#A point of conflict maybe? Imagine bearing your soul out to someone only for them to close themself off to you not even days afterwards.

[total-drama-brainrot]

TD World Tour AU, where Noah doesn't tell Owen that Alejandro is an eel in London... In Area 51, Noah is accidentally splashed with an alien truth potion (which wears off after a few days) and he talks to Owen... Owen asks Noah what he truly thinks about Alejandro, and Truth-Potion Affected Noah says this: "I have mixed feelings for Alejandro. He's a brilliant, interesting guy and I like him, but I don't trust him. He's like a slippery eel dipped in grease, swimming in motor oil. Basically, Heather with social skills. Wait a minute, why am I telling you this?!"... What if Alejandro secretly heard Noah call him all those conflicting things + Alejandro also learns that Noah is affected with an alien truth potion? 👽

Alright, you got me. I'm an absolute sucker for truth potion plots, especially when the character(s) effected by them are usually either pathological liars or incredibly secretive- of which Noah absolutely falls into the second category, given he shares so little personal information.

I'll gloss over why Noah declined to shit-talk Alejandro in London (though there's so many ways this change in behaviour could be justified) since the focal point of this hypothetical centred around their time in Nevada, so let's start from the beginning of the Area 51 challenge.

Area 51:

Before we start, it'll have to be established that no one was eliminated in London. Let's say that the majority vote went towards Duncan (team CIRRRRH voted him out immediately because they found his re-admission to the competition unfair, I guess. I imagine he'd also vote himself, if not as a plan to escape the competition he'd been actively skiving from, then just as an act of spite) but Chris instead claimed it was a rewards challenge- much like he does in Greece- because he doesn't want to let Duncan slip away again so soon.

I see no reason to alter the first part of the challenge- the sneaking into Area 51 portion- since team CIRRRRH's course of entry is fairly straightforward. Noah's presence doesn't make much of a difference to how it would play out; the majority of them throw their rocks and run, Owen gets lasered over the fence and Owen-napped, ect ect.

When both teams have managed to make their way into the Black Box Warehouse, Noah immediately suggests they should prioritise rescuing Owen. Tyler's quick to agree, since he's a firm believer in the "no man left behind" mentality (and he probably makes a not-so-subtle jab towards Noah for his chance of tune compared to London, where both he and Owen did leave Tyler behind) leaving Duncan and Alejandro to split from the group- Duncan in search of Gwen, and Alejandro just takes the opportunity to finally be free from his 'incompetent teammates' and prioritises finding an artifact.

Noah and Tyler come across the contraption Owen's trapped in, Tyler punches it in a futile effort to break it open, and the face hugger cube drops into Noah's hands. This is where the point of divergence comes into play; Tyler has his E.T. moment with one of the face huggers, but Noah- who's a tad bit more observant than Alejandro, and used to dodging surprise attacks from his various older siblings (and Izzy)- anticipates his own face hugger attack and promptly starts a game of cat-and-mouse with a taser alien hot on his heels.

The commotion of which attracts the rest of his team. Alejandro and Duncan arrive on the scene to see Tyler being electrocuted by an alien and Noah running in circles evading another.

Duncan attempts to rip the face hugger from Tyler's face, finding success at the cost of sending Tyler trampling into Owen's captive contraption (essentially taking Alejandro's canonical place in this scene) and inadvertently freeing Owen.

Meanwhile, Alejandro swipes up the nearest box he can find and snags the alien chasing Noah, who's still very loudly panicking as he flees, and succeeds! The alien is swiftly captured into the box, netting team CIRRRRH their artifact, and Noah promptly goes careening into the nearest tower of junk in his face hugger-fuelled hysteria. This causes another box to topple from the peak of the tower, landing directly on Noah's head and spilling its contents onto the bookworm- glass vials filled with a mysterious, luminescent cobalt blue liquid shatter into pieces drenching Noah in whatever they contained. (i.e. truth potion.)

Owen has his false-amnesia moment, characterised by his Joker makeover, and Alejandro enacts his revenge post-hypnotic suggestion after being addressed as "Al" one too many times.

Noah, understandably, swiftly objects to Owen's treatment and demands that Alejandro snap him out of it. Alejandro concedes, and Owen's brought back to himself. At least, for a moment, before the fatigue of having his mind messed with sends Owen into near-catatonia (the same as canon), meaning he has to be ferried through the Warehouse and back to the Jet by Alejandro and Duncan.

Things carry on canonically from there; Noah's just sort of there for the most part, though there'd be a minor hint to his newfound proclivity for honesty. Something along the lines of him giving an uncharacteristically honest answer to Owen as to who he's voting- Tyler, of course, since he was the one who ultimately threw the challenge for them... and also because Tyler still holds some resentment towards Noah for what happened in London, and Noah feels guilty about it every time he looks at the jock. Wait, why did he say that?

Sometime between this and the elimination scene, Noah wipes the truth-goop off of himself, but not before the effects have already started.

Tyler's voted out, yada yada yada.

The Jet:

Thus begins the start of "Picnic at Hanging Dork". Team CIRRRRH, consisting of just Alejandro, Duncan, Owen and Noah, are slumming it up in the Economy Cabin. Alejandro tries to rally his team by asking how to break apart Courtney and Heather's tentative co-operation. Owen suggests having Alejandro seduce Heather, since it worked for both Bridgette and Leshawna. Duncan makes his "Babe Olympics" comment. Noah pipes up that playing with someone's feelings is pretty scummy, even for someone competing for a million dollars.

Alejandro takes Noah's reluctance towards his methodology poorly; he hadn't spoken up before, when Alejandro had utilized the same strategy against other girls- and even Owen noticed that, so surely Noah did too- so why was he to outwardly against him using the same tricks? Duncan agrees, and offers ''his'' idea of having Alejandro flirt with Courtney to throw both her and Heather off their games (since Heather has an obvious crush on Alejandro), and things follow canon.

Then, the scene between Alejandro and Courtney happens. Noah scoffs at the display from the side lines, prompting Owen to ask him why he's so against Alejandro's plan.

"I mean, you never said anything before, when he flirted with Bridgette and Leshawna." Owen comments, light-hearted in nature but with an underlying questioning tone.

Noah's eyes flicker with a cobalt glow, easily mistaken for a trick of the light, and he speaks without even thinking.

"Yeah, because I was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. Bridgette was happenstance, and Leshawna's whole deal could've been a coincidence, or some massive misunderstanding. But this?" Noah extends an accusing hand out towards a smug looking Alejandro, then pans it over to a flattered Courtney, "He's outright toying with Courtney's feelings after she was cheated on in front of an international audience. It's scummy."

Owen nods in understanding, momentary contemplation evident in the pouted curve of his lips, and he chimes in.

"Does that mean you don't like Al?"

"I never said that."

"Well, how do you feel about him, then?"

Again, a flash of blue light against the hickory backdrop of Noah's eyes, and he responds thoughtlessly.

"I guess I have mixed feelings about him. On the one hand, he's slippery, like an eel dipped in grease, swimming in motor oil. He's like if you took all of the worst aspects of Heather, wrapped them up in a pretty package, and gave them social skills..." He holds his hands out before him in a scale-like manner, with the left tipped downwards and tie right raised by his chin. Then, the two hands swap positions.

"And on the other hand, he's brilliant. I've never met anyone as talented as Alejandro; he's smart, he's athletic, he's funny. It's almost unfair just how perfect everything about him is- even his face is perfect. It's ridiculous! Infuriating, even. It's so hard to dislike him, even when I know he's bad news, but that doesn't mean I trust him."

Owen stands slack jawed beside his best friend, both impressed and stunned at the raw honesty of Noah's tirade. Noah, now a little more aware of himself, realises that he's said more than he intended to- more than he thinks he's ever spoken in one go throughout the entirety of Total Drama. He's not usually one for speeches, after all, let alone honest ones.

He's always been the type to play his cards close to his chest, so why...?

"I, uh, didn't mean to go off like that."

And he also didn't mean to admit it, either. What was going on?

The look Owen gives him is, in a word, vivid. The blonde has a shit-eating grin stretching across his face, a sort of elated smugness practically glowing from his features.

"Sounds like someone has a cruuuush!~"

What? No? No! Not at all, where would Owen even get that idea?!

Noah splutters to correct Owen's assumption (to disastrous results, because he does sort-of has a crush on Alejandro, so the truth potion doesn't allow him to outright deny it), and in his preoccupied state he misses how a calculating pair of sage green eyes never seems to stray from him.

Alejandro has a lot to think about in regards to a certain cynic, it seems.

[davids-cartoon-corkboard]

Do you think that if Shredder!Raph will occur in rottmnt, the aftermath might result in Raph inheriting some of Shredder’s rage even after saved? Maybe that is how the crew is going to implement Raph’s trademark temper throughout previous generations and maybe even make him have to step down due to it, making Leo the new leader?

Short answer: “Inheriting the rage of a centuries-old demon" is a dope-ass idea, so if you’re a writer I would definitely encourage you to use that in your own stuff. But I think that if Raph’s temper worsens throughout the show, it should be because of his own character development and not a magical effect. However, a Shredder!Raph scenario could contribute to said worsening temper by inflicting emotional/psychological damage instead. :)

Long answer ahoy!

Looking at “Many Unhappy Returns” from the Shredder’s perspective makes it very clear why he does what he does. Like, he’s been dead for five hundred years, and then something went wrong with his resurrection. He’s waking up with no idea where he is or what’s going on and oh shit those guys are pointing weapons at him, that’s a threat!

Note that he doesn’t even bolt for them immediately, he does a warning stomp and screech (back off!) before starting to approach.

Those other guys are yelling, that’s also a threat,

and they’re closer so he’s gonna attack them first, actually. (None of the Foot wind up even comically injured, suggesting that flailing them around was an intimidation tactic rather than genuine Murderous Intent.)

And then the first group attacks, so of course he’s going to retaliate.

And then suddenly he’s somewhere else, with other threats (the animatronics), and then the first group that attacked him is back, so he’s gonna fight them again.

And these jerks just keep following him? He’s not going to ignore that. And WOW that’s a lot of bright lights and loud noises, which are also threats, what the fuck is going on?!

And then this tiny human girl chucks a giant metal box at him, holy SHIT?! Sure, the Shredder is a dangerous antagonist, but at this point I wouldn’t call him a “bad guy”, he’s literally just responding to what’s happening to him.

In summary, the Shredder was stressed tf out because he didn’t know where he was or what was happening, he retaliated against perceived threats, and quite possibly wouldn’t have attacked the turtles in the first place if they hadn’t just rushed in without understanding the situation.

Gosh, doesn’t that sound familiar?

So yeah, I’m waiting for Rise to give us that good good Shredder!Raph content.

As for the possibility of Leo taking over afterwards... no, but also yes, sort of? On the one hand, we know that Leo does have leadership capabilities, and it would be a waste for the narrative to not explore that. On the other hand, Rise has broken from the status quo in many ways, and it would also be a waste for the show to do a complete 180 and return to Leo Being The Leader™.

Consider how the “leader” role has influenced Leo in past iterations: his perfectionism wears on him and his brothers, any failure tanks his self-esteem, he feels isolated from the rest due to taking on such a large share of responsibility, being an authority figure grinds everyone’s gears, etc. It’s just bad for his mental health.

No doubt all this responsibility will also wear on Rise!Raph as the story progresses and the stakes get higher. It will be bad for him as well. But if Raph steps down, Leo will once again suffer from the weight of this role. So if neither option is quite correct, if neither brother can shoulder the burden of leadership alone, then the solution is just... for neither of them to shoulder the burden of leadership alone. Sure, Raph will probably remain leader in title and in spirit, but Leo taking on a sort of “deputy” role makes sense from a strategic standpoint, and would be good for his character development.

Here’s how I think it could go down:

The Shredder!Raph scenario will be different from the Shredder!Draxum scenario. The Shredder was starved for mystic energy the first time around, so he immediately chewed Draxum up and spit him out. But Raph could be compared more to a battery than a meal; it will take a while for the Shredder to drain him. And at this point the Shredder could be back in “evil samurai” mode, and thus will understand the value of holding Raph hostage.

Y’all who have followed my blog for a bit know about my “Raph is a system” theory; that when he was little, he got separated from his family and pursued by some cryptid hunter. This trauma formed Savage Raph, who is able to handle “being lost/alone/threatened” when Host Raph cannot. “Pizza Puffs” didn’t give us a lot of info about who I’m calling “Red Raph”, but he made his presence known when Host Raph was sort of... "emotionally alone”? In that his brothers were dying a little bit and too stoned to care.

So if Raph is trapped inside a living cage, scared and helpless and hurt and exhausted, his family unable to help him... he’s not going to be able to handle it.

Or, rather, Host Raph isn’t going to be able to handle it.

These two can, though.

I’m imagining a scene in the mindscape where the Shredder says something like “Your pathetic family cannot bear to strike you down, and so there is nothing that can stand in m- wait, why are there three of you OW FUCK-” Red and Savage will mentally kick his ass long enough for the other turtles to rip off a chunk of the armor so Leo can portal it into another dimension or something. Shredder gets K.O.’d since he’s not whole anymore, and the battle is won.

Since the armor didn’t drain Raph as severely as it did Draxum, he won’t become as weak as Draxum did. However, it will still take him some time to recover. Raph trusts Leo in serious moments as of “Many Unhappy Returns”, and he already took charge when Raph wasn’t available back in “Man vs. Sewer”. So Raph will be like, “Hey Leo, can you handle the Mad Dogs for a bit? Just long enough for me to get back on my feet.” And Leo will be like, “Sure bro, I’ve got this.”

He does not, in fact, “got this”. Leo’s ego has caused trouble before (”Shell in a Cell”, “Minotaur Maze”), and being in charge will no doubt go to his head. This has the potential for both comedy and seriousness, leading to wacky mishaps and genuine danger. Being the leader is hard work and it’s not always fun, but someone has to do it and Leo will have to put the others before himself for it to get done. Once Leo realizes this, he could bond with Raph by asking for his advice on leadership. Sometimes Leo will follow the advice and sometimes he won’t, sometimes that will work out and sometimes it won’t, laying the foundation for the idea that there are situations where it will be better for one or the other to lead, rather than having one lead all the time. But that will only happen for a few episodes, because Raph will heal quickly and he’ll be the leader again and everything will be fine!

Everything will not, in fact, be fine. Raph is the strongest in the family, the tank, the one who can take a hit so the smaller ones don’t have to... the idea of being hurt, of being weak, scares him because his family is also in danger if he’s unwell. So I don’t think he’ll acknowledge to anyone, not even himself, that getting possessed hurt him emotionally as well as physically. And when a wound isn’t acknowledged, it doesn’t get tended to, and when a wound isn’t tended to, it gets worse.

That he’s a system will add another layer of complexity to this. The Shredder!Raph incident would make all the alters aware of each other via mindscape shenanigans, but it would also leave them with the fear of not being in control, so I think they’ll come in conflict with each other for a bit. They’ll argue with themselves, switch, and lose time more often, enough that it impedes their ability to function and the other characters start to notice something is wrong.

Host Raph will convince himself that Everything Is Fine and try to get things “back to normal”, which probably means he’s just straight-up not going to acknowledge that he's a system. He’ll rationalize that he’s always “gotten weird” from time to time, so it’s nothing to think too hard about... right?

Savage Raph will be on high alert because they just survived a near-death (a near soul-destroying) experience. He’ll probably take the front and go overboard fighting some villains that Host Raph could have ordinarily fought on his own. It might also take a while to convince Savage Raph that these “sewer monsters” who keep following him around really don’t mean him any harm.

Red Raph will get snappy (pardon the pun) about the more social aspect of “not being in control”; that Host Raph asked Leo to be in charge and then Leo started being an egotistical dumbass. And when Leo does make the right decisions, Donnie and Mikey might side with him over Raph, and that will also grind his gears.

Mix all that together and you have a recipe for a capital b Breakdown.

So yeah, I can definitely see how the Shredder!Raph incident and its aftermath would worsen all three of their tempers, trauma will fuck up your emotions real bad. Perhaps Host Raph loses faith in himself and tries to step down and get Leo to replace him as leader... only for Leo to be like “Bro I cannot do this full time I will one hundred percent have my own Breakdown if that happens.”

The life lessons here are that Leo learns to offer support by sometimes taking the leader role; not to benefit his own ego, but because he wants to help Raph. And Raph learns to accept support by letting Leo be in charge sometimes; not because he’s weak or incapable, but because he can’t always be a Staunch Immovable Rock and he needs to let himself rest by trusting Leo.

And then the Raphs can work on communicating, cooperating, letting their allies know about them, digging into their trauma, etc. now that they have some breathing room.

(Do you think the Hidden City has therapists? Steven Universe and Mao Mao both have therapists can we BLEASE get one for Raph.)

[the-big-nope]

While I’m certainly nowhere near ready for the story of the Mighty Nein to come to an end, I am also a D&D nerd and there’s a new sourcebook coming out soon with a bunch of new subclasses in it. By the time Campaign 3 of Critical Role gets underway, that book will be published, leaving a wealth of new options for the cast members to choose from, so why not entertain myself by making barely justified predictions of what the cast is most likely to pick for their next characters! (Disclaimer: Some of the new subclasses have been confirmed and some haven’t, so for a few of these picks I’m just going off of what I think is going to be in the book).

Travis

Cleric (Tempest Domain): Travis has been playing lowkey EMT since campaign one, and Laura’s already confirmed that Travis almost went cleric for campaign two. Between Grog with his barb-boosted movement speed to get around the battlefield so he could shove healing potions into his squishier teammates, and Fjord multiclassing into paladin and lovingly tapping his friends with single hit points to get them back up, it would be delightful to see him fully jump in and embrace the classical healer role. Of course, this is Travis, so I don’t see him picking a cleric domain that doesn’t allow for at least some whoop-ass, and Tempest Domain brings plenty of it. You get proficiency with all armor and weapons, Divine Strike at level 8 for boosted melee damage, you can use a reaction to inflict lightning or thunder damage against any enemy within melee range that’s hit you. And if you climb up high enough in levels, you gain a flying speed equal to your walking one whenever you’re outdoors. Pretty nifty, and makes for a fitting subclass for a guy that’s voiced Thor on multiple occasions.

Blood Hunter (Order of the Lycan): I mean, come on. The only reason it isn’t number one is that it was already widely assumed this would be Travis’s pick for campaign two, and I wouldn’t put it past him to surprise us again. But still, we saw him get a taste in Liam’s one shot and he was clearly having the time of his life. Besides, we lost Molly far too early to really see the blood hunter’s potential come to life; it would be damn cool to see someone else take a crack at it, and Travis is enough of a D&D gambler to not shy away from the class’s riskier features.

Artificer (Armorer): Speaking of Marvel connections, if Travis doesn’t lean toward fantasy Thor, then fantasy Iron Man might catch his attention instead. Artificer is an official class now, and since it’ll be reprinted in TCoE by the time campaign 3 gets underway, it’ll be a lot more visible as an option. The Armorer sits in almost a perfect middle ground of what Travis has done before: tanky and a frontliner, but also still has spells and tricks to help the party. Plus, you get a badass suit of power armor out of it. What’s not to like?

Marisha

Bard (College of Creation): After Hazel Copperpot, we all saw the pure magic that was Marisha Ray playing a bard. I know she implied that Hazel was supposed to be her campaign two backup character, but I hope this doesn’t discourage her from making another one. There are quite a few bard subclasses, a number of which I could see her being drawn to (Lore, Glamour, maybe even Swords), but I really vibe with the idea of Creation. I can’t exactly say why; maybe the idea of the ‘dancing object’ feature in Marisha’s hands is very funny to me (remember Keyleth’s adorable “Be Our Guest” moment? That, but this time it’s a walking wardrobe beating the shit out of the enemy).

Paladin (Oath of Vengeance/Conquest): As of yet, no one on Critical Role has ever played a paladin from the start, only multiclassed later down the line. I think this would be a cool departure for Marisha. Both campaigns she’s played characters that were either suspicious or at least indifferent to faith and the gods. Paladins are typically associated with deities, but they’re not tied quite so closely to them as clerics are. It would be fascinating to see what she did with it. As for the subclass, I just think Marisha’s earned her turn on the Goth Character Carousel, and while I know Conquest paladin is very unlikely given its moral grayness by default which might cause undue conflict and that Vengeance is a much more likely and acceptable pick, I just think it would be a sexy character choice. 

Wizard (Bladesinger/Graviturgist): This is a much more pie-in-the-sky, wishful thinking pick on my end, but not impossible imo. Marisha has experience with heavy spellcasting already, so she probably wouldn’t shy away from a wizard, but like Travis I suspect she likes a bit of oomph to her characters, and probably wouldn’t play as support heavy as Caleb does. To that end, Bladesingers get a bit more survivability and some modicum of physical prowess alongside their spells, while Graviturgists are definitely on the more aggressive side of the spectrum for wizard subclasses, with unique dunamancy spells to boot. I’m not sure how restrictive Matt would be about Xhorhassian characters in the next campaign if it takes place on another continent, but hey, you never know. Plus, she picked one of Matt’s homebrew subclasses for the current campaign; it would be cute if it happened again.

Liam

Druid (Circle of the Shepherd): At some point before Critical Role comes to end (hopefully far in the future), I know Liam’s gonna play a druid, I can feel it in my bones. He's too big of a Kiki fan not to. However, while Circle of the Moon might feel obvious given the potential for homage and how much he likes turning into animals, I feel like he might regard it as getting too close to old territory (also, I don’t know if Circle of the Moon is like an exclusive thing to the Ashari tribes, and if it is that would be rather restrictive for building a backstory). If that’s the case, Circle of the Shepherd feels like the next best bet. It has some great support options via the totems you can put down, and rather than becoming badass animals, you instead just get really good at summoning a fuck ton of them. It’s like Frumpkin, but ten of him. And they’re bears. (Honorable mention: If Circle of the Moon would feel like treading old territory then I’m certain Circle of Wildfire would too, but I’d bet my dice collection it would at least be tempting). 

Cleric (Unity Domain): Listen. The pure sap potential that would be at Mr. O’Brien’s fingertips with this subclass is incredible. The domain all about strengthening and protecting the bonds between friends and loved ones?? The domain with the Channel Divinity that can spread damage taken by one creature across the party however the cleric chooses to distribute it to lessen the blow to the individual??? The domain that used to be called the Love Domain???? I’m practically gagging on the soft moments and unspoken devotion conveyed through spellcasting already.

Fighter (Rune Knight/Psi Knight): Liam has yet to play a tank in a long-term campaign, and while I’m more enamored with the potential of the above classes, it would be novel to see him play a character with an actually respectable amount of hit points. However, I feel like if he was gonna commit to a straight frontliner, he’d probably want something a little more unique than a Champion or Battle Master (especially since he’s played those already for one-shots). Rune Knight has some fun options and built-in flavor, and with Psi Knight you can basically be a Jedi. Not bad options at all if you ask me.

Taliesin

Warlock (Fiend): Yeah, it might be expected, or Percy might have been too close to warlock anyway to feel like there’s new ground to cover, but hear me out. Both Percy (who, let’s face it, was a warlock multiclass in all but the actual mechanics) and Fjord were the classic reluctants. They got in over their heads without really knowing what was going on, and once they did they wanted out, cutting ties with their patrons and getting clear with only the scars remaining. I want to see Taliesin commit to a warlock in a way I imagine only he could manage to pull off. How fun would that balancing act be, to have a character that has no intentions of breaking their pact, who’s here for the powers, and is willing to work that delicate balancing act between keeping what he’s got and not letting his contract holder get the better of him? Give it to meeeeee.

Sorcerer (Psionic Soul): Psionic Soul has a bit of that eldritch flavor that vibes with Taliesin so much, with the added interest of introducing a brand new feature to 5E, the Psi Die (with this subclass, using them can do things like letting a sorcerer learn a spell they don’t already know for a few hours, allow you to cast spells without needing verbal, somatic, or material components, and can give you telepathy). Taking both Percy and Molly into account, it seems Tal likes to lean into those unique additional mechanics, and while Psi Die aren’t as risk-heavy as Gunslinger or Bloodhunter, they do add a layer of variability and unpredictability that seems to match his style.

Rogue (Swashbuckler): We only got a little bit of time with Molly, and so missed out on the opportunity to see Tal play a more cavalier character this time around. If he feels like leaning away from spells next time and back toward martial, I think a high-charisma, high-swinging swashbuckler from Tal would be a delight to watch.

Laura

Barbarian (Path of the Ancestral Guardian): Laura deserves to hit things, okay? Yes, spellcasting is great and comes in clutch frequently and Jester’s amazing, but you can tell Laura misses doing fat stacks of damage to the enemy in a single round. I personally think it would be amazing to watch her just cut loose and go full rage machine. As for the subclass, I’m not glued to the idea, but Ancestral Guardians are pretty kickass, have decent support capabilities for a barb without detracting from their DPS at all, and it doesn’t tread on any previous characters’ toes or their aesthetics.

Rogue (Scout/Soulknife): Laura deserves to play her favorite class at last, okay? She’s been class poached two campaigns in a row, and though that resulted in both Vex and Jester and I wouldn’t trade them for the world, Laura has earned first pick. Seeing as she already dipped into Assassin as Vex and Sam took Arcane Trickster, I could see Scout being a viable subclass choice. It’s in the classic sneaky vein, relatively simple in concept, but comes with features that grant easy-to-understand benefits that you can never turn your nose up at (boosts to movement, advantage on initiative, giving advantage against a target to everyone else in the party, etc.). If she’s looking for something a bit flashier, Soulknife has the benefit of retroactively dunking on Vax by taking the basic knife-rogue and making it better, with psionic knives that you can manifest with a thought, that can teleport you around Whisper style, and cranking up that stealth to ridiculous levels by just being able to turn invisible for ten minutes, no concentration or spell needed. The psionic die mechanics are a little funky of course, but I don’t imagine it’s any trickier than learning to manage all those cleric spells.

Monk (Way of the Open Hand): Between Beau just being super cool and her brief stint as Farriwen Breeze, monk wouldn’t be a surprising pick from Laura. An Open Hand monk might be the definitive version everyone knows, but you can’t deny it’s a solid subclass, and between previous overlap and the concepts of the other subclasses just not seeming to fit, I could see the classic being what she went with. But hey, it’s Laura Bailey. She could surprise us with Way of the Drunken Master or something.

Sam

Ranger (Monster Slayer): Let’s be real, I don’t think this would be his actual first pick for a Campaign 3 character, but the amount of shit-stirring he could achieve by making a character with the aim of pissing off Laura Bailey specifically would be hilarious (and since Matt isn’t completely opposed to UA and acknowledges that PHB ranger has a lot of issues, I wouldn’t be surprised if they went Revised Ranger this time).

Warlock (Genie): Actual first pick here, Pact of the Genie Warlock is confirmed by now, and the potential of a warlock in the hands of Sam Riegel is pretty vast (for some reason I’m imagining he would go the ‘spoiled sugar baby’ route). The subclass doesn’t matter as much, but the Genie one is nice in that, depending on the type of genie patron you pick, you can get a wide variety of extra spells, you get a container like a classic lamp or lantern that you can bamf into for short rests, and you get a limited Wish ability for your capstone, all features I feel like would especially appeal to Sam.

Barbarian (Path of the Wild Soul): I want to see Sam play a fairy barbarian. ‘Nough said.

Ashley

Fighter (Eldritch/Echo Knight): Ashley really seems to vibe with the crushing power of martial classes (she does love her brutal kill descriptions), so I could see her sticking with it rather than going back to full caster. However, I do see her picking one of the magical subclasses for some variety after Yasha. Eldritch Knight is a classic and reasonably easy to manage, but tbh I’d LOVE for it to be Echo Knight. And think, if my wishful thinking came true, with Ashley picking an Echo Knight and Marisha playing a Graviturgist wizard, they could link up their backstories and be a traveling Kryn battle duo that left their homeland behind to explore the world!

Sorcerer (Draconic): If she does want to go back to full-time casting, Sorcerer doesn’t require near as much bookkeeping as a cleric, druid, or wizard while still having decent variety, and the Draconic subclass is a bit beefier than the other subclasses. Also, it would be the third campaign in a row where Ashley Johnson’s character eventually got wings, soooo...

And tbh I have no idea what a third pick might be for Ashley, so I’m just gonna throw a dart or two at the board and say either College of Whispers Bard or Way of Mercy Monk *Shrug* We can only wait and see!

[forerussake]

A choice of instrument: Lan Xichen’s hidden source of power

Screenshots (from ep. 4) are awful, but the first time I watched CQL I never realized just how much of a show of power Lan Xichen is putting on here. Calmly ripping like 10 other cultivators’ spiritual swords from their hands against their will? He is practically telling them “I could take all of you on at the same time and then some, so don’t you dare try anything in my home.” The passive agressive taunt in his words to Wen Chao soon after further supports his claim. This is a clear warning to everyone in the room and it makes me wonder just how powerful Lan Xichen really is. We know he is one of the most powerful cultivators of this generation, but interestingly enough we don’t get to see a lot of it. We get a clue from the reactions of the others in the room that what he did just now is pretty extraordinary. And moreover that his is a show of power they’re not used to seeing from him. Just look at the faces Jiang Yanli and Jiang Cheng make at eachother and Wei Wuxian’s astonished expression. Now the Yunmeng siblings probably don’t know him that well yet at this point, and might just be surprised at his power in general, but the faces of the other Lan disciples in the back, who have grown up around him and probably know a little better what he can do, tell us that they are not used to Lan Xichen this blatantly flaunting his power. 

And then we get this handy quote (and admiring gaze) from Nie Huaisang, where he refers to the Twin Jades as a unit, but from context it’s clear he is referring specifically to the elder of the two in this instance:

“The Twin Jades of Lan really do deserve their reputation.” The Twin Jades have a reputation for being not just perfect gentlemen, but for being true powerhouses. And it makes me wonder, because clearly everyone else in the room wasn’t expecting Lan Xichen to do what he did. We can infer that even Nie Huaisang, who is the younger brother of Lan Xichen’s closest friend, has never seen him do anything like this. Why is that? Why do both we as the audience and apparently all the other characters in-univerise get to see so little of his true power and abilities?

We get a bit of it in this scene, even more when they’re fighting the Waterborne Abyss, but we never see him let loose the way a lot of other characters get to do. Now this could just be because it’s not in his personality to do so, but I’m not entirely convinced, because the above scene shows that he isn’t above using a little force when he has to. As I mentioned before, in this scene he even goes on to subtly taunt Wen Chao afterwards. As conflict averse as he is, he is perfectly capable of standing his ground (here among his piers it’s easier than later among older sect leaders).

To me, Lan Xichen gives off the vibe of someone who is always holding back. He is constantly reigning himself in. Even when he does use a show of force, it is still calm and collected. This reputation the Twin Jades carry means that everyone knows Lan Xichen is a powerhouse, but I think a part of it too is that no one knows just how powerful he actually is, because he never, ever, lets anyone see all of his cards. 

When he takes out Liebing in this scene the camera cuts to Wen Chao first, as expected, he is after all the main target. But the second reaction we’re shown is Lan Wangji’s:

I like to interpret this expression as one of concern. Lan Wangji is, apart from maybe Lan Qiren, the only person in this room who knows the true extent of his brother’s power. They are after all two sides of the same coin, until Wei Wuxian steps in and takes Lan Xichen’s place. He knows what Lan Xichen can do, he also knows his brother is controlled enough that he won’t go too far, but for a moment he is still concerned. Wangji isn’t just concerned about the situation in general. He specifically looks at his brother this way. What other reason to look at him that way is there than the knowledge of just how much of a destructive force Lan Xichen can be if he wants to?

We as a fandom like to joke a lot that Lan Xichen whips out Liebing to play a tune whenever he feels like the conversation is getting too awkward, but in actuality we don’t see him use his flute that much at all. We see him use it all of five times in the entire show as far as I can remember: in this scene, then in the fight against the Waterborne Abyss, then when they seal the Yin Iron shard in a qiankun pouch, then in his conversation about his parents with Wei Wuxian, and then at Guanyin Temple against Baxia’s spirit. Of these five times, three times he uses it to calm himself or others. Only once does he use the flute in battle, and  even then he appears to be using Liebing to calm the Waterborne Abyss more than in an attempt to destroy it? He doesn’t appear to really use the flute in battle, which is interesting, because Lan Wangji uses his guqin in battle a lot, and we see/know of plenty of other characters who use their instruments in battle. Battle music is very much a thing, and in the first place it appears to be very much a Lan thing. Then why doesn’t Lan Xichen use Liebing in that way more?

It’s not that Liebing isn’t fit to be used as a weapon in battle, it’s not just an instrument of healing. The scene I have been referencing for most of this post shows clearly that in Lan Xichen’s hands Liebing is truly a force to be reckoned with. Imagine him doing what he does in this scene on the battlefield during the Sunshot Campaign. If he were strong enough for it he could disarm a whole army with a few notes and use their own swords against them. Why doesn’t he? What is it about really using his flute in battle, about letting loose and showing his full power, that is just not done?

We see him in compromising situations where using his flute more extensively or at all might’ve helped him. So why doesn’t he?

I think it is for the same reason why Lan Wangji looks at him in concern when he starts playing in this scene, why Nie Huaisang is surprised at his power even though he knows Lan Xichen better than most students there, why he strives to stay composed at all times, why he cultivates (pun intended) this image of tranquility and gentle strength at all times. Maybe it is because he simply isn’t as naturally controlled and composed as his brother. Maybe it is because he wears his heart on his sleeve, because he feels emotions as strongly as Wangji, but has never managed to close himself off the way he’s seen his younger brother do over the years. Maybe the Twin Jades really are two sides of the same coin, alike but different even in this way, because what Lan Wangji naturally lacks in social and communication skills Lan Xichen brings to the table and what Lan Xichen naturally lacks in control Lan Wangji balances out. They complete each other in this way too.

It is, I believe, in the nature of Lan Xichen’s instrument too, which is so much more directly connected to his soul. Lan Wangji can calm his mind and steady his hands and his notes will ring true. I think the Lans favour the guqin so much because it is a very stable instrument. I imagine if you can play it well, showing a calm front and staying controlled is easier because your hands and the strings they touch are the conduit for your energy. With Xichen and his xiao, that isn’t the case. With enough training, controlling your hands is doable even when you’re emotionally compromised. Controlling your breath on the other hand is different, doable perhaps, but even more difficult, because it is like controlling the soul itself, there is no conduit for energy making the music, it is energy that is making the music.

The Lans favour the guqin because it is stable, and tranquil and powerful. In the hands of a skilled musician it is distant, unpersonal, controlled, everything the Lan Clan strives to be. In the hands of a master it is so much more, as Lan Wangji proves. He channels his emotion into the strings and is still controlled, he plays it better than anyone else. He is all controlled power, emotion hidden deep within waiting to be coaxed out by the right hands. So the guqin fits him. Lan Xichen however knowingly chose a different instrument, and I have often wondered why, but now it makes sense. He can play the guqin as well as is expected of him as heir and later leader of the Lan Clan, Jin Guangyao calls him a master at it not just as flattery, but it is simply not his instrument. He chose the xiao. Or it chose him? He chose a less stable, more emotionally affected instrument. He chose the swiftly roiling currents over the deep clear lake; he chose the ever-changing wind over the ever-lasting mountains; he chose emotion tempered by control over control supplemented by emotion. He chose the xiao because it fits him. Because just as surely as Lan Wangji’s personality is reflected in the instrument he plays, so much so that his instrument comes to bear his own name, just so does Lan Xichen’s choice of instrument reflect his personality.

I think the reason we see so little of Lan Xichen unleashing his powers is not because he wants to hold back, but because he has to. Everyone always tells him he looks so much like his father, and it will be ironic when he finally does end up in seclusion like his father, but in reality Lan Xichen is so much more like his mother that some days it hurt his uncle to look at him. And his mother was kind, and intelligent, and caring, but she was also powerful, she was a whirlwind, a summer storm, the roiling rapids in a mountain river, she was everything a Lan is not supposed to be, and he is too, and he can’t be. Because he is the Lan sect heir, then Sect Leader Lan, and he has been conditioned his whole life to be the model disciple. And so he holds back, he restrains himself, shackles himself to the Cloud Recesses’ discipline wall in much the same way Lan Wangji does, telling himself it is control, when it is in fact a prison. 

But nothing can change who he is, who he was born to be, and so he takes up the xiao, perhaps as an act of defiance, perhaps simply as a way to get closer to himself. Lan Qiren doesn’t mind in the end, because he sees how much it helps the elder Jade improve his cultivation, how it helps to centre him in a way the guqin can’t quite seem to do for him. 

Lan Xichen practices control, but he doesn’t live and breathe it in the way his younger brother does. He hides his true powers behind layers upon layers of practiced control, because it makes him into more of a model Lan than he actually is, and it is what is expected of him. He doesn’t use Liebing in battle much because every time he uses his xiao for anything other than soothing and healing, the chaos in his soul jumps out through the cracks in the ice, and he can’t let it, not where anyone can see. 

I like to imagine he does use Liebing in battle during the Sunshot Campaign and we just don’t get to see him do it. During the Sunshot Campaign all brakes are off. When there is a high chance he might not live to see tomorrow’s dawn it doesn’t matter anymore who sees. Lan Wangji goes where the chaos is, Lan Xichen brings the chaos. But afterwards he goes back to hiding that side of him. Not many remember in the turmoil of the years directly after it, and after the Nightless City massacre most people who have ever witnessed that side of him in action are dead anyway. The rest of the world likes to ignore that that side of him exists, because it is truly terrifying to behold. And because half the show is Wei Wuxian’s flashback and Lan Xichen is not that important in it we don’t ever get to see this side of him.

Lan Xichen is one of the most powerful cultivators in the show and we never really get to see it. We could explain this away by saying he either doesn’t get enough screentime for it, or because it would’ve been too much trouble for the CGI department, but what if it is because he simply hides his power. Because he might act and look like the perfect Lan, but he isn’t really. Because his true power doesn’t lie in control supplemented by emotion, like his brother, but in emotion held back by control.

What if, for all Lan Wangji’s deviance from the Lan norm as he grows older, he isn’t actually the most deviant of the Twin Jades. Because Lan Wangji’s defiance is in his acts, but Lan Xichen’s lies in who he is.

Whole his life Lan Xichen works to be the model Lan disciple, then the model Lan Sect Leader, and it works. Everyone knows of his power, but barely anyone knows of its hidden source. He is in many ways an open book, but this is a secret he guards with his life. But no matter how much he keeps his true power to himself, there is evidence of it in everything he does.

The evidence is in his almost obsessive restraint; the evidence is in the reactions of the others around him when he does show a glimpse of his true power, as he does in this scene in episode 4; but the evidence lies first and foremost in something even more present: his choice of instrument.

[rpmemesbyarat]

RP Meme from "Chapter One: Caliah (Lore)" in the Bastet breedbook from "Werewolf: The Apocalypse"

Once there was a cat who dreamed he was a man.

Like the morning mist, she appeared from nowhere, or so it seemed.

The winds have spoken of your dilemma and I have come to show you the way home.

Why do you call me brother?

We are family.

We have different parents but share the same blood.

You need to meet your people

You are my sister

I have no other family. Don’t leave me!

We all have family

What are the dreams of a cat?

Let us welcome each other and speak of hidden things.

If they come in peace, we welcome them.

I’m just a mutt.

Listen up and listen close, ‘cause this isn’t stuff you’ll hear from any old place.

I’ve got friends with friends, if y’know what I mean, and this is good stuff.

They don’t get along, y’know.

A good lorespeaker tells different stories every time, and she makes ‘em as cool as possible.

Sound like anyone we know? Nah! Couldn’t be!

So how do you trade secrets, anyway? After all, isn’t a secret shared a secret lost?

If you don’t play the game, you don’t learn a thing.

Each element of the message becomes a metaphor, and the message becomes a story.

Florid? Hell yeah! But ya gotta admit it’s more graceful — and exposes a hell of a lot less — than blurting out the truth.

You might say, “I heard a story about so-and-so” but you’d never say “I did so-and-so.” If your audience has a clue, they’ll catch on.

Everything’s told in metaphors.

A good obtuse metaphor makes you look imaginative if someone gets it, really stupid otherwise.

Everything is larger than life. People don’t just cry, they “explode in showers like the sea.” Folks don’t just get mad, they “turn into coals that burn through the floor.”

If what you’re saying is important, bigger is better.

Simple? Not if you don’t get the lingo.

A wounded cat can surrender without disgrace.

Not enough to go around.

Hey, don’t let on you know what I told you, huh?

It was a time before life, a longing when the dream of birth was yet to be.

This marked the end of peace and the beginning of struggle.

Such promises are soon broken.

Why does even the skin of my daughter flee from my hands?

Why must I always be alone?

Master, what would you have of us?

Nothing exists for him but annihilation.

Go across the world

Let that which is pure stand whole, but erode that which is impure from within.

He tells many tales, but all of them are lies. He is rage made manifest, and he coils within us all.

There was no want, no war, no anguish, and all living things gave of themselves to help others exist.

Until some cataclysm happened, everything lived in peace and plenty.

Life has ever been a struggle, my brothers and sisters. Life has always meant that some may die for others’ pleasure.

That pleasure may be as necessary as hunger or as frivolous as sport, but it has always been fatal and always will be.

Only through struggle can we progress.

Only through sacrifice can we succeed.

We were born from conflict and we grow through adversity. Our ancestors are predators, great cats and human hunters who rose above their surroundings and mastered them.

We know our place in the Great Order, and it is not passive.

Like the moon, our world waxes and wanes.

Each era glows brightly, then fades into night before rising again as some new age.

As creatures of light, dark and twilight all, we are not moved much by the vagaries of fortune.

Each tribe has its creation story, and they differ in many ways.

I have my own ideas.

We are a breed eternally apart, and we are rare.

Water runs silent, yet crushes with the power of an elephant.

Its depths hold secrets that only the brave can find.

The first of our kind were nearly the last.

Those it caught were devoured.

Let this be your legacy

My tears, shed for you, will boil in your veins.

All people will fear you, and all animals, too.

Begone and tend the flocks that need killing.

I banish you from sight!

They still live on in us, and we carry their curse to this day.

As the humans prospered, they grew quickly out of hand.

It was a bloody, useless time, and we fractured as a people.

Secrets became the only thing to bind us.

It’s hard to forgive these raging bastards.

Very territorial, and I know how that feels.

There are enough horrors in the night already.

Corruption has a million voices; sometimes they drown out the song of the moon and lead us over cliffs.

That song wails from nightclubs, boom boxes and televisions every day.

Stop up your ears, my friend and listen to the wind.

Those secrets led the wolves to our door — literally.

Gods damn the dogs for that!

Their misbegotten crusade killed hundreds of our Kind and Kin.

She mated with serpents, wolves and great cats in an effort to become like them, but gave birth to monsters instead.

Some legends portray her as one of our kind, but we know this isn’t so.

If the tales I’ve heard are any measure, they have no pity for us at all.

We are where we are born.

I think our unique insights show us that humanity is a mixed blessing — especially where the earth and the wild are concerned.

Men are the cleverest monkeys, no doubt, but they don’t have much sense of self-preservation.

Our forebears fought to let humanity prosper.

We have an amazing world at our fingertips, but it’s filled with poisons and lies.

Honor seems to be a fading dream in lands where the rich starve their people and the poor kill each other.

We hold magic within ourselves, within our hearts and minds and spirits. To dishonor ourselves is to disperse that magic and scatter our souls.

It’s acceptable to lie to other creatures; they’re not of our blood and not bound by our laws.

We will flee to survive a fight, but will not run when others depend on our strength.

We must make restitution to those we deceive, in deeds, trade or money.

We may be exiled or branded.

Our weapons are many — secrets, claws, teeth and allies — and we will not hesitate to employ them for our world’s

survival.

Our people have walked too close to extinction for us to take such matters lightly.

We will not ally ourselves with shadow powers or drink corrupted wisdom.

We do not fail our Earth and mother. That path leads to death.

We are the keepers of secrets, and our fates depend on silence.

Each of us bears the hidden doom of our own people, and we know the cost of betraying that trust.

We also know that we have what others want — or what they think they want — and it amuses us to make them squirm.

Our knowledge is our concern.

We will not share it unless we wish to.

We will hide ourselves from outsiders; they will think they know us, but we will delude them.

We will wrap our lore in riddles and tales; let the clever ones puzzle out their meaning.

We will act as if we know even more than we do, for it keeps outsiders guessing.

Let them wonder at our insight; they value us more highly when they do.

We will cover our tracks with misdirection, pretend to be other than what we are, fill the air with idle rumors and hide messages in code.

There is no forgiveness for this crime.

Well, let’s just say I know what I’ve seen. And I’ve seen a lot.

His eyes were so filled with pain that I decided to help out.

I’d swear he was grinning as the semi ran him down.

That felt good.

Guess they’ve gotta live here, too.

I say they’re not as smart as they might think.

Maybe I’m the one who’s being fooled.

I could tell you stories all night, all week, all month and more.

As the temples rose and the hordes crossed through, our parents sat on the sidelines of history and observed the passing of kings.

The cultures we witnessed shaped our own ways.

Cities rose, each with secrets too tempting to ignore.

For a long time — 4,000 years — there was all the room in the world for us, and no lack of secrets to keep us entertained.

We should have seen the signs in the Classical Age, when armies swept across the land in the names of gods, kings and conquerors.

We should have met en masse when trade and crusades brought East and West together.

I will not belabor the point. We know what happened.

Explorers, slavers and great white hunters bounded into the wilderness and cast a chain around our kind.

Suddenly, we went from having all space to having little.

I can’t say I don’t share the sentiment just a bit.

We didn’t stop until a greater evil forced us to align, but that’s another story.

It’s a wonder anyone survived.

We studied their secrets, but could learn nothing from them.

We have no one to blame but ourselves.

For all our vaunted sight, we’re blind. For all our gathered lore, we’re stupid.

The world is falling apart.

I don’t know whether to believe it or not, but we are living in interesting times!

We must pool our secrets, combine our efforts, and bring the world’s secrets to light.

We must act on what we discover and disperse what we learn.

Do I lose my cool?

The modern age is the greatest puzzle we could want endless streams of secrets, enigmas, wonders and dazzles, wrapped up in an explosive package that could blow us all to hell.

Anywhere, at any time, the whole ride could fly off the rails.

Those who ignore the warning feed the vultures the next morning.

I’ll simply say the tigers are not where you’d expect.

People have begun to open their eyes, but they still need your counsel to see the cliff’s edge before falling off

Those stories are true — violently true — and they add up to an appalling picture if you string them all together.

They get an idea, work on it a bit, and try to rule the world. Typical. We’ve seen their kind before.

Look around you if you doubt it.

Surely the secrets you’ve uncovered have given you the idea that maybe, just maybe, something’s going on, something bigger than another plunder, another invasion, another city that falls to ruin in a century.

Discover what you can, but bury your tracks well.

We’re strangers to each other for most of our lives, and we like it that way — a few careful gatherings are all we

can stand.

The moon is our patron, but the shadows are our father too, and they call to us at our weaker moments.

Most of us dance on the edge, though, and that’s where we like to be!

Despite our pains, we’re spirited and wild, inquisitive yet careful, sensual yet refined.

Our beauty is our greatest pride, and our wits are second to none.

We know what we are.

To hell with them all!

Still, we cannot let pride blind us to the facts.

The morning it foretells is up to us.

We must come together, yet retain our pride.

We are the keepers of secrets.

Perhaps it’s time those secrets were revealed.

[eternalstrigoii]

NSFD ABC’s - Borra #2

(To quote a fave: WOAH I died but here’s some sex.)

Borra (Maleficent: Mistress of Evil) x Tundra Dark Fey Reader, Borra x Desert Fey x Tundra Fey Reader (Polyamory Part II(?))

                          A = Aftercare

                                   All of you is limp when he kisses a path across your shoulders.

He’s still joined with you. His hands linger at your hips while your breath comes in sharp, rime-hued puffs into the scattered white of your own shed down. He kisses a slow trail from one side of you to the other, and the heat of his lips on the back of your neck make your eyes flutter. You’ve nearly nodded off this way before – weighted by him and the heaviness of his densely-feathered wings, his heat radiating into your back while you are already exertion-tired and work-tired and maybe a little bit soul-tired, also.

The low purr that rumbles from low in his chest sweeps that tiredness away.

The furs, half-discarded, are pulled up over you both. Not only over your hips, where he could leave them to let your movement-fever cool, but practically over the pile made of your wings and his. You’ve teased him before that he must want to bake you to death, trapping his heat against you like this, but you do not this time; you burrow closer to him as he rub-soothes the cuts his talons left. The handful of dark love-bites on your chest and shoulders throb in time with your pulse.

“Mm,” you press a kiss to his bicep, and then another, more deliberate one on one of the cracks in his skin not far from where your lips first landed. “You spoil me.”

“I do,” he playfully agreed. “But...you’re my snowbird, Nyvi, and I’ll do with you what I please.”

                                                   E = Experience

                                You may tease that it’s not necessary for you to know all of his sexual exploits, but there’s a certain satisfaction with knowing that you do. You’ve known one another for as long as you can remember; you were all friends before you were a sometimes-trio-sometimes-pair. Once upon a time, you were awkward, fumbling, late-stage fledglings not quite old enough to leave the safety of your parents’ nests, though, by then, he and Suren were already out of theirs. By then, they depended largely upon one another, and your mother had concerns about the severity of your involvement with them. (Your mother rightfully believed you should be with someone who would come back to you unscathed – or, better yet, someone who would avoid conflict entirely.)

You knew of their courtship that was not a proper courtship at all, for he had saved her life rather than simply confess his feelings, and she shed blood at his side rather than encourage him to prove himself as skilled a mate as he was a warrior. You knew of their intentions to properly nest, for you had all been friends in your youth and, though you’d known your collective would inevitably fracture off into pairs with time, you did not expect that Borra and Suren would include you in the lead-up to their pairing – if anything, you imagined (wrongly, with a heart full of jealousy) that you were included because Conall preferred to watch their ornate plans collapse from afar.

Suren went home to Selene to have her hair properly braided. She told you about the dress that she, herself, made, though she could hardly look at you when she spoke of it, for she still regarded those necessary skills as passive when she was young. Borra went to the surviving elders of her parents’ tribes and learned the courtship rituals of both; he told you of the dances they would learn together, the way they would name their children.

You told them both of the other’s plans. You meant to sabotage them at best, undercut them at least, not see the spark of girlish joy that glinted in her copper eyes at the lengths he had gone to (or how eagerly he planned for a shared future) or the way Borra’s widened in surprise at the thought of Suren in a dress. (“Really?” he had asked  you, as though it was as serious of an endeavor as a mortal hand-fasting, “She would do that for me?”) You presumed – as you did not tell them that you told the other of said plans, also – that when you were asked to come to the desert separately by them both, it was very likely that they were upset with you.

You didn’t expect that there would be cactus flowers in bloom in every crevice near the cave-nest where you’d been asked to meet them. You never would’ve believed that there would be a roaring bonfire, or that they would both be waiting for you at it with a meal the likes of which you had never seen before – rabbit and fish, apples and berries, papayas, silken sweet cream and roasted hazelnuts, and a woven cask of honey-wine that neither would tell you where they’d stolen it from.

“What is this?” you asked, for their eyes were already rather glazed when you approached and, had their kiss-warmed lips not betrayed them, how high Borra had hitched Suren’s skirt as though you would not know he had been pawing at her thighs before you arrived certainly could’ve.

They exchanged a glance that was far more mischievous than you trusted. You took an involuntary step back when Borra stood, though only he stood. “Courtship, Nyvi.”

Your wings bristled. You drew in a slow breath and held it for a count of several seconds. Had they invited you all that way to rub it in your face, then? Congratulations on responding to change like a child, nothing will ever come between us, not even you?

“We’re courting you, stupid,” Suren replied, ever to-the-point. “Skies above.”

You looked to Borra, for you did not understand and, as far as you knew, he hadn’t visited your elders.

“Your mother knows where you are,” he said, though his voice was stronger than his gaze. You half expected him to scuff at the dust with his heel like he did when he was young. “And of our intentions toward you.”

You blinked. Our. We. You understood just fine, but you were still stunned by the idea that you had not been included as their mutual friend, but as a mutual partner.

“She may have offered to let us move in, if you wanted us to,” Suren replied. Though her tone was half-joking, that sounded like something your mother would’ve done. It made your eyes prick with tears and your unusually heavy heart begin to lift.

“We would never abandon you, Nyvi.” Borra dared step toward you with his hand extended. “We should have made that clear from the start.”

You let him lead you to a place before the fire where you could sit between them. It didn’t seem fair to you, at first, though you were grateful for it – all of this could not be because you were meant to join them.

Perhaps it wasn’t, but your first night together was not spent in the throes of physical euphoria. You drank too much wine and ate too many sweets, though Suren outmatched you when it came to sugar and Borra, when it came to wine. He laughed too much and too hard to properly dance with her before the fire, though he had no problem taking her in his arms to sway. He showered kisses over your hairline when it was your turn to “dance” with him, which inevitably became a series of them pressed to your lips between heart-rending smiles.

You slept together in a pile in their newly-bequeathed nest, for caverns in the sun were rarely abandoned. Borra built the bed within it himself, and the shed-down lining within it smelled only of him.

It did not matter in the slightest. It was big enough to hold the three of you, and your body, between theirs, meant that they did not have to undress beneath the blankets. Though your wings were askew and your hair, dust-golden in spots, Borra’s cheek rested against your shoulder and Suren’s back was to your chest. Your courtship began so wonderfully that you almost believed it could stay that way.

                                                                                         G = Goofy

                                    When your mother is alive, you’re a bright-eyed child, no matter your age. You are young and carefree, though prone to periods of reservation. You are lucky your pack of similarly-aged friends from elsewhere in the nest did not leave you behind – Conall and Borra especially – for those who lived in close proximity to you often did, as they could depend upon one another for amusement.

When your mother dies, the carefree part of you dies with her.

In your memory, the death of your mother and the damage to your left wing are intrinsically linked. They do not occur at the same time, but, emotionally, they are two mortal wounds inflicted in quick succession – she is killed and you are wounded and you are left in an empty home with a head full of snow.

You are not yourself anymore. The nest your parents built is no longer your home, for there is no more laughter in it, no more songs sung, no more braids gently woven when you cannot see behind you well enough to trust the pattern your fingers make. You are quite nearly there when Conall is your company; his patient, temperate fingers seek to soothe your pain away when he combs out your hair with his talons and rubs the dampness from your cheeks with the pads of his fingers.

You are aware of how far you’ve fallen when it’s Borra who remains.

The fury in him is familiar, by then. He hates humanity as a whole for what has been done to you, though it is not for that, exclusively, and you would be a fool to think so. Your injury, and the loss of your mother, are the most recent strikes against a race of creatures responsible for murdering his mother before he would ever carry memories of her, for burning his father to death with the same iron that made piebald scar-patterns of his sides; for killing Suren’s father, and then her mother and her two eldest brothers when she was still so young. You do not know what happened to Conall’s father, though the way you have seen Selene watch over the lot of you from afar implies that it was as abrupt as it was unpleasant, and you are not special in your loss – not in the loss of your loved ones or the loss of your mobility. Everyone bears the mark of human hatred eventually, though, to you, it feels intimate.

In part, because he cares for you more thoroughly than he has ever cared for himself. When he stays (for he, Conall, and Suren remain with you overnight in randomized rotation), you sleep with him fit to your back like a stony shield. You wake to the barely-there caress of his talons through your plumage as though he knows any other form of care-giving beyond the borderline compulsive desire to ensure even most grievous wounds will heal. You consider that he must be tired, waking before you do and sleeping after you do, though you do not keep track of how often you sleep. You do not keep track of whether or not it is truly night when he comes or goes or is replaced. You barely keep track of who is there to hold you, at times, though someone always is.

It takes several weeks for you to be able to lay flat on your back again. Several more, after that, for Borra to rest his head upon your chest when he rests with you.

You pet him absently, one night (or one day) while his weight rested against you. The bed someone made for you was flat, though still raised, and thickly padded with down from all of the beds in your dwelling (as well as a smattering of sand-tan and black-hued brown and dark-sheened black from your beloved guardians). Your battered wing lay fanned beside you, though you did not push those muscles to do what they had once done.

You do not remember why – you supposed it was because you might’ve started to fall asleep again – but Borra sat up against you, and, for some reason or other, you put up your hand to keep his horns from approaching your face. “Be careful with those things.”

He raised a brow at you. You like his brows; they’re fair and rather thin, and you suppose he’s lucky to have them at all, considering the depth and the breadth of some of the crevices that already traced patterns through his skin. You thumbed one of them at the base of his horns as you added, “I could steer you like a bull.”

He scoffs at your accidental pun and bunts with your palm. “You’ll do no such thing.”

“How would you stop me? They’re almost half as big as you are.”

When he withdrew, you did not realize that he intended to headbutt your hands. You sat up on your palms right when he rocked forward, and you whacked skulls with him like children. For a second, it was nearly enough to knock you down; you went to one elbow and rested your hand between your eyes, fully unaware of the surprised laugh that bubbled out of you. “Ow.”

You will remember the look in his eyes until you die, you’re sure; the brightness of his sandstorm eyes were warm with love, and the brush of his thumb across your cheek makes your heart ache. You do not recall if he apologizes, though you’re sure he must’ve, but you remember the tenderness of his lips against yours in the kiss that followed.

It is the first time you believe 'it’ will be alright again. Somehow. Someday. You trust in Borra above all else; he will make it so.

                                                                                                                          K = Kink

                                               You see the glint of mischief in her eyes before she even speaks, and you know you should be concerned, but you’re much too far gone to care. You’ve been sharing one another as patiently as the desert pair allow – you and Borra, Borra and Suren, Suren and you monopolize one another’s attention in bursts before inevitably being distracted by the other – and you’re so close to your release that you can practically taste the frost on your breath. She rides you in tight circles, her cavern-black hair spilling over her sun-loved shoulders, and the molten gold of Borra’s eyes as he watches you with her warms you like a physical heat source.

Your grasp on her hips tightens in warning. You always offer her the opportunity to withdraw or to carry you through your release, whatever she decides. Her half-lidded eyes are liquid amber and her wings flare with pleasure at the sight of you nearly ruddy-cheeked beneath her, as though your pale wings would not flare in display in response.

“Mm, Nyvi…keen to take chances on a fledgling, aren’t you?”

In your periphery, Borra falters. You don’t dare physically turn your head because you know that if you see him – if you see how wanton and stricken he looks, then you will do whatever it is he asks. You love Suren, you do, but she does not have the sway over you that he does. You do not have the sway over her that he does. Borra is the sun at the axis of your shared universe, and so it is only fair that, when her bright and glinting eyes leave your face, it’s because he’s decided to join you.

He cannot get close enough to her, though he tries. She is occupied with you and his hand at her lower back does not guide her or encourage her or change her course, just as her hand leaves your stomach to palm him without teasing him in any satisfying way. He’ll have his turn; the kisses she presses along his jaw promise that he is next for her attention. He is so damnably beautiful that it hurts your heart to see him tip his head back just a bit when her lips press to his pulse, to hear his breath catch when her talons trail over his hot, hard length ever so lightly.

You’ve never heard Borra beg before, but you think Suren could make him. If she wanted to. If you both were not so hopelessly in love with him that you would never let him want for anything, not even when he deserved to be held at the edge. Not even when her eyes flash because she knows you are, and you are not sure if the flutter you feel around you is deliberate, but it still steals the breath from you.

You are so close. You nod, desperately, as you realize you did not answer her and that might be why she’s holding you captive.

“Go on,” she coaxed, “If that’s what you want to do, do it.”

His hips buck into her palm like the encouragement was meant for him.

You want to. You want to because you know how desperately he wants to mate with you both that way, though you know it is not yet something you can hope for – the inevitable war has not yet come, and you have all seen too many fledglings orphaned by slaughter to consider doing the same to one of your own.

You withdraw at the last possible moment to leave a slick and sticky mess between her thighs. Your breath is rough and your hand on her hip stills her against you, and her temple is at his jaw even while she holds your eyes. You are breathless and wrought and so painfully enamored with them both.

                                                                                        L = Location

“If you drop me, I will never forgive you.”

You would be a liar to pretend the wild smile that flickered over Borra’s lips didn’t soften your hesitation. Your long-ago-injured left wing prevented you from taking flight on your own, should your shenanigans take a dangerous turn, yet the look he gave you implied the logistics had been worked out for you already – in one way or another.

“Don’t you trust me?” he teased. He shucked his pants off right there on the ledge as though he was certain no one would pass through this portion of the Nest at this time of night. Nothing could be guaranteed with such a large number of individuals living in close quarters, but you did trust him; you trusted his planning skills at the very least, for he had dodged far more arrows than had clipped him, and none ever struck true.

There’s a first time for everything, you thought, and your cheeks glazed with frost at the thought of someone – knowing your luck, someone you would have to look in the eyes often afterward – happening upon you while in the act.

You drew in a deep breath. Your thoughts scattered like starlings at the sight of his strong, solid thighs. A shallow network of cracks descended from the joint of his hip much as they did from his jaw, and you poorly resisted the impulse to reach out and caress them. His broad wings allowed only a glimpse of his backside, but it was glimpse enough to cause an icy puff of breath to escape you just when his dust-gold eyes raised.

Thank stars, he turned away again and kept his little imp-smile to himself. The last thing you needed was for him to think you condoned this kind of mischief.

“I should make you swear on the Phoenix,” you muttered in a vain effort to save face. You made quick work of your robes, though he removed his armor in pieces, as unhurried as though he stripped for bed. His shoulders flexed, and, at the sight, your fingers faltered on the folds of your clothes.

“I swear on the Phoenix,” he replied, though there was an audible note of amusement in his voice. “I won’t drop you.”

One shoulder of his armor hit the pile his trousers made. The other side’s followed. The leather around his upper arm was second-to-last, and you furrowed your pale brows when you realized he did not intend to unwrap his covered forearm – had he hurt himself while toying with iron?

His predator’s teeth flashed as he tugged you close, his wrapped hand rested at your lower back, “Not unless you frost over.”

You had half a mind to swat his pretty backside with your good wing, though he was not the only one capable of mischief, and if he had such an opposition to frost…

You skimmed your cool fingers over the length of him, from the pliant flesh between his thighs to his straining tip. Your lips pressed to one of the stone-tough places on his shoulder, then to the far softer flesh of his throat. You trailed kisses along the underside of his jaw as your hands enwrapped him, caressed him; you drew a low moan from between his parted lips with the feather-light brush of your thumb.

“Just like that,” he murmured against the leaf of your ear. “Fallen stars…”

“Just like that?” you repeated, falsely innocent. You stroked him with your thumb again where you found success the last time, and it made his hips buck. He strangled back a half-wild sound and curled his talons into his still-wrapped palm to keep them from biting into your skin. “You should let me take care of you, Borra.” The very tips of your talons trailed in your fingers’ wake; he very nearly arched into them, closing what little distance remained. His radiant heat melted the rime along your cheekbones. “Repay your attention to detail as thoroughly as you offer it…”

“Nyvi,” he cautioned. The desire that made you hyperaware of the growing flush in your chilly flesh thrummed in time with your pulse.

“I want you just as badly,” you whispered against his shoulder before you pressed another kiss there. “I need you, Borra. Your arms around me,” though it was not his sculpted bicep that you traced, “your heat against me,” his smoldering eyes half-lowered; you pretended not to notice his stomach quiver with delight as your fingers continued their languid journey, “you, inside me—”

He stepped off of the ledge as easily as he would’ve pulled you toward the bed within his nest. Your wings perked and flattened at the sudden down-draft, canted to keep you aloft as the hummingbird hovers before their flower, though his were considerably larger and better for controlling the steadiness of your shared flight.

No, he would not drop you. You fit between his arms like you were an extension of him, as easily as his slow-advancing heat fit within you. A low moan parted your lips, inviting him to kiss you deeply as your talons skimmed his shoulder, caressed up the back of his neck to settle in the thickest part of his hair.

He moaned against your mouth. He did not want to draw blood with his own, though he could barely resist digging them into your hips. The soft, sweet, ruined sounds you would make as you rut yourself breathless against him nearly drove him to; his covered palm traced your side, forehead resting against yours as you hitched your thighs over his hips and raised yourself from him partway. He fit so well inside of you; the pleasant drag of his size at that angle threatened to make you wild with need.

“Oh, Borra,” you whispered in between soft, lingering kisses. You could not resist kissing him senseless; his lips, his jaw, his throat, the leaf of his ear where he was so sensitive that the ghostly sensation of your sharp teeth made parts of him beyond the muscles of his thighs and stomach twitch. “Yes.”

His breath caught. You had no right to be so beautiful; to go from so shy to so wanton while astride him. A lesser man would let the sight of you rising and falling without need of the support of his arms go straight to his ego; Borra’s eyes burned with a heady combination of desire and love. You were more intent upon ascending to the highest peak you could grant yourself than in being cautious of his, and the light, warning scrape of his talons against the back of your thigh did little to deter you from your focus.

“Snowbird,” his voice was low and rough, borderline warning; you must know what you did for him.

“Do not let me falter, Borra,” you whispered, your eyes half-lidded and head canted backward. Your pale horns set you aglow against the backdrop of cavern-darkness, and he blinked as though you’d left him sun-blind. Your hand on his shoulder, your hand in his hair; the pronunciation of your collarbone invited him to leave a string of dark love-bites that he could not collect himself enough to create. You were pushing him closer and closer to the ledge of his own peak – did you know that? Was that your intention? To get him to cum, hot, inside of you while you moved on him like an apparition from a dream? Did you know that he would get you to your own no matter what you chose – to make him wait for you, or let him come undone?

His grip tightened upon your hip. He would not let you falter, though he made a soft, strangled sound in-between a growl and a muffled whine. His lips sought your throat to stamp that collar of dark bruises into your skin, though, when they parted against your skin, his hot breath left him with a ragged moan.

“Just like that,” you repeated. “You are always so good to me.”

Several choice phrases flickered through his thoughts, exclamations that he dared not make for risk of your supposedly-delicate sensibilities. His talons pricked your skin, threatened to drag thin, stinging cuts over your upper thigh. You were tease enough to move quicker for a moment, and then slow; offer to rut yourself against him as he hoped you would, though you did not. You would’ve had him squirming, had he been beneath you in either of your beds; would’ve had him clutching your hips and grinding into you in hopes of spurring you further along.

“Yes,” you whispered, your lips ghosting over the crack-ridged flesh of his temple, “harder, Borra. I am right where you want me.”

That was no longer the precise truth, though your encouragement was received all the same. He wanted you however you would allow him to have you – clutching you, rutting you with sharp, upwards thrusts; his sharp teeth working over the hollow of your throat while your persistent hips moved with intent.

“Skies,” you whispered, squeezing his hips with your knees. “Are you--?”

He offered little but a low growl in response. He most certainly was, and he believed you fully aware of that. His thrusts grew shallow with their lost rhythm; a second and final bruise was worried into your tender flesh on the opposite side of your throat from the one he’d already made. You were cool and soft and strands of your satin hair had come undone from its high coil and just barely brushed his uncovered fingers. He boosted you against him to feel your thighs tighten at his waist, your arm encircle his neck to press him closer, and you, yourself, lost the ease of your pace. You clung to him, your half-lidded eyes falling to his, and the sound you stifled rather resembled a short, cut-off cry of bliss.

Borra’s hips jerked sharply. He gave you no warning, not that you were far behind; you clung to him like he was your sole tether, like your body would stop moving against his when his warmth mingled with the chill of your skin, as though he did not groan into your shoulder as you cooled his stomach with your own release.

You made a low sound, which meant I will never doubt you again, though you couldn’t quite put the phrase into words.

He knew what it meant. His warm lips brushed your temperate bruises, then pressed to each in turn. Your fingers in his hair soothed the movement-fever in his skin, just as his arms around you chased the worst of the chill from your bareness. You let him lower back to your ledge with your body still in his arms, and practically drop onto the pile of his own clothing with a breathless laugh.

“See?” he leaned his head back against the stone as though you didn’t still have to keep your hand there, lest he angle his horns wrong and knock himself senseless, “I didn’t drop you.”

Your lips quirked. “And I didn’t frost you over.”

                                       O = Oral                                            

Borra does not submit.

Your breath catches at the sight of him, on his knees before you, all the same; his talons brush along your inner thighs as though he does not grip the backs of them to keep you where he wants you. Those wicked lips, which parted to flash his sharp, predator’s teeth when he smiled, trail warmth over the length of you.

You strangle back a curse. Your eyelids flutter, and you blink quickly to refocus them – you do not want to look away. You are not leading, but that does not mean you can’t take the advantage of your position to heart; you wish you could imprint the memory of his falsely-sweet kisses into the fabric of your being – he kisses you softly, slowly, gradually deepening each as he moves from the soft, white down below your waist to where you are most sensitive. His lips part against you, there; his tongue darts out to caress you, and your hips give a little, involuntary thrust.

“Borra,” your voice comes out a bit too high and a bit too whiny, as though he does not already know how well and thoroughly he unravels you.

He makes that low, sensual purr against your tip and your toes curl into the dust of his den’s floor. You can do nothing but breathe heavily and repeat curses to yourself as his tongue encircles you, flattened against your underside. You grip the base of his horns like you are going to climb him if he does not calm down (though you are the one in need of calming down; you are the one whose nerves are coiled like springs).

“Skies, Borra,” you nearly choke on your words. You cannot grip him tightly enough and you do not know if your hands are low enough on his horns for him to feel you do it. They are stupidly tall – if only that correlation didn’t have precedent.

“Mm.” He hums when he doesn’t purr and it accomplishes the same end; your hips jolt again, and you cannot keep quiet the gasp that follows. Your belly quivers like you’ve intentionally been holding it taut, and he brushes his flattened tongue over your tip in a slow drag as it withdraws.

You are molten. Your knees buckle and your lips are parted and your eyes are begging and he loves the sight of you so undone when he feels he has barely started.

Borra will be in control of the pleasure you receive well after you spill, uncharacteristically hot, onto his tongue. It will not be in the same way that he cums inside of you to mark you as his and his alone – he will decide, when you are close, if you are allowed to; under what circumstances you are allowed to. He may break his rhythm to tease you again – guide you right to the edge until you are practically seated in his palms, trembling like a snowshoe hare in his grasp. Would your cheeks rime over if he drew back at the last moment? If he let you paint his chest with your temperate release like you were decorating him for battle rather than let you taste yourself on his tongue when he kissed you afterward? He imagined they would. He imagined the glaze of lust over your eyes, the flush of your lips despite his absence from them. You would beg for him to rut you into the down of his bed, wouldn’t you? Or would you kneel in return without being asked? Would you cling to him as though you could hold him still with the same ease as he did, you when you wrapped your sweet, soft lips around him?

“Borra,” his name in your mouth is so sweet, “please.”

You are his snowbird. He will never leave you without.

That is not to say that he will not test your patience first.

                                                                                        Z = ZZZ

                                    You wish everyone would know the incarnation of Borra that exists when he is asleep beside you.

You are both devoted to your people, without question or hesitation, though in markedly different ways; when you fail to sleep, it is because the catalogue of your mind spins in reminder of all the tasks you have yet to complete, all of the people you must speak to. Borra sleeps as though he anticipates war to arrive on the Nest’s shore before dawn.

It is a terrifying thought to entertain, though you must, for it is not wholly unwarranted. Borra leaves in the night to protect the little moorland creatures who cannot defend themselves; he returns before dawn, attends council when council is called, and sleeps in staccato intervals punctuated by planning and reconnaissance and training. He shoulders the responsibility for you all as though each of your children is his, each of you his partner, his sibling, or his parent. There is no distance in his devotion, no temperance. You would not hesitate to believe he defends you as he makes love to you, though the polar dichotomy of those acts are as severe as yours and his, the tundra and the desert – so alike, but so markedly different.

When he sleeps before you do, you know he is tired, though he must always be. The worry-creases in his brow finally soften; the tension in his jaw finally abates. The weight of him and his densely-feathered wings sits atop you like a slab of stone, though it pleases you immensely to feel him limp instead of rigid – to feel the warmth of his measured, even breaths against your neck.

He needs this more often. Once upon a time, when you were children, you lay against him in a woven hammock strung between a set of tall palms. The rest of the children you ran with did much the same, for you were lazy and careless and did not have any obligation beyond satisfying your lust for sweet fruits and company. You were unburdened, unhindered young people, as true to your natures as nature allowed; you hugged and laughed and teased one another. You laid with Borra and he kept you warm and you kept him cool and the both of you, together, contributed to the jungle’s already stifling humidity.

He kept you warm, in your bed, heaped under hides and furs. You keep him cool in that same sense, especially when you lay with him in his.

If you were selfish, you would allow your fingers to follow the trails of his ornamental cracks from their network at his jaw along the rest of him, but you know that he sleeps lightly.

You drape your wing over his hip as insulation against the cold and you draw yourself close to him. Not flush, for you still wish to watch his face in sleep until the white-out of your thoughts calms, close enough to feel his radiant heat.

You love him. You cannot help him the way you help the others; there is nothing you can do that will relieve him of the reasons he takes responsibility for your collective. You wish you could. Perhaps, one day, he will get his war. Perhaps it will go as well as you both hope it will – then, he would sleep. Then, you would not have to worry about the abysmal quantity of agave flowers that keep him awake in place of rest as though there were not nearly a thousand other fey who had trained for combat with invaders.

As though you, yourself, would not defend him as he did, you. 

                                                                           ________________

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[recurring-polynya]

🔆 — obviously they end up married and procreating, but in your headcanon, do you see them expanding their family? Having more kids? Being content with just Ichika? She seems like 2 kids in one kids body. Where do you see the Abarai family in the future?

🔆 do they see themselves together for the long run ? like , getting married , starting a family , and all that jazz ?

So, when I first found out the timing on Ichika, I was honestly pretty upset about it. Part of it is that I think it’s nice for people to be married for a while without kids. We don’t know when Rukia and Renji actually started seeing each other romantically, but my personal preference is that it happened late, possibly during or after the TYBWA. We do know from WDKALY that they had a pretty short engagement, and then conceived Ichika almost immediately following the wedding. It’s kinda depressing to me that they would have this huge separation, followed by two years of slow burn, followed by six months of dating -> engaged -> married and then BAM preggo. Dang.

Secondly, even though she’s been a lieutenant for a year, tops, Rukia is now acting captain of a squad that has just taken enormous losses, one of her top officers has just transferred to Squad 4, and the Soul Society is in ruins. This seems like... a terrible time to have a baby?

On top of all this, Rukia has never struck me as a person who has always dreamed of being a mom or would be particularly delighted to find herself pregnant. I’m not saying she wouldn’t want to be a mom, or that she wouldn’t be a good one (I am not a particularly maternal mom, and to be honest, I think we could use some better representation). I think Renji would both like to be a dad and would be an excellent and intuitive dad, but he loves Rukia for who she is. He would accept not having kids before he would try to talk her into doing something she didn’t want to.

I am a compulsive fix-it person, but within the confines of canon, so I spent a lot of time trying to make sense of all this. In my ongoing, low-burn, canon-spanning fanfic epic, I tried to put in a few earlier scenes where Rukia interacts with some Kuchiki family members who have babies, and starts to feel some stirrings that having babies doesn’t mean quitting your job and your personality. She’s always valued her independence, but she’s also been alone for a really long time, and at the same time she is trying to adjust to the idea of maybe she would like to have a romantic partner, she’s learning the trials and tribulations of having a sibling, and she’s really re-examining her entire concept of family.

I have never been particularly fond, either, of the idea that Ichika is somehow the Kuchiki heir (and I don’t think she is, especially since she has Renji’s name, but we really don’t know for sure and it’s a common enough idea in fanfic), because the entire Kuchiki family is kind of a drag and also they are problematic billionaires and I don’t like Rukia and Renji just blindly assimilating into that. As a compromise, I came up with the idea that maybe Byakuya named Rukia and Renji a branch family to the Kuchiki (his favorite branch family, don’t tell anyone), so they’re part of the family, but pretty far off from the actual succession and they have a lot of freedom to Start Shit and make the other nobles clutch their pearls constantly.

Bringing it all together, I can finally start to make some sense of this. Rukia and Renji get married with the sense that they would like a family, plus they are somewhat obligated to generate an Heir. It’s shitty timing for sure, but the timing is only going to get shittier. I have heard of women who get PhDs and have babies in grad school. On one hand, this is an absolutely bananas thing to do. On the other, if you know that’s what you want, it is entirely rational, because at least most grad students have a flexible schedule and it’s better than having toddlers when you’re trying to get tenure. If you can manage it, this is actually a really effective way to manage a scientific career. So, in other words, they had their (1) baby, and then Rukia got down to brass tacks, training her bankai and getting her squad in shape. I can definitely see Renji in a primary caregiver role (I think they have a nanny, but he scales back at work and takes care of a lot of stuff), and that also partially explains why he’s still a vice-captain. (If any of this is compelling to you, I did write a short story about it once)

Now, I am actually going to get to your question and the answer is: it depends on what happens in a theoretical continuation of Bleach.

Rukia has just been officially been named a captain in the Bleach epilogue. I think that if things continue to be peaceful, and she settles into her role, after a few years, I could definitely see them sitting down at dinner and saying “you wanna have a big family?” Maybe two or even three more. Ichika is practically an adult at this point, but given the longevity of souls in Soul Society, I feel like it’s not uncommon for kids to have even multiple decades between them. I don’t think she would have any bitter feelings about this, she has always appreciated as being an integrated part of their lives, even when it got a little hectic and also she really loves her baby sibs.

On the other hand, if there’s another big war or an extended period of low-level conflict, I don’t think they would have any regrets if Ichika turned out to be an only child. Rukia and Renji have had a tremendous number of awful things happen to them in their life, and I think they have a tendency to focus on what they have instead of what they don’t.

The primary thing that I think would put a crimp in further kid plans is if Renji had to take a captaincy. I don’t think Renji particularly wants to be a captain, although he would be an excellent one. The way the setup of captains is after the timeskip, I cannot imagine anyone retiring, so I can’t see this happening in the peaceful scenario. I have no idea whose place he would even take. In fact, even if some captains got killed in some future conflict, I would think that by that point, Kira or Hinamori, for example, would be more likely to step up and take over their squads than to bring in Renji. Renji certainly wouldn’t take 1, 2, 4, 12 or 13, and they already blew the storyline where Byakuya dies and he takes 6. I suppose he could take one of the other squads if they lost both captain and vice-captain. Renji becoming the new Kenpachi is the spiciest possible take and I would read the shit out of that.

The actually family development I would like to see would be for Byakuya to get married, dude it is your job. Are you guys ready for my dream Byakuya love story that I will never, ever write because I do not ship him with any existing characters and I would die if I had to tag something Byakuya x OC? TOO BAD, here it is anyway: I think Byakuya doesn’t think he could ever fall in love again, and up until the main Bleach storyline, the idea of being remarrying is abhorrent to him. After a few years of being an ancillary part of the Abarai family, though, I think he could finally bring himself to find some suitably noble wife to Bear Him an Heir. In Byakuya fashion, I imagine he would dig through a bunch of genealogy records and find some woman who is the dead end of some old lineage of Great Soul Society Generals or some shit and out-of-the-blue proposes to her. This woman is the Spinster to End All Spinsters. She is like, 400 years older than him. She is not conventionally attractive and wears a lot of sweaters she knits herself. She has a lot of special interests, including carnivorous plants, and is extremely hardcore about her hobbies. She is the Sybil fucking Ramkin of Soul Society. Her spiritual energy is bonkers. She and Byakuya do not get along at all, but that’s okay because they have big plans to ignore one another (aside from procreational intercourse). Rukia is losing her mind. Renji is trying to smooth things over. Nothing is smoothed. Hitsugaya rather likes her and keeps trying to give Byakuya pep talks. Finally, like, Byakuya’s prize orchid almost dies and she saves it and Byakuya goes full heart eyes for her, and he has to be romantic at her. He wears an ill-fitting sweater she makes.

So, to sum up: Rukia and Renji get married, have Ichika. Byakuya gets remarried, makes an heir or three. Twenty to thirty years later, Renji quits to go be the stay-at-home soccer dad he’s always wanted to be. Byakuya Jr. becomes Vice-Captain at the Sixth (or possibly Ichika? That would be fine, too). Rukia eventually becomes head captain. When the younger batch of Abarai kids get old enough, someone convinces Renji to run for office and he becomes the Leslie Knope of the Central 46. Bam. The best timeline.

[frangipanidownunder]

Season 4. Mulder surprises Scully by attending a medical conference where she is a speaker and convinces her to have dinner with him.

Set post-Pilot. Sorry anon, season 1 called me.

She’s tiny behind the lectern and the mic is too high so she has to tilt her head upwards to speak. Her hair is shorter than it had been in Bellefleur and she looks a little older. Although not by much. She takes a deep breath in and when she exhales static fills the auditorium. He feels her blush like radiant heat and she finally pulls the microphone down to a better spot.

“Sorry,” she says and there’s a collective murmur around the auditorium. The man next to him brushes something from his knee in jerky impatient swipes and sighs theatrically. Mulder closes his eyes, willing her to take a sip of water and reset. Sighing man stands to leave. Impatient loser, Mulder thinks and gives him the evil eye as he snakes through the rows of chairs, deliberately noisily.

Scully puts her papers down and speaks. “Sorry, to see you go, Professor Tipping. I was hoping you would stick around.” She looks over her glasses at the man, who is now standing to one side. His expression is caught between irritation and pride. Scully continues, “If only to challenge my findings…”

The bubble of laughter wells in his chest and Mulder lets it out, loud and proud. Tipping spins on his heels and leaves. The rest of her presentation is faultless, leads to fierce debate that Mulder has difficulty following, but when he stands, he is convinced that Dr Scully should return to her roots and leave alien-chasing to sad spooks in basement offices.

 ***

There’s a small crowd around her and she’s nodding and listening and being incredibly polite as men argue over fine points. She rebuts all of them, civilly. He only approaches when the others have dispersed.

“Dr Scully, your courteous performance here can only lead me to believe that some strange substance in the Oregon air caused the level of both your scepticism and your eyebrows to rise.”

“Mulder.” A small chuff escapes her lips, a flush colours her cheeks. “What are you doing here? No more alien craft to hunt down? Exsanguinated animals to investigate?”

“You know, Scully, my life is a little more rounded than you choose to believe.”

“So rounded that you would waste an hour of your life listening to me lecture to a room of over-opinionated medical professionals? Did you not pay your Triple X bill on time this month, Mulder?”

Oof, low blow. He chuckles graciously and watches her blush. She still isn’t certain of where the line lies.

“Professor Tipping missed out big time,” he says. She nods, softening her defensive stance. “You were great up there, Scully.” She doesn’t flinch away from his hand on her shoulder but when a woman walks past, she flicks her gaze at his hold and he pulls his arm back.

“Thank you, Agent Mulder.”

“Can I take you dinner?”

“It’s four o’clock in the afternoon.” She tucks her papers under her arm and gives him the double-eyebrows.

“And I bet you haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Her nostrils flare slightly in concession. She smiles at couple walking past. “Was it that obvious?” Her voice is as low as her gaze.

Dipping his head towards hers, but keeping propriety in mind, he says, “Not to anybody else, but there was a vague tremble in your hands, perhaps a slightly elevated voice.” After only one case, he’s already sized her up and got her pegged.

“I sounded like a little girl, didn’t I?” Her pitch rises and he puts his hand on her back, turning her around towards the elevators.

“No, no. You sounded like someone who’s deeply considered, extremely intelligent, willing to share her expertise…”

“But?”

The bell dings and the doors wheeze open. “But…you also sounded like someone who needed to celebrate the small victory of delivering a stellar lecture with a delicious meal in easy-going company.”

She rolls her eyes but gives him a smile. He’s earned it, he thinks.

Leaning against the side of the elevator, she lets out a long sigh. “I suppose I could use something to eat.”

“Well, gee, Scully, don’t sound so enthusiastic.”

“Sorry, I…”

That line is obviously still unclear. “I’m teasing you,” he says. “If you’re not up to it, I’ll understand.”

But she straightens up, rolls her shoulders back, cricks her neck, looks up at him. “Have you ever eaten the half-smokes at Ben’s?”

The photo on the menu shows a fat hotdog split and filled with melted cheese, chili sauce and caramelised onions. He can’t imagine her putting away that much food, but she’s grinning like she’s done it a hundred times. Maybe there’s more to Dana Scully than he’d anticipated. A thrill shoots through him. He loves a challenge.

“Extra spicy,” she says to the waiter, “and a side of chili cheese fries too. What?” The way she looks at him, like she’s been caught with her spoon in the ice cream carton, is so far removed from the woman on the stage an hour before. “I’m hungry.”

“Now she admits she’s hungry,” he says, twisting a tube of salt between his fingers. “How much is it going to cost me to to feed that huge brain of yours.”

“Oh, I’m a cheap date, Mulder.”

Oh. Ohh. She blushes so violently that he almost holds his hands in front of her face to warm them. The food arrives and saves her. Saves them both. This isn’t a date, per se, is it? He shakes the salt over his fries.

“Why did you come here, Mulder?”

He honestly can’t say. Since that case in Oregon, since she bared her body and listened to him bare his soul, he hasn’t been able to shift his thoughts from her. Intriguing, private, guarded yet endearingly honest, Dana Scully is a conundrum and he’s conflicted. She’s a mystery worth pursuing.

“I was just passing by,” he says and takes a bite of his half-smoke so big she can’t ask him anything else for at least five minutes.

 ***

He walks her to her car. She thanks him again for the meal. All politeness and a wider space between them. He feels her reeling herself back in.

“But maybe next time we should stick to a more professional arrangement. A less social setting.”

He nods. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

Her car pulls away.

Later, when he finds the file under the basement office door, he grins to himself. He dials her number. Leaves a message.

[nixnjix]

The sun began its descent over the mountain peaks, signaling the arrival of evening for the people of the Crystarium. A blessing the First took for granted now, the looming threat of the Lightwardens no longer present. Its denizens began to take to the streets, eager to bask in the gentle glow of torchlight or to take a garner at the long forgotten starlight dancing in the twilight sky.

Either the illumination was a welcome luxury to enjoy in this waking moment of reprieve. 

It was still surreal for the people of the Norvrandt. The Warrior of Darkness bringing up to arms to bring the evening once more. Yet since the final day of the infernal light engulfing the sky, he hadn't been seen. 

For days, the Warrior of Darkness hadn't shown his face to the citizens of the Crystarium. There was a hint of worry that brought edge to the otherwise good spirits.

Was he okay? Was he otherwise unharmed? 

Only those there for the final battle knew the events that had occurred.

How the light nearly erupted through the body of their beloved warrior, nearly falling him to become the next warden.

Siha'li hadn't come out unscathed but he was still whole. And he watched the people from the balcony of his suite with a seldom gaze. 

He still yet fiddled with the bandage round tightly around his throat. The most damaged part of his body when the other parts of his body seemed to have healed. It pained him to stare in the mirror every waking dawn to see the fractures along his skin at the base of his throat. The wound spread like shattered glass until it stopped beneath his chin.

He was grateful to recover some of his voice, compared to only a fraction of it before. Yet too gravely for his taste but functional. 

He desired the solitude, peace from the conflict. The Scions gave what little time still left to him but still he knew his work was a far cry from being done. While one catastrophe was prevented here, there was still another close to erupting.

He raked a hand through his hair, shifting his gaze to the mountain range ascending towards the sky. 

He was still captured by the majestic beauty of the First. There were still regions left untouched. The adventurer in him ached, hungered to explore. 

But he was in no condition to do… much of anything. Even with his body intact, his muscles ached.

The sound of knocking nearly caused him to jump out of his skin. He hastily closed the shutters, shutting away the outside world, clumsily causing the windows to shake.

"Who is it?" A look of distaste. His voice sounded positively like gravel. He cleared his voice, praying it would help as he approached the door.

"It is me." 

A thousand scenes flashed before his eyes at the hushed voice. He had to close them at the sudden rush of them all. 

A soothing voice to his ears. Always calm, a voice of reason. A secretive smile hidden beneath the shroud of a decoded cowl. 

The explosive sound of gunfire followed by the distasteful scent of gunpowder. 

He leaned his head against the door, rubbing against it. The coolness of the wood helped assuage the headache piercing his skull. 

"G'raha…" 

"Hush, friend." He swore he could even picture him placing a finger to his lips. "How are you?"

He was still wrapping his head around it. All this time the Crystal Exarch was G'raha. Still somewhere he knew.

He had watched G'raha seal himself within the Crystal Tower. There was no other person within it.

"As if someone is bashing my skull," came Siha's dry reply. 

"I came to check on you… Is everything alright?" 

Siha paused. Like hell it was. "Just fine." 

A wealth pause followed after. Then the sound of the knob moving. Surprised, Siha let up, allowing it to move just a peek.

The concerned gaze of the Crystal Exarch met his own. There was just so much to process staring at the Miqo'te. Even with cowl shrouding his face, he knew who the Seeker was.

Still alive and well, no longer at death's door when he had finally found him. 

"I know all too well with those words everything is not as fine as you say it is."

Siha's ears flattened against his skull. "Just like you. When you dragged me along with the plan of sacrificing yourself saying you were just fine," he hissed.

He saw him flinch, pulling away. It was then he managed to catch a glimpse of something hanging from his arm. 

"But I see you come bearing gifts." Taking a cautious whiff, he knew it was something savory, his tail wagging despite himself. "Come in." Pulling away, he allowed the Miqo'te entry while sauntered towards the lengthy table. 

When the door quietly shut, Siha'li said bitterly, "Should I call you Exarch from now on?" 

The Exarch paused. He was in the act of pulling down his cowl when Siha caught a glimpse of hurt before he hastily hidden it. 

"Behind closed doors, you may call me either or." Siha'li distinctly heard the unspoken words. He knew which one he desired more. 

"G'raha then." He allowed the name to roll off in his native accent, a heavy accent and purr accompanying it. He earned himself a look of surprise. Seeing the Exarch acting out of his usual calm composure was a delight to see and Siha'li was… eager to see how much he could push the Miqo'te outside his element. 

Coughing into his hand, G'raha placed the basket upon the table. "You seemed to be eating less so I took it upon myself to give you some substance." A curious glance from Siha. Sandwiches. 

"Spying on me?"

"No no. Not at all. But we all have our own way of retrieving information. The people have noticed you less and less… and it has come to my attention you have appeared more than haggard whenever they have seen you.

"Course they whisper in your ear." 

"They have good intentions. In this, they have merit." Pulling out a chair to sit for himself, G'raha gave him a stern look. "You need to recover, friend." 

Siha nearly bristled at the term. "Would a friend use me for their own gains?" He spat. "Just like those damn Scions," he snarled. His anger boiled beyond the seams. "You used me and you thought the only damn way of fixing it was to sacrifice yourself!?" 

G'raha's expression closed off, a bitter smile spreading on his lips. "I put much thought into atoning for my transgression against you. To say using you to justify the means of the end would-"

Siha'li slammed his palms on the table. His tail bristled, the sound of the silverware clattering bought a deafening silence between them. Yet the Exarch maintained his bittersweet expression which only angered Siha even more. "Sacrifice has no meaning. I would have dove into the afterlife itself and brought your damn soul back kicking and screaming just to beat you senseless." 

"A rather crude method." A nervous chuckle escaped from the Seeker.

"I own you." A startled look from G'raha as Siha pointed a claw. "I saved your life and solved your problems for you. In this you have no say. But I grow weary of this topic." It was a difficult one to maintain. It was still too fresh, too raw for the Miqo'te while he still bared physical wear. 

"Ownership…" 

Siha grunted, found himself moving. His legs gave out on him, collapsing face first into sheets and warmth. "I didn't save your life for you to throw it away." He grumbled, words muffled by a pillow. "You have to draw the line somewhere. Your life has value to someone. To your people who gave shelter to. Don't make the same mistake I did." 

Another length of silence then movement. He felt the bed shift, the weight of G'raha sitting next to him. "The same mistake?" 

"I don't want to talk about it. Maybe some other day." It still stung. He learned a valuable lesson that day and it cost him a long forged friendship through his reckless actions. 

G'raha stared down the Warrior, face burrowed into the pillow. His body remained tense; not once had he relaxed since he had set foot into the suite. Was he still in pain? Did he felt the threat ever looming over his shoulder? He himself was still in disbelief. 

The light was purged and he retained his life. He never thought of an outcome where he would emerge from this ordeal alive, in one piece. Yet Siha'li managed to do it and he was eternally in his debt.  

"Is your vision still enveloped by the light?" 

"No. That stopped a few days ago." 

It was painful to imagine, seeing the world forever kissed by the radiant light. 

"You are recovering. That is an improvement."

"But your chatter isn't helping me." 

G'raha straightened up. "If you wish me to leave-" He felt a weight on his lap, wrap around his waist.

Siha's tail. 

"Stay with me. I would rather not be alone." 

G'raha felt his heart contracted at the raw pain in his voice. He hesitated. Then he placed a hand upon Siha's head, caressing his hair. "I could hardly leave you like this."

[darkpoisonouslove]

GriffinxCodatorta (I've seen fanart of them before and got curious on your opinions) FaragondaxSaladin GriffinxValtor (even though I'm sure I know) (:

1. Griffin x Codatorta - ????? I have seen that as an idea, too but just… ????? That’s my brain’s reaction. XD I just don’t know how to react to it. Now a big part of that might be because [SPOILERS] Griffin x Valtor is my OTP. But I ship Griffin well enough with other characters so… I guess it’s not that. I wish we knew more about Codatorta so I could make up my mind. But I guess I’ll just have to work with no info at all… again… always! Anyway…

So from what we’ve seen (which is nothing, but I digress) Codatorta doesn’t seem to have a problem with dark magic which I feel is an important thing to consider. Although there was that sort of argument in the first season in the 4kids dub where he might have leaned towards the idea that Griffin knew the Trix were descendants of the Ancestral Witches and let them into Cloud Tower even despite the fact that that was forbidden. … Aaaaand shit, now I’m getting a story idea instead of analyzing.

Okay, real quick (it won’t be) going on a tangent here. That could be a starting point for a relationship between them. He realizes his mistake of even thinking that when he sees how much the whole thing with the Trix affected her and how guilty she felt and he goes out of his way to apologize to her. He says that his opinion got influenced by all those horrible things the Council is trying to blame on her (I’m going off of strictly what you told me about that because I still haven’t read the comics myself) and he’s sorry. And he wants to get to know her better since they’re colleagues and he doesn’t want to make the mistake of misjudging her again. And one thing leads to another and boom, you have a relationship! (Well, that wasn’t so long)

Back to analyzing. Again, we don’t know much about Codatorta and from what I’ve seen the writers couldn’t make up their mind about him either. On the one hand, you have that time when he defeated Saladin at that board game (and Saladin is supposed to be the “wise” one though I feel like the writers kinda forgot that at times, too, but I’m rambling again). And on the other, you have the fight against Kerborg where he was being obstinate and ridiculous by insisting he could handle Kerborg on his own when that obviously wasn’t the case. So I don’t know what to think about it tbh. I feel like he could be a good partner for her to play chess with and maybe someone she can discuss strategies with (though I feel like Faragonda is better suited for that) but we should probably leave it at that.

This got so out of control that it requires a cut. Join me below for even more thoughts:

2. Faragonda and Saladin - you managed to give me the two ships that I’m completely clueless as to how I feel about! XD Guess we’ll figure that out together! Bettter strap in cause it’s story time!

So I was completely shooketh when I read (on Wiki) that Saladin dated both Griffin and Faragonda. And that doesn’t make any sense because I knew that. And I remembered it (not like with Daphne’s existence which I had completely forgotten about tbh). But just… ?!?!?!?!?! My only reaction to that info is… I can’t unsee it. And I know I had an idea about that a few years back but it went down the drain since I wrote down exactly five sentences about it and everything else just got away from me. Which I’m totally okay with btw because it made no sense at all and my portrayal of Faragonda was… inaccurate to say the least (meaning terrible and completely OOC). Spoilers, he ended up with Griffin in that idea but now I’m just ????????? How? What do you mean? That he dated them both?!?!? WHAT?!?!?! So my brain can’t really comprehend that. Like, at all. So bear that in mind for the rest of this.

Now I feel like the different dubs disagree on what exactly happened (whether he was two-timing them or not) and I’m going with what I feel happened. I can’t really see him two-timing them so I think he first dated one (Griffin) and then the other (Faragonda)… which is still so weird considering the relationship they have in the present but whatever. Now I have some headcanons about what exactly happened there but it comes up in one of my fics and so I’m not going to spoil it.

Anyway, on the topic of the ship itself *sigh* I’m still not any closer to figuring out how I feel about it. I feel like they’re good just being friends and WHY DID THE WRITERS HAVE TO BRING THAT UP?! You know, I don’t really see it. (That whole block of text for me to reach that conclusion. Amazing!)

I feel like Saladin isn’t characterized at all for me to be able to draw conclusions about his relationships with anyone really. I have to make up an entire personality for him in order to get invested in his relationships with other characters. And I feel like that’s exactly the problem when it comes to why I’m so detached from him. Like, Griffin and Faragonda have a history together, they have banter and they play off of each other. And even if we didn’t see a lot of their dynamic, we still saw enough in order to be able to draw conclusions about it. We saw them actually react to one another and express opinions about each other and even do convergence (which, I have to admit, is one of my favorite things on the show as it speaks volumes about their friendship). And Saladin is sort of the third wheel in that friendship. There was some mild involvement on his part in season 1 where he apparently acted as a buffer between the two since they weren’t speaking to each other but even then it was just too little to actually tell you anything about his relationship with either one of them. I, personally, like to imagine that he is protective of both of them and cares equally about them and tried to subtly nudge them towards each other (hence why he’d seated them together at that celebration) so that they would finally make up (whatever happened between them because nobody tells you shit about that). Please excuse my rambling but I just had feelings about this so I hope you’ll indulge me on this one and overlook the fact that I veered completely off-topic.

3. Griffin x Valtor - now we’re talking! YES! That’s my ship! It’s my OTP! I will go down with it!

Just like you said, there’s a lot of story there and also a lot of conflict and those are my two favorite things to work with when it comes to writing relationships. So how deep do you want me to go because I’m prepared to take a dive! XD Let’s just start and I’ll stop when I get tired of typing.

So I have a lot of feelings about this so what should we start with? Let’s go with magic because I feel like that was the beginning for them.

They were obviously brought together by magic since they were partners first in that but while the show stops there, I have no such intentions. Since they were partners, I am guessing they did convergence (and it was suggested by the show the way they were drawn in that flashback in 3x10), but not only that. I think they went deeper than that to the point where their magic was so entangled that they had to relearn to do magic on their own after their separation. And that kind of bond can only be accomplished with great trust between them which already resonates in how devastating the fallout was. I feel like Valtor felt betrayed on all levels because she didn’t only leave him as a partner whose magic she knew as well as her own but as a lover whose soul she knew as well as her own. And that means rejection. She saw his darkest parts and left him because of that. And Valtor is totally not one to deal well with rejection. But I feel like the arrogance and anger only cover up how much she actually hurt him. Add on top of that Griffin fighting against him and possibly doing convergence with Faragonda and he’s ready to murder them both out of pure rage and jealousy. Why should Faragonda accept Griffin’s darkness, the darkness he knows is there since he’s seen her soul when Griffin didn’t accept his?

I feel like this also plays in his other insecurities. He was created by the Ancestral Witches to be a monster. He was never given the chance to be anything else. He was supposed to be the most powerful monster that would bring his mothers victory. And when it looked like someone was finally willing to give him the chance to be something else, to love and to be loved, she took back the hand she offered him, confirming that he was a demon undeserving of love and that only pushed him further into the mindset of gaining power and causing destruction. If it is a monster she can’t handle, then a monster he’ll give her.

And then we have Griffin’s PoV on things which is where it gets even more complicated. The choices in that relationship were only hers. Valtor had made his choices a long time ago. He only wanted power and her (which might seem like two things, but the way things were, it was really one thing with two faces. His power drew Griffin to him and she helped him gain more power so the two were inseparable in his mind). I don’t really know where I’m going with this so, please, bear with me! XD I feel like there was this judgment from Griffin towards herself because she was the one to find fault in their relationship. Valtor had settled for what they had, he wanted her which is more than she could have hoped for knowing him. Yet, she is the one that sees an issue, she is the one that is sinking their ship (I couldn’t resist!). And so there’s that additional guilt that she can’t shake off because she was forced to make the hard call. She feels bad enough for betraying him but she knows that was necessary. The universe wouldn’t have survived otherwise. But there was also the guilt of betraying her own heart and, going even further back, of allowing herself to fall in love with him. And yet, she can’t make herself regret that or stop loving him which just brings about more guilt and it’s a never-ending vicious circle. And Faragonda’s understanding and acceptance really doesn’t help (it does help knowing she has support but it only makes her feel worse for choosing to go against him. She abandoned him. How can she accept unconditional support when she wasn’t ready to give it?)

Then we have those seventeen years that are just loaded with quiet, insidious angst that hides deep down. Just imagine Griffin catching herself yearning to see his face again and then her brain turns on and she remembers that he would probably kill her slowly and painfully if he ever escaped from Omega. Or she gets lost into a what-if scenario and then just wants to die because it will hurt less than what she’s doing to herself. And the worst part is she can’t really tell any of that to Ediltrude and Zarathustra. She’s scared of disappointing them. And she’s scared of not disappointing them enough. And again, Faragonda’s acceptance helps as much as it frustrates her because she shouldn’t be having these thoughts. He hates her. He will destroy her. And the entire universe. Why is she still in love with him? (Sidenote: I feel like crying now.)

And on Valtor’s end… Oh, I’m so mad that Valtor’s side of the story wasn’t discussed on the show at all. Not even in regards to Griffin’s betrayal. I just wanted some acknowledgement of what he went through. He was frozen in a fucking block of ice for seventeen years while completely conscious, not to mention full of rage and hatred and desire for vengeance. Like, that shit is traumatic no matter who you are. And add into that that his element is the Dragon Fire. They should’ve said something about that but all we got was a throwaway line that just brushed it off because he’s a villain and, for god’s sake, how can you even think of sympathizing with him?! He’s EVIL, dammit! EVIL, I TELL YOU! And what also gets me is that no after effects were shown either. Like, he hasn’t moved for seventeen damn years! His muscles should be atrophied and moving should hurt like hell until he gets reaccustomed to the feeling. But nope! We don’t get any of that because he might just become sympathetic and likable.

And one last thing before I end this since it got out of control like two hours ago. I got a review on one of my fics saying that Valtor locking Griffin up in a cell wasn’t a good enough revenge which I’ve had thoughts on and now seems like a good moment to share since this ask derailed a long time ago and the point is lost somewhere in the blocks of text where no one will find it so what the hell, let’s just throw some more text on top, right? XD

Now as my first point, it’s a cartoon. They couldn’t really do much more than that. They can’t have him kill her or torture her and any more personalized revenge would’ve required more insight when it came to their backstory so that was out of the question! (can you feel the angry?!) But when you actually think about it, I do think that it made sense. She ran away and betrayed him because she wanted to protect the universe and that led to him being imprisoned. So imprisoning her is getting back at her directly but it’s also a kind of torture on its own. She is trapped and can’t do anything to help anyone which was exactly the reason why she betrayed him. In addition, he left her the only one in Cloud Tower not wearing his mark which was very deliberate. If he was doing all of that just for the power of the Cloud Tower residents so that he could use them as minions, it made sense to put her under his control, too, since she’s the headmistress and, therefore, the most powerful person there. But he didn’t. He left her in control of her own thoughts and actions, and conscious so that she could feel the horror of his revenge, knowing that she can’t even help those she was supposed to protect and guide. Hell, she can’t even protect herself. And that was the only reason he even took over Cloud Tower. After Griffin was rescued by Winx, he just got up and left, releasing the witches from his control since, if you really look at it well, he didn’t really need them for his plans. Only for his revenge against Griffin. So that was actually a good example of great but too subtle writing that the show pulls off plenty of times. And then you have the disastrous writing from my previous point. I don’t wanna be salty, but why is the writing so inconsistent?!

I’m just gonna leave it off here because my brain will stop working and I think this got long enough already. So yeah, in conclusion, I have a lot of feelings on the matter.

[wheremytwinwatches]

[Where My Twin Watches]: Puella Magi Madoka Magica Episode 12

I don’t want to do this.

I haven’t seen the next/last episode yet this week, each time saying there was some conflict or other keeping me from sitting down and watching. But looking back it’s mostly pretty weak excuses.

In reality, I have to accept the main reason that I’m typing this out rather than pulling up Crunchyroll: As long as I don’t see the finale, I can avoid the truth. I can avoid seeing whatever ending Urobuchi’s cooked up, and live in blissful ignorance that somehow this all works out ok. That despite each and every time before Madoka somehow survives this and doesn’t go Witch. That even after coming to the brink of despair Homura will get a happy ending. That I won’t have to see an ending that I keep imagining gets worse and worse, except that whatever I can fear I know the Urobutcher will manage to surpass.

Goddamnit, I just wanted a cute little show! I knew PMMM was a magical girl show, and I knew that for whatever reason it was incredibly popular. Music, animation, cute moments, whatever. I started PMMM thinking it’d be a good, happy time. Jesus was I wrong.

This show has put me through an emotional wringer. All this death and despair… without any warning from you jerks!

Do I think that it’s good I’ve seen this show? Yes. The production value is excellent, the twists were very engaging, and the philosophical discussions it has prompted are far more than I expected from it. Maybe when this is done I can sit back and enjoy watching others encounter the show, contribute to the discussion.

But I sure as hell don’t want to push the play button this time. I don’t want to see the end result. One way or another, Madoka’s story is coming to an end. The longer I put it off, the longer I can imagine that she survives and is happy. Despite everything…

Damn it. I want to put it off, but I can’t. I’m here, the finale is pulled up, and I’m out of excuses.

Let’s get this over with.

PMMM Finale Ep 12: My Very Best Friend

We open where we left off. The city is devastated, the technicolor Walpurgisnacht hovers in the distance, Homura is trapped under rubble, and Madoka looks towards the Witch with the Incubator at her side.

“Homura, I’m sorry. I’m going to become a Magical Girl.”

Homura looks on in horror as Madoka calmly talks about how she finally found a Wish she truly wants granted. And just as calmly says that she’s going to use her life for it.

GodDAMN it, Madoka! Stop being so fucking calm about selling your soul! Stop being so calm and peaceful and nice and AAARGH! Stop being such a hero! Be selfish for once in your life!

Yes, thank you Homura! Use every tool you have left to stop this travesty. Guilt-trip her with the countless times you’ve tried to save her, ask what the hell it was all for if Madoka insists on being the hero each and every time.

Madoka walks over and hugs Homura as the Magical Girl music starts up. She apologizes, but says that she’s the person she is now because Homura tried to protect her for so long. And asks that Homura trust in “the answer she has found”, swearing that she won’t waste everything Homura’s done for her.

“Now, Kaname Madoka. What is the Wish that you will pay for with your soul?”

Alright. Wish time. What’s it going to be? Wish for your friends back? Wish for Homura to find peace? Wish for the Incubator to go die in a fire?

“I wish…”

Deep breath. Inhale. Exhale.

“I wish to erase all Witches before they are born. All the Witches in all the universes, both past and future. With my own hands!”

Wait.

What?

Waitwhat? What just- Can she-

Um. There’s a bright pink glow. That Wish is valid? She’s turning into a Magical Girl?!

The Wish to fucking erase all Witches is VALID?!?!

WHAT?!?!?!

“That prayer… If a prayer like that were granted, it could unravel the fabric of time itself! It would go against the very force of karmic destiny!”

No shit, Sherlock! Holy crap, this isn’t just Homura’s multiverse-hopping, this a core aspect of all of the universes! A Wish can do that?!

Did… did I just get out-minmaxed by a pink-haired middleschool girl?

Did this seriously just happen?

Did Madoka just effectively tell the DM “Yeah, no. I’m rewriting your setting”?

“Do you truly intend to become a god?!”

Holy crap. Madoka just wished to replace the DM.

I… I can’t even…

“I don’t care what I become. All those who have fought against Witches, who believed in hope as Magical Girls… I don’t want to see them cry. I want them smiling to the very end. If any rule or law stands in the way of that...I will destroy it. I will rewrite it. That is my prayer… That is my wish.”

…

Don't underestimate us! We don't care about time or space or multidimensional whatevers. We couldn't give a damn about that. Force your way down a path you choose, and do it your way! That's the way Team Dai-Gurren rolls!

I did not expect PMMM to have a Badass Creed rivaling fricken Simon the Digger.

“Now, grant my wish, Incubator!!”

The powerful glow around Madoka explodes, and the screen whites out.

And then the title comes up? Showing the reset of All Time, then?

Oh, the episode title finally appeared.

Final Episode: My Very Best Friend

A piece of cake? Mami’s place?

“Kaname… do you truly understand how fearsome a Wish that was?”

Yeah, Mami’s place, one of her customary tea parties with elaborate cakes. So is she alive again, as there was now never a Witch to kill her?

“It means that for all the past and future, and throughout all of time, you will have to continue fighting forever.”

Is that how it works, then? Madoka Wishes for the power to destroy all Witches, so she has to do it personally?

“In doing so, you will certainly wind up losing all traces of your individual self.”

Aw crap. The downside. There I was getting all optimistic, thinking that “Holy crap we actually get a happy ending?” But nope, Madoka will wind up essentially a completely different person.

“Simply dying would be a kinder fate. For all eternity, you would continue merely as a concept, a principle that destroys Witches.”

Damn it Urobuchi, I get it. You can stop hammering the point home.

But of course, our Protagonist is fine with that.

“If someone says it’s wrong to have hope, then I’ll tell them they’re wrong, every single time. And I know I’ll always tell them so.”

Wait. So… she’ll keep her core? She’ll stay Madoka at her heart, with her belief of hope? She won’t completely lose herself? Can I hope for that, or is Urobuchi going to step on that again?

“Then it’s fine, isn’t it?” Kyoko! Chowing down on a slice of cake. She’s serving as the determinator of the bunch, pointing out that now Madoka’s found her reason to fight, all that’s left is to run full steam ahead.

Daw, and now Mami gives Madoka back her old notebook of drawings.

“You aren’t just giving us hope. You’re becoming hope, itself… The hope of us all.”

Whiteout again. And here’s Magical Girl Madoka, in all her glory. Homura’s all but blinded by the light, the Incubator stares ahead, and… oh yeah. Walpurgisnacht. That’s a thing.

The orchestra begins to swell as Madoka readies her bow. A great sigil appears in the sky, and Madoka shoots it to blast away the stormclouds, revealing a bright blue sky. It then shoots out ALL OF THE ARROWS.

Cut to someone falling in grass? Oh, another Magical Girl. With a dark Soul Gem beginning to crack. She looks scared and begins to cry… when a burst of pink light falls from the sky and reforms as Magical Girl Madoka? Who purifies the Soul Gem… and then the Gem disappears? Hold up, what just happened? The Soul Gem vanished and the girl looked happy for a moment before closing her eyes. Is she sleeping, no longer a lich? Or did she just ‘die’ because Madoka took her purified soul somewhere else? Urobuchi, stop distracting me with this amazing music, I’m trying to figure this out.

Ok, the girl’s body just faded away before the screen went white. So Madoka’s stopping Witches by going back to just before the Soul Gem breaks? And then does something to the soul, takes it away somewhere? If she’s powerful enough to be a god now, is she… what, taking all these girls to Magical Girl heaven?

Many, many more bursts of pink light, more scenes of Madoka appearing to siphon away despair and vanish Soul Gems.

“I won’t let your prayers end in despair. None of you have to hate anyone, or curse anyone. I will bear all of that cursed destiny for you. So, please. To the very end, keep believing in yourselves!”

Ok, two things: one, I wanna see Madoka and Kamina meet up now to try and outdo eachother regarding “believe in yourself” speeches. Two, the scenes of magical girls are including I believe Cleopatra and Joan of Arc.

Back to the present, countless Hope Arrows continue to fly about, many shredding the madly laughing Walpurgisnacht until it’s only the giant gear. And still Madoka calmly speaks to it, staying that it no longer has to hate or curse. Because she’ll go back before it began and take the burden. Which creates a humongous explosion. Homura covers her face, the screen whites out again…

Weird technicolor lights, like a corrupted Soul Gem…

Homura opens her eyes. Does a rapid turn. Is on the moon?

She rightfully wonders where the heck she is. Hmmm, who do we know who could provide some exposition on the result of a Wish?

“The universe is in the process of reordering itself, based on Madoka’s new laws.” Homura’s present because she can control time-crossing magic. And so the Incubator says they’ll see

NO. NO NO NO FUCKING

NO

“-what kind of end the existence called Madoka Kaname will meet.”

GOD. DAMN. IT. We were SO CLOSE. We ALMOST had a good ending, but NOPE. UROBUTCHER STRIKES AGAIN! “Let’s see, we’ll just set things up with some inspiring hope quotes, show Madoka taking on the burdens of every Magical Girl ever… yes, that should do nicely for a literal god-damned Soul Gem.”

Because yeah. Madoka took on all those cursed destinies. She brought forth enough hope to create an entire universe. So for things to balance, that universe will now be destroyed.

“It’s only natural, right?” Fuck off, Incubator.

And the Super Soul Gem cracks, creating a Witch that dwarfs even the tower from Homura’s last timeline. Welp, I know what’ll be in my nightmares tonight.

The maddened laughter begins again.

“No, it’s all right.” Wait, Madoka?! But- the Super Witch-

Oh. Oh yes. YesyesyesYESYESYES

Wait, Puffball?

“My Wish was to erase all Witches…”

New outfit? Huge white dress and Rapunzel-length hair?

“And if that prayer really comes true… then even I… should have no reason to despair… ever!”

Super Magical Girl Madoka (?) readies her bow, another friggen big sigil appears, and ALL OF THE ARROWS blast away at the Super Witch, causing another huge explosion, the Witch is blasted away, Homura is- blasted away?! Hold up- the screen whites out again…

Did Madoka just blow up reality?

Screen comes to a shifting background of pinks, purples and whites.

“Madoka. With this, your life has ceased to have either a beginning or end. No trace of your life on Earth, nor a single memory of you will remain anywhere. Your existence has shifted onto a higher plane, and all that will be left of you here is a concept. No one will ever be aware of your presence again, and you will never be able to interact with anyone. You will have ceased to exist in this universe.”

...so it’s a mix of Madoka staying true to herself, but also elements of Mami’s warning?

Homura speaks up whoa ok, glad I’m not watching this when anyone could walk in. I thought you guys said there weren’t any questionable scenes?

“What are you saying? That Madoka wished for such an ending?! You think this is a fair reward for everything she’s done?! Don’t be ridiculous! This… is even worse…than death would have been…!”

God-damn it. (Or is it Madoka-damn it now?) Madoka’s safe and free from the cycle of Witchification, like Homura was aiming for. But she’s done it in such a way that Homura can never see her again.

“No, you’re wrong, Homura.” Madoka! Please put on some clothes, this is getting awkward!

Madoka says that as she is now, she can see everything that ever has or will happen. Universes that could have been, and might be. And now she knows all Homura’s done for her, in all the different timelines.

Guys, I’m really digging this scene, the great music and colors, the culmination of Homura’s efforts and Madoka’s growth… but seriously, Urobuchi? You couldn’t have this while they were in their uniforms? I’m loving the scene, but the awkwardness has to be mentioned.

“I’m sorry I never knew until now… I’m so sorry.” Homura breaks down crying.

(Is… is it safe for me to ship again? Because if so, all aboard the MadoHomu!)

It wasn’t until Madoka became what she is now that she truly understood Homura. “To think that I had such a precious friend with me all this time…!”

Wait. God-Madoka damn it, are you really shooting down my ship with “friend” now? I think this scene goes a little beyond friendship!

Also, I think Sayaka might be a little miffed about all these “best friend”s being thrown about.

Homura raises a good point, that as sweet as this scene is Madoka no longer has a home, and she’ll be separated from everyone she loves (*cough* like her *cough*) to live all alone in a psychedelic realm like this forever.

To which Madoka just smiles and giggles. “But I’m not alone. All of you will always be with me. Because I will be everywhere at every moment from now on.” (Oh my God-Madoka, she’s Santa Claus! Or the NSA!) “So even if you can’t see me or hear me, know that I’ll be by your side, Homura.”

But Homura will still forget her… “It’s too soon to give up yet.”? After all, she managed to follow her all the way there…

So there’s a chance? There’s hope? Urobuchi’s not going to swoop in and ruin this?

Madoka unties her ribbons and gives them to Homura, saying that maybe she’ll still be able to remember.

“After all, Magical Girls make hopes and dreams come true! And I’m sure that if it’s just a little one, real miracles really can happen. Don’t you think?”

They’re floating apart now, Madoka has to go meet all the others.

“I’ll see you again one day, Homura. So for just a little while until then, I’ll say good-bye.”

Not gonna lie. Tearing up right now.

Scene change, city at night. Concert hall, person walking on stage. Kamijo? An audition it looks like, performing “Ave Maria”. An excellent piece!

Hey, Sayaka and Madoka are listening from the seats! Sayaka apologizes for causing “a lot of trouble”. But of course Madoka says that she’s the one who should apologize. Actually, seems she’s apologizing for leaving her “dead’ in order to save her. As… oh! If she did save Sayaka, then Kamijo wouldn’t have been healed, and that’s not what Sayaka would want.

Heh. Funny moment of one judge trying to talk to another, only to get a “Shush, I’m listening to the music.”

Sayaka talks about how she just wanted to hear him play again, for others to hear him play. Well, she is bothered about one thing (Hitomi watching from behind the curtains stage left). Ha! Sayaka says that Kamijo doesn’t deserve such a great girl. But she’s sure they’ll be very happy.

The two girls fade away as Kamijo finishes “Ave Maria.” And damn boy looks good older, in a tux in a schmancy concert hall in front of a huge audience. Sudden start? “...Sayaka?”

Cut to a Witch burning away, Homura snaps to along with Mami and Kyoko, the latter asking where Sayaka went. Mami says that she’s gone, led away by the Law of the Cycle. She used all her remaining power in that last attack. So from now on Magical Girls ‘fade away’ from using up their power, instead of turning into Witches? But then how do they get more Witches to fight?

Kyoko calls Sayaka an idiot, letting herself vanish just for some boy she liked. Sorry Kyoko, but Ship of Death, remember? “Idiot… just when we were finally getting to be friends…” Friends. Right. Seriously, what is with this finale and Urobuchi trying to sink my ships?

So the new rule is that before the hope of their Wish summons an equal amount of misfortune, they have “no choice but to vanish from the world.” Instead of the Incubator’s ‘balance’, we get a greater amount of good over harm then. That’s good for humanity!

Hey, the ribbons! Homura opens her hand to show the two red ribbons, then breaks down crying. “Madoka…!”

The others turn. Is this the first time Homura’s shown emotion in the new reality in front of them?

“Akemi? ‘Madoka’...?”

“Who’s that?”

Ouch.

We’re in a park with light piano music. WAIT, hold up. It’s the kid, the little brother whose name I can never remember! Madoka’s brother! He’s drawing in the dirt/sand, it’s a picture of Magical Girl Madoka! Does he remember too?!

Homura stops by and daw, she’s wearing one of the ribbons in her hair. That’s a good look! And yup, little bro is babbling “Madoka, Madoka!” now. Does he not remember, but Homura tells him stories about his ‘sister’? In any case, she compliments him on the drawing.

He starts to reach for the ribbon, but Dad to the rescue (with a name, Tatsuya!). Aw, but he thinks that he was about to pull on Homura’s hair. Although they seem confused when he babbles about ‘Madoka’. (Not going to cry, not going to cry…)

Later that afternoon (as Tatsuya plays with his dad in the park, guh that’s adorable) it seems that Homura’s explained that ‘Madoka’ is Tatsuya’s imaginary friend. Mother makes idle conversation about the name, how it “seems to have such a nostalgic ring to it”. (Not going to cry, NOT GOING TO CRY…) And then remarks that the loves Homura’s ribbon, that it’s almost shockingly like something she would like. Homura offers it to her, Mother waves it off, saying she’s too old for it. Maybe if she had a daughter who could wear it… (Not. Going. To…)

It’s a full moon now, and WHY?! Why did you leave the Incubator in the new reality, Madoka?! Grrr… Wait, is that Homura’s Soul Gem? Surrounded by a bunch of small black cubes, drawing darkness away from it?

The Incubator’s remarking that a system like Homura apparently just described could theoretically have worked. She idly picks up one of the cubes, says that the system was real, and tosses it back, for the Incubator to catch in its back. What, is it a mini-Grief Seed? Anyways, it seems that the Incubator has no way of verifying the story that Homura’s saying. And since she’s the only one who remembers that world, well… he puts it less bluntly, but there’s no way of telling if her memories are real or if she’s crazy. Homura just tosses back another cube.

Oh, so Soul Gems shatter now when they become “too sullied?” Which would prevent a Witch being created, and the Magical Girl dies instead of changing. But what do they fight, if there aren’t any Witches?

Ugh, but the Incubator is focusing on the “Witches” of Homura’s story, as an ‘appealing’ method of gathering emergy. But since they aren’t in this new reality, the Incubators didn’t follow that method. Instead they do something with cubes?

Wait, ‘wraiths’? So there is something about this reality for Magical Girls to fight. Is that what was burning when Homura woke up, then? And they’re connected to collecting curses?

“Just because Witches are no longer born into this world, it doesn’t mean the curses of mankind have ceased to exist. The distortions of this world have merely changed form, and now attack people from the depths of the darkness…”

Guh, white Ringwraiths! So these are the ‘wraiths’ then? Not corrupted Magical Girls, but some other sort of creature? Based from humans, or just creatures of darkness? Details, please?

The Incubator remarks that the ‘miasma’ is pretty thick tonight, the wraiths just keep coming. Homura admonishes it for complaining, and steps off the construction site for a dramatic monologue.

“Though this irredeemable world continues repeating its hatred and tragedies… this is still the place that she once tried to protect.”

Whoa, big purple wings arrest her fall, she lands and is immediately surrounded with wraiths. But she just pulls out… her weapon is a bow now.

“I remember that. And I will never forget it. That is why… I will keep fighting.”

End credits.

...wow. Just… wow.

Guys, I went into this episode fearing the worst. I was just bracing myself for Urobuchi to make everything terrible. But then, things looked ok? Then they looked awful again. Then the looked good, but with some major downsides. Up and down and up and down… and then we reached the ending.

I’m going to need some time to process all this, to write up my overall thoughts on the ending. But damn me if this wasn’t an amazing show. I- hold up, started typing this while listening to the credits music for the last time. There’s an after-credits scene?

After credits, opens on a windy black and yellow setting, one person with long hair (Homura?) walking in the distance.

“Don’t forget.

Always, somewhere,

someone is fighting for you.

As long as you remember her,

you are not alone.”

Zoom in to yup, that’s Homura. Facing a crowd of wraiths. She holy fudge what is that. I expected the pink wings from before, but these are more like tears into a witch’s labyrinth. Homura what the hell are you doing?

Madoka’s voice. “Do your best…”

Homura smiles, and the tears spread across the screen. Camera backs out to show her with her freaky wings, she then leaps forward and then bursts of blackness start exploding everywhere. Screen blackens- all five magical girls, facing away? Sound of film reel spinning loose? Girls fade away? Final picture of a Soul Gem?

...What the fuck was that?!

[onwesterlywinds]

Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: So what's the situation? Ashelia Riot: We found the last stone: Pisces. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: And what's the status on it? Didn't possess anyone, did it? Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn frowns at the thought of another of his friends being taken. Linini Mooglesworn is hidden in the lower deck of the shuttle, where the engines rumbled. There's just enough space for her to crawl in and wait for passage to Ridorana, where her stone whispered for her to go. Ashelia Riot shakes her head, almost sadly. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Do we have a layout of the tower figured out? What's our status on that? Timid Fawn can't help but stare at Ashelia Riot's hair; her attention refocuses as she made mention of another stone. Ashelia Riot: We know only that there's a host of Garleans inside. Surveillance from without is minimal. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Do we have any idea of their intent? What're they doin' here? Ashelia Riot: There's been no word from the others who went ahead. We suspect they're surveying, due to some documents that Ivaan and Ro- my father found in Valnain. Linini Mooglesworn crawls out of the bowels of the shuttle, revealing herself to the rest of the party. Linini Mooglesworn: Ashelia... Did the possibility of Shemhazai's betrayal not occur to you? Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn looks at Linini Mooglesworn in shock! Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: What the hells?! Where the...?!

Timid Fawn senses something amiss with Linini Mooglesworn. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Shemhazai... that name sounds familiar... Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn ponders a moment before snapping his fingers. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: A'zaela? Linini Mooglesworn nods to Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn. Timid Fawn scowls at that. Timid Fawn: Betrayal...? Ashelia Riot: Whether you speak of the stone, or of A'zaela, what you're suggesting makes no sense. A'zaela would not betray me, and Shemhazai would not betray... her. Linini Mooglesworn: Then where could she have gone without an explanation? Perhaps you are so certain of their allegiance, but if they conflict with each other, then who knows what would happen? Timid Fawn: Neither would I think Bull would choke a man to death, but... I would never trust these stones again. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Findin' it odd that them stones would play politics and betray each other. Linini Mooglesworn nods to Timid Fawn. Timid Fawn: I feel anythin' is on the table at this point for 'em.... Linini Mooglesworn: I think we can all concur that they are no simple stones, Bull. Each of them has a being inside with their own goals, their own methods, their own beliefs. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: All the more reason to save them. Ashelia Riot eyes Linini Mooglesworn especially warily. Timid Fawn: A'course. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: These are our friends, our comrades, our family. We will not leave them. Ashelia Riot: Precisely. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn is as serious as he's ever been. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: And honestly? Only people I trust to make that happen are me and Fawn. Ashelia Riot: I've sent some of us into the tower already. But I felt that, well... reinforcements would be needed. Timid Fawn nods. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: What were your orders? Ashelia Riot: To search first and foremost for the missing. And to avoid contact with the Garleans at all costs. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: And who did you send? Ashelia Riot: Ivaan, Sylvan, Hinako, and Eindride. Orella and Priscilla are watching the isle. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: So that leaves... Ala'qit, A'zaela, Nivelth, and Akhutai unaccounted for. We're spread so damn thin... Linini Mooglesworn: Malla stayed behind? Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: I don't really care if she did or didn't, she's not to be trusted in my book. Linini Mooglesworn: Agreed. To stay separated from everyone at so critical a juncture leaves me wary. Ashelia Riot: Hence why I would rather keep Pisces with me, particularly given that I know it will do me no harm. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: And how do you know that? Ashelia Riot: ... Linini Mooglesworn gazes upon you in deep reflection. Ashelia Riot stares straight at him but doesn't say a word; she does, however, offer the stone out to him... should he choose to take it from her to understand her meaning. Linini Mooglesworn's gaze shoots to Bull at the motion. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn holds his hand out. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: I do not fear this stone. I will keep my control. And I /will/ destroy it. Ashelia Riot drops the stone into Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn's hand, and immediately he receives the vision of the man who last held it. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn shakes his head, unsure of what he just saw. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Someone with some sense to destroy it before it destroys everythin'... It still has to go. Ashelia Riot: We found it in the waters off the Cataract. Not even the Hell of Water could destroy this stone. Linini Mooglesworn: You're entrusting it to him? Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn tightens his grip on the stone. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: I need to atone. I am not a monster, and I'll prove it. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn shoots a determined glare at Linini Mooglesworn. Ashelia Riot: Do you doubt my judgment? Ashelia Riot's tone offers little room for argument. Linini Mooglesworn quails. Linini Mooglesworn: No, of course not. It is no matter. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: If you have a doubt, you can try to pry it from my cold, dead hands. Linini Mooglesworn turns her back on them both. Linini Mooglesworn: Hmph. As I said, it is no matter. Shall we get going, then? Ashelia Riot: Yes. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Hells with you then if you don't want to help. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn motions to Timid Fawn. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: We'll handle this if need be. Linini Mooglesworn: Of course I'm going to help. Everything I've done is to help the Riskbreakers. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Let me see your stone then. Timid Fawn looks excessively uncomfortable at the tone and the situation itself. Ashelia Riot: That won't be necessary. We will leave at once. The others are in danger. Linini Mooglesworn narrows her eyes and is about to respond before Ashelia Riot beats her to it. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Take point then, I'll follow right behind you. As I always have. Ashelia Riot: Thank you. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: But if I see anything suspicious... mark my words, Boss. Ashelia Riot begins to set off. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Your stone...let me see it first. Linini Mooglesworn: Why? As she said, we do not have time for this. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: As your officer, no... as your friend, let me see it. Those inside are more capable than you give them credit for. They can wait for a moment. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn shoots a fierce glare at Linini Mooglesworn. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Now... Ashelia Riot gives Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn an annoyed glare... a glare that's very Ashelia Riot. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Give me all the looks you want, let me see it. Ashelia Riot removes the stone from the pouch at her thigh, but she does not hold it out for him to take. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: This is the stone you were given? Ashelia Riot: It is. Linini Mooglesworn eyes the stone, too. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: I'm of two minds right now, one thinking I should trust you, Ashelia. Not that damn thing that's in your head. And one that says I should take it from you. The stone shines rose-gold. Timid Fawn keeps her distance, merely spectating the two for the time being. Linini Mooglesworn: Why? So you can bear two stones? Ashelia Riot casts Linini Mooglesworn another warning look. Linini Mooglesworn averts her gaze with clenched teeth. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: I don't give a damn about what or who is in them, I care to have the Boss, my friend, back. Not this... thing. Ashelia Riot: Am I truly so far away from you? Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Until you destroy that stone, you might have to be. Ashelia Riot wants to reach out to him, but something holds her back. Ashelia Riot: We're fighting for the same thing. Even now. But if we don't go into that tower, and soon, there will be grave repercussions for us all. For the world. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn frowns at the prospect. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Let's go. If we gotta deal with y'all, we will. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn beckons to Timid Fawn with a head nod. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: We should get to it. Ashelia Riot thinks that he won't do it with the Pisces stone in hand. Timid Fawn hoists up her axe onto her back and approaches Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: If anything happens to me, put that axe into my back. Immediately. Timid Fawn purses her lips but says nothing. The tower's great door lies ajar, with an inscription upon a plaque beside it: Lo, seeker in days unborn, god-blade bearer, know you: this tower challenges the sky. Ware the watcher, the ward of the Three waits, soul-hungry, unsated. Linini Mooglesworn: The ward of the Three... Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: God-blade bearer... Linini Mooglesworn: Do you know its meaning, Ashelia? Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Maybe somethin' strong enough to destroy these stones... power of a god... Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn seems lost in thought. Linini Mooglesworn: It is possible. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: What better to crush gods than gods themselves? Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn shrugs. Ashelia Riot: Those words were left there by King Raminas, Dalmasca's first king. Ashelia Riot has seen a vision of him inscribing the words there himself. Ashelia Riot: As for what he intended it to mean... it is difficult to say. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: You'd think they wouldn't make so... cryptic. Linini Mooglesworn: Let's go inside, then. Perhaps we'll learn more. Ashelia Riot nods. The lighthouse opens into a wide, tall chamber, with several staircases leading upwards. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Hells... could be any of these. Linini Mooglesworn: We could split and try to rendezvous further up. I would imagine they will all eventually go to the same place. Yet there are signs of Garlean operations in the front hall - and a possible patrol. The other Riskbreakers are nowhere to be found. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn focuses, trying to sense any familiar aether...to no avail. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Tower must be bigger on the inside. Ashelia Riot: We have to keep moving. Ashelia Riot gestures around a corner, to where a Garlean soldier is about to turn and find them. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Always forward. Linini Mooglesworn puts a hand on her sword hilt. Ashelia Riot: This feels familiar. Ashelia Riot's quip refers to the time they climbed Specula Imperatoris entirely by stairs. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn lets out a laugh as they climb. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Stairs tend to be like that. But we won't let that happen again. Not on my watch! Ashelia Riot nods wordlessly and continues up the twentieth flight of stairs - whereupon she stops, reaching for her linkpearl. Ashelia Riot: It's me. Are you safe? Hinako Daigo: Yes. I had to take point to avoid an Imperial contingent so I've been laying low for a while. Not sure where the others are. Ashelia Riot: We've only just arrived. We've reached the twentieth floor. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Who is it? Ashelia Riot: Hinako. Linini Mooglesworn gazes upon Ashelia Riot in deep reflection. Hinako Daigo: You shouldn't be far off from me, then. I'll meet you shortly. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Is she safe? Ashelia Riot nods, then closes the linkpearl connection. Ashelia Riot: She should be up ahead. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn nods to you. Timid Fawn every so often keeps her gaze to their backs, always cautious as they proceed. Linini Mooglesworn offers Hinako Daigo a humble greeting as they reunite. Hinako Daigo: Well met. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn smiles at Hinako Daigo. Ashelia Riot: And you. What's happened? Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Thank goodness you're safe. Hinako Daigo: A small patrol of Imperials forced a necessary split and regroup method to avoid getting spotted by them, per your orders. Fortunately I picked up a bit of subterfuge from my partner, but... otherwise I don't have much to report other than the odd machinery and that obvious qi permeating this place. Linini Mooglesworn: Well, it is heartening to see you safe from Garlean hands. Timid Fawn continues to monitor their surroundings as they converse. Ashelia Riot: I mean to go to the top of the tower. You can join us, if you would like. Linini Mooglesworn: I thought we meant to find our missing comrades. Hinako Daigo: I might as well. What do you think we'll find? Ashelia Riot: And what better place to look for them than at the top? Linini Mooglesworn shrugs. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: The top exposes them, better to hide in this maze of a lighthouse I'd think. Ashelia Riot: Then we'll search wherever we so choose, but we cannot remain here. Linini Mooglesworn: I am curious about what we will find at the top. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Best to keep moving. Hinako Daigo: By your leave, then. Linini Mooglesworn: It is unusual that we have not faced more opposition. Rhotfarr Sundyrfyrsyn: Better we keep it that way. Several more levels up, there is a strange automaton lying in a rusted heap. Linini Mooglesworn looks around at all of the strange, ancient contraptions as they climb. Voices come from the far side of the hall - Garlean voices, and the sounds of machinery. A soldier shouts, “Who goes there?!” Timid Fawn remains as still as her body possibly can. Not a peep. Linini Mooglesworn sighs and draws her sword. Linini Mooglesworn: No avoiding it, I suppose. The automaton springs to life. It stomps forward once, twice, and activates a beam of light from its eyes that it levels directly at the two approaching Garleans. They at once engage it in battle. Ashelia Riot: Let's run. Now. Linini Mooglesworn: Oh. Well then, convenient. Hinako Daigo: Whoa... They arrive upon the northern side of the tower - and a strange beam of aether beckons them to the floor above. Linini Mooglesworn puts her hands into her pockets, feeling for both of the stones she possesses, making sure she still has them. Ashelia Riot steps upon the beam without a second thought and is propelled upward in flight.

[btsandvmin]

Collection of asks - BTSandVMIN

Some of the asks I answer I personally feel are worth saving, for me personally, and perhaps for you as well. But I don’t want to put them all in my Masterpost since there are so many and I am sure the list will grow. So I am putting the ones I feel might have something worth reading in one place. 

Thank you all for asking me interesting questions and liking my posts. Asks are written more in the moment than my usual posts, so they might be less accurate as it’s all mostly from the top of my head. The newest ones will actually be on top, and then they will get older going down the list. I’ll update it regularly as I answer more asks. :)

Jimin was so clearly in need of cuddles from Tae as soon as they saw each other

Odd if none of them shared what they did during vacations

It just feels scripted, just like when they're talking abt what each other did during their vacations

100 days of winter bear and jiminie wears something that makes him look like a baby bear

About BV4, do you think it’s weird that Taehyung only found out about what Jimin did during his vacation on the day Jimin was back?

Dionysus stage as battle of gods and V=Apollo(God of Sun) and JM=Artemis(God of Moon) and their dance and wearing twin earrings(as the gods r twins) and I just remembered your whole vmin sun and moon theory

Is Tae Jm's mirror in bighits's fictional world?

Do you know what is the full video of this youtube video "BTS Jimin chose V ? VMin Moment?

When BV: Malta was airing, Jimin would post pictures of each episode on Twitter and stopped on the episode that Taehyung arrives

I'm like a hardcore Km shipper (romantically) since 2016 but i have to agree every song Tae has written connects with Jm

We don't see vmin together often... so yeah jikook could be more real then vmin

I'm trying to find tweets that vmin send to each other on their birthday but I can't find the one that jimin send for tae in 2017 did he send one? 

The new run bts episode was really filmed in May?

Did Jimin released Promise on Tae's birthday?

I am working on a Vmin analysis which is currently 24 pages just in text. O___o

He calls JM "My Baby" but the subtitles put in by BH say "Good Boy" Why would they change the translation. 

Shipping sometimes seems pointless. Especially when "moments" between one ship can easily be spotted with another. 

I can't believe that some fans thought that vmin were not friends anymore because a game!

It's so cute how Jimin and V talked about arguing with each other over small things because they are close friends

I think people who unfollow you are Multishippers who believe in other ship

Is it kind of weird that vmin has never went on a trip by themselves? 

Seeing all the vmin interactions of this last concert, do you think this might be a reason why BH will not give us vmin duet?

I would love to read ur vmin story

Concerning the nightmare before Christmas thing

The Disney birthday project turned up to be false

Jimin thinks V is "mi bb' What does the question mean?

I don't think we'll get a Vmin song

BTS, 191009_ ICN INT' Airport Departure) at 40 seconds

Where do you write fics? I really want to read your fics...

It's interesting to see the way the bh editors work

Where is the vmin break up mini movie video from?

Do you ship Jimin or Tae with k pop girls?

The members trying to break off a vmin moment on cam?

Is it true that bts don't live together?

What do you think about the concept photos? (PERSONA)

What other vmin blogs do you follow or check regularly?

In an usa interview where jimin was kinda leaning on the male interviewer for a few seconds and suddenly tae was looking kinda tense

Did you catch up on everything for bts or/and vmin before the BS&T era?

You should see @vlovers19 blog

I'm sorry if you think I offended you or judged you

Do you know that Tae hold hands with other member even Suga or they all hold hands with each other so it's not only a VMIN thing

About bon voyage 3 and them not sharing rooms and the car

4 oclock is supposedly dedicated to jimin, why Tae waits for him in the park if they live together?

Imagine my surprise when i saw vk/ook,ji/kook were the most popular. I tried to understand but i still don’t get why

Do you think vmins lack of or th reduced amount of skinship comes from the fact that they are same aged friends? 

Other ships (kpopidols) that you like?

Part of me wanted Taehyung to be in Paris too

The boys being apart of the lgbt community that's unrelated to their relationship

If someone in BTS is gay he will try to date girls or maybe marry a girl in the end?

If vmin are really together and if they were to come out, how do you think they would do that?

I feel like they use the word "friend" instead of, idk, "boyfriend”

You saw the hk concert right?

Unknown nickname in his thank you note for “Dark and Wild”

When did Vmin started dating?

Bv3, I ain't getting over it.

I feel like vmin have been sexually involved for a very long time 

Any thoughts abt Tae's three rings on his right hand and always not wearing one on his ring finger?

In bts festa profile 2015 when jimin wrote tae's profile he drew a character that reminds him of taehyung

Did u see the second trailer for bring the soul documentary series? 

In one of your asks you said jk wasn't having a great time in 2017

Are you gonna make a post about vmin sharing rooms?

What would be your top 5 favorite vmin moments? 💜

Run episode to Jm and JK "Are You Guys dating ?"

Barely getting any vmin content

Sometimes i cant help but feel really weird about vmin and feel insecure

Maybe you should just ignore all the asks about other ships

Sharing a car as proof

Docskim not being allowed to release the behind story of Lie

Getting it out of the way… (about various other ships and “proof“)

What are the moments that seems most like "proof" to you? 

Have you seen the Vlive remember party?

At the end of the day, it mostly comes down to personal interpretations and preferences

Do you know why T/ae and J/imin toxic stans really hate each other?

Is it being "delusional" for some vmin fans to think scenery, promise and 4 o' clock are related to vmin?

When will u start answering anons again i really miss ur insight and wise words 

I feel like jimin is forcing himself the affection he is showing is mostly forced

Do you have twitter?

The Rkive Vmin moment when JM ‘refused’ Tae’s cuddle

They were often looking behind cameras and it really shows like in episodes 59&60

Do you think there's a big reason that vm don't do Vlives together anymore

Vmin shippers spreading misinformation in aid of our ship?

Can I use one of your gifs? (I don’t make my own gifs, sorry)

Did you see what Tae said? ie I miss you even after being apart for 10 seconds

When one is clingy, the other will try to act as if it's bothering him

My friend is convinced Ji/kook is real

About namjoon's vlive, "it's a broadcast"

Oof is it just me or the sexual tension was through the roof between vmin in that vlive?

Tae says "our armys are watching this so... " so uhm was that..?

Where does the soulmate thing comes from with vmin?

Taehyung is more open both physically and showing affection wise with every member except Jimin

Have you seen the moments from today's concert? Fukuoka

They can do whatever they want people will say they're such good bros and won't look into it

Holding each other's hands is probably the least platonic thing that they keep doing

Do you know any good vmin analysis youtube account/videos?

why do you think jk and taehyung might not be straight?

Guys, I love vmin so much!

I really like your analysis!! a lot of good points. Can I add a couple things I noticed?

How long do you think vmin have been dating?

u really think vm is real?

Vmin are really bold these days

We get to see them bicker 

The video jimin posted where he's sending hearts to Tae

Feel conflicted about the rise in popularity

I’m a bit worried about the attention Vmin is getting recently

U answered my jik ask so well

Tae being bold because he's bursting with affection

Jimin admitted he was jealous

About the families (+kimchi ep. mini analysis)

About vmin/ji/ook/tae/kook

The whole maknae line

Never seemed to be in the same team

When people "ship" them?

Showing their bond more

About Jikook

About vmin being the less popular ship

Flustered vmin

Yeontan vlive

About the airport moment

Do you think that vmin live together?

About vmin rising in popularity

Do you have a link for that moment during New Year's 2016?

Platonic/bro label on vmin

More than friendship between vmin

My reply - Making Vmin videos

Thank you! A small reply

About my bias

Opinions above people

Once again, THANK YOU ALL so much for loving Vmin so much and for coming to me with your lovely messages. <3

[felicismagic18873]

Beyond the Blaze (6)

Summary: 4 Years old, Alyssa Potter finds her life taking a magical turn as she steps into a world of cute green giants, talking robots and misunderstood aliens. All of it is almost enough to make her forget the probable destruction of her own world.

"What are you doing!!!!"

"You...YOU FREAK!!"

"Aunt, You're hurting me"

Alyssa shivered a bit and snuggled back into the couch. An absent hand caressed her arm where her Aunts grip had left a bruise, it felt like it'd been such a long time ago but the memory was still fresh and haunting. Her Aunt had never been particularly gentle with her, unlike her uncle, but that day, that day she meant to hurt her. She wanted to hurt her and Alyssa could almost feel how much she wanted to.

It was horrifying.

It was horrifying and heartbreaking. Because at the end of the day she was her Aunt. She was Alyssa's Aunt. Yes, She didn't love Alyssa and Alyssa didn't love her. Alyssa didn't love her like she loved Melina but she trusted her on some level. Even knowing that her Aunt wanted her to live in a cupboard, some part of Alyssa still trusted her and that horrible day it broke.

Her trust broke and some part of her, some bright bubbly part of her was tainted with a splash of fear. Not of her powers but of the consequences of using them. A fear of harsh hands and judging eyes. A fear that made it difficult to breathe when she saw the gun-like thing inside Tony's hand. No. It was actually the suppressed anger on his face that made her realize what she'd done.

She'd broken the elevator. She'd disobeyed Jarvis and she could have seriously injured him.

Alyssa's lip wobbled, "A...Are you okay, Mister Jarvis?" She looked at the ceiling, imagining that that's where Jarvis lived.

"I am perfectly alright, Miss Potter."

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" She rushed on, " I didn't mean to do that, I swear! It just...it just happened. Things like this happen to me sometimes."

She waited with bated breath and wide eyes. A second passed, then another.

"You didn't hurt me, Little Miss. Rest be assured I have many safeguards to protect me from real threats."

A breath of relief escaped her lips, Alyssa wrapped an arm around herself. With her other hand, she touched the screen, flinching a little when it turned bright white instead. It was like the gun-like thing Tony had had.

There had been something in his expression at that time, a sort of fear that'd convinced her to hide that she'd done it. So, She had kept her mouth mum trying not to bring attention to herself.

But then, he'd knelt in front of her and she'd understood. She'd realized that Tony was fearful for her not of her. And that changed things, he was worried. Only Melina had ever been really worried about her. So she'd decided to tentatively trust him.

And so far, it seemed like it was the right decision. He'd talked to her and he'd listened. Even when he was a little scared when she told him that she was from somewhere else, he didn't scream. He didn't hurt her. He just waited for her to explain and accepted her answer when she gave it (even though she could tell he didn't believe it) and that made all the difference.

She looked at the elevator door through which Tony had left, she was starting to severely dislike the said door because it allowed Tony and Bruce to leave her alone. Not that she needed someone to babysit her, No. She was a big girl and she could take care of herself. After all, she did so when uncle or aunt left her alone.

It should work out the same way here but it wasn't. Maybe it was because she was in a strange place, she just really wanted someone to stay with her.

Alyssa shook her head and ran her delicate fingers over the projection again. The white color disappeared and various boxes popped up instead. They looked like the channels on the telly but smaller and silent.

She pressed her finger on one that looked like the channel her uncle used to watch but there a blonde man fighting some weird animals. The screen slipped from under her finger and flew over to the other side of the couch.

Alyssa groaned a little, she didn't really know what she was doing. She still had to learn how to use the flying screens but she wanted them to work already.

She crawled across the couch and touch the box again, a lot more gently this time.

The box grew larger and took over the whole screen. Alyssa leaned back to watch.

"It was at this point that the order to fire the nuke towards NewYork was issued..."

-----------------------

Bruce still wasn't fully comfortable at the tower. It wasn't a surprise, he wasn't comfortable anywhere. Not in the small hospitals in India nor in the big lavish laboratories at Sheild. Still, the tower was better than the aforementioned places. It wasn't that Tony didn't try or that Bruce felt uneasy around him, him being around actually helped a lot.

It was the constant paranoia that stayed with him, the constant anger about what he'd become and the constant fear of hurting someone that made him uncomfortable. Though it helped to know that right now there was someone in the tower that could at least hinder him, hinder not stop because nothing could really stop the other guy.

The only reason he hadn't packed his bags and left immediately was the decision to allow Loki to regain his strength while Thor made sure that all the weapons made by the Tesseract had been destroyed. They needed everyone here to make sure that one Loki stayed put and two to stay ready in case Loki had some other hidden card to play.

But while he was here, he wanted to make sure that the kid Hulk had dragged into this mess made her way home. The same kid who technically didn't exist. On records that is. Yeah, it was baffling but it was what it was. The kid had no record, Alyssa Potter didn't exist anywhere. The face search result showed some 30% to 40% matches but they weren't her.

Alyssa Potter had no birth records, no dental records, no missing report and even the town Tony had put down ( probably after asking her) didn't exist. Either it was all some complex convoluted lie or there was something deeper going on. Maybe she was a part of some witness protection program?

"BFG, your Sophie is a dimension traveling elevator blowing wizard mutant."

-or it could be that.

"What?" Bruce turned his chair towards the resident genius who'd also been sitting in his chair going through all the data JARVIS had computed.

"You heard me," He threw the wrench in his hand in the air, catching it midair. "She is a dimension traveling mutant. It either that or she is simply a few screws short a motherboard."

Bruce almost pointed out that the expression wasn't quite right but thought better of it. A dimension-hopping mutant?

Somehow that wasn't entirely impossible to believe. Thankfully  Tony decided to explain. Unfortunately, Hulk didn't like that his newest friend had been in danger. Halfway through Bruce had to hold up a hand to stop Tony and take in a few deep breaths before allowing him to continue.

Tony being the weirdly knowing guy pulled up a projection showing Alyssa's zoomed-in face at the end of the wild incidence that had taken place while Bruce was busy playing in the lab.

Bruce nodded his head and Tony swiped the screen away.

"So she said that she was from a different Earth and that her friend had to send her away to keep her safe?"

"To keep her 'gift' safe but pretty much yeah. "

"Okay," Bruce pushed his glasses upwards, leaning back into the chair. " Do you think there is a chance that that's the explanation she made up in her mind. Kids do that sometimes to overcome traumatic experiences."

Tony looked thoughtful, "That actually...makes so much more sense." He then groaned, "Why didn't I think you that! I knew there is a reason I loved you, Brucey bear."

Bruce smiled a little, " I thought that was because of my- and I quote- 'work on anti-electron collision'"

"That too obviously," Tony waved a hand in the air. " So you think she made it up?"

"It could be true. From what I observed in my limited interaction, I think she might have been mistreated for being a mutant." Seeing Tony nod his head in agreement, he continued. " Maybe Melina was some family friend was saw the opportunity and decided to send her away but couldn't come with for some reason."

"Makes sense." Tony turned away to fiddle with some sort of design displayed on the work table, "What do we do now?"

"We wait I guess." Bruce said thoughtfully, " And when the things settle down a little then we can come back to what should be done."

Tony hmm'd in agreement. That was that. Now what to do with Loki. He left his suit guarding Loki so that should work for now but they needed to fix shifts, there was no way he was letting the kid near Loki again.

-----------------------

With Thor's arrival came a wave of conflicting emotions, hate, rage, loathing, disgust, betrayal and....and a disgusting amount of longing.

"Brother," Thor inclined his head towards him, sorrow and conflict coated the word.

Loki looked away, he couldn't even bear to look at him. It was too much of a struggle to figure out what he felt.  What was real and what was the result of the destruction the mad titan wrecked in his mind.

For a second he wished he hadn't snapped out of the entrance when the green beast slammed him on the floor, at least then he didn't have to deal with this painful process of trying to recover his own mental faculties. Pathetic.

"What is the Man of Iron's suit doing here?"

Loki saw the archer move towards him, he could almost feel the anger in his soul. It was delicious. "And where is Natasha? Jarvis?"

Loki almost rolled his eyes, he wondered if they realized how stupid it had been for them to leave him with the spider as a guard. The enticing woman had slipped away after threatening him to stay put. As if she could stop him if he wanted to leave.

At least Stark was smart enough to leave his suit on guard, it was almost insulting how much they underestimated him.

"Miss Romanov exited the building soon after your departure, Sir issued the order for the suit to stand guard after our little guest managed to find her way to Mr.Odinson."

Barton let out a string of curses, Thor's hand tightened on Mjolnir. Loki felt a little spark of amusement at the situation. If he wasn't in a tremendous amount of pain already, he would've considered-provoking them. Instead, he just chose to relax his muscles as much as he could and tried to enjoy their panic.

They raved a little about what could have induced the spider to take such an action then they threatened him again-boring- before deciding to go talk to Stark. And they left him alone. Again.

Dunderheads the lot of them. With these sorts of decisions, it was a wonder their planet wasn't overtaken yet.

-----------------------

Once they knew Romanov skedaddled it didn't take long to find out exactly what happened. Apparently, Thor decided that he'd changed his mind about leaving the scepter on their greedy old Earth and took Barton with him to get the scepter back.

They left Romanov in charge who made a run for it after she got a call from Shield asking for immediate backup.

Tony felt smug and made a show of it, he knew someone messed up and for the first time that someone was their resident spider. Now she didn't get to lecture him about him being unresponsible. Pot, Kettle.

"Sir, it is almost time for lunch."

"And since when did I program you to become my mother, Jarvis?'"

"Since you asked me to remind you of lunch so Little Miss Potter doesn't have to eat alone."

Tony cursed, "Right, the kid. Okay em, What did she do in the past...how many hours?"

"Four hours. She played with the projections for some time, took a nap and as of now she is busy looking down the balcony"

His fingers stilled on the screen he was working on, "Looking down the window? What the hell does that mean?" He could almost imagine the kid dangling on the side of the building, thrown through the window,- No, Loki was locked downstairs.

"She is looking through the camera view, sir."

He grinned, "Oh, right. Never should've doubted you, buddy."

"It is perfectly alright sir."

Tony stretched out his arms, taking the opportunity to push the smoothie Dum-E made off the table into the trash, it had a weird texture to it that just screamed motor oil.

"Nah, it really is not. Let's go see what our resident Giant and pixie wants to eat. Tell Bruce to take his beautiful ass to the penthouse would you, he's down in the bio lab."

"Consider it done, Sir."

Tony hummed standing up he cast a last look at ideas he had for damage control, the city was pretty much trashed and it could use some help from Stark Industries.

The vague plan for a department for help was slowly solidifying into something concrete in his mind as he made his way to the penthouse.

The kid was sitting cross-legged on the floor, huh she seemed to really like sitting on the ground, Tony had on idea why. A projection was playing on the ground, he couldn't see what she was looking at until he got a little bit closer.

"The hospitals, of course, faced an overload of patients this last week but we are happy to announce that the survivors of midtown building leveling are making a steady recovery. Experts are of the opinion that if it wasn't for the actions of Iron man the death count would be in millions not Hundreds. Tony Stark self-proclaimed genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist-"

"Not really sure you should watch that Lilo, pretty gory stuff on there" Tony announced his presence, casually signaling Jarvis to change the channel to a list of Disney movies before the clip of him carrying the nuke into the blasted hole played again.

Alyssa tilted her head a bit, "Mister Jarvis said it was okay. It's em cens-censored?"

Tony made an agreeing noise at the back of his throat falling on the couch, his eyes still fixed on her.

Alyssa stared down at the screen with a frown rubbing a hand over a particular title, Tony leaned forward. "Its 'Lilo and stitch', I presumed you haven't seen it since you didn't understand why I called you lilo."

There was no answer, after a while Alyssa raised her eyes to meet Tony's. "Can I ask you something?"

Tony raised his eyebrows, "Sure?"

The kid opened her mouth before closing it, she looked thoughtful for a while before her shoulders relaxed," I was wondering what a playmobile was."

Tony's face must have conveyed his confusion because the kid rushed to explain."The woman on the news channel, she called you a playmobile f-lan-to-pist?"

Tony heard a distant wheeze, ah Bruce must have arrived. He kept his gaze on the kid, "Ä Philanthropist," He stressed, " is a person who helps humanity by a generous donation of money to good causes.

"And what about a playmobile?"

Tony suppressed a smile, "Aaah, let's leave that alone until you're let's say...fifty." There was a laugh from behind them, Tony turned his head a little and winked at Bruce who had a hand over his mouth.

Alyssa humphed," But I wanna play mobile, what is it?"

Tony looked around trying to find something to get out of the situation, it was like a bulb lit up in his mind or rather in his case an arc reactor. He took out his phone and handed it to her, "That's a mobile."

Alyssa turned it over in her hand casting a critical glance over it looking unimpressed, "So you play with it? Like one of Dudley's games?"

"Yep, "Tony answered, mentally cataloging the new name she had provided.

Alyssa scrunched her nose," I like books better."

"It has books on it,"

Alyssa looked at him with incredulity, "Books on this?" Tony nodded. Alyssa made a face, "I don't think so."

"Well your loss, Kiddo."Tony tried to take back the phone only for the kid to hold it away from him looking suspicious as if Tony was trying to trick her.

"I'll make you a new one, come on Kid. I'll even make it pink. Gimme back my phone."

Alyssa sucked on her lip handing over the phone, "I like red and gold."

Tony grinned almost seeing the face Bruce must be making, "We'll get along juuust fine, Kid."

Bruce sat on the couch next to him his face still holding some mirth, "Don't let it get to your head."

Tony leaned back with a smile, "Too late, it already did."

[midzelink]

Decided to expand on this post, partly because some folks seemed interested in it, but mostly because I’d like to compile all of my thoughts and feelings on the matter into one neat little pile.  (There are already a million articles about this subject elsewhere on the Internet, such as this one, but I’m making my own post because I have my own opinions that I haven’t seen expressed in any of them.) So!  Without further ado, I present to you:

The Twili’s Ancestors Were Unequivocally Sheikah, and Here’s Why -- An Essay By Basil

I remember way back in the day, back when Twilight Princess first came out and I used to spend every sleepover at a friend’s house watching GMVs on YouTube (everyone had a computer but ME, goddammit!), there was a LOT of speculation going on on forums and the like about who exactly the “dark interlopers” that were banished to the Twilight Realm and later evolved into the Twili as we know and love them today were.  (And why?  It’s not like it really matters, does it?  Correct!  ...But that’s not why we’re here, so disregard that fact!)  The biggest debate of them ALL was the Sheikah vs. Gerudo debate: supporters of the Gerudo theory cited the fact that there are no Gerudo in Twilight Princess despite having been around only about a century ago, the fact that the Mirror of Twilight is in the Gerudo Desert, and...the fact that Midna has red hair.  And here I am, over twelve years later, prepared to smash those ideas to pieces.  Are you ready?  Let’s get started.

The Hyrulean Civil War, and the Banishment of the Dark Interlopers

Before we get into all of the “evidence” I have suggesting that the Twili were, in fact, once light-dwelling Sheikah, I think it’s important that I establish one thing real quick: that the war Lanayru speaks of at the spirit’s spring while warning Link about the evil thrall of the Fused Shadow (aka the Interloper War) that resulted in the Twili’s ancestors being banished to the Twilight Realm, and the ages-long war that ended briefly before the events of Ocarina of Time (aka the Hyrulean Civil War) were, in fact, one and the same war.  (This is has been long understood by fans, but I thought it relevant to cite nonetheless.) This isn’t too terribly important, but it does establish that the interlopers were sealed prior to the events of Ocarina of Time, which is something to remember as we continue.

How do we know they’re one and the same war, you ask?  In Twilight Princess, we see the sages attempting and failing to execute Ganondorf, resulting in his being sealed in the Twilight Realm.  This happened long before the events of the game and shortly after the events of Ocarina of Time, and yet at this point, the Interlopers had already been sealed away and the Twili taken their place.  If the two conflicts were different, then that would have to mean that the Interloper War happened immediately after Ocarina of Time and before Ganondorf was sealed away into it, which...doesn’t seem very realistic, now, does it? 

Also, both wars were simply a rabid bid for the Sacred Realm and the Triforce; I imagine the Interlopers were merely the most dangerous players on the field for a period of the long war’s history, resulting in even the land’s deities getting involved to put an end to their madness.  As for when exactly during the war the interlopers were sealed away, it’s hard to say--but the war lasted for many centuries and I imagine that it happened long before the events of Ocarina of Time, as the Twili as we know them speak of their ancestors as passed-down legend and not, say, as if their great grandparents used to be light dwellers.

The Sheikah, Few and Far Between

How does any of this tie back to the Sheikah, you may be wondering?  I’d ask that you look to Ocarina of Time; as we all know, the only Sheikah present during the events of the game is Impa, Zelda’s attendant and the Sage of Shadow.  But it’s not that she’s the only Sheikah we see--she's one, if not the, last Sheikah, period.  One of the gossip stones in the game has this so say about Impa:

“They say that Princess Zelda's nanny is actually one of the Sheikah, who many thought had died out.”

The Sheikah are so rare that they are spoken of as legends, and many people of Hyrule still believe they’re completely extinct, even though Impa is living proof to the contrary.  Still, sometime between the events of Skyward Sword and Ocarina of Time, something happened that drove the Sheikah to near extinction, and it’s not hard to imagine what.  Enter...the Hyrulean Civil War.

Imagine this scenario: at some point during the war, a sector of Sheikah, wielding new and powerful shadow magic, betrays the Hylian Royal Family and decides to claim the Sacred Realm and the Triforce for their own.  Over time, the thrall of their magic, taking the form of the Fused Shadow, gradually lures more and more Sheikah to their cause--and by the time the Light Spirits intervene and seal their dark power away, very few “good” Sheikah remain.  These few Sheikah would go on to the be the ancestors of Impa and, much later, Impaz--and the Sheikah that were banished would go on the become the Twili.

Meanwhile, the Gerudo--who many others speculated could have been the Twili’s ancestors--are doing just fine in Ocarina of Time.  I imagine that, by Twilight Princess, they’re either a) extant, and simply live in further reaches of the desert, or b) dwindled and died out naturally, due to the race being one comprised exclusively of cis women.

Beings of Shadow, Enter the Twilight Realm

But that’s not quite enough, is it?  After all, it’s entirely possible that the Sheikah simply thinned out while protecting the royal family for centuries upon centuries in the war, and had nothing to do with the dark mages who invaded Hyrule and tried to seize the Sacred Realm.  Or maybe some of them were Sheikah, and some of them were Gerudo or Hylian, yeah? However, it’s important in this instance to remember how the twilight affects the world of light over the course of the game.  When you meet Zelda for the first time, she says:

“Twilight covered Hyrule like a shroud, and without light, the people became as spirits.  Within the twilight, they live on, unaware that they have passed into spirit forms...”

This twilight--the very glow that transforms regular denizens into spirits and Link into a beast--is the very same “light” that pervades the Twilight Realm, and it can only be assumed that any light dwellers banished there would also become as spirits, doomed to wander in obscurity and oblivion for all eternity.  And yet, from the existence of the Twili themselves, it’s very plain that that didn’t happen.  So, what gives?

I’d like to point your attention to the few bits and pieces of knowledge we have about the Twili’s ancestors.  When Midna is explaining to Link the history of her people after the duo enter the Gerudo Desert, she says this:

“What do you think happened to the magic wielders who tried to rule the Sacred Realm? They were banished. They were chased across the sacred lands of Hyrule and driven into another realm by the goddesses . . . Its denizens became shadows that could not mingle with the light.”

And after Link retrieves the Master Sword, breaking the curse that Zant placed on him:

“This thing is the embodiment of the evil magic that Zant cast on you.  It's definitely different from our tribe's shadow magic...”

It’s clear that the Twili and their ancestors had and continue to have a very strong connection to the shadows.  We know that anyone from the world of light who enters the twilight becomes as a spirit...but what if someone who was already a shadow entered the world of shadows?  Would their circumstances be different?

You can see where I’m going with this.

"Have you heard the legend of the ‘Shadow Folk’? They are the Sheikah...the shadows of the Hylians.”

The Sheikah, time and time again, are referred to as a tribe of shadows.  Impa maintains her position as the Sage of Shadow in Ocarina of Time, and the accursed Shadow Temple lies on the outskirts of Kakariko Village, a place that was home solely to the Sheikah for many ages.

Even if the Twili’s ancestors were a mixed bag of races, only the Sheikah could have adapted to the the anti-light of the Twilight Realm and evolved to become the Twili.  Those with weaker magical abilities grew more malformed, becoming as silhouettes and creating the less-than-human common Twili we see when we travel there ourselves, while those with more potent magicks retained their human forms, and the strongest among them would go on to become the rulers of the realm.

Eyes of Red, Parse the Truth

What else do we know about the Sheikah?  Well (outside of Breath of the Wild, which is an affront to all known laws of the universe for a plethora of reasons), they have red eyes.  This is never really commented on in any of the games as far as I know, but it’s an important enough trait that Sheik, who is merely Princess Zelda in disguise as a Sheikah, also bears the distinctive eye color.  As we all know, Midna’s eyes are also red--but that’s not much to go on, is it?  After all, her hair is red, and many folks have tried using that alone as evidence to proffer Gerudian origins.  No, in order for this comparison to mean something, we must first understand why the Sheikah have red eyes, and how that  ties back to our beloved imp.

First, let’s take a look at Ocarina of Time.  When Kakariko Village is attacked just before Link heads for the Shadow Temple, Sheik has this to say about Impa:

“The evil shadow spirit has been released! Impa, the leader of Kakariko Village, had sealed the evil shadow spirit in the bottom of the well.... But the force of the evil spirit got so strong, the seal of the well broke, and it escaped into the world!! I believe Impa has gone to the Shadow Temple to seal it up again . . .”

Anyone who has played Ocarina of Time knows that the Shadow Temple is a dark and wicked place, teeming with the souls of the undead and illusions that, without the ability to see through, would completely inhibit any progress one would try to make.  As Link traverses the temple, he bears the Lens of Truth: a peculiar artifact (in the shape of the Sheikah Eye, no less!) that reveals the world as it truly is.  It is a one-of-a-kind item, and without it, no one would be able to make it through the Shadow Temple, much less fight the invisible monster that lurk within...and yet Impa does just so.

The explanation is quite simple: the Sheikah’s red eyes are not merely a distinguishing character trait, like the red hair of the Gerudo, but a side effect of the fact that they can see through even the strongest of illusions with the naked eye.  It’s the reason the Lens of Truth was crafted in their likeness--though you are not a Sheikah, you, too, can view the world as one with this powerful artifact, seeing through fake walls, finding invisible items...and even meeting the spirits of the departed.

Let’s return to Midna.  After you first meet her in the sewers of Hyrule Castle, slowly making your way to the rooftops and the imprisoned Zelda beyond, you encounter several spirits of Hyrulean soliders along the way.  Midna taunts you, saying this:

“It looks like the spirits in here... They're all soldiers.  Where in the world could we be? Eee hee!”

As a beast, Link is now able to tap into his new “animal senses” to see that which would be invisible to his human eyes. Yet Midna--who is an imp, yes, but far-flung from a beast--is able to see the spirits as they are, naturally, without any aid whatsoever.

It’s almost as if she retained the eyes of truth for which her ancestors were known.

Echoes of the Past

Taking all of this into consideration, it’s not hard to parse the timeline of events that led to the birth of the Twili, and the eventual invasion of the world of light headed by Zant.  Long ago, in an age ravaged by a war over a lust for the Sacred Realm, a not insignificant amount of the Sheikah Tribe betrayed the royal family and attacked their own, desperate to claim the Triforce.  They had discovered, or perhaps created, a new kind of magic (possibly crafted in the likeness of Majora’s Mask, but that’s another topic for another time), and they had mastered it.  No other pawns in the war had ever posed such a dangerous, world-ending threat, and for the first time in the history of the war, the gods intervened, ordering the light spirits to seal away the wielders of this horrific dark magic into another realm.  The Sheikah who had remained loyal to the Royal Family were few, and because of this, their people eventually reached near extinction--while the “Evil Sheikah” slowly but surely became the Twili in the realm to which they had been banished.

Centuries later, remnants of their history remain: runes resembling the Sheikah Eye adorn the cloak that Midna wears in her true form, the Twili Palace, the walls of twilight that covered Hyrule like a veil of death... An eye even marks the back of the Fused Shadow.  They were a people of shadows, and they remained as shadows, merely becoming one with them entirely and no longer being capable of stepping into the light.  And their eyes--even the eyes of the Twili who became as silhouettes--remained red, parsing the world’s truth from its lies.

Of course, all of this is only possible if a sector of the Sheikah had, in fact, betrayed the royal family; it seems kind of hard to believe, being a race of people whose sworn oath was to protect and serve the mortal reincarnation of Hylia. Could a tribe whose sole ordained purpose was to uphold this oath choose to forsake their sacred duty? And that brings me to my final point, which is that...

History Is Doomed to Repeat Itself

Breath of the Wild may be an affront to nearly all established lore, timelines, and literally everything else, but does that mean we can ignore the existence of these banana-loving morons?

Absolutely not.

I rest my case.

[mayquita]

Pictures of Reality (13/16)

Merry Christmas everyone!! This week has passed almost without realizing it but we’re already here, with a new chapter of PoR. As always, thank you so much for all your support and for continuing to give this story a chance.

Summary: Emma Swan returns to her birthplace, Storybrooke, in search of a fresh start after a life marked by abandonment and betrayal. After a year there, she finds the stability she needed and also the possibility of learning about one of her passions, photography. Killian Jones, a former British war reporter with a tragic past, establishes himself in the same town as an instructor of photography, following in the footsteps of his best friends, the Nolans. What will happen when their paths cross? Will their common passion for photography help them heal old wounds?

Rating: M (Language, mature themes, implied sex)

Warnings: Alcohol abuse, mentions of the loss of a limb in an armed conflict.

Other ships / Characters: Although, obviously, this is a cs fic, Snowing plays a major role here, mainly David. In fact, the story contains three different points of view, those of Emma, Killian and David. Also, Henry appears in the story as Regina’s adopted son but he is not Emma’s biological son.

Beta: I’d like to express my gratitude, as always, to my beta @jarienn972 I’m aware that you have had to deal with a monster of more than 100k words and English is not my mother tongue, so I value your effort even more.

Artist / art: Go visit @imagnifika’s blog and enjoy her amazing art. The art that accompanies this chapter includes one of Emma's post on her Instagram account. I’ve added it at the end, for reasons...

Art for the prologue/ Art for chapter 1 / Art for chapter 2 and banner / Art for chapter 3/ Art for chapters 4-5  / Art for chapters 6-7/ Art for chapter 8 / Art for chapter 10 / Art for chapter 11 / Art for chapter 12

Special mention to @saraswans , thank you so much for your perpetual support, for believing in me when I doubted myself and for offering ideas to make this story grow.

Don’t forget to go read and enjoy the rest of the amazing csbb stories and art.

Word count: ~ 7800 (116k total in 16 chapters)

Also on (From the beginning): Ao3 / Ffnet (Current Chapter) Ao3 / Ffnet

Tumblr: Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10  Chapter 11

What to expect from this chapter? This is one of my favorites. In fact, it includes two of my favorite scenes from the whole story. David is involved in the first one. As for the other one… you’ll have to read it…

CHAPTER 12

My dearest Emma,

You probably would be surprised because today is not your birthday, Christmas or any other special event, but I felt the need to bare my soul and I have not found a better way to do it than through you, my dear daughter.

I may be a fool after so many years apart, but I still hold the almost vain hope that someday these letters, these little confessions in the form of written words will come to you. That's why I will not hesitate to continue writing to you until I exhale my last breath, Emma.

And I need you today, I need to hold on to something stable when my whole world falters and despair threatens to take hold of me, while I feel helpless, unable to protect my loved ones.

I have already talked to you on more than one occasion about Killian and how I have felt guilty several times because my paternal instinct, that which should have been destined to you, was directed instead towards that child who is now a grown man. On the contrary, my desire to protect him has not changed in the least as he grew up. When misfortune seems to prey on him, hit him again and again, my protective instinct grows.

That is why now the feeling of failure is more intense. Killian lost his love yesterday in tragic circumstances and my wife, your mother, lost a great friend. And I was unable not only to prevent it from happening but also I don’t know how can I comfort them, how can I help them when the pain is also consuming me inside.

It is hard to see how the flame of Killian's eyes is slowly disappearing without you being able to do anything to fan it. What can I do, Emma? How can I help my friend? My family?

I desperately hope that wherever you are, your life is full and that you have found happiness. Otherwise, what would be the point that we had spent all these years away from you if we didn’t manage to give you your best chance? I don’t know if I could bear the thought of failing you as well even more than we did when you were born.

As I told you in the rest of the letters, I keep thinking about you every day and I keep fantasizing about the idea that you and we are destined to meet sooner or later. Who knows? Maybe it's not too late for us or for Killian. Maybe one day we get to be a complete family. Until then, my best wishes go to you,

Your father who loves you deeply and who never forgets you,

David.

David Nolan. Storybrooke - March 1, 2018

"Emma, are you inside?" David knocked on the door again, with no response. Still, he didn’t want to give up now that he had come this far. "I've talked to Henry. I know you're home."

After a few more seconds of waiting, the door was still closed and there were no signs of Emma. Maybe she is taking a shower, he thought of a failed attempt to convince himself. Reluctant to leave without at least making one last attempt, he rested his ear against the smooth surface, trying to pick up any sound, however subtle, that told him Emma was indeed there.

Maybe it was his imagination, but he seemed to sense the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door. That was all he needed. "Okay, then." A sigh of resignation escaped his lips. "I would have preferred this conversation to unfold without any barrier between us, but I suppose this is better than nothing."

He placed the box on the floor next to him as he stood in front of the door, his forehead and the palm of his right hand resting on the wooden surface. He swallowed, dragging down the lump in his throat and closed his eyes for a moment, pulling himself together before beginning to speak.

"I... I didn't come here to apologize, nor to excuse any of our acts. I hope... I really hope we have the opportunity to continue this conversation when you feel ready."

David paused, waiting for some reaction from Emma. Still nothing. He pinched the bridge of his nose as the shadow of doubt crossed his mind fleetingly, making him question whether it was really worth continuing or was just a waste of time. He came to the conclusion that, although he didn't get any response from Emma, at least he would be able to expel those thoughts from his system.

"I'd like to talk about Killian today. I'm aware that you're mad at him, I... we understand your reasons. Our behavior was certainly inexcusable and it seems that we make one mistake after another in relation to you."

The grip of guilt and regret had not loosened the pressure on his heart over the years, on the contrary, from time to time it took a swipe at him, causing a bleeding wound difficult to plug. For that reason, he was forcing himself to defend his friend, as a way of putting a bandage on his wounded heart, as a means of atoning for his sins.

"He had no idea of your identity when he started the course. We didn't know you were going to attend either, so I guess it was just a matter of chance that you two crossed paths."

He breathed out on a shaky exhale before continuing, while he hoped to keep his voice stable enough now that the most painful part of his explanation was coming. "We... I took advantage in a certain way when he was at a low and vulnerable moment to ask him for help. Now I see that I should never have put him in that situation. You were our responsibility, not his. He has had that pressure on him, the idea of being a burden for us, of not being enough. I suppose that although, in a selfish way, I thought I was offering him the possibility of feeling useful. How wrong I was..."

David paused again as he pressed back his ear against the door. This time he did hear something, it wasn't his imagination. It was the sound of something or someone slipping down from the smooth surface, as if a person had been leaning against the door and was letting its body slide down. He imitated the position he thought Emma was keeping on the other side of the door and sat on the floor, aiming to be even closer to her.

"Confiding our secret and asking him to help us get to know you were a burden for him, reaching the point that he felt unable to handle the situation and was willing to leave to give us more time to figure out how to tell you the truth."

Once he had started with that exercise of sincerity he could not stop. "Regina told us about your past... Emma, I know I said earlier that I wasn't going to deal with that topic today, but let me tell you just this, I'm so deeply sorry..." David blinked a couple of times, holding back the tears that threatened to fall. "If I had known that you were going through this ordeal we... I don't know, there's no point lamenting now. We... we just were terrified of ruining everything you had achieved here in Storybrooke if we told you the truth."

David was aware that his voice sounded broken but also honest. He expected Emma to at least appreciate that. "It turned out that we ended up doing just that, not only with you, but with Killian." Before continuing, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Despite the inner struggle that Killian has been carrying these months, I had never seen him as happy as when he was with you. His gaze had regained its vivacity after so many years, so I beg you not to close the door to him for good. I'm certain that you are both meant to be together and I would never forgive myself for having cut off the wings of your future. I know that I'm placing a responsibility on you that you don't deserve but, if you feel the same for him, as I suspect you do, I only ask you to give him at least one chance to explain himself."

He rested the palm of his hand on the door, caressing the surface while he imagined it was his daughter whom he caressed in an attempt to comfort her. "Thanks for listening to me, Emma." He whispered as his gaze fell on the box he had brought. "You may not believe it or even find it insulting, but since I had the opportunity to see you for the first time when you were just a newborn baby, I never stopped thinking of you. You've always been with me, Emma, both in my mind and in my heart. When you open the door you will find proof of my words."

No sound or movement came from the other side of the door. After letting out a deep sigh, David finally got up and started walking away from the door, feeling that with each step he took, he moved further away from his soul, leaving it hidden in a box in the middle of a lonely hallway.

Only when he went outside and was hit by a cold breeze did he realize that his cheeks were wet from the tears that had finally escaped his eyes.

Emma Swan. Storybrooke - March 1, 2018

Emma remained in the same position, sitting on the floor, her back and her head resting against the front door of her apartment for what seemed like hours, as she let the tears fall freely down her cheeks.

By the time she had heard David's voice on the other side of the door, she had felt paralyzed, unable to react at first. Slowly, a wave of mixed feelings had begun to take hold of her. She wasn't prepared to listen to revelations about her origins or to relive her terrible experiences as an orphan. For that reason, she hadn't opened the door, but David's voice had attracted her like a magnet, so she had stayed there all the time, assimilating his words while her heart constricted in her chest.

His voice had given off a raw honesty that Emma had not expected. Even so, her anger had increased when her suspicions were confirmed through David’s words. Killian had been just another victim, who had made wrong decisions, but excusable because of the complex position in which he had found himself.

She could not forgive them, not yet, not when his confession and the little glimpses he had dropped were too painful to ignore.

But she had also been unable to stop her emotions, and after squeezing her eyes closed in an unsuccessful attempt to keep the tears for falling, she had finally given up. At least she had managed to swallow the sob bubbling in the back of her throat, both hands covering her mouth, forcing herself to remain silent.

She waited a few more minutes, terrified at the thought of opening the door and finding that David was still there. When she thought that more than enough time had passed for him to leave, she finally got up, but before opening the door, she looked through the peephole to make sure that the hall was empty.

There was something on the landing when she finally dared to open the door, a cardboard box, its size a little larger than a shoe box, with an inscription written in an elegant cursive on the lid of the box: Letters to Emma from her father, 1989-2018.

Quickly, she grabbed the box, feeling its touch on the tips of her fingers as if it burned, and went to her bedroom, putting it in the most hidden corner of her closet, while her heart pounded in her chest, warm tears gliding again down her cheeks.

She did not feel strong enough to deal with the content of those letters. She wasn't even sure that she would ever be able to do it.

There was something she was sure of though. She needed Killian, she missed him terribly, and after his friend's confession, her willingness to listen to his own explanations had increased. But before, she needed to sleep, that rollercoaster of emotions that she was experiencing since last Monday was taking a toll on her, leaving her so exhausted that she felt like her brain was unable to properly process everything that was happening.

Killian Jones. Storybrooke - March 3, 2018

The nerves gripped Killian's stomach as he rubbed the palm of his hand on his pants to wipe the sweat. He was there, in front of Emma's apartment trying to gain enough confidence to knock on the door. David’s experience in this same place two days ago made him hesitant, despite how he longed to see her again and only this small barrier separated them physically.

David hadn't offered him any details of his unexpected visit to Emma's apartment, only that Emma hadn't opened the door to him even though he was certain that she had been home at that moment.

Killian had also learned for the first time the existence of the letters that David had written to Emma throughout her life. His heart ached for his friend. He could not even imagine the suffering he had carried all these years, so he hoped that those letters would have an effect on Emma, if only to give them the opportunity to explain themselves.

But he would have to leave those worries for another time. Right now, he had to carry out his own mission. His jaw clenched, a sharp intake of breath coming through his teeth before he finally decided to knock on the door.

To his surprise, Emma opened the door before he even had time to process it. Suddenly, he found himself face to face with her and all rational thought vanished from his mind, while his throat closed preventing him from making any sound.

"Hi." Her lips drew an awkward smile, but at least her expression was softer than the last time he had seen her. While she watched him, a thin crease appeared between her brows. "You look horrible."

"Hey." A sound that seemed like a croak escaped his lips. He cleared his throat, hoping to get his voice back as he reached out to scratch behind his ear. "I can't say the same about you, Swan. You look beautiful, as always."

He wasn't lying. Her hair was pulled back in a sloppy braid falling over her right shoulder, her face was fresh, no trace of makeup, and although he could detect a slight reddish hue around her eyes, the green of her gaze was as intense as ever. The soft pink blush that appeared on her cheeks after hearing his words only caused her natural beauty to increase.

His surprise grew when she, far from looking defensive or cautious, stepped aside while offering him a shy smile. "Come in."

The corners of his lips rose slightly in an attempt at a smile as he passed by her side and entered her apartment with somewhat hesitant steps. Emma's attitude had caught him completely off guard. Instead of her being belligerent or distant, he had met a cordial Emma who at least seemed willing to listen to him.

"Would you like something to drink? Coffee? Tea? Something stronger?" She asked as she made her way to the kitchen.

"A tea would be fine. Thank you, love." While waiting for Emma to return, Killian took off his jacket and placed it on the rack next to the door, then went to the couch where he sat on the edge of the seat, feeling the nerves gripping his stomach with even more pressure.

Emma returned a few minutes later, holding two steaming cups in her hands. She handed one of them to Killian before sitting on the other side of the couch, keeping a proper distance between them, but her torso turned slightly toward him as she held the cup of what he thought was hot chocolate with both hands.

An awkward silence fell over them while they pretended to be very busy with their respective drinks. A weird thought crossed his mind then, as he watched Emma hold the steaming cup in her hands. His gaze shifted to his prosthesis while he thought of the advantage of the absence of touch there. No matter how hot his cup was, he could always use his prosthesis to hold it, thus protecting his only hand from possible burns.

"Your friend David came here two days ago." Emma's voice broke the silence, freeing him from those weird thoughts.

"Aye, he told me." He nodded in a tentative motion, not quite sure that he liked the way their conversation had just started.

"Did he also tell you that he talked to me through the door? It was more like a monologue, as I guess you have already figured out." Emma's face remained impassive, though Killian detected a subtle hint of bitterness in her words. He suspected that the mention of David was intentional. Maybe it was her way of telling him that she knew some details in advance before he had to explain himself? And why wouldn't David have told him anything about that conversation — or rather monologue?

"No, I didn't know." He admitted. "He just told me that he gave you the letters he's been writing to you since you were born..."

"I don't want to talk about that right now." Emma cut him off abruptly. Killian was aware he had taken the wrong step when a stormy shadow crossed her gaze, darkening her features.

Again the silence fell over them, while they finished their drinks and left the empty cups on the coffee table. Emma pressed her lips together in a thin line as she rubbed her forehead with one hand. Then, she raised her gaze, looking for his. "What did you come for, Killian?" She asked through a whisper.

The moment of truth has come, Killian thought as he took a deep breath in an attempt to gain enough self-confidence to bare his soul once more in front of her.

"I didn't have the opportunity to explain myself the other day, you know... I've come to ask you to allow me to offer my explanation of everything that has happened. I only ask you to listen to me, Swan." Killian's eyes bored into hers, while he held his breath, waiting for her reaction.

Emma held his gaze for a few seconds, her lashes fluttering against her cheeks as she assessed his request. Killian detected an almost imperceptible nod of her head, as if she were trying to convince herself. After taking a deep breath, she finally agreed. "Okay, I'm listening."

That was the only sign Killian needed to finally open his heart and let go of all the worries that had plagued him in the last few months.

He told her about the first time he was aware that his friends had kept a secret from him from the beginning. The memory of that hungover morning after the anniversary of his brother's death and his confrontation with David still felt like a fresh wound.

Emma had been his confidant at that time, so nothing he was telling her was new to her. Still, she listened intently, her gaze never leaving his. She was also aware of the state in which he had found himself before knowing the truth, with that oppressive need to compensate his friends for everything they had done for him over the years, to feel useful in some way and not a total failure.

Before continuing, he swallowed hard in an attempt to drag down the lump that was forming in his throat. Then, he revealed to her how his friends had finally trusted him enough to share their secret with him. He saved for himself all the details of the unfortunate experiences of David and Mary Margaret as it was evident that Emma wasn't yet ready to face those revelations. Even so, he could detect a shadow of hurt crossing her gaze.

If he hadn't known the existence of that secret, it would have been unimaginable for him to think that his friends had gone through such a traumatic experience. They had always been his rock, his support. They had always offered him hope when he only saw a dark void in front of him.

"They only revealed your identity once they finished telling me their secret, when they explained to me the reasons why they needed my help."

Killian noticed how Emma shifted uncomfortably in her seat, while she averted her eyes. He would have given anything to find a way to spare her suffering, but sadly there was not, so he had no choice but to continue.

"It was a shock to me, Emma, since I had already begun to develop feelings for you and, what's worse, you even had dropped some glimpses of your past. It was hard to learn some of those details from them instead of from yourself. It was as if, with that revelation, they had taken part of our history together." Emma's features hardened, as her gaze met his again. She remained silent, though.

"Maybe you don't believe it, but I think I've never felt so pressured in my whole life with the feeling that, whatever I did, I was already condemned. From the moment I knew the truth, regardless of whether they had asked me for help or not, I was destined to fail, either to them or to you, as it ended up happening." The last words were accompanied by a bitterness that he could almost feel on the tip of his tongue. Although he had tried to stay calm throughout his confession, he was about to break, so he felt the need to pause to try to gather his thoughts and pull himself together.

Emma took that pause as an opportunity to intervene. "Do you realize that they took advantage of you? That they used the moment of vulnerability you were going through to ask you a favor that you weren't going to be able to refuse?" The way she addressed him, with a mixture of resentment towards his friends but also with a determination to protect him, did something with his insides, his mixed feelings colliding once more.

He let out a deep exhale. She was right, but it wasn't that simple. "Aye, but they were in a desperate situation."

Emma huffed, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. "Why? Why didn't they just tell me?"

She didn't wait for an answer. Now that she had finally decided to express herself, she continued speaking in a voice that, although controlled, showed glimpses of the endless feelings that she had been accumulating in recent days. "He, David, told me that they were afraid of my reaction given my past, that they didn't want to ruin what I had achieved here in Storybrooke, but what they got by acting that way is much worse."

"Emma..." He longed to reach her, to ease her pain somehow. He acted instinctively, reaching out and placing his hand over hers, the touch with her warm skin burning through his veins towards his heart. She didn't reject his touch, just stared at their joined hands until, with a move of her hand, she entwined her fingers with his.

Her gaze sought his again, the corners of her lips twitching into a tiny smile. That was all he needed to continue. "We made a terrible mistake, I'm aware, but I was the one who made the decision to help them, after all. They didn't force me." His voice trailed off for a moment, but he needed to bare his soul even more. "I can't even express in words how deeply sorry I am for all the suffering we've put you through." He was aware that he was wearing his heart on his sleeve, exposing himself to her with raw honesty.

"The day you introduced them to me... that was part of the plan, wasn't it?" She asked with a tiny voice.

He simply nodded, his lips pressed together as a new wave of shame swirled in his gut.

"The day of the snow was also a setup, and the party after..." She did not ask but confirmed to herself what she already suspected in advance. Although Emma squeezed her eyes shut stubbornly for a few seconds, she could not help a single tear sliding down her cheek.

He had never wanted anything so much in his entire life as he wished he had two hands at that precise moment, because he wasn't willing to let go of her hand, but the need to wipe away her tears was so compelling that he acted instinctively again, reaching out with his prosthesis and brushing the skin of her cheek with a light-feather touch. The way she leaned her head accepting his touch, caused his heart to swell with admiration towards her.

"Those were my only interventions. You got along with them right away. Everything else went smoothly." He admitted, while squeezing her hand lightly.

"And what about your sudden changes of attitude, like the day I confessed about Neal and Walsh?" There was no recrimination in her voice, he could only detect a hint of genuine curiosity, as if she needed to know and assimilate everything that had happened in the last few months.

He let out a humorless laugh. "It turns out that I'm a terrible actor and I couldn't pretend. Every time I looked you in the eyes and remembered the secret that I kept inside me, it was as if a force pulled me, almost leading me to confess." The memory of that day came to his mind in flashes. "And regarding that day, I felt terribly ashamed, a fraud. I was acting with you in the same way that those two guys did." He looked away, feeling a wave of revulsion creep up his throat.

"Killian..." This time it was she who squeezed his hand. "Killian, look at me." She urged in a soft but firm voice. Although hesitant, he agreed, trying to seek refuge in the intensity of her green eyes. "Don't you ever dare to compare yourself to those two assholes. You were always at my side, trying to protect me in some way, worried about my feelings. So no, it's not the same." Emma said with such determination that he had to invoke all his self-control to avoid pulling her towards him and kissing her senseless right there.

His mind then traveled to the crucial moment, the day when everything had ended up exploding. He felt the need to explain the reasons for his failed attempt to travel to London. "I wasn't leaving you, Swan." He assured. "But it was clear that I wasn't able to handle the situation and on my birthday when I saw you there, in my apartment, sharing a moment as a happy family... I simply couldn't resist it."

"Regina told me that you canceled the flights when I left for work."

"Aye. It was a stupid decision that was only going to cause more damage than had already been inflicted." He averted his eyes, unable to hold her gaze.

"Well, that stupid decision got us here, and although this week has been downright awful, look at me and you, finally having a sincere conversation."

"If you put it that way..." He admitted, casting a sidelong glance at her and catching a soft smile on her face.

They fell silent for the next few seconds, Killian gently stroking her hand while he kept lost in thought, wondering where this conversation left them from now on. Emma's firm voice brought him back to reality. "There can be no more lies or secrets between us if we want this to work, Killian. I mean it."

Killian's eyes snapped back to her face. "You do?" He mumbled, still in awe at the possibility that Emma could forgive him just like that.

"You don't?" She challenged, a special glint in her eyes.

"Aye, with all my heart, Emma." He assured as he finally released her hand and reached out to stroke her cheek, his heart hammering in his chest.

Both held their eyes for a few seconds, her bottom lip catching between her teeth, while she kept a thoughtful expression. "I..." She licked her lips as she lowered her head before continuing. "I also wanted to apologize for everything I told you the other day. I'm aware that my words might have hurt you."

"Emma... no." His hand traveled to her chin, his thumb brushing gently at her dimple as he pushed lightly to force her to lift her head. "You have nothing to apologize for. I deserved each and every one of the words that you addressed to me."

They rested their foreheads together while Killian closed his eyes and let himself be enveloped by the sensations, her warm breath caressing his face while her intoxicating scent penetrated his nostrils causing his head to spin. "Gods, Emma. I want to kiss you so desperately." He breathed out, unable to avoid a hint of urgency in his voice.

"There's nothing stopping you, Killian." She whispered, her lips only a few inches away from his.

Killian shortened the distance between them until their lips finally met and everything around them vanished. At the moment when the longed-for kiss began he was absolutely certain that, just as he had set himself as a New Year's resolution, he was never going to stop kissing this woman.

But now, without any secret lurking, without any lie between them that clouded his thoughts, the sensations were even more intense. Her lips seemed softer, her scent sweeter, her taste even more exquisite.

After that first soft and tentative kiss, he ran his tongue along her bottom lip to seek entrance. Her lips parted slightly offering him the invitation he needed. When their tongues began to dance together, he felt electric shocks of pleasure up his spine and down to his toes.

Feeling Emma's lips against his again was as if he had found an oasis in the middle of the desert. He devoured her mouth while she moaned against his own, angling her head to allow him deeper as he pushed himself against her.

They continued kissing, alternating languid kisses with others full of passion, for what seemed like hours. At some point, Emma ended up straddling his lap, her mouth sliding down his neck, her tongue leaving a wet trail in its wake as it traveled back up looking for his mouth.

He was so intoxicated by the sensations, lost in a sea of lust and bliss that he didn't even realize at the beginning that the sensual movements she had initiated had a clear purpose. Slowly, his mind cleared enough to break the kiss, and look for her gaze as he tried to catch his breath.

"Emma, love, what are we doing?" Killian asked, his voice raspy.

"What do you think we're doing, Killian?" She arched an eyebrow suggestively.

"But..." He was unable to prevent a groan from sliding between his lips, when the deliberate movements of her hips became more intense causing a delicious and at the same time tortuous friction against his arousal.

"Emma..." He tried again, his voice sounding still hoarse. "We... we just... we never... we just made peace." He trailed off in a breathy moan.

"Have you never heard of make up sex?" She asked before catching the lobe of his ear between her teeth, earning another groan on his part.

"But it would be our first time..." He alleged weakly. Something was definitely not working well in his brain.

"So..." She shrugged. "It will be a first time-make up sort of sex, then." Her brow furrowed slightly, as she searched his gaze. "You want this, don't you, Killian?"

He saw it clear then, the faint hint of vulnerability in her voice, her expression of ill-concealed frustration. He remembered all the times he had rejected her in a certain way during the last months. The mere thought of having his way with her when there was that secret beating between them was too repulsive. But now, there was nothing to prevent further progress in their relationship and yet he was still impeding her advances.

"Of course I do. I want it so badly that it hurts, literally." He directed a look full of intention to his crotch.

"So..."

Killian took a deep breath, locking her eyes with his, his hand tracing delicate patterns on the patch of skin exposed under the hem of her shirt.

"I wouldn't like this to be just a way to release the tension accumulated during this week. I don't want you to regret the next morning, darling."

"I won't." She stated categorically.

"You can't know that, love." He almost implored, desperate to do things right this time.

"Do you trust me, Killian?" He simply nodded. "I want to have sex with you and I promise I'll be here the next morning."

"Well, since we're in your own apartment..." Killian arched a brow playfully. The tension that he had felt, slowly fading away.

For all answer, she captured his lips again with hers as her hands began their exploratory path under his shirt. They continued kissing and caressing for a while until the pressure he felt was almost unbearable. He pushed himself up while holding Emma, who wrapped her legs around his waist.

"What are you doing?" She murmured against his lips.

"I don't want our first time-make up sort of sex to take place on a bloody couch." He growled as he started walking towards her bedroom. The giggle that escaped her lips sounded like music to his ears.

She did not make his way easy, causing him to almost stumble, too distracted by the sensations, her demanding mouth never leaving his, one hand gently pulling at his hair, while with the other one she clung to him for dear life.

Once in her bedroom, he forced himself not to be blinded by the passion of the moment and took things more calmly.

He had come to her apartment with the sole purpose of apologizing and being honest with Emma. Not even in his wildest dreams could he have imagined that the night would have ended just like that, with her vibrating in his arms in anticipation of what was about to happen. Despite the unexpectedness of the situation, that did not mean they could not make that first night together something special and unforgettable.

Killian lowered Emma until her feet touched the floor, both facing each other, their bodies only separated by a few inches. He allowed himself a few moments to observe her carefully, reveling in the effect their activities were having on her.

Her swollen and slightly parted lips were a perpetual invitation to be kissed. Some strands of her hair had escaped from her braid, framing her perfect face. Her cheeks were colored a soft pink halo, betraying her level of arousal. There was a fire in her gaze that made his blood run hot.

They began to undress each other in slow motion, without urgency, his gaze never leaving hers. A gasp escaped his lips when his eyes finally settled on her delectable, creamy skin, his fingers tingling, longing to brush against her perfect curves.

There was only a moment of hesitation when she laid her hand on his prosthesis, asking him, without needing to speak if he wanted to take it off. He shook his head slightly as his lips drawing a weak smile. He was not ready yet.

"I... I haven't remained celibate after losing my hand, but with all those one-night stands I never felt the desire to take off my prosthesis." He tried to explain himself.

"But I'm not one of your one-night stands..."

You're everything. The words died on the tip of his tongue before leaving his lips. Instead, he offered a soft smile. "Aye, I'm well aware of that, or at least I hope so. Let's say this is a promise of a future. The next time I won't need the prosthesis to be with you."

"Good." She nodded almost imperceptibly and continued with her task of undressing him.

"You're so beautiful, Emma." He rasped, while reaching out his hand to caress her exposed skin.

She closed her eyes at his touch, while she bit her lower lip in a failed attempt to suppress a moan. "You're not so bad yourself." She breathed out, opening her eyes again.

He couldn't resist it anymore. Cradling the back of her head with his hand, he settled the prosthesis at the small of her back, his lips finding hers again. He pushed her gently to the bed, getting her to lie on the sheets, his mouth never leaving hers as he covered her body with his.

"You can't imagine how much I've wanted to do this for the past few weeks. It's been torture, love. But I just couldn't, not like that." He mumbled before forcing himself to put his mouth to better use, traveling from her neck to her collarbone and back to her mouth, his tongue leaving a wet trail in its wake.

"I guess you had your punishment, cold showers, manual jobs and all that." Killian raised his head, his eyes searching for hers, finding a playful glint in her gaze as she bit her lower lip in that way that drove him crazy. He was amazed at the lightness with which she was taking everything that had happened to the point of even joking about the situation.

His skin hummed, feeling her body vibrating beneath his. He needed more, but before continuing, he needed to be sure that they were in this together.

"Tell me what you need, Emma."

"You. Only you."

"You have me." He assured, willing to demonstrate with his actions the devotion he felt for her, worshiping her body the way she deserved.

His mouth and hand began to explore her body in search of those places that would make her melt. The delicious sounds that escaped from her mouth and the way her body reacted to his touch caused his heart to flutter with satisfaction. He acted like a thirsty man who had just found a stream of crystal clear water. His thirst was only satiated at the moment in which she came undone by his ministrations.

He watched her features intently, her eyes still closed, her breathing shaken, a sated smile gracing her lips and causing his chest to swell with pride, as he wondered what he had done to deserve such a blessing in his life.

Waiting for her to come down from her high, he lay beside her, his fingers drawing delicate patterns on her bare stomach. He noticed she was catching her breath slowly until finally, she opened her eyes, a wicked grin adorning her lips. "I think it's my turn now." She muttered as her hand traveled south, until her fingers closed around him, causing a sharp intake of breath coming through his teeth.

She took the reins then, so he had no choice but to surrender to her, and follow her path.

After so many years of one-night stands, he wasn't used to that level of intimacy that could be overwhelming in some way. But he was completely consumed by her and by the power she had to make him shake only with the most subtle brush of her lips on his skin as the fire in her eyes made his blood run hot, his mind clouded by pure bliss and lust.

They ended up emulating the previous position on the couch, she straddling his lap while he rested his back on the headboard of the bed, their bodies almost fused with each other. If he was surprised by her choice of position, he didn't have time to express it out loud. The moment their bodies joined and began the first of — he hoped —many dances together, all rational thought left him. She had managed to bewitch him in such a way that he was now under her mercy. She was going to be the death of him - but what a sweet way to die it would be.

Emma Swan. Storybrooke - March 4, 2018

The first thing Emma noticed when she opened her eyes was the familiar feeling of an empty space beside her. Her brain still dragged the vestiges of the sleep, making her doubt if what had happened the night before had been nothing more than a sweet dream from which she had just awakened.

No, she still felt sore in the right places, noticing a slight burn on her skin while the sated sensation lingered in her system. Still, she couldn't help a wave of disappointment washed over her. She had imagined a warm body wrapping her when she woke up. Instead, she found the other side of the bed empty and cold under her touch.

"Good morning, love." Her body shuddered at the sound of Killian's voice coming from the other side of the bedroom. She remembered then that at some point in the night she had removed her contacts and now, when she rolled on her side, following the direction of the sound, she only found a blurred figure sitting in her armchair.

“See? I'm still here." She jocked, her voice slightly husky, as a reminder of her veiled promise from the night before. "Are you stalking me?" She added as she reached out a hand and fumbled blindly for her glasses on the bedside table.

He chuckled. It was a beautiful sound, something rare in the last weeks but that she hoped to hear very often from now on. "On the contrary, Swan. I was simply watching your sleep."

Much better, she thought as she put on her glasses, getting the vision she needed to see Killian in all his glory. She swallowed hard, the image of him sitting there wearing only his underpants and holding her camera causing a tug of desire settling into her gut.

 "With my camera? That's sort of creepy." She teased, using a weird way to show her curiosity. In her defense, her brain wasn't functioning properly yet.

He rolled his eyes, smirking at her. Her heart fluttered in her chest as she observed his relaxed features, not a trace of tension in his body. He just seemed happy.

"I woke up early. I had never seen the sunrise from this corner of the town so, since I didn't bring my camera with me, I borrowed yours and took a few pictures from your window."

As he spoke, he got up, approaching the bed, still holding the camera in his hand. "And now I was just waiting for you to wake up and ask you to pose for me. The light is wonderful, here, Swan."

"Really? You want me to act as a model? Are you aware that I just woke up, I wear glasses and my hair is a mess?"

"Nonsense." Killian cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. "That light has a fabulous effect on your skin and your eyes, and you always look beautiful, love."

She wasn't going to deny it, she had a weakness for the way he always praised her and for his passion for photography, causing her admiration for him to grow at times. After letting out an exaggerated sigh, she agreed, posing for him for the next few minutes, feeling like a model under the scrutiny of the camera.

"Are you happy now? Come back to bed, it's still early." She sued once the photo session ended.

“As you wish.” To her delight, he complied quickly, leaving the camera on the nightstand and crawling into bed, wrapping his arms around her.

The sensation of his body against hers brought to her memory their previous activities, causing a new wave of desire to take over her. She caught his mouth with hers and allowed herself to immerse in the incredible sensation of being kissed by such a skilled mouth. She could spend hours just like that, sharing languid kisses as Killian's arms cradled her.

"Any plan for today?" She managed to ask, her lips barely leaving his.

"In fact, I do." He admitted as he parted from her slightly, while scratching behind his ear, his cheeks flushed. "It's Sunday, remember?" The way he addressed her, in a soft voice and a tentative attitude, made her stomach tighten into knots. "I have lunch with... David and Mary Margaret."

"Oh." Suddenly, everything she had experienced throughout the week came to her memory, hitting her hard. She had managed to forget all those worries for a few hours of pure joy, but reality fell on her again.

"I can cancel it. They'll understand." Killian offered, clearly worried about her reaction.

"No." As much as everything about the Nolans still hurt, if she was willing to let her relationship with Killian prosper, and she really was, she must learn to accept the important role they played in her boyfriend's life. "I haven't yet forgiven them and I may never get to do it, but they're your friends, your family, Killian. I'll do my best to not interfere with your relationship with them."

Killian nodded and stared at her for a few seconds, that special glint in his eyes causing the butterflies in her stomach to flutter furiously. "We still have many hours ahead of us, Swan. What do you think if we make them worth it?" He offered, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Before she could answer, though, he added, "Just for the record. They may be my family, but you are, at least I hope you are, my future, Emma."

The emotion she felt at that moment was so intense that her throat closed, preventing her from forming any sound. Instead, she demonstrated how she felt with actions, pulling him towards her and capturing his lips, hoping to convey with that kiss how grateful she felt for that promise he just had offered, to which she was going to cling with all her strength.

TheLadySwan   I know, I know. This is not a food photo account. But sometimes a plate of pancakes is much more than a simple food. Sometimes it means the beginning of a promising day, or a moment shared with that special person. Or sometimes it's just pancakes, a sweet and fluffy breakfast that will put a smile on your face :)

KJones This is a message from that special person (I hope), I'm looking forward to sharing more pancakes with you, in every way ;)

Thanks for reading. As you may have noticed, I'm not a smut writer, but I tried, sort of... Also, I just couldn't leave them separated for much longer. Let me know what did you all think :)

What to expect from the next chapter? If I'm not mistaken, I think the next chapter is the shortest in the whole story. We'll see how the relationship between Emma and Killian develops now that there is no longer any secret between them. Besides, will Emma be able to forgive The Nolans eventually?