him to guess. He sits down on the swirly metal chair confounded enough not to put his meal down, staring at you, then the treats with a bland expression.

"Well, uh."

In the meantime, Luise converses with the Russian Prime Minister and Duke Leopold at the adjacent table. A few maidens pass by, carrying giant baskets with flowers and mugs with juice. Jimin is still guessing until Natasha wildly gestures toward the yard where a few violin players rehearse.

"Y/N dance with Prince!" she points. Now, Jimin seems to realize.

"Right!"

"Have you ever seen the brigade dance in full gear? That looks hilarious."

"Oh yeah. I figure they'd be slower and bump into everybody," the Prince finally puts his plate down. But before he can take a bite, Natasha slips from her own seat and starts teasing him. The Prince ends up with even more ruffled hair, attracting the confused stares of the musicians.

Natasha builds herself up and proclaims: "Look! Prince is fluffy puppy!"

In the meantime, you cut the quarter loaf of bread on your plate into generous pieces, then butter them up.

"I'm afraid we got ourselves a bully, my Prince," you chuckle, and make sure to end with a wink toward Natasha.

"Happens," the Prince says, and eventually indulges himself eating. "I'm rather worried about my dancing steps."

"Might be a little rusty, you mean?"

"The last celebration was two months ago. Might need some time."

Natasha plops down on her seat, playing with the new woven scarf she had so nonchalantly removed from Jimin's neck.

"I mean, that’s fair,” you say. “I like fair!"

"Me, too.” 

“And hey, we can just do fencing steps anyway."

Thank you for reading! 🍎

Do not repost, translate, or modify my works. © submissive-bangtan 2017-2019. All rights reserved. 

#jimin smut #sub-bts-network #bts smut #jimin angst #sub!jimin #jimin fanfic #jimin x reader #bts fanfic #sub!bts #cygnet & cinder #cinder #prince!jimin #jimin x y/n #bts au #bts angst #jimin royalty au #bts royalty au

[hookaroo]

Vocivore, Ltd. (45 of 46)

Also on FFN and AO3 (ListerofTardis)

Tagging @ouatwinterwhump, @killian-whump, @sancocnutclub, @killianjonesownsmyheart1, @courtorderedcake, @facesiousbutton82 <3

***THE MOST WONDERFUL, HEARTBREAKING, and BEAUTIFULLY WHUMPY COVER ART BY @cocohook38 HERE and HERE!!!!!!!!!*************

***Chapter 12 animation and art that will absolutely astound you!!!!!!!!!**********

***LETHAL Chapter 19 art in all of its BLOODSTAINED GLORY!!!!************

**POOR STABBED KILLIAN falling into the sheriff station! Ch. 7 & 23 art!!**

****KILLIAN AND HIS MASTER IN THE GORGEOUS CATHEDRAL!!!!!!!!!!!!    CHAPTER 1 ART THAT KILLS ME EVERY TIME I SEE IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!*********

*CH 34 ART! A DEFEATED KILLIAN, HEAD BOWED BEFORE HIS MASTER!!*

***CH 36 ART! DETECTIVE JONES BOWS BEFORE HIS NEW MASTER!!!!!!***

***AAAAHHHH!!! THANK YOU MY WONDERFUL COCONUT FRIEND!!!!!!***

________________________________________________________________

Present (Thursday)...

Zzzzzzzz…

Shave day.

Killian had only to close his eyes to be transported back there. That dreadful hovel with its table of pain. Those callous hands dragging a dull-edged blade along his jaw. And nothing ahead of him but more suffering. No hope.

Focus on the differences. Warm, soft bed, no splintered, uncomfortable wood. Blankets and a gown instead of cold nudity. The din of automation replacing the scratchy ring of imprecise steel. Similar pungent disinfectant but less decay, less blood and pain and fear. And, most important, gentle touch. No intent to hurt or degrade. Only meticulous, loving care from the one person on Earth he trusted without reservation. 

“Holy crap,” teased Emma, “I think we need to get Whale to put a sign on your door warning that there's a handsome pirate inside.”

Knowing that he still looked like a wreck despite a neatly trimmed beard, he played along for her sake. “And what would its purpose be, to entice eligible nurses inside, or warn them away from his jealous bride?”

“I don't mind them looking,” smiled Emma. “What's the point of having a gorgeous husband if a girl doesn't show him off every once in awhile?”

Killian clenched his teeth as a wave of violent shivering overtook him; to a casual observer it would have appeared as if he were suddenly chilled to the bone despite climate-controlled surroundings and the layer of blankets draped atop him. Through nauseating pain, he heard Emma lay aside the razor and felt her grip his elbow in solidarity.

Whale remained hesitant to classify them as seizures, stating that the corresponding brain activity did not match any known convulsive disorder and responded to none of the anticonvulsant drugs they’d tried. Of course, that didn't rule out the possibility of eventual development into actual seizures, as most of the slave fatalities had experienced just before their deaths.

Killian had managed to catch snippets of conversations, grave tones and sobering words that betrayed what they seemed to be trying to hide from him. He would probably have guessed on his own, anyway, with his worsening state mirroring the course of the slaves who had preceded him in death. Sometimes he was able to comprehend what a shame it was, for him to have survived so long only to succumb now, when peace had returned to his home. In those moments he tried to take solace in the thought that he'd been granted more cherished memories with his wife and daughter, without a threat hanging over them, when he could focus on lavishing them both with the fierce love he felt for them. Emma would remember. Hope... he liked to think she would.

None of that mattered in the moment, though, as quivering muscles shocked every single inflamed nerve ending into high gear, enveloping him in a fog of inescapable agony.

Emma met his watery gaze with a sad, stiffly calm smile, and he read the desolate grief in her forged reassurance even as he realized that the attack was finally subsiding.

"Morphine?" she asked quietly, but he shook his head. Hope would be coming by for a visit soon, and he wanted a clear mind for her.

Her grip on him relaxed by degrees as some of the tension drained away from his body.

“I'm so sorry, Killian,” she whispered. “If only we could somehow bring magic back. I might not be able to stop these attacks, but I could at least heal your wounds and prevent some of this pain.”

She sniffled and before Killian could summon the breath to respond, she continued, 

“It doesn't make any sense; I mean, we thought it was related to the Vocivore, but maybe we're wrong, ‘cuz it seems like we should have found something by now…”

“I have something to report about that,” came Regina’s voice from the doorway. “But you’re not going to like it.”

Emma turned with a weary expectancy, and Regina stepped inside. She was the very picture of classic irritated aloofness, but she did glance at Killian and say,

“Sorry for barging in like this.”

"You found something?" demanded Emma, and Regina stopped at the foot of the bed. Her scowl could whither the blossoms off an apple tree.

"It's those damn pigeons."

"The... pigeons," repeated Emma slowly. In his mind's eye, Killian saw a ragged pink feather coated in slime; white, powdery droppings splattered on chancel cobbles; black and amber irises reflecting nothing but pure animal instinct. He heard the trilling cooing that had been the quiet backdrop for many a scream, memories as clear as if the blasted birds were right there in the room with him.

"Those ridiculous pink pigeons, Sheriff Swan," Regina confirmed, completely oblivious to Killian's uneasiness. "I cannot fathom how, but they're the ones responsible for the magical shielding. Pesky vermin."

Emma looked unconvinced, and Killian wanted to agree, but considering how the birds seemed inextricably linked to the Vocivore's presence, perhaps the idea wasn't so farfetched.

"Regina, are you sure? They're just dumb birds. How can they possibly block magic?"

"I'm... still working on that," admitted the queen. "But I know I'm right. Did you hear about those hooligans who set off the fireworks in front of City Hall this morning? Right in the middle of an inter-realm council meeting?"

"David filled me in, yeah; said he thought it was some Lost Boys from the Wish Realm."

"Well, as disruptive as it was to the meeting, it was a hundred times worse for our feathered friends. They took off like their tails were on fire and made for the Enchanted Forest or... Madagascar or somewhere; trouble was, they're too stupid to remember that for long, and they were back within 10 minutes. But in that time, there was a brief window in which I could almost access my power; it was there, just on the edge of awareness, just out of reach." She made a growl of frustration, both hands tightly fisted. "I thought for a second that the shield was collapsing for good, without us having to do anything about it, but wouldn't you know, we're stuck with our usual luck again."

Regina looked like she'd rinsed her mouth with lemon juice as she continued ranting. "The first bird to come back, while we were still searching the area for any unexploded fireworks? A pigeon. A fat, iridescent pink pigeon. And that's when I made the connection."

"Well, I've been saying we needed to get an exterminator, but just because you saw one doesn't necessarily prove that they're the culprits."

"I think she may be right," Killian said with another shiver. "They were... fairly strongly bonded with the Master. Sometimes would even ride on its shoulders." He cringed as the haunting outline of the beast filled his imagination, complete with winged companions, its tentacles pulsating as they reached toward him....

"And we have only recently started noticing them around Storybrooke," added Regina. "Just about the same time as magic failed. They’re remarkably distinctive, and I remember being surprised the first time I saw one."

"I don't see the connection," Emma began, still doubtful. "But it can't hurt to check it out. So say it is the pigeons. What's the next step?"

"That's the bad news." Regina glanced at Killian in apology. "It won't be a quick fix. Short of poisoning them, or making the town somehow inhospitable to birds in general--both of which are options that I can't see our critter-loving neighbors approving of--we're down to trapping and relocating each one individually, or trying to figure out what exactly gives them the ability to block magic. And either way, it's going to take time." She folded her arms, waiting for questions, but Emma and Killian were quiet, mulling over the situation. "I've tasked Robin with the job of bringing one to me for study. Don't tell your mother."

Killian was only half listening as a whole movie's worth of scenes replayed in his head. Pigeons, pigeons everywhere. He felt foolish for not noticing their conspicuousness before, but, of course, he did have other things to worry about at the time. 

He felt his spirits sinking impossibly lower as the consequences of the news took shape. No quick solution would mean no magical healing. He'd be stuck in this infernal hospital, recuperating in the conventional way, spending whatever time he had left uncomfortable and in pain. Somehow, the Master had managed to orchestrate continued torture for him; even in death, it was having the last laugh at his expense.

"Pigeons," scoffed Emma. "Pigeons and a crab. Who would have guessed?" Seeming to sense Killian's dark musings, she stroked his cheek with her thumb. "Sorry, Killian. This sucks."

"They must have evolved together," muttered Regina absently. "Developed some kind of symbiosis; they shield the Vocivore, and it gives them, what, shelter? Protection from predators?"

"Blood," realized Killian suddenly. The inspiration had come out of nowhere, a thought buried deep within his subconscious that had burst unbidden into full awareness. He'd only ever seen it out of the corner of his eye, with no attention to spare, his own misery and how long he'd been given before the next Session at the forefront, always. But there they were. Pink bodies fluttering to earth, a writhing mass behind him as he left the church, squabbling among sticky smears and warm pools, dipping dainty beaks, plunging belly-first in some macabre bathing ritual…

Then outside. They would be strutting through the gutters, congregating near fresh corpses while his tunnel vision kept him limping in the direction of Z's cottage, never truly seeing how beady little eyes sized him up even as blood-crusted heads burrowed into decaying flesh in search of more nourishment.

"Um... what?!"

Killian returned to reality to find Emma and Regina staring at him with matching expressions of revulsion.

"The pigeons, they... they seemed to fear the noise and, f-for the most part, remained in the rafters... during..." He hesitated, winced, then carried on with great effort. "But afterward... the Master didn't care about the stains on the floor, yet I never saw fresh blood when I first arrived. I... I think the pigeons... consumed it."

Killian thought he might vomit. Both of his visitors seemed to share the feeling.

"Okay, that's... disgusting."

Regina gulped and plastered on a weak smirk. "So. ‘Carrion’ pigeons. I wonder if their feathers are just stained, then, or if they turn pink from some substance in the blood they eat, similar to flamingos."

"Gross," moaned Emma. She took a sip of her bottled water. "But hold on a sec. If they're so fond of... that... then why did they make their way all the way to Storybrooke? There's way less... that... around here."

"Guess they can do without it. Or maybe they live off roadkill out here."

"Overcrowding?" suggested Emma, answering her own question. "Better nesting sites?"

"Would have made an intriguing Exchanges topic." Killian cringed at the thought. "Had I known to ask."

An uncomfortable silence descended upon the trio, until finally, Regina grunted her irritation at the whole thing.

"Well, I can try to confirm all of this once I get my hands on one of those little pests. Guess it's good to finally be getting some answ-"

"Mr. and Mrs. Hook, get your Thank-You cards ready; I've just-" Dr. Whale paused when he noticed Regina in the room. "Oh. Your Highness."

"Victor."

Whale caught Killian's glower and smirked. "What's that look for?"

"I'd explain but I'm still recovering from that utter shipwreck of a salutation."

"Sounds like you're feeling better. Guess I'm wasting my time, then, working around the clock?"

"Did you have something to tell us, Whale?" Emma's feigned irritation fooled no one--it was obvious she anticipated more important news.

"We've had a bit of a breakthrough, thanks to the data gleaned from you and Detective Jones." The physician held up a cautionary hand. "Results look promising, but this is by no means a sure thing, and there's no guarantee of long-term success. We'll of course continue to tweak it as we go along, but for now I think Killian could benefit from an initial dose as soon as possible."

"You think you've found a cure, then?" clarified Regina.

"A therapy," he corrected. "To slow the degeneration and maybe, eventually, reverse it. Tested on some lab animals, then this morning on two rescued slaves who were near death. They seem to be doing better." He pulled a hand-labeled vial from his pocket and set it on a table with a flourish. "The FDA would burn my license and probably toss me into prison for this. Good thing none of us officially exist."

As Killian stared at the little container of clear fluid onto which, suddenly, all of their hopes were pinned, he was struck with unexpected anxiety. It was all well and good when there was nothing that could be done, his fate seemingly sealed. Now that there was a reported chance, he wanted nothing more than for it to work. He wanted to live, to be a husband and father, to watch Hope grow and be there for her. The vial represented that future... and what if it didn't work?

Whale took Killian's silence as reluctance, and he sighed. "Yeah, I can't guarantee its safety either, or provide you with a list of possible side effects. Just that for you, with your weird, extra barrier that we still don't entirely understand, I'd like at least the first few doses to be administered directly into the CSF, and we do know the risks and side effects of lumbar puncture. But, well... listen, if it were me or a loved one in your position, I would still say that we need to try something, because the risks don't matter once the condition becomes terminal. Make sense?"

"None of that is in question," said Killian slowly. Then he flashed a short, tired smile at the physician, radiating self-deprecation. "Believe it or not, I actually do trust your medical expertise. I was only... praying for its success, I suppose."

Whale looked genuinely touched, for a fleeting instant. But soon enough his cocky demeanor was back. "You're right: I'm not sure I do believe it. I'm gonna take that admission as another symptom and then we can just carry on the way we always do."

He tossed some forms at Emma, ordering,

"Read and sign for him. Assuming you want to go through with it, we'll be back shortly to perform the procedure."

He left in a swirl of white lapels, muttering a polite farewell to Regina on his way. The queen turned back to Killian and Emma, wearing a slightly uncomfortable grin.

"Well. Good news, then. Or, a seed of hope, at least." She brushed invisible dust off her jacket and made other I'm-about-to-leave cues.

"Yeah. Thanks for filling us in about the pigeons." Emma glanced down at her phone, and a tiny frown creased her forehead. "Although you could have just called me."

Squirming, Regina blustered,

"I... thought the news would be better delivered in person. And... well... maybe there's a... small part of me that wanted to see how Killian was doing."

"That's most appreciated," said Killian. "Thank you."

Regina nodded stiffly, shot an, "I'll keep you informed," then exited.

Killian gritted his teeth through another bout of shivers--thankfully shorter this time--and when he could open his eyes again it was to find Emma watching in sympathy.

"Hope that's over with for now. You don't wanna be doing that while they're trying to stick a needle into your spine."

Throbbing and aching, Killian grimaced. He needed a distraction. "Everything okay, love?" he growled. "You were rather tight-lipped toward the end there."

It was then that he noticed the tear tracks staining her face.

"Emma?"

She lay aside the consent forms and wiped at her cheeks. "I've been so scared, Killian. Starting a month ago, but it hasn't stopped even with your rescue. I... well, Whale's been pretty pragmatic about your condition, and... truth is... I was starting to prepare myself to lose you." She caught two droplets before they had a chance to fall. "I mean, how horrible is that? You aren't even gone yet and I'm coaching myself to start saying goodbye."

She started to reach for his hand but stopped and gripped his wrist instead.

"That's human nature," he pointed out. "I've been doing it, too."

Her eyes glistened with sad questions. "We didn't... I mean, Whale thought that..."

"No, no one's told me anything; not before now at any rate. No one had to."

Emma leaned forward to kiss his cheek gently, brushing back some stray hair as she murmured,

"I'm sorry, Killian. Shoulda known better than to give up so soon."

His eyes found the vial, which Dr. Whale had left on the table. "Do you think it will work?"

"It has to," she said simply. "If nothing else, to give us more time. And you know... Whale's kinda the expert at this sort of thing, even if his attitude leaves something to be desired."

Killian was tiring rapidly; it had been one hell of an afternoon, and this was the most he'd participated in a conversation since his rescue, if not longer. But he still had one final question before hopefully catching a nap between interruptions.

"Whale mentioned 'data,' gleaned from you and Jones. Did I hear that correctly?"

Emma waved a dismissive hand. "Just a couple of tests he did on us; no big deal."

"You subjected yourselves to becoming his laboratory animals, all on my account?"

"And to help the other rescued slaves." She flashed him a twinkling grin, which softened into loving fondness. "But... yeah, mostly for you."

"Thank you, Emma, truly."

She graced him with a quick kiss, saying,

"You're welcome, and like I said, no big deal, and that's all we're gonna say about that." Noticing his heavy eyelids, she smoothed an eyebrow and then sat back. "We better do that paperwork before you fall asleep. Want me to hold it up so you can read it, or I could read it aloud to you..."

"Don't bother about it, love," he murmured. "You can read them yourself if you'd like, but I think we both know that there isn't much they could say that would change our views on the matter."

Killian cast his eyes on Hope's artwork once more before succumbing to his weariness. Perhaps it would guard his dreams and bring positive thoughts from here on out. Because now that he had a fighting chance at survival, healing his psyche had suddenly become that much more important, and it would most definitely be a longer road than the not-insignificant path to physical health.

Would he be up to the challenge?

________________________________________________________________

AN: Well, obviously I failed to get this posted quickly enough. Blame @cocohook38​ and @lillpon​ for killing me in their own wonderful ways :) Less than 36 hours til I’m on the plane to Ireland!!! Sorry to make you wait for the conclusion! It’s really not that long of a trip, though. I should be back to somewhat functional by July 10 :D

I’m looking for some milestone that gives me an excuse for “Winter Whump” to have lasted this long... XD The closest I’ve come is that I probably had the first inklings of what the premise would be sometime last summer, as sign-ups for the event closed June 30, 2018. So the final chapter will be released approximately 1 year later. *Shrug* Best I can do.

#ouat fanfiction #killian jones #emma swan #ouat regina #dr whale #hospital #pigeons #lillpon found the clues #anyone else? #:D #vocivore ltd #if anyone is a star wars fan #and read the expanded universe novels #the idea for the pigeons came from the ysalamiri #from the thrawn trilogy #lol

[obscurelysevere]

6: Insult to Injury

They were in action, leaving the apartment immediately. They ran, transformed, with their breaths in sync, and their footsteps echoing each other. Sailor Earth was vaguely aware of the other senshi joining them, falling into the group like dropping shadows onto the concrete beneath their feet. As they had left Mamoru's (now Tuxedo Kamen) apartment, Usagi had pulled up the girl's on a compact communicator, gathering and spreading information about the attack in the downtown Juuban district. Some person was attacking couples that were making their ways home from work, or heading out to dinner on a date. The couples were losing consciousness as a red ribbon appeared tying the wrist of one person to another was severed between them.

"What are they after, do you know?" Mars had asked the collective group. No one knew. "Do we know what we're looking for?" Venus asked, not sounding the least out of breath. The group was silent as they ran. They could hear screams coming from people fleeing the scene, trying to put as much distance between them and the assailant as possible. As the senshi arrived, they spread out to surround the offender, cutting him off from attacking any more couples. Tuxedo Kamen made his way around to the four different pairs of people, checking their vitals to see if they had only lost consciousness, or the situation was far more grave than that. "That's enough!" Sailor Moon shouted. The seemingly normal looking man (except for his black armored garb, and his unsettling black eyes, like a demon) laughed. "I only take my orders from a higher power, and you don't seem to possess enough to sway my allegiance!" "Then you're highly underestimating us," Venus said, holding a heart-linked chain taut between her hands. Sparks crackled between Jupiter's hands, flames engulfed Mars', and there was a chill from Mercury's direction. Sailor Moon held an ornate staff in one hand, staring down the man. "I will not allow you to continue to maim the love that transpires between people. I am the pretty solider senshi, Sailor Moon! And in the name of the moon, I will punish you!" Earth felt like she'd heard that mantra over and over before, though she had never known Sailor Moon personally before (though she had known of her). But she felt like this familiarity she was experiencing was coming through her bond with her brother, Tuxedo Kamen, who was standing on the outskirts, in case he needed to further protect the fallen. One look at him, and she knew that everyone was still alive. But it didn't make the situation any less dangerous, or seriousness. Sailor Moon began to call out her attack, "Starlight Honeymoon Therapy-" The guy scoffed. "Don't bother, princess," he said, using the term in the loose pet-name sense, not her identity as Princess Serenity. Suddenly his body blurred right in front of them, and he vanished. All the girls stared at where he had been only moments before, unsure about what had just happened. "Where did he go?" Jupiter asked Mercury. "Just a sec..." Mercury twisted her left earring, and a visor manifested in front of her eyes. She began furiously typing on a small compact computer. "He's... he's gone. There's no heat signature where he was before. And his energy has completely disappeared from the surrounding area. He's not here anymore." "What a weirdo," Sailor Moon started. The senshi all stopped, as one of the couples began to stir. Sailor Moon gasped. "Naru? Umino?" She must have known them. When their eyes opened, that same hate-filled, completely black gaze fell upon each other. They began to shout, coming for each other, as Tuxedo Kamen stepped in between the two, before they could physically assault each other. The words they were saying, the seething in their voices, it wasn't indicative of a couple in love. They wanted to rip each other to shreds, if not with their bare hands, then with their weirds. Even Earth winced at the words they were spitting at each other. "Stop it!" Moon cried out, running over to them. "You two love each other, you always have!" Earth could hear the quivering in her voice, how on the verge of tears she was with each insult they snarled, and name they hurled at one another. "Stop! Please!" she cried. But she wasn't able to focus on her friends, as the three other pairs began to wake up, in the same state, going for their lovers' throats. Venus, Mars, and Jupiter stepped between each pair, to keep them from physically assaulting one another. "What the hell is going on?" Earth asked, more to herself than the others. "What did that guy do?" She watched, and listened as the couples said the most vile things between the two of them. Soon, police units, and paramedics, arrived on the scene. Not used to being in the public eye, Sailor Earth quickly disappeared from the scene, like a spooked cat. She waited in the shadows until the other senshi were able to safely disperse, the police intervening between the shouting couples, putting them all in separate cars. She waited until they shed their transformations, and walked in an inconspicuous group, away from ground zero. Once she was in her civilian clothes, she joined the group. They walked in silence, until they reached a shrine. It was the Hikawa shrine, and apparently, it was Rei's. They all sat around on the walkway, in the moonlight. "Is that anyone you've ever fought before?" Kat asked. She knew that the senshi had been in action far longer than she had, and had seen many more enemies. Maybe this was a straggler, coming back for revenge? "I've never seen anything like it, before," Minako murmured, staring at the ground, deep in thought. "His energy signature was completely different," Ami added, frowning. "What he did to Naru and Umino..." Usagi trailed off. Her eyes were swimming with tears. Mamoru put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her in close, kissing the top of her head. "Those were your friends?" Kat asked. Usagi nodded, silently. "I'm sorry," Kat said, quietly. "From what I heard from some bystanders that knew the other couples, they were all deeply in love. They were soulmates, it seemed." "Something about that red ribbon being cut..." Rei trailed off, deep in thought. "There's a folktale that's told about a red ribbon, or a string, that connects soulmates, and guides them to one another throughout all of their lives," Makoto spoke up, with her brows furrowed. "But what's the point in going around, severing it? What does anyone gain from that?" Minako wondered aloud. "It just causes pain and chaos," Mamoru murmured, rubbing Usagi's shoulders. She looked distraught. Kat felt the compelling need to comfort her as well, but she didn't want to overstep her boundaries. Really, she'd only met her earlier that day. Even if it did feel like a lifetime. "Maybe that is the goal? To just hurt people?" Kat wondered. "But... that doesn't make any sense," Minako said. "When has anything the bad guy has ever done made any sense?" Rei snorted. "But they usually gain something from it," Usagi said quietly, into Mamoru's chest. "I think we need to keep an eye on these couples over the next few days, and see what develops," Luna said, sagely. The group nodded in agreement. "I have to head back to Hakone," Kat said, regretfully. "But I have a lead on a possible apartment, and a job, that I'm going to follow up on in a couple of days. I'll try to come back here as soon as possible." "You're not going back tonight, are you?" Usagi asked, sounding worried. Kat nodded. "It's a little late," Mamoru said. "Why don't you stay with me for the night, and then you can go back tomorrow?" he offered. Kat's eyes widened slightly. "Oh no, I couldn't do that. I really don't want to impose on any of you." "You're not imposing at all." He smiled at her. She felt so warm, and accepted. So she agreed. They dropped Usagi off at her house before walking back to Mamoru's apartment. "You sleep in the bed, and I'll take the couch tonight," he said, as he began to make up the couch. "No! No, Mamoru, you stay in your bed. Please don't go out of your way just for me." He chuckled. "Why not? You're my sister. Please." He gestured to the bed, again. She hesitated, until Mamoru gave her a look that said 'I won't take no for an answer, now get in there'. She smiled and turned toward the bed, before pausing and turning back to Mamoru. "Can I... Can I hug you?" she asked, hesitantly. Without saying a word, he walked over to her, and wrapped his arms around her. "You never have to ask, Katrina. You're family. And if you need to stay anywhere while you're looking for your own place, you are more than welcome to stay with me, until you do. If that helps." He smelled crisp and clean and warm. Not unlike how he used to smell. She closed her eyes, and for a moment, she was transported back to their past lives. Back to a flourishing, beautiful earth, with a luminous moon above, that seemed to shine just for them. Endymion smelled of the ocean, and the sky, and the earth. He smelled like home. But he also smelled like roses and lavender, a smell that was unique to him after he came back from visiting his princess on the moon. A smell that she now associated with Usagi. That night, Kat saw the man with the soulless, black eyes in her dreams. He was smirking triumphantly. Her throat constricted when she saw two bodies behind him - Usagi and Mamoru. Except they were as Serenity and Endymion. Their were blank, lifeless, loveless. Katrina began to run toward them, as Sailor Earth. But no matter how fast she ran, she couldn't get close to them. They began to fight, not with words, but with their powers. They attacked each other relentlessly, blast after blast after blast. Katrina watched in horror as they slowly killed each other. Around them, the earth began to crumble, and the moon was black in the sky. Terror pooled in Earth's gut. A deep, chilling laugh froze her. She couldn't see where it was coming from, but it wasn't from the man from before. It was off in the distance, somewhere above them. She looked wildly around, through the thick miasma of despair around her. But everywhere she looked, she only saw a shredded red ribbon, she saw Endymion and Serenity fighting. She saw the lights going out in the planets above. But she couldn't see who was orchestrating the entire catastrophe. She called out to her brother and Serenity, but they couldn't hear her. They were killing each other. Their powers were dying along with them. They fell, like limp rag dolls, with no life left in them. Kat cried out, and jolted awake. She didn't recognize her surroundings, and her heart was throbbing rapidly in her chest. She took deep breaths, trying to calm herself as she looked around. She finally spotted Endymion - Mamoru - sleeping on the couch. He looked peaceful, unlike his warring image that was stuck in her head. He must have sensed she had woken, or maybe he hadn't even been asleep at all, but he sat up, and ran his long fingers through his hair, ruffling it. He turned in the couch, and caught her eye. After seeing the wild panic in her dark eyes, he strode across the room, and took a seat at the foot of the bed. He rested a hand on her knee. "I think I know what they're here for..." she whispered, hesitantly. "They're here for you and Serenity. I don't know why... or how... but they're here for you."

#sailor moon #sailor earth #usagi tsukino #mamoru chiba #fanfiction #writing