#I AM NOT IMMUNE TO FUZZY AND CUTE CREATURES | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mageicalwishes · 4 years ago

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Read on AO3: here

Summary: "If you get lonely," she says, "you can call me. Send up a flare, yeah? I'll feel it"

Years after that fateful night in the White Chapel, Simon fulfils his wish to go and visit Ebb’s grave in the Woods.

Inspired by Carry On Sparks, Week 12 - ‘Fire’ @carryonsparks

Tags: Post-Book 2: Wayward Son, Canon Compliant, POV Simon Snow, Heavy Angst, Bittersweet, Mental Health Issues, Simon Misses Ebb, Soft Tyrannus Basilton “Baz” Pitch

Words: 3,950

Simon

All my life, I never thought that I’d live long enough to see somebody that I loved die - To have to handle that grief. And in a way, I wish that I hadn’t. It probably would’ve been easier.

I’d been readying myself for my death since age eleven. That fate - My destiny - That was all I knew. And while it wasn’t exactly welcomed, it was inevitable. It was certain. The idea of it made so familiar to me, that I’d almost forgotten how to fear it (Almost). I’d accepted it long ago. So … I never thought that I’d have to know this pain - Never prepared a strategy for coping.

I’d imagined it time and time again in my nightmares, of course - Losing Penny, or Aggie, or The Mage - but I never truly believed that I’d be here to experience it. If things got that dire - If someone had to die; it would’ve been me (Or Baz, I guess. But I tried not to think about that).

So seeing it here, etched in cool grey stone is … Well, I’m not even sure what it is. Hollowing. Devastating. A nightmare come to life:

Ebeneza Petty. 1978 - 2015. Beloved daughter, sister, and friend.

Crowley. It doesn’t seem real, even now. Even when I’m standing right in front of it.

It’s taken me a long time to get here. Probably too long. (So many months. So many years). But … I couldn’t face it. Not before. (Probably not even now, really).

The first few years, I didn’t let myself think about Ebb much at all - Not the good, and not the bad. I made a promise to myself that I’d visit her one day, and that was that. Out of sight, out of mind.

It wasn’t even really a conscious choice; not like some of the things I don’t think about. I didn’t want to ignore her. I didn’t want to pretend that what happened to her, didn’t happen. I didn’t want to stop thinking about all the good - All the joy she brought me. I just … couldn’t handle it. Any of it. I was already so overwhelmed. Losing her - Really processing the fact that she was gone. That I’d lost her, forever. It would’ve shattered me entirely. Irreparably. So my brain just tucked her into a little ‘Do Not Disturb’ pocket, that even I couldn’t reach, and tried to move on.

My therapist says that it’s all right that I did that - That I ‘repressed’ it. I’m not sure that it is, really. But she’s been right about a lot of things, so far - Like trying to talk to Baz, and being kinder to myself in my head - So, I try to believe her. She’s the expert, after all.

I started seeing her again, consistently, about a year ago. But it was hard. So hard. (It still is, sometimes, to be honest. I’m not immune to the occasional session skive). I didn’t even really want to do it, at first. To sit there staring at her smiley face, while she pitied me - The sad little blur of pixels and curls in the corner of my screen. But it seemed important. It seemed necessary.

After everything that happened in America … everything that happened at Watford - What I’d nearly lost, and what I’d nearly given up - I knew that I had to do something. And going back to her seemed like the logical choice. (I even managed to convince Baz to talk to her, too, which I’m glad for. It’s good for him, I think. It’s good for us. And … matching with him in that way, makes me feel like less of a nutcase).

Anyway … I’m not sure when Ebb started creeping back into my mind, exactly. But it happened. Slowly at first, and then all at once - Once the dam was broken.

At first it was just the bad: Her cold, lifeless stare. The pool of crimson, dying the ends of her slick blonde hair red. The smell of copper. The heat of magic. ‘Don’t stop. Help her … Help her! She’s dying!’.

But the good came, too. Eventually: Her words of encouragement, summer evenings spent chasing after the kids, the way her face lit up that first Christmas I gave her a figurine (I’ve brought her another one today. A nanny and her kid grazing. They look at home, nestled amongst the sunshiney bouquets Baz April Showers’d for me).

And I’m glad that I’ve made it here, now - Back to her. Even if I am a few years late.

It’s a lovely place for her to rest. She would’ve liked it. In the woods. A soft mossy floor, and swaying willows overhead. Creatures, normal and magickal, scurrying around freely. A simple slate headstone, littered with flowers and photographs - Ebb beaming, surrounded by children I don’t recognise. Her and Nicky back at Watford. Her crouched beside an old woman, petting a Labrador. Tens of tiny windows into the life that was stolen from her.

I’d always wondered what it was like - Her life outside of Watford. Where she lived, and who she knew. And I’m glad to see that it was clearly one filled with love, just like I’d always imagined. Filled with family and friends, who hadn’t forgotten her. Who’d been there for her, even when I couldn’t be.

She should’ve had longer. She should’ve had decades more. She’d stepped away from the power she possessed, willingly - From the corruption of the possibilities it afforded her - and chose to live a quiet, simple life at Watford, where she was happy. Where she was safe. She did everything ‘right’ - Everything ‘good’ - and she still ended up dying in a fight that she had no part in. In a War that she didn’t contribute to. Nothing about that is fair. Nothing about that makes sense.

I’ll never forgive him for what he did to her. No matter what he was to me. No matter how I feel about the fact that he’s gone, too (Miserable. Miserable but guilty. I know I shouldn’t care - He was a monster, after all - but I do). It was him I should’ve been fearful of, all those years. But I was too naive to see it. Too blinded by playing son. And now Ebb is gone. My fault. All my fault.

A shiver runs up my spine, at the thought of it. My wings shuddering, involuntarily. Baz notices (Of course). Reaching out and taking hold of my hand - Stroking small loops against the side of my thumb. I’m here. It’s okay. I’ve got you. He takes my hand without asking, now. I'm better at not shaking him off.

“Alright, Snow?” he asks.

I just nod.

I don’t have the words.

————————————————————————————

I don’t know how long we’ve been standing here, just staring down at her grave, but everything is starting to get too much.

My throat pulled so tight that every swallow is a struggle - Air barely squeezing past the knot of emotion lodged there. My clothes suffocating me - Fabric far too constricting against my skin. I can’t move. I can’t - I can’t even breathe. And Baz is still holding on to me - Onto my hand. But it’s too clammy. All warm and wet and uncomfortable. Every slide of his skin, a demand on my brain. Focus on her, focus on him. The once soothing tracing of shapes, taunting me. Say something, Simon. Do something, Simon.

“Simon …?” Baz starts, unsure. “You look - Are you alright?”

I turn to him, on autopilot. And he smiles over at me - Small, and fake, and forced, and pitiful, and …

“Can you leave?” I rush, voice manic. “You have to - I need - I need you to leave.”

He looks a little surprised - Which I can’t blame him for. I didn’t even know that that was what I needed, before the words were spilling out of my mouth - but he doesn't complain (Baz rarely complains, even know. Sometimes I wish he would, though. So I could know what I’m doing wrong - What I can do better ... I should probably tell him that, to be honest. Maybe later).

“Alright,” he shrugs, dropping my hand. “That’s fine.”

He’s probably upset with me. He probably thinks I’m pushing him away, again (I guess I am, technically. But not in the way that he may think). He’s probably …

“Simon, love. It’s fine.”

It’s fine.

“I’m sorry. I just - I just need a moment alone. It’s not - I’m not bad. I just need …”

“Yeah,” he nods. “I know. It’s fine. Honest … Want me to go and wait in the car?”

“No, it’s alright. Can you just - Can you just go home? Or somewhere else, I don’t know. You can go wherever you like, just not … here. I don’t know how long I’ll be, and I’ll feel bad if I’m making you wait. I won’t be able to concentrate.”

“It’s no hassle.”

“Yeah, I know but - Please.”

“Alright,” he smiles. I don’t know why he’s smiling. I’m being a complete fucking mess, right now. “Call me when you’re done, and I’ll come and pick you up, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.”

I feel a bit better now. I don’t know. I don’t feel good, but I can breathe a bit again (I guess, technically, I always could - Otherwise I’d probably need an ambulance. But it didn’t feel like it). It’s still a little ragged. And my head’s all fuzzy. I just - I’m glad he’s leaving (Shit. That sounds awful. But I don’t mean it like that).

He turns away, to leave me alone, but before he does, he’s spinning back around on the heels of his posh leather shoes. A pained little grimace spread across his face.

“Snow, just … one more thing. When we were here, I used to go down and speak to my mother in the catacombs. You know, out loud … I’m not entirely sure, but I think that it helped me, a little bit. To talk to her. So I was thinking … maybe you could give it a go? With Ebb.”

I must pull a face, ‘cause then he’s laughing at me. (Not in a mean way. More in a ‘he thinks I’m being cute’ kind of way.) (It’s nice, his laugh. All silky, and warm, and deep).

“It’s just a suggestion, love. It’s up to you. I know you don’t really like using your words, so if you don’t want to say anything, that’s fine. You’re here. That’s enough. She wouldn’t mind.”

I scuff my foot along the ground, but then I just feel bad because I’m disturbing Ebb’s area. He’s probably right. But I’m not sure.

“I don’t know,” I mumble. “Maybe.”

Once Baz is gone, I sit myself down besides Ebb’s headstone, and let the tears come. Sobbing to myself as I trace the line between her dates. That’s it - That’s her whole life.

There’s nothing wrong with crying. Ebb taught me that. She always nurtured the softer side of me - The better bits (Not like the Mage. He only helped me grow what benefited him - My courage, my strength, my ability to ignore or delay every single fucking human emotion). ‘Allow yourself to feel, Simon. Let those emotions out of your heart, or they’ll drown you.’ That’s what she always told me.

I’m trying to listen. Trying to take the advice that she can no longer give. Trying to let myself cry, or talk, or scream, or crash about. To do whatever it is that I need to do, to get it out. To free myself of it, so that I can be me again. (I think that’s partly why I’m here today, actually. To face it. To loosen its grip on my heart, so that I can begin to learn to live with it. To allow myself to remember her - Who she was and what happened - so that I can try to move on).

I sit there and I cry. I cry, and cry, and cry. Until I can get the words out:

“Hullo, Ebb. It’s Simon. Simon Snow -” Stupid. She knows who I am. “Sorry I haven’t visited before now. I meant to, and I did try, but I just … couldn’t. I hope that’s okay … Baz says that I should try and talk to you - You’ll be glad to know that we’re not at each other's throats anymore. Not in a bad way, anyway.” I say, chuckling meekly. I think she may have suspected about Baz and I, to be honest. I was obsessed with him. “I - I don’t really have much to say. Just … I’m sorry about what happened to you. I’m sorry that you got dragged into it. You only ever wanted peace, I know that. But, thank you for saving Aggie, for me. That was my job, really. My responsibility. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

I suck in a breath and choke - Spluttering on the ground like a fool (I’m glad I sent Baz away, now, because this is just humiliating. My face must be a wreck - All wet and puffy - and I’m spitting all over the place. Which isn’t exactly the most alluring of sights. Not that he’d really care).

“Everyone says that I saved the World of Mages, and I kind of did, in the end. But … I know I couldn’t have done it without you. Without your help. I wouldn’t - I wouldn’t be half of what I am without you, actually. And I’m sorry that I couldn’t save you. I wish, more than anything, that I could’ve. And … yeah. Thank you for what you did - That day, and before. I can’t ever - You won’t ever know how much I appreciate you. How much you mean - How much you meant to me. But it’s … it’s nice to be able to tell you, finally. I wish I could’ve done it properly … before. But I think that you could probably still tell; even if I never managed to say it in so many words. I hope - I hope you knew how much I loved you. How much I still do.”

And after that, there’s nothing else to say (Nothing that I can manage right now, anyway). So I hang my head forwards, and let it wash over me. Let the words - My confession - lighten me.

I still feel like lead, though. Like I’m empty. Like I’m scorched ... I still ache. But I suppose that it’s a start.

————————————————————————————

BP (20:34): At the gate.

Picking myself up off the floor, I dust my jeans down and try to relax (I don’t want to make him to worry about me. He always worries about me).

“I’ll visit you again, when I can, Ebb,” I sigh. “I promise. Hopefully - Hopefully it won’t be too long … And I’ll bring another figure. As a gift. Maybe a sheep, or something. Sound okay?”

I don’t know why I’m asking her a question (‘Cause I’m a moron, probably). It’s not like she can answer. Even if she can hear me (Which she probably can’t).

“Alright,” I say, feeling disgracefully awkward. I don’t really want to say goodbye to her just yet, but it's getting cold. And dark. And I want to get back home soon-ish (We're all gonna watch Spider Man together). “Well … Goodbye. For now.”

And then I turn - Back towards Baz. Back towards the rest of my life.

I don’t look back - I can’t look back. But I’ll visit her again, someday. Someday soon.

When I get to the gate, Baz is clutching a paper cup, and beaming at me (I think he’s doing it to try and make me feel better.) (It does. A little).

“Doing alright?” he asks.

I nod, worried that if I try to talk, I’ll just start blubbering again (My hoodie sleeve is already uncomfortably sodden, from wiping at my face. So I’d really rather not). He doesn’t push it, though. He understands.

“Thought you might be thirsty,” he says, waving the cup in front of me. “Your favourite … I got you a brownie, too. If you want it.”

I don’t know what comes over me then, to be honest. One second I’m gawping at him and his stupidly sweet gesture, and the next I’m yanking him down into a kiss, by the back of his neck. Crashing against him roughly. Baz’s startled yelp, muffled against my lips.

I don’t normally like being touched much at all when I’m upset (Probably a residual hang up from the threat of going off), but I need him like this now. So I take it - Because I know he’ll let me. Because I know he’ll want me to.

He tastes like sugar, ‘cause of that stupid pumpkin drink he likes. But he feels like coming home.

I pull away, and Baz flushes, in a daze. My heart squeezing at the sight of him (In a good way, obviously). I still can’t believe that I get to have him like this, half of the time. He’s so lovely. And I’ll tell him as much, later … when I can (I like telling him the good stuff. He goes all gooey when I do - It’s ridiculous).

“Steady on, Snow,” he laughs. “It’s just hot chocolate.”

“No, it’s - Just … come on.”

We don’t talk most of the ride home; the only meaningful sound, droning out of his radio (He’s playing that Talking Heads violin cover he likes) (He can play this one himself, without sheet music, or anything. It’s proper impressive).

“Baz,” I mumble, gripping at his thigh. “Is there somewhere we can pull over. A field, or something?”

Grey eyes dart up to meet mine in the rearview mirror, panicked.

“Are you going to be sick?”

“No,” I groan. “Nothing like that. I just - I just need a favour … One that requires open space. A private open space.”

He grins over at me, then - Tongue pressing against his front teeth, cheekily (Prat. He should be watching the road).

“I warn you, Snow, I will not lower myself to dogging. No matter how much I may want to ravish you.”

“Fucking hell, Baz,” I snort, thwacking at his arm. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I know. You’re much too vanilla for that sort of thing, darling. Thank Crowley … But, I’m sure that we can find somewhere suitable for your … whatever it is that you’re planning. Do we need to get there quickly? I can cast a ‘Time flies’, if need be.”

“Nah,” I smile, shuffling back in my seat. “There’s no rush. Just … before we get home.”

We end up pulling into a field, just off of a roundabout, that fills all of my criteria. But I’m a little bit worried that we’re going to get yelled at by some farmer. Or bulldozed by a cow. (Baz assures me that we’ll be fine, though. ‘Country bumpkins and mooing blood bags, are no match for me, Snow.’ That’s what he’d said. The arrogant sod.)

Now that we’re here, though, I’m starting to doubt myself. Is this stupid? … Probably. I mean … there’s no real purpose to it. But … I can’t seem to get it out of my head - What she’d said to me that last time I saw her. Can she see? Will she feel it? I’m not sure. But I suppose that there's no point shying away from it now.

“Do you know how to spell a flare?” I ask.

“A flare?”

“Yeah.”

“Why?” He drawls, squinting suspiciously.

“I don’t know, I just - Do you know how?”

“Yeah. Should do. Hold on,” he says, fiddling with his cuff, and retrieving his wand. Pointing it skyward, before booming out an ‘SOS’.

Blinding hot fire, shooting from his wand - Lighting the sky a menacing shade of red, before falling and fading back to black.

It’s beautiful. And eerie (Kinda like a forest in the night).

Finally satisfied, I drop down to the floor. Baz following, wordlessly (Even though he’s wearing those fancy, light pink trousers, that’ll definitely stain). Sitting besides me, crossed legged in the grass - His knee bumping purposefully against mine.

“Another one?” he asks.

“Nah,” I breathe, tilting my head over to rest against his shoulder. It feels far too heavy today. “Not yet. It’s … it’s Ebb.”

I don’t really know why I feel as though I owe him an explanation - I mean, he hasn’t asked for one - but I do. He’s privy to all of my little secrets, these days. So he should be allowed to know this one too … I know he won’t judge me for it.

“What’s Ebb?”

He’s hovering his hand above my waist now - A question. I tug his wrist closer, and lay his palm against me - An answer.

“The flare,” I say. “Or, well … Ebb is why I wanted it. The last conversation we had, before I came to Hampshire. She said that I could send up a flare, if I needed her. If I got lonely. She said that she would feel it. I know - I know that it’s stupid. I mean, she can’t - I know-”

“It’s not stupid, Simon,” he interrupts, voice as soft as anything. “I understand. You don’t have to try and justify yourself to me.”

“Okay,” I smile, pushing myself up and pressing a kiss to the crest of his hairline. Fucking vampire. How he manages to make a widows peak look fit, I’ll never know. “Thank you.”

“It’s alright,” he says, laying himself out on the ground, and tugging me down with him. Grabbing a hold of my hand, and kissing the centre of my palm.

Feeling entirely safe, I close my eyes, and I let myself miss her - Her wise rambles, and her soft touch. Her unashamed tears. Her friendship. Her love. Her care.

‘You’re not alone, my lamb,’ she’d told me, the Easter holidays of third year. ‘Even if you can’t always see it, there are people here who love you. Who’ll always love you. Even if they can’t be with you, right now. And … I'm still here, aren't I? Whenever you need me, you just come a’knocking, and I’ll be there. Promise.'

She couldn’t keep her promise, in the end.

I can knock all I want … but nobody will come. Nobody will ever come again. Her shack is empty now. Abandoned. Forgotten.

But I know that she’s still there for me. In a way.

I won’t ever forget her words, or her lessons. The way she made feel - Happy. Accepted. Understood.

She’ll be there in my heart, always; whenever I need her. Along with the rest.

And … she was right about one thing - I’m not alone. I’ll never have to be alone again.

Because I have Baz - Who brings me my favourite foods, and holds me close at night. Who didn’t give up on me, when I pushed him away. Who cherishes me. Who loves me.

And Penny - Who is always there for me, fighting my corner. Who leads me forwards, and steers me right. Who wishes me every success.

And Shepard - Who indulges all my crazy theories like they mean something, and binge watches terrible reality TV with me.

And Aggie - Who sends me a text every now and then to check how I am.

I can’t ever replace what I lost in Ebb, but I can try and focus on what I still do have. Friends. A family. A home … Far more than I ever even allowed myself to want back at Watford.

And I think that she’d be happy if she could see me now - Could see us now. I hope that … she’d feel like her sacrifice was worth it - That she’d be content with her choice. Because Ebb deserves to find peace, more than anyone.

After all … that’s all she ever wanted.

#lowkey I'm sorry for this ... its a lil depressing #carry on #wayward son #snowbaz #snowbaz fic #my fic #my writing

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goopeculiar · 6 years ago

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pairing: jongdae/joonmyun. word count: 1200. rating: PG-13. a/n: surprise. :))))))))))

~*~

“Who the fuck even gets a cold in the middle of fucking summer?” Jongdae whines miserably. He's curled up on one end of his couch, wrapped up in upwards of twelve blankets even though it's absolutely sweltering outside, and he's fully convinced this will be the end of him.

On the other end of the couch, as far from Jongdae as possible, sits Joonmyun, who frowns at Jongdae's foul language. At least that's what Jongdae thinks he's doing. All he can see of Joonmyun's face is his eyes, everything else is covered by a mask in an attempt to keep away The Germs. Joonmyun's immune system has always been notoriously shoddy. “Someone who runs on four hours of sleep a night, substitutes meals with coffee and considers pizza a vegetable.”

“Okay, I'm too sick to come up with a proper snarky comeback right now, but know that I resent everything you just said.” Joonmyun rolls his eyes. That Jongdae can see.

Reaching into his canvas tote bag – because he is a Responsible Human Being who's conscious of recycling and cares about the environment and stuff – Joonmyun pulls out a styrofoam bowl of soup covered in foil. “Here. This actually has real vegetables in it. And nutrition.”

“Blasphemous,” Jongdae hisses, outraged.

“I know, foreign concept.” Joonmyun pulls off the foil to release tendrils of steam, and Jongdae has to admit that it does smell pretty good. He is nothing if not stubborn, though, so he turns his nose up at it. Joonmyun looks very unimpressed. “Stop being so fussy and eat your soup like a big boy.”

Jongdae pouts. “Then feed me,” he demands, sniffling for effect, and Joonmyun rolls his eyes again, but sticks his hand into the tote bag again and comes back out holding an extendable spoon, which tells Jongdae two things he probably already knew. One: Joonmyun is a whole ass nerd. Two: he knows Jongdae far too well, seeing as he had seemingly already assumed that Jongdae would ask to be fed. Has he become too predictable?

“I need to leave soon, though. Lunch is only forty-five minutes.” Joonmyun somehow manages to wield the oversized utensil without spilling any soup at all between the bowl and Jongdae's mouth. A remarkable feat, truly. He probably spent a large number of his solitary Friday nights practicing with the thing. In Jongdae's eyes, Joonmyun is just one fuzzy feline friend away from ending his days as the rare breed that is a male crazy cat lady.

Aaand the soup is actually really good. Curses. Jongdae hates when Joonmyun is right about nutritional value. “Thank you for wasting your time on me. You're a true pal.” A wild compliment appeared. Compliment used distract. It's super effective!

Joonmyun hums. He's very much focused on steering the spoon towards the right facial orifice, brow furrowed cutely over his face mask. “A true Mom Friend,” he says and makes airplane sounds to convince Jongdae to open his mouth. Jongdae huffs and nearly splatters soup all over himself.

“At least you're self-aware,” he mumbles around a mouthful of chicken and something that is possibly this carrot thing Jongdae remembers having heard of before. Joonmyun coos and praises him for eating so well, and Jongdae would kick him, but then he'd have to stick a body part out of his blanket cocoon, and he's just so damn comfortable right now. He wiggles to sink a little deeper into the couch. “Honestly, you're more like a Daddy, though.”

The elongated spoon falters in its path and droops sadly to dispense its load onto one of Jongdae's one dozen blankets. Joonmyun's eyebrows are nearly crawling off his face with how high they've shot up. Jongdae, mortified, wants to die a little more than he already did. “Excuse me?”

“Hah. Y-you know, like... daddy-o. Hah hahhh.” Jongdae does finger guns. His hands aren't even visible, his entire body is swathed in blankets. It is futile. He could roll off the couch and scamper off like a panicked caterpillar, but then he would have to drop down onto the mountain of tissues that has accumulated by his side throughout the day, and he's just not about that snot-soaked life. This means that the only option is to confront the problem head on. Fuck. That is literally his least favorite option. Under the current circumstances, he doesn't have the mental wherewithal to Deal With It. “Uhhh, ignore me. Hah. That's just the cold medicine talking. Haha.”

During Jongdae's entire Inner Debate Debacle, Joonmyun has picked the extendable spoon back up and calmly resumed feeding him the rest of the soup. “You didn't take any medicine. I made you wait until after you'd had something to eat. Remember?” Damn. Foiled again.

Jongdae sits up straighter. The conversation they're about to have seems like a 'sitting up, pants on' kind of conversation. He doesn't know where his pants are. Okay, scratch the pants. “Listen,” he says, leaning closer even as Joonmyun leans back to avoid The Germs. “I get the urge to kiss you more often than someone should normally get the urge to kiss their friend. You feel me?” He kind of wishes he had the full use of his hands right now instead of being stuck as some weird blob creature with just a face. Three parts blanket, one part human, all sniveling mess.

For a moment, Joonmyun is quiet. Then he pulls down his mask so his entire face is visible – he, too, seems to understand that this is Serious Business (he's even wearing pants!). “Well,” he says. “If you weren't sick right now, I'd very much like to kiss you back.”

“Really?” Jongdae wheezes. His chest hurts. Is that because of his cold or because his heart is pounding so hard?

Joonmyun smiles, and Jongdae now knows that the aforementioned chest pain is primarily heart palpitation-based. “Definitely. Do you think I'd spend my lunch break getting soup and medicine for just any one of my friends?”

“Knowing you, yes.”

“Okay, you're probably right,” Joonmyun relents. He boldly reaches out to brush Jongdae's greasy, sweat-matted hair off his forehead, smiling fondly.

Jongdae had expected to live with his unrequited crush in secret for a very long time, perhaps forever, but even so, he had had the typical, embarrassingly romantic ideas of how his confession would go. He imagined it would involve fancy clothes and luxurious food and maybe a string quartet. It would not involve Jongdae being snotty and sneezy, styrofoam soup and Joonmyun's phone going off. And yet he doesn't think he would ever want anything other than this. “Work?” he asks, inclining his head in the direction of Joonmyun's chiming phone.

“I set an alarm for when I would have to leave to go back,” Joonmyun confirms. He doesn't sound like he wants to. Jongdae doesn't want him to, either, but he doesn't stop Joonmyun from standing up and walking towards the front door. “I'll come over later, and we can... talk? Okay?”

“Okay,” Jongdae agrees. He rests his chin on the back of the couch so he can watch Joonmyun bend over to pick up his shoes. Jongdae can't wait until he gets over this cold.

~*~

ps. this story was brought to you by yours truly getting sick on literally the very first day of my summer break... who the fuck even gets a cold in the middle of fucking summer?

pps. v sure I already used “accidentally calling someone daddy” in another story, but I am still reeling from that one time when dan accidentally(???) called connor franta daddy in that one video so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

ppps. thank you all for being here still, hearteu hearteu bbyong. ♥

#exo #suchen #chen #suho #jongdae #joonmyun #joondae #maybe #idk #I kinda like this???#my fic

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rp-meme-central · 7 years ago

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Star Trek: TOS - The Trouble with Tribbles - sentence starters

1. “I was making a little joke, _____.”

2. “While the _____ are brutal and aggressive, they are most efficient.”

3. “We can only assume the _____ have attacked the station. We’re going in armed for battle.”

4. “You’ll try to explain? You’d better be prepared to do more than that.”

5. “I want all available security guards. I want them posted around the storage compartments.”

6. “S/he wants to shop, and I thought I would help her/him.”

7. “Ooh, what is it? Is it alive? May I hold it?”

8. “Oh, it’s adorable. What is it?”

9. “S/he won’t bite, will s/he?”

10. “Well, if you’re not going to take him/her, I’m going to take him/her. I think s/he’s cute.”

11. “I don’t think the ______ are trying to attack us.”

12. “We _____ are not as luxury-minded as you ______. We do not equip our ships with... how shall I say it... non-essentials.”

13. “I don’t want them here, but I don’t have the authority to refuse.”

14. “Another technical journal, _____? Don’t you ever relax?”

15. “How long have you had that thing, _____?”

16. “A most curious creature, ____. It’s trilling seems to have a tranquilizing effect on the human nervous system. Fortunately, of course I am... immune to... it’s... effects...”

18. “Seeing as you’re giving them away, can I have one?”

19. “This station is swarming with ______.”

20. “How many of these did ____ give you?”

21. “Get it away from me.”

22. “I’m sorry. I can’t understand it. I’ve never seen him/her act this way before.”

23. “Where I come from, that’s soda-pop. Now this is a drink for a man.”

24. “Take it easy, _____. Everybody’s entitled to an opinion.”

25. “Forget it. It’s not worth fighting for. We’re big enough to take a few insults.”

26. “Don’t you think you should... rephrase that?”

27. “I want to know who started it.”

28. “I know you. You started it, didn’t you?”

29. “What was it they said that started the fight?”

30. “There’s something disquieting about these creatures.”

31. “Does everything have to have a practical use for you? They’re nice, they’re soft, and they’re furry, and they make a pleasant sound.”

32. “It’s a human characteristic to love little animals, especially if they’re attractive in some way.”

33. “I don’t know too much about these little _____ yet, but there is one thing that I have discovered! I like them. Better than I like you.”

34. “They do indeed have one redeeming characteristic. They do not talk too much.”

35. “They are consuming our supplies and returning nothing.”

36. “Oh, but they do give us something, _____. They give us love.”

37. “On the contrary, _____. I think of this project as very important. It is you I take lightly.”

38. “I want these things off my ship. I don’t care if it takes every man we’ve got, I want them off the ship.”

39. “They appear to be gorged.”

40. “Before I take any official action, I’d like to know just what happened.”

41. “I thought you said _____ liked everybody?”

42. “They don’t like you, ______. I wonder why?”

43. “I don’t know. I’ve never seen one before in my life. I hope I never see one of those fuzzy, miserable things again.”

44. “You know, I could learn to like _____.”

45. “Do you know what the penalty is for transporting an animal proven harmful to human life?”

46. “I don’t see any _____ around here.”

47. “Well, I cannot take credit for another wo/man’s work. _____ did it.”

48. “Where are the _____?”

49. “You didn’t transport them into space, did you?”

50. “You gave them to the ______?”

#rp memes #sentence starters #Star Trek #Star Trek: The Original Series

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lilacmoon83 · 7 years ago

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Dreaming Out Loud

Chapter 7: Wildest Dreams

The Dreamscape

Emma must have been up late again, the night shift most likely, leaving Snow and Charming to their own devices again.

"Mmm..." Snow moaned into her husband's kiss, as he pressed her up against a wall.

"Charming...do you think we're together now that you're awake?" she asked idly, as he kissed his way down her neck.

"Mmm...I hope so. If we're not though, we soon will be. I have faith," he answered, as he looked up her, before resuming his exploration of her mouth and lifted her from the wall. He walked them to the bed, as they kissed passionately and she hooked her legs around his waist. Snow's hair fanned out on the pillow, as he lowered her to the bed and she welcomed his weight atop her.

"This nightgown needs to go," he mentioned, as he kissed the tops of her breasts that tempted him from the low cut collar.

"Mmm..." she moaned in agreement, as her hands slid under his tunic to palm the hard, carved muscles of his chest and torso. She lifted to help him slide the lacy white nightgown down her body and he was pleasantly surprised to find her to be wearing no underwear.

"No undergarments?" he teased. She gave him a naughty smirk.

"Is there a point to such?" she teased back. He smirked and raised up to his knees, allowing to watch with hungry eyes, as he shed his white tunic and undo his leather trousers. She sat up to help him, clawing at the ties and flipped him over, as she straddled his waist. Their lips crashed together again, as she pulled his pants down past his hips. He helped her rid him of the offending garments and then flipped her over again, pinning her beneath his firm, naked body. He caressed her face lovingly and she gasped, feeling him pressing against her.

"Charming..." she murmured.

"Yes, my darling?" he asked back.

"Make love to me," she pleaded. He smiled.

"That's the plan," he responded. And then they knew nothing but pleasure and ecstasy.

Mary Margaret Blanchard gasped, as she was startled awake in her darkened loft. She glanced at the clock, seeing it was only two in the morning. She sighed and fell back to the pillow. Her entire body was trembling, her skin slick with perspiration. And she was...aroused. The vivid dream she was having was a bit fuzzy, but there was no question as to the type of dream she was having. Or who she was having it with. Her cheeks were burning, as she recalled the sensations of the dream. She didn't remember any words, but she remembered him. She was having a sex dream...with David. She put a hand over her face, almost embarrassed at herself. But then she couldn't help the grin that eclipsed her face, because it was a really good sex dream. She giggled and decided she probably needed a cold shower. However, she found herself drifting off again, as if the dream was calling her back.

The Underworld

Approximately 59 years before the Dark Curse

Persephone's screams echoed in Hades' chambers, as her labor reached the pinnacle. The God of the Underworld waited impatiently. He couldn't dispose of the child; Demeter had made sure her protection spell prevented him from laying a hand on her. But Deimos was another story and he appeared next to him, ready to feed on the newborn's immortal blood and then toss it into the river of lost souls. In the months since Deimos had become a vampire-like being, the influx of new souls to the Underworld had pleased Hades immensely. Vampires were difficult to stop. It was why Zeus forbade their creation when the Gods eradicated them centuries ago. But Deimos was not so easily stopped, much to Hades glee. And he never created more vampires, just left death in his wake. His immortality was contingent on his feasting on mortal blood. If he did not, then his immortality would fade, for he was not the typical vampire of old. The Gods had fixed that. They didn't want mortals seeking immortality.

With the grail, that had been an easy solution. Any unworthy of its power had been turned to dust upon touching it. Then when the one worthy of its power finally found it, its power was granted to him. But Merlin, the now wizard that had been deemed worthy of the grail, soon realized the tether his immortality had.

Love for a woman seeking power of her own led to the creation of the Dark One and the breaking of Excalibur. Many Dark Ones followed the first, Nimue, and that had resulted in an army of mercenaries at one time to do the Dark One's bidding. Vampires had always made the best soldiers. Immortal, nearly unstoppable, and left death in their wake. But mortals had found ways to kill them eventually, much to the delight and impress of the Gods on Mount Olympus.

They had forged weapons of silver, such as stakes, blades, and arrows to take them down. Zeus was so impressed by their ingenuity and war on what he considered the scourge of the Earth that he bestowed the lands with plentiful silver deposits to aide the battle. But man did not quite get the edge on the vampires until it was discovered that another creature, another monster rather, could also kill them. Werewolves, of which only a small coven existed at the time.

Unfortunately, the outcome of that war ended with humans shunning werewolves as well, for one unable to control the transformation slaughtered villages in ignorance.

At that point, Zeus had stepped in. He ordered Hephaestus to forge his lightning bolts with silver and eradicated all remaining vampires throughout the realms.

So Deimos'' new immortal state was troublesome to say the least.

"She'll make a tasty morsel," he commented. Hades smirked, as his wife sobbed while she gave birth. An arrow sailed past the God and was caught by Deimos, who glowered at Athena.

"Really? Do you think a silver arrow can really stop me? I've built an immunity to the poisons of silver," he goaded.

"I know. One silver arrow can't undo you. That's why I coated the shaft of the arrow in squid ink," Athena stated. Deimos snarled, as he realized he could not move.

Demeter put her arms around Persephone, as she birthed her daughter. Athena cleaned her off and wrapped her in a blanket Demeter made herself.

"Oh...aren't you the fairest one there ever was," Demeter said, as tears streamed down her daughter's face and the baby was placed in her arms.

"She's perfect," Persephone sobbed.

"She's a halfbreed spawn," Hades countered in disgust.

"I will see to her destruction when I'm freed," Deimos promised. Persephone sniffed and kissed her baby's head.

"Mother...you must go. Take her, hide her where they can never find her, like we planned," the Goddess pleaded.

"That child will not leave the Underworld!" Hades hissed. Persephone ignored him.

"I love you my little snowdrop, but I have to give you your best chance. And that's not with me. You will be the fairest in all the lands and do wonderful things," Persephone said, as she willed her daughter's name to her mother telepathically.

"Oh...a perfect name," Demeter mentioned, as she took the baby. And she was gone, as Persephone sobbed uncontrollably, setting off yet another fierce snowstorm, for Persephone's grief had set forth the harshest winter any realm had ever seen.

Belle awoke in the soft comfort of the bed. It was so different than all the mornings she had awakened in the small, dank cell. She had no idea why she had even been there or how long. Her memory was blank and she knew only what others had told her. The man that had taken her in, Mr. Gold, said the Mayor had locked her up for reasons he hadn't divulged.

Normally, she would have been hesitant to trust anyone, but the other man, David had insisted she could trust Mr. Gold. Something about the other patient told her that she could take his word. And Mr. Gold had been nothing but kind to her, insisting that someday soon, she would remember everything.

For now, she was both nervous and anxious this morning, as she cleaned up for the day. Mr. Gold was taking her out for breakfast at her request. They had almost gone to Granny's the night before, but he seemed so nervous about it that she had suggested getting takeout again.

They were both still nervous about it, but he said he wouldn't deny her desire to rejoin society if that's what she really wanted any longer. Belle may not have remembered exactly who she had been before she was locked up, but she was intent on making new memories.

That morning, Mary Margaret rushed around the apartment. She fumbled with her clothes, as Emma nursed a cup of coffee. She skidded to the door and grabbed her scarf. Emma watched in amusement, as her mother then ran back to the bathroom to spit the toothpaste in the sink and rinse the brush.

"Hot date?" Emma teased.

"Oh...I'm, um, meeting David for coffee this morning at the diner," Mary said, as her cheeks were tinted pink.

"Clearly," Emma teased. Mary sighed.

"Am I being stupid?" she asked. Emma realized her error. Her mother's self confidence was still minimal at best right now.

"No...not at all. You're just...cute," Emma clarified. Mary smiled shyly.

"Thanks. I guess I'll see you later?" she asked. Emma nodded.

"Say hi to David for me," she replied. Mary Margaret smiled and hurried out.

Ruby huffed in annoyance, as she bustled around the diner, delivering morning meals and coffee. She was used to them being busy during meal time rushes, but this seemed different. It was usually manageable, but this morning, the diner was packed. It was like the sleepy little town suddenly woke up.

"Order up!" Granny called again. Ruby picked it up and delivered it to the table, which gave her pause. Granny must have taken this order, because she certainly would have remembered taking Mr. Gold's order. What was more, she would have certainly remembered taking Mr. Gold's order and his guest. Not only did Mr. Gold almost never frequent the diner, he also never kept the company of anyone. So to see him with a beautiful, young woman was a bit jarring. She set the plates of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and bacon down in front of her customers.

"Thank you...it looks delicious," Belle said gratefully.

"It is...I'm sorry, but I don't think I've seen you around here," Ruby replied.

"Oh...I've been a patient in the hospital for a long time," Belle admitted with a wince.

"That's awful," Ruby replied.

"If you're done, Ms. Lucas, we'd like to enjoy our breakfast in peace," Gold said. Ruby rolled her eyes and stalked off.

"That wasn't very nice," Belle commented. He sighed.

"People are nosy. Your life is none of their business," he replied.

"I want to make friends," she said.

"Just be careful with who. You can't trust everyone," he warned. She gave him a long look and then started eating. It was definitely delicious, but she was sure anything would compared to the tasteless oatmeal she was fed for breakfast in the psychiatric ward. As they enjoyed their meal, she looked up and saw a familiar face. David came into the diner with a pixie haired woman and they were positively beaming at each other. Belle didn't remember much, but she knew two people in love when she saw it.

The other couple found a table and rather than sitting across from each other, they chose instead to sit side by side. Their heads were close, as they whispered to each other, almost forgetting to look up when Ruby came to take their order. Seeing such obvious love gave Belle hope and as she glanced at the man across the table from her, she couldn't help but wonder or perhaps hope that their was love in her own future.

"The woman with Mr. Gold...is that the one you said was locked up in the basement of the hospital?" Mary Margaret asked curiously. He nodded.

"She doesn't have any memories, but Mr. Gold thought she was dead," he explained.

"How awful. I can't believe all this time someone was being imprisoned in the hospital," she said.

"I think there's a lot more going on in this small town than any of us know," he mentioned. She glanced at him and bit her bottom lip.

"Do you think Regina knew about it?" she whispered.

"She's the Mayor...I don't think a lot goes on in this town without her knowing," he replied quietly. The Mayor chose that moment to enter the diner with her son and her gaze swept over all of them like a Queen observing her subjects with scrutiny. Her glower on them in particular made Mary Margaret shiver, but she didn't miss the daggers she was shooting Mr. Gold either. She wondered how someone could want to keep two people that wanted to be together apart. One look from her made it clear though. She didn't want her with David and Mary couldn't figure out why she would care. Even more perplexing though is to why Regina might risk crossing someone like Mr. Gold, if for no other reason, than to keep him from someone he loved.

"I just don't understand what she gets from trying to keep people apart," Mary Margaret mentioned.

"I think she's unhappy, so she wants everyone else to be unhappy too. But you know, I think that if two people want to be together and are meant to be together...they'll always find each other, no matter what," he told her, looking into her eyes. She smiled and felt like melting under his gaze. He leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, despite being able to practically feel the fiery rage in Regina's glare upon them. He didn't give a damn. The Queen wasn't going to keep them apart any longer. As their lips parted, they smiled at each other.

"I suppose I better get to school," Mary said quietly.

"Yeah...I better get to the animal shelter for my first day," he replied.

"But tonight..." she said tentatively.

"Yeah...I'll see you tonight," he replied, as they paid their check and walked toward the door.

"Oh David..." Belle called and they turned back.

"I just wanted to say thank you, you know, for helping get me out of that place the other night," she said. He smiled.

"You're welcome...glad to see you're doing well," he said, sharing a curt nod with Gold.

"I am," she agreed, as she looked shyly at Gold.

"Oh...this is Mary Margaret, my w...girlfriend," he said, catching himself. He loved the smile that spread across Mary's face at the world girlfriend though.

"It's lovely to meet you," Mary said.

"You too Mary," Belle replied, as they walked outside and parted ways for the day with a kiss.

When Graham entered the station that morning, Emma was noticeably standoffish. Even the bag with the bear claw he had bought for her this morning remained untouched. After two hours of silence and paperwork, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Okay...what's going on?" Graham asked.

"No idea what you mean," Emma replied quickly.

"Yes, you do. You've been giving me the cold shoulder since I got here," he countered.

"Just not in the mood for small talk," she replied, as she put the finished paperwork in the tray to be filed and the grabbed her jacket.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

"Since it's quiet, I'm going to go grab lunch," she replied vaguely.

"Emma...please, talk to me," Graham pleaded.

"And say what?" she snapped.

"At least tell me what I did that has you so pissed off," he snapped back.

"You want to know what pisses me off? How about you lying to me? How about you sneaking around behind my back? You know, if you wanted the night off so you can go screw the Mayor, then just tell me! Though I'd prefer it if you didn't do it with my son in the house!" she growled. His frustration deflated and was replaced with shame.

"You know?" he asked quietly.

"It doesn't matter, like I care," she replied, as she stalked out, leaving the ashamed Sheriff behind.

Mary nibbled at her sandwich, while grading papers. She smiled fondly, watching her students play outside the window at recess. She took another item out of her paper bag and saw a folded slip of paper fall out. She opened the note and a smile eclipsed her face. David must have slipped it into her bag without her noticing this morning.

"Mary,

I hope this note finds you well and lets you know that I'm thinking about you. From the moment I awoke from that coma, you're the only thing in my life that's made a lick of sense. I can't wait to see you tonight, for I've thought of nothing but holding you in my arms and kissing you again. Until tonight, my darling Mary,

David."

She was pretty sure she was blushing now and his words made her feel like she was floating. Just a few days ago, her existence had been so lonely. But now there was David and Emma...and she felt like she had family for the first time she could remember.

She was snapped from her trance, when her students started filing back into the classroom. She smiled and tucked the rest of her uneaten lunch away, as they took their seats. She noticed Henry coming toward her with his book tucked under one arm and felt a fondness for him. She knew teachers weren't supposed to play favorites, but she couldn't help it with Henry. She felt a connection to him that she couldn't quite make sense of. He was such a sweet boy, so full of imagination and restored hope now. She had never imagined that could happen when she had given him a simple book of fairy tales.

"I picked these for you, Miss Blanchard," he said, as he handed her a fistful of snowdrops. Such an action would garner him mocking from his peers, but he didn't seem to care and Mary smiled at him.

"Thank you Henry, they're lovely. How did you know snowdrops are my favorite?" she asked. He smiled.

"Just a lucky guess," he replied, as he took his seat. She found a glass and filled it with water for the flowers, before setting them on her desk. And with that, she began her afternoon lesson with a contagious smile on her face.

Emma found him out back of the shelter, walking a beautiful collie.

"Hey..." Emma called, as she found him on the wooded trail.

"Emma..." he said, pleasantly surprise. The dog wagged its tail and eagerly went to Emma, as she knelt down.

"Hey there," she cooed and David smiled, as she pet him.

"This is Wilby. He was mine, back in the Enchanted Forest," David mentioned.

"I didn't know you had a dog," she replied.

"On the farm, I did. Unfortunately, one particularly hard winter, we had to trade him for food. It was a bad harvest and we had no choice. It nearly killed me, so imagine my surprise when I found him here in the shelter this morning," David said.

"I'm sorry Dad," she replied.

"It's okay. It was shortly before George needed me to replace my brother and then I met your mother. Didn't think I'd ever see him again, so I'm going to adopt him," David said.

"I figure my family will love him as much as I do," he added.

"We will," she agreed.

"Emma...what's wrong?" he asked. She sighed.

"Can anyone see us back here?" she asked.

"No...we can speak freely," he replied.

"Good, because I think I just need my Dad right now and not a friend," she said, swallowing thickly.

"Oh Emma..." he said, as he hugged her and cradled her head.

"You're not alone anymore, princess," he promised.

"I feel so silly...I'm twenty-eight," she mentioned.

"Well, I hope you're never too old to need me," he replied.

"I'm so proud of you, Emma. You are so strong and brave," he told her. She laughed.

"I don't know about that," she refuted.

"Well, I do. I heard about you chopping down Regina's tree, you know," he said with a big grin. She chuckled.

"Yeah...she got me back though," Emma said. He frowned

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"Nothing...it's kind of weird to talk about with you," she mentioned.

"Em..." he prompted. She sighed.

"I saw Graham sneaking out of her house last night," she told him.

"Oh...oh." he said, getting what she meant.

"Yeah," she replied.

"So...you like Graham," he stated with unease.

"I told you this was weird," she whined. He chuckled.

"Yeah, this is the kind of talk I always wanted to leave to your mother. It's not easy for me to think of you with anyone," he said.

"Still...I wonder," he mentioned.

"What?" she asked.

"Well...back in our land, the Queen had Graham's heart," he replied.

"And you think she still has it?" Emma asked.

"I'm not making light of him hurting you, but it's possible," he replied. Emma was silent in thought for a moment.

"If she has his heart, where would she keep it?" Emma asked curiously.

"She used to always have it close. But she also had many other hearts. Snow said there was a vault in her castle. Cora had it built after Regina married Snow's father. It had a wall full of small compartments, most containing beating hearts. Some Cora took and later ones Regina took. Snow said she could never shake the memory of the way that vault sounded," he mentioned. Her mother was so strong and brave. Her father loved to regale those tales to her and had all her life in the dreamscape. And that made it hard to remember all the trauma her mother had experienced in her life. But that reminded her of something else.

"Can you tell me about this Damon guy? Why is he obsessed with Mom? Who was he?" she asked. He sighed.

"That's a very long story," he began.

"I've got time," she replied, as they started walking Wilby deeper into the woods.

"Back in our land, he was Deimos, son of Ares and Aphrodite," David revealed. Emma's eyes widened.

"He's a God?" she asked in disbelief.

"He was, the God of Terror to be exact, but according to the story we were told, Zeus punished him after he sided with Hades and tried to unseat Zeus. He immortality was nullified and he was cast from Olympus. In his anger, he sought a way to restore his immortality," David explained.

"Which is how?" Emma asked.

"In the only way a mortal can become immortal. He became a vampire...sort of," David replied.

"Of course he did," Emma deadpanned.

"Wait...what do you mean sort of? How do you sort of become a vampire?" she asked.

"It's impossible to become a real one anymore. Long ago, before any of us were born, humans were at war with vampires. There was coven after coven and humans were under siege. They were either being turned into vampires or turned into meals. Humans fought back," David said.

"With silver stakes and garlic and stuff like that?" Emma asked. David smiled.

"The garlic is a myth, but the silver is true. Humans started developing silver stakes and silver tipped arrows. It was said one of the greatest warriors, Van Helsing, was gifted his knowledge that silver and fire would kill them by the Gods themselves," David explained.

"So the Gods wanted vampires to be destroyed?" Emma asked. He nodded.

"They were out of control and posed a threat to all and their quantity started to rival the Gods in numbers. It was discovered that werewolves could also kill them and shaky alliance between them and humans was born," David explained.

"Did they win?" Emma asked.

"No...it was just too easy for them to replenish their numbers. They just had to turn more mortals. So Zeus himself decided to eradicate the problem completely," David replied.

"How did he do that?" Emma asked.

"He had Hephaestus craft silver lightning bolts for him and struck down every single last one of them," he replied.

"Then how did this Deimos become one?" she asked.

"Hades sent him to Rumpelstiltskin. Apparently he owed the God of the Underworld a favor and Hades very much wanted Deimos to be able to continue to be his minion. So the Dark One didn't have much choice and gave Deimos the very last known Ambrosia leaves. He brewed a tea and Deimos drank it," he replied.

"And what's special about this Ambrosia?" she asked.

"It can grant immortality when ingested, but there's a catch," he replied. She snorted.

"Of course there is," she commented.

"To maintain the effects of the Ambrosia, one must also ingest blood," he stated.

"So that's why it appeared like he was a vampire," she said. He nodded.

"He can't make more vampires, but he must drink the blood of a mortal every full moon or lose his immortality," he explained.

"So...where does Mom factor into all this?" Emma asked, still not understanding. He sighed.

"Well...according to what Rumpelstiltskin told us, the Ambrosia messed with Deimos' mind. There's a reason the Gods don't allow just anyone to eat it. He became even more depraved than before and thus his prey became young, beautiful women. He would make a game out of it. Hunt them...capture them...do things to them I'd rather not speak of to my daughter..." he trailed off.

"Oh my God...you mean he would..." she started to say. David nodded.

"Then when he was done and they were broken, he would drink them dry. And his immortality remained intact until the next full moon," he said.

"So once a month," she said. He nodded.

"We encountered him after we saved a village from Regina's Black Knights. We think he was planning to make his move on one of the young village girls. But then he saw your mother," he replied, feeling the burning rage of him frightening his wife in such a way.

"And he decided he wanted her?" she asked.

"Yes...but there was something different. He became obsessed with Snow and started stalking her. After we captured Rumpelstiltskin, we went to him in the dungeon to question him about why Snow seemed to be different than his other conquests and Stiltskin always seemed like he was holding back something. He only told us the entire story of how Deimos came to be, the story I just told you, and that he wanted Snow to be his," David said, as he clenched his fist.

"He wouldn't tell us why he had honed in on Snow, only that he only required a sip of blood to restore his immortality each month," he explained.

"So he never actually had to kill all those girls..." Emma deduced.

"No...he did it because he's a sadist. But he wanted to...keep your mother," he growled.

"What happened? How did you kill him or think that you killed him?" she asked.

"I pleaded with the Dark One to tell me how to defeat him for good. He once told me that he was in love and I used that. I implored him to help me save the woman I loved. That he knew what it was like to feel powerless to protect someone you love and he agreed. He told us that the Ambrosia's effects were null and void one night per year...the night of the Hunter's moon," he explained.

"Hunter's moon?" she asked.

"Also known as the Harvest moon or Blood moon. For that one night, his immortal strength was nullified. So, your mother tracked him and we moved in for battle. Us, the dwarves, Red, Lancelot, and Granny. Even without his immortal strength, he was strong and formidable, but in the end, we won. We defeated him in battle and Red, in her wolf form, tore him to shreds and we burned him. How he came back from that...I have no idea," he replied.

"Do you think Gold knows?" she asked.

"There's not a lot he doesn't know. I was actually going to stop at his shop on my way to your mother's apartment tonight," he replied. She nodded.

"In the meantime, we need to keep a really close eye on Mom," she said. He nodded.

"He's mortal here...that's in our favor. But he's still extremely dangerous, Emma. Be careful," he pleaded.

"I will and I better get back," she said, as she hugged him. He smiled and hugged her back, before kissing her forehead.

"Soon...we won't need to pretend we barely know each other. We'll finally be a real family," he promised. She smiled.

"I think we already are, but yeah, it will be nice when we're finally all together. I can't wait," she said.

"Me either," he agreed.

"Bye Dad...bye Wilby," she called, as she hurried back toward her car and David went back to the shelter.

#Snowing #snowing fanfiction #feat Rumbelle #Emma Swan #Henry Mills

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