#all of that would definitely contribute to barry feeling like he HAS to stay there

[shrinkthisviolet]

#i wonder if it's almost like a self imposed obligation too#there's that bit in s4 at barry's trial where david says he hired barry because barry specifically said he wanted to help the victims#which is obviously then a reference to his parents#but barry spends fifteen years with no one believing him and so goes to prove he's right himself#he spends fifteen years having to visit his dad in prison#and then a few years after henry's released the same thing happens to barry he's also framed for a murder hecdidn't commit#he meets someone in prison who- like his dad- was framed for a crime he didn't commit#and the rest of team flash prove this in like a day while no one else has been doing anything for years#so i wonder if maybe barry looks at his job as something he has to do#because the only way he knows how to stop these miscarriages of justice is to be the one finding the evidence and proving it himself#he grows up with people not believing him and telling him he's wrong constantly#but they can't argue if science proves he's right#so he stays because someone has to and he's good at it and he doesn't trust anyone else like he trusts himself#he stays to be the person he wishes had been there for his dad#he stays to make sure the next child to walk through the door gets answers and doesn't lose everything like he did (via @fezwearingjellybananas)

Hey, Joe, everything all right?

Great.

[bre-meister]

Grandpa Barry

a not so short fluffy one-shot based off of an old offhanded comment by @onehelluvafirstdate that kinda just stuck with me

Holidays for the Butron’s had become more than just family affairs. For several years prior to the events at the Spencer Mansion, the Redfield siblings had begun to join them for these types of events after their parent’s deaths. However, after the mansion incident, the large scale outbreak that was Racoon City, and the countless other BOW incidents that had occurred since family holidays had extended well past just the family.

Thanksgivings and Christmases and Fourth of July’s had become celebrations of more than just that particular holiday. They were a celebration of another year lived, another attack survived, and sometimes, celebrations of another survivor added to their small but growing group of what they considered to be extended family.

This particular Thanksgiving was no different and so, the Burtons found themselves preparing to host their extended family for dinner, drinks, and overall good times. Not everyone was always able to attend - their common line of work never really took holidays into consideration - but this year they’re gearing up for an unusually good turnout.

Chris arrives first, as always. Early in order to help set up. The man can’t cook for shit so he brings drinks - both alcoholic and non-alcoholic - for his contribution to the large meal. Rebecca is next along with Sherry and Jake. Quite frankly, Barry was surprised they’ ed convinced the kid to come but, at the same time, the older man was fairly sure Jake would do anything for Sherry if she just asked. The three had brought different desserts that were most probably store-bought. Barry could already see Rebecca’s hand slowly drifting up to the pair of dog tags that hung around her neck - it would become more evident as the night wore on.

Next are Jill and Carlos, the latter of which has just been a recent addition to these types of celebrations despite having known Jill since Racoon. They arrive with a dish that smells heavenly and was most definitely prepared by Carlos. Jill, like Chris, was poorly adept in the kitchen. 

Last to arrive was Leon and Claire along with their ever-growing brood. Isabelle seemed to be barley restraining herself, a ball of excitement ready to burst at the seams.

“Hi, Grandpa Barry!” 

Barry smiled at the little girl.  She had been calling him ‘Grandpa” for as long as he could remember and, seeing as the kid had no real grandparents in her life, he and his wife had taken on the pseudo roll eagerly. 

“Hey kid,” Barry ruffled her hair, “how’s it going?”

“Great!” she giggled. Pleasantries out of the way, Isabelle moved on to her main prerogative,

“Are Sherry and Jake here yet?” 

For some reason, Izzy had taken quite the shining to her older sister’s new boy toy. Jake, for his part, seemed to have begrudgingly accepted his newfound role as ‘big brother’ to the Kennedy kid. Barry supposed that Izzy had never really given him a choice.

“They are. In fact, you guys are the last to get here.”

Isabelle pouted before turning to her mother who had been hanging up their coats by the door.

“I told you, Mamma, we’re always late.”

“We’re not late Izzy. Dinner isn’t anywhere near ready yet so you have plenty of time to play with Sherry and Jake.”

Izzy harrumphed before running off to the living room where she assumed everyone else would be. Claire sighed before turning to their host.

“Hey, Barry.” She smiled and accepted the hug that Barry was offering her. She registered Leon scolding Izzy for not taking her shoes off before running further into the house.

“Leon.” Barry moved on to the younger man, waving at little Olivia who was snuggled up in her Daddy’s arms.

“Barry.”

This was usually how things were. The two would act aloof until Claire has moved out of earshot and Barry could well and truly find out how Leon was doing.

“Kathy is in the kitchen, said to send you in once you got here.”

“Oh, of course.” Claire looked between the two men and pretended not to know what was going on. She pecked Leon on the lips and tickled Olivia’s belly before heading towards the kitchen to help Kathy with the dinner. 

“Sorry, we didn’t bring anything this year. Claire’s had her hands full with her job and the girls while I was gone and since I got back a few days ago things have been a little out of whack.” Leon chuckled.

“Don’t worry about it kid.” God, Barry thought, am I really so old that I’m calling everyone kid?

“Anyway,” Barry said, “how’s the family life treating ya?” 

Leon knew Barry wasn’t really asking about the ‘family life’. But it was just easier sometimes to talk in innuendos and code words what with little ears around. In this case, the family life really meant the sober life. The special agent looked down at a specific pair of little ears before answering. Liv was currently clinging to Leon like her life depended on it. Both girls were always a little clingy when he returned from long missions but Liv tended to take the term ‘Daddy’s girl’ to a new level.

The three-year-old had only let go of the man long enough for both of them to take their coats off.  What Barry noticed though, was that Leon seemed to be holding on to Olivia just as desperately.

“Family life is... It’s ah, a little hard sometimes. But I’d never go back.”

Barry smiled but nodded. Motioning for Leon to follow, he made his way into the living room to join everyone else.

“Hi, Livy!” Moira said, waving enthusiastically at the little girl.

“Hi,” Liv said in a small, quiet voice

“Come play with us!” Natalia called from where she and Moira were stationed in front of a dollhouse.

Barry’s adopted daughter loved playing with Olivia whenever she got the chance. She once told him that it was because she had fun playing with ‘babies’ which, Barry thought was a little funny considering that, at only eleven, Barry still very much saw Natalia as barely more than a baby himself. He supposed he should work on that, the girls as growing up every day - thriving, even, in a stable environment with what is probably the closest to a normal life she’d ever had.

Olivia shook her head at Natalia’s invitation to play. Instead, she buried her head even further in her father’s shoulder. 

“Common Liv, we have a special doll just for you.” This time it was Moira trying to do the convincing, even going as far as to use a sing-song voice.

All she garnered was another head shake. 

“I’m sure your sister is having a lot of fun with Sherry and Jake,” Barry motioned to where the three were making various buildings and figures out of Leggos, “I think you’d have a lot of fun.”

“Jake could use some help over here Liv, I think you should come show him how its done.” Sherry chimed in.

“What? No I -” Jake’s cry of indignation was cut off by Sherry’s elbow to his side. “ I’m real lost here, Oliva. Sherry’s right.”

“ I stay with Daddy.”

A round of soft laughter went through the room at that. Barry shared a knowing look with his wife before holding his arms out to the little girl who looked at him skeptically,

“Common sweetie. I’m sure you’ve been attached your Daddy since he’s been back. Why don’t you spend some time with Grandpa for a bit? I feel like I haven’t seen your cute little face in ages!”

Olivia didn’t say anything. Instead, she just looked at Barry in that way kids were so good at like he was spewing a load of fresh bullshit.

“It’s fine Barry.”  Leon’s response saw Olivia snuggles back into her father, content to be in his arms.

“Well, she can’t stay with you forever kid, gotta learn sometime - both of you. Why not now when you won’t be any further than a room away.”

“I’m with you Barry, I tell Leon all the time he coddles her too much,” Claire said. From her spot in the kitchen, she had a clear view of what was going on in the living room.

“Is it really coddling though? I was gone for almost two weeks.” Leon’s defense was weak sounding.

“And we both know you could be gone longer at the drop of a hat. That’s just the life we live and when she refuses to be put down and you refuse to put her down, you make my life harder when Daddy inevitably has to leave again. Barry’s still got my vote. She’s gotta learn.” 

“Common, Chris, Carlos, if you guys were in my situation you’re telling me you guys wouldn’t do the same thing.”

“ Sorry bro, as much as I love to disagree with my sister, she’s kinda right.” Chris’s reply was definitely not what Leon was looking for so the blonde man turned to Carlos for his support.

“Look man, I’d be the first to admit that if I ever had kids it would be hard for me to ever deny them anything.” Leon lit up at that and everyone else pretended to ignore the quick look Carlos shot Jill as he finished his statement.

“But,” Leon seemed to visibly deflate as Carlos continued, already knowing where this was going - not in his favor “ that doesn’t mean they aren’t right.”

“Thank you!” Claire interjected.

“Well, I think it’s cute.” Rebecca proudly stated.

At that Caire stepped fully out of the kitchen and pointed a pair of tongs at Rebecca who had been nursing a glass of something strong by the fireplace.

“You say that now. Wait until you find someone and have a few kids of your own. As cute as it is, your tune will change real quick.”

Rebecca let out a little laugh as Claire returned to the kitchen but it sounded a little forced, hand drifting back up to the dog tags around her neck.

“Hand her over, Leon. She’ll be fine.”

Reluctantly, Leon did as he was told. Olivia did not go quietly, the beginnings of a tantrum becoming evident as she was handed off to her ‘grandpa’.

“Oh stop acting up baby girl, you’re just fine!” Claire’s voice carried sweet but stern from the kitchen.

Olivia quieted at her mother’s words but still hadn’t silenced her whimpers. Leon looked about ready to cave.

“I have three kids Leon and more years of experience. Trust me, I’ve got this. Now, Livy and I are gonna go read a nice story and I’m sure Kathy and Claire could use some help.” Barry said with a smile. 

“ Leon, could be a dear and go bring the cooler in from the garage?” 

“Of course Kathy.”

“Oh, you might need some help. It’s not exactly small and Barry already put the ice and some drinks in.”

“I got you.” Carlos squeezed Leon’s shoulder as he passed, effectively turning the man away from Olivia and punching him in the direction of the garage.

“Thanks, boys!” Kathy called after them.

Olivia got a little angsty once Leon was out of her sights but soon Barry had her thoughts away from her missing Daddy and onto The Cat in the Hat. They got through three more books - Olivia entranced by the pictures in on each page - before eventually going off to color with Polly who had brought out some of her colored pencils, crayons, and old coloring books. 

Olivia even convinced her Uncle Chris to come color with her ( and he’d never admit it to Leon but, when those large blue eyes were turned on him Chris knew he wouldn’t be able to say no).

When Claire and Kathy called that dinner was ready to be served Leon took that as his cue that ‘separation’ time was over. He collected Izzy first, watching to make sure to washed-up properly before helping her to make a plate.

“ Do you want ham or turkey, Princess?”

“ Ham, please. Daddy, I don’t want green beans.” Isabelle made a face as Leon scooped some onto the plate, ignoring her protest.

“ I know, but remember what we talked about?”

Isabelle sighed, “No green beans, no desert.” The girl had a sweet tooth that could rival her mother’s and her parents tended to use that to their advantage.

Leon chuckled, bringing the plate over to the smaller table just to the side of the main one in the dining room. Their found family was getting too big for everyone to sit at the dining table, so they had resorted to setting up a table for the youngest of the group to sit.

Izzy seemed to accept her fate as she sat Jake at the table, giggling as he too joked about being forced to eat his vegetables in return for dessert. Sherry always volunteered to sit with the kiddos along with Moira and Polly and wherever Sherry went, Jake went. Leon shot the kid a look, it seemed that two of his girls had taken quite a shining to him and it was safe to say that he wasn’t too pleased with it. Rationally, he knew that Sherry was old enough to make her own decisions and Izzy most likely just had a silly schoolgirl crush that would go away with time. But Leon didn’t want to think rationally right now.

He was interrupted from his thoughts as he heard Claire playfully inspecting Olivia’s hands.

“Did you get ‘em all clean, baby?”

“Uh-huh. Uncle Chris help me!”

“Did he sing you your song?” Claire asked teasingly. Olivia just giggled while nodding her head yes.

“He did, did he?” Claire sent a shit-eating grin to her brother who quickly excused himself to the table.

“You do it better, Mommy.” Claire laughed before kissing her little girl’s bleach blonde hair. Leon was convinced it would darken over time, just like his had.

“Come here little bug, let’s get you something to eat.”

Leon helped Liv just as he had with Izzy. Once she’d had all she wanted on her plate, as well as some vegetables she didn’t, he made to set her up next to her sister at the other table.

“Daddy, no!”

Leon was prepared for this, it happened every time. Liv wouldn’t want to sit with the other kids, no, she always much rather stay with her Daddy. So, safe to say he was more than taken aback by Livy’s next words.

“ I sit with Grandpa.” 

It was as if the whole room went silent at Olivia’s request, even Izzy stopped her laughing and was looking at her little sister with a shocked expression.

“ I - um… you’d have to ask Grandpa.”

Olivia wasted no time running over to Barry where he sat at the head of the table.

“Grandpa, I sit with you?”

“Sure, sweetheart.”

Barry lifted the little girl onto her lap. She settled in with a little giggle and Leon felt his heart both swell and break at the sound. This was what they were trying to achieve the whole night, right? He voiced such out loud when Claire came over to ask if he was ok.

“Ya but, it doesn’t mean it would hurt any less. That was a hard reject, Kennedy.” Jill said. 

“Jill.” Carlos gently admonished.

“What? Are we all just supposed to sit here and pretend like that didn’t just happen? I mean, no offense to you Leon but that was the funniest thing I’ve seen all night.” Jill laughed again.

“You know Jill, I never took you as one to languish in someone else’s pain. Hats off to you.” 

Jill raised her wine glass to Jake in acknowledgment of his comment. Claire took Liv’s plate out of Leon’s hand and placed it in front of the little girl. She then began to make up another one with all of Leon’s favorites.

Putting down the plate in front of an empty chair she motioned for Leon to come and sit.

“Why don’t you come eat something, honey.” 

Leon could tell that even Claire felt a little bad for him - she only calls him ‘honey’ when she does. She even kissed his cheek as he pulled a chair out for her before sitting down like she’d suggested.

“It’s fine,” he lied, “I don’t get why you guys are making such a big deal out of this.”

“If he’s acting this way now imagine how he’ll act once they start dating.” Rebecca whisper yelled to Chris who was seated next to her.

Chris almost choked on his drink, laughing at the image of Leon’s suffering.

“Hey, he hasn’t said anything about Jake yet!” Sherry’s attempt at defending Leon was not appreciated by Jake who shot her a scathing look.

“Only because I haven’t had the chance yet. It’s coming, Shelly.” Leon turned to look at the two adults in question as he said it.

Sherry blushed - whether, from the use of his old nickname for her or from the thinly veiled threat, he wasn’t exactly sure. Jake let out a withered sigh before turning back to his food. Eventually, everyone else took pity on Leon’s poor soul and did the same. That, or they just got tired of making fun of him - with people like these for family one never could be too sure. 

Dinner continued with much merriment; teasing abounded but not all at the expense of Leon. Once the word was out that Rebeca had been curbing advances from several men she had met at her new job the table was divided - some teasing and encouraging her to go for it, others defending that she didn’t have to. By the end of it, the dog tags had ended back up in her hands. Rebecca then flipped it on the perpetually single Chris who, in turn, threw Jill and Carlos under the bus. The friendly banter then shifted to their undefined relationship status. All the while laughter continuously flowed from the table along with the occasional interjection from Moira, Polly, or Sherry. Jake mainly sticking to entertaining the kids.

By the end of the night, Leon found himself with an arm around Claire’s shoulders and Livy sitting in his lap - two out of three of his girls snuggled up against his chest, still seated at the table. Olivia had migrated back to her Daddy when she had started to get tired and Leon would be lying if he said it hadn’t made him feel miles better. Number three wasn’t far behind.

“Daddy, are we going home soon?”

Leon could see the tiredness almost radiating off of his daughter. Izzy had run off her sugar high from dessert and looked like she was ready to drop right there in front of him.

“Soon, Princess.” he shifted Livy in his lap to make room for Izzy.

It always took a little finagling to fit both Isabelle and Olivia on his lap but, somehow, they always seemed to make a way. Izzy climbed up and Leon felt content - belly full of good food, surrounded by family and good conversation, and most importantly, his little family wrapped safely in his arms.

They stayed like that for a while. Eventually, Chris, Carlos, and Jill began to clear the table. They made their way to the kitchen with the intent to clean up and give Kathy a break since she and Claire were the main ones who set everything up.

Leon could hear his wife sigh,

“It’s late. We should get the girls home.” except she made no move to do that, instead she buried her face in his neck and took in a deep breath letting out an even deeper sigh.

Eventually, Izzy began softly snoring. Leon and Claire knew they couldn’t put off heading home any longer - the drive wasn’t long but it wasn’t exactly short either and the girls should be sleeping in their own beds where it was more comfortable.

Between the two of them, they were able to get the girls into their shoes and jackets and then into their car seats with minimal trouble. They said their goodbyes outside by the car. Promises to do it again for Christmas were made but they were all taken with a grain of salt. One never knew when Leon would be called away on a mission or when Claire would be needed for some Terrasave function or clean-up job. 

“I hope you enjoy being ‘grandpa’ to those cute little girls ‘cause you sure aren’t getting any grandkids from me anytime soon.”

“Good.”

Barry turned away from watching Claire and Leon drive away to look down at his oldest daughter. She looked back up at him. All was silent for a moment until the two broke out into easy laughter. He guided her back into the house, closing the door and effectively blocking the cold out.

As Barry held his own daughter close he looked around at everyone left. Natalia sleeping on the couch, Sherry and Jake whispering in a not-so secluded corner. Rebecca had joined the cleanup crew in the kitchen after having seen off the Kennedy clan. His eyes met his wife’s who was still seated at the table enjoying a slice of pie with Polly.

Barry knew that in the world they lived in, one couldn’t be certain of many things. But, he also knew that he could be certain of this - family wasn’t just defined by blood. Barry didn’t know what the future held, no one did. What they did know, however, was that their family was always changing - in size and look. But, they would always be there, especially on holidays like this, to remind one another that they were alive, that they had all made it through another year. They would be there to remind each other that there was still love and kindness in this dark world worth fighting for, and they did it in what seemed like the easiest, most simple way - by loving each other.

[sweetpaopao]

FMA 2003 (Re)Watch

I recently planned a hybrid watch of both the 2003 series and Brotherhood; the original plan was to skip over to BH at the divergence point, but I was enjoying the first part of 03 so much that I decided to keep going. I saw 03 when it aired on TV back in the day and watched BH a few years after it was released, so while both are technically rewatches, a lot of 03 was hazy. Also FYI, I was switching back and forth between sub and dub kind of randomly throughout my watch.

A bunch of random thoughts:

-The first half of 03 is done really well, and I enjoyed it a lot. I like the extra time they spent on the early arcs, and I really enjoyed the episode on the train, the one with Barry, and the one with Yoki. I did skip that one filler with the thief because I remember it being super cringe.  

-The music is good. Of course "Brothers" is the best, but I like a lot of the other tracks too.

-The origin of the Homunculi as failed transmutations is neat. It's creative, works with the established setup of alchemy, and makes the Homunculi relatable and sympathetic. They mention Lust being "the new Lust" several times, which makes me wonder how many different versions of the Sins have existed over the centuries, and what happened to each of them.  

-I like the extra screen time and development that Lust received. Though she loses points for getting "Cotton Eye Joe" stuck in my head on multiple occasions, lol  

-Al seems way younger in this version. He's supposed to be a year behind Ed, but he acts like he's 3-4 years younger. I think it's mainly the writing, but the dub voice actor might contribute to this, since it's obvious it's an actual child and not an adult doing a child's voice.  

-Sloth is 100% better in 03 than in BH, hands down. I do wish she had been given a little more development, at least as much as Lust was given, since she's so connected to the main characters. Her water powers were cool..."death by evaporation" is definitely unique.  

-On the other hand, I friggin' HATE Wrath. He's an insufferable brat, and his voice made me want to stab out my ears (no offense to either voice actor - it's the part that's the problem. It's impossible to NOT be obnoxious when 80% of your lines are screeching and/or whining). I also hate that he looks so much like Envy...character design 101 says that each character should have their own distinct look, so I can't fathom why they would make him look like Envy Jr instead of giving him his own design. At least give him different clothes? Cut his hair, or put it in a ponytail?  

-Greed had barely any part in the story at all. The poor guy was practically a "Hi and die". His death scene was one of the things I had strong memories of, but I thought it was much later, near the very end of the series (I think the library in Dante's house and the ballroom in that city merged together in my mind). The lack of Greed love was a little disappointing, since he's my favorite homunculus.  

-It's sometimes said that Winry doesn't have much of a part in this series, which honestly is wrong - she's in it a lot, just not as a love interest. I liked her espionage plotline with Sheska.  

-Sheska got way more screentime here. I don't really care all that much about her, but I can see where she would have favorite character potential for some people (or waifu potential, even). I laughed out loud at the "she's an alien" line.  

-Havoc is a shyguy and very much NOT a badass stud, lol  

-Hohenheim...uh. I absolutely hated everything they did with him. He's basically a villain, he was a creep to Ross, he looks like a drowned rat, and he literally stinks. Poor Hoho, why did they do this to you?  

-Riza also got screwed. She had that one cool manga scene where she saves Mustang by tripping him, and then proceeded to get shit on for the rest of the series. She was basically an unintelligent lump who exists to be talked down to and treated like an annoyance. And speaking of the Colonel...  

-Dear God, 03 Mustang is a DICK. I remember he was popular back in the day, so fans must have had a high douchebag tolerance then. He got so bad at points that my finger was itching to skip ahead every time he opened his mouth, and I nearly punched the screen when he told Hawkeye to "wipe that crap off your face" in that one scene. Christ. I vastly, VASTLY prefer his softer Brotherhood personality.  

-Ed is kind of a dick in this version too. They took the short-tempered hothead aspect of him and leaned on it too far, IMHO. He seems to have 100% contempt for everyone in the world except Al, who he only has 50% contempt for. I had occasionally had similar reactions to him that I had to Mustang. Again, Ed had a softer personality in BH that I strongly prefer.  

-This leads into my main complaint about the 03 series...it has a "mean streak", especially in the 2nd half. It's hard to explain, but it's like there's this undercurrent of cynicism that runs through it, and it comes out in the writing, especially in the characters. It gives me the same kind of feeling that I get from things like Game of Thrones or The Walking Dead...this uneasy atmosphere of negativity and bitterness that leaves me feeling kind of gross afterward.  

-Overall, I have mixed feelings about this series. The first half was great! I like the slower pace and the small-scale worldbuilding (I seriously want to take a train ride around Amestris), and the more intimate focus on Ed and Al at the beginning. I like that the writers took the small amount of source material that they had and developed it to its maximum potential. But once they ran out of manga to adapt, I think things slowly went downhill. My enjoyment gradually decreased episode by episode, until I was kind of relieved to reach the end.  

-I'm glad I rewatched this series, since there was a lot that I had forgotten about, and some parts brought back a lot of good memories. The first half will probably go on my regular rewatch list, but I doubt I'll ever want to revisit the 2nd half again. I appreciate the effort they put into this series, and it's definitely worth watching. But overall Brotherhood will stay as my favorite version (and I'll be rewatching that soon too).  

[jade4813]

Temptation, Chapter 3

Title: Temptation

Rating: NC-17

Synopsis: Iris West is a famous supermodel who has been getting a string of death threats. Barry Allen is the bodyguard hired to protect her. A Westallen AU. Gift for @andie1223​ in appreciation of her grand prize-winning contribution to the 2019 Westallen Sock Drive!

Chapters:3/?

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

  Barry prided himself on always being professional. He had worked as security service for everyone from movie stars to diplomats. He’d once even provided backup security for a visiting duke and duchess who were in line for the throne of a foreign country. At each of his jobs, there had never been a question of whether he would maintain professional detachment. He often got along with his clients. At times, he even genuinely liked them. But he’d never forgotten that they were clients, and he was on a job.

Until now.

He found himself unable to concentrate as Iris escorted him into her house, showing him where he would be staying for as long as they worked together. When she went over her upcoming schedule, he found he was only half-listening, his gaze wandering to focus instead on the curve of her cheek, the gentle swoop of her lips. She was breathtaking.

But he couldn’t afford to give in to the distraction. He was here to do a job. That was it.

“So where do we start?” Iris asked, dragging his attention back to the present. Chastising himself silently, he forced himself to focus.

“I know you probably won’t like this, but there’s a chance the person we’re looking for is someone close to you. Someone who’s had access to you, to your life. Someone you trust. I’m going to need a list of names so I can look into them and rule them out.”

He watched her shoulders lift and fall with the force of her sigh. “All right,” she agreed, changing direction to head to her den. She crossed to a laptop sitting on a desk and opened one of the desk drawers. Pulling out a yellow legal pad, she handed it over.

“What is this?” he asked, surprised that she capitulated so easily. He flipped through the top few sheets to find name after name listed. Some were crossed off, but others had notes jotted to the side.

“That’s everyone who has worked for me, for Linda…everyone who’s worked at one of my shoots. Everyone Linda and I could identify who could have gotten the access to me that this would require.” At his visible surprise, she laughed lightly. “I may not have ever done this before, but it had occurred to me that this person might be someone I’ve met before.”

“Oh. Okay. Um…what about…boyfriends? Is there anyone you’ve dated who might be -”

“It’s not someone I dated,” she said firmly, her face flat and devoid of expression.

He considered pressing the point, but their working relationship was still fragile. He didn’t want to push her too fast. Besides, it would take some time to work through the list of names she’d just provided. So instead, he just offered her a slight smile. “All right.”

He saw her visibly relax and he shot a glance at his watch. “I’ll need to call my team with an update, ask them to bring by some of my things.” He was used to traveling from one job to another, so he always had a duffel bag filled with necessities ready to go. A member of his team could drop by his office to retrieve it and bring it by with his car. “Once I have my computer, I’ll be able to get started. You said you had an event tonight? What time was that again?”

She nodded. “Eight o’clock sharp. But I’m sure there will be plenty of security there, if you wanted to get settled in instead.”

“Trying to get rid of me already?” he asked, his voice slightly teasing.

Iris’s grin was unrepentant. “Can’t blame a gal for trying!”

She could feel his eyes on her as she stepped forward, smiling for the cameras that flashed as she passed by. Knowing he was watching her every move, she swept the slit in her skirt aside, letting the cameras pick up on the long line of her leg beneath the fabric. The slit went nearly up to her hip, and she threw the cameras a flirtatious smile. Though she pretended her actions were for the delight of the watching paparazzi, she knew she was showing off for only one man. Barry.

He was attracted to her. She could see it in his eyes when he looked at her. And when she’d come down her stairs earlier that evening, dressed in the provocative gold dress on loan for the evening, she’d seen his desire. She’d watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down as his gaze swept her body, though his voice was even – bordering on disinterested – when he finally spoke.

She recognized his attraction. His desire. That was nothing new. She often saw it in the faces of the people she met. She made her living off recognizing it. Even cultivating it. What was unusual was the desire she felt in return.

She was attracted to Barry. She had been from the first time she saw him. It was true she’d kissed him to break the ice. Thinking he was her modeling partner, she had wanted to get over the initial awkwardness of feigning intimacy with a stranger. But the truth was, she’d wanted to kiss him, as well.

Standing there in his suit, there had been something about him that was so different from the men she worked with every day. The men she worked with were all attractive, of course. But there was a preoccupation to their good looks – a constant awareness that their appearance had to be perfect, that they had to be ready to show their best angles to the cameras at any given time.

Iris had noticed Barry in part because he seemed to lack that awareness. His suit jacket was slightly rumpled – unfashionably so. His hair was just a touch longer than current fashion dictated. It was a little windswept; not mercilessly held into place through copious amounts of product. She’d been tempted to run her hands through it, to see if it was as soft to the touch as it looked, and had been gratified to find that it was.

It was inconvenient, being attracted to her new bodyguard. At the very least, it was a complication she didn’t need at the moment. But every time she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, she felt the same temptation to run her fingers through his hair. Knowing his eyes remained locked on her as she walked the red carpet, Iris ran her tongue along her lower lip, remembering the taste of his kiss.

It was inconvenient, that was true. But there was no point pretending she wasn’t attracted to him. And she had no doubt he was attracted to her. The question was, what were they going to do about it?

Countless times over the course of the evening, Barry had scanned the crowd, watching for Iris’s stalker. For anyone who stared at her a little too intently, anyone who seemed a little too interested in her every move. Anyone who couldn’t seem to look away from her. Anyone other than him, of course; try as he might to keep his attention on the crowd, his eyes kept traveling back to her. The event was attended by models and movie stars, a veritable Who’s Who of A- and B-list celebrities. But Iris outshone them all.

He was attracted to her, and he knew he couldn’t be. He couldn’t afford to desire her when he was supposed to be protecting her. He definitely couldn’t afford to be watching her when he should be watching everyone else. Maybe he should pass on the job – or at least pass it off to a member of his staff. He knew Linda insisted that he work on the case, but surely he could come up with some sort of story that would make her understand. Or at least one she would buy.

There was no way he could tell her the truth. He couldn’t tell her that he’d almost tripped over his own feet earlier that evening at the sound of her laughter, his heart racing in his chest as he glanced around to see what had made her smile. He couldn’t tell her that the sound of his name on her lips swept across his skin like velvet. That when she smiled at him, she drew him to her like a moth to a flame. That every time he closed his eyes, he could remember the taste of her kiss.

He couldn’t tell Linda the truth, and he didn’t dare tell Iris. So, as they left the event that evening, Barry drove her back to her home in uncharacteristic silence as she gazed out the window, lost in her own thoughts. Finally, as she let them into the house, she asked, “You heading to bed?”

“Not unless you are,” he replied, striving to match the lightness in her tone.

Iris rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You really do take this whole bodyguard thing seriously, don’t you?” But she didn’t seem to expect an answer as she kicked out of her shoes and tossed her bag on the table. “I’m too wired to go to sleep just yet, so I was going to work out. Join me?”

“Now?” he asked in surprise. It was almost two in the morning.

Iris just shrugged and walked towards the back of the house. He followed, surprised when she didn’t turn down the hallway that he knew led to her indoor gym. Instead, she opened the door leading to her back patio and stepped outside.

Barry watched as Iris walked to the edge of the pool and leaned against the doorframe. From force of habit, he scanned the yard, looking for threats, but they were alone. He expected Iris to head to the small pool house, where he imagined she kept her swimsuits and towels. Instead, she reached behind her, unzipping her gown to let it fall at her feet. He gulped when he saw that she wore nothing underneath.

Iris dipped a toe in water, sending ripples across its smooth surface. Lit from below, by the bright blue pool lights, her skin seemed to glow. Like Aphrodite, goddess of love and beauty, come down to Earth to tempt mere mortals. Or a Siren, leading him to his doom. Wherever she led, he already suspected he had no choice but to follow.

There was laughter in her voice when she threw a mischievous smile at him over her shoulder. “Well?” she asked. “How about it? You want to join me for a swim?”

[think-blot]

Believe Me (Barry Allen x Reader)

Summary: Reality is broken and your best friend, Barry Allen, has actually been Oliver Queen this whole time. It’s hard to wrap your head around, especially since no one seems to believe either vigilante. But, no matter who or what he looks like, you know Barry. What do they say? Love always finds a way. 

Word Count: 1889

A/N: This might just be the fastest I’ve ever written something. I watched Elseworlds today and I fell even more in love with Barry Allen. How that’s possible, idk. Anyway here’s this. I hope you enjoy! Sorry for any mistakes it may or may not be 430 in the morning. 

You couldn't wrap your head around it. It was absolutely crazy, right? There was no way the man you loved, your best friend, was actually Oliver Queen. Or rather he wasn't Oliver Queen? You closed your eyes tightly, trying to ward off the impending headache while still trying to understand what was happening. They had switched bodies or lives, somehow. At least that's what they thought. But if you were listening to what they were saying then the Barry Allen you knew was Barry Allen, up until this morning when they were forced into this reality and he turned into Oliver Queen. You groaned, the headache now pounding behind your eyes. "Y/N." You opened your eyes to see Oliver, no, Barry, looking at you with pain you never thought you would see on the vigilante's face. Though it was all too common to see on the flash's. He stepped forward, the hurt look only worsening when you took a step away from him. "I know it's a lot but I need you to believe us right now."

"Maybe we should just run a couple tests, yeah? " Iris interjected, stepping in between you and the two vigilantes. She looked to Caitlin desperately, "We can do that right?"

Caitlin nodded quickly, "Yeah, yeah, we can do that." She ushered the heroes to the med bay but Oliver Queen still tried to look back at you.

"What do you think?" Iris stood next to you while the others followed Caitlin. The two of you had surprisingly gotten closer after her and Barry broke up, everyone expecting that you would give her the third degree as the honorary best friend. Instead, she had confronted you about your feelings, stating that the fact he reciprocated them was one of the reasons she had to end things. You didn't believe her then and, if this whole body swap thing checked out, then you definitely didn't believe it now. The two of you had been each other's rocks when it came to Barry Allen and the world that came with him, this was no different.

"I think that Oliver Queen has never shown that he knew I existed until today." You replied. She nodded,  rubbing your arm before she went to join the rest of them.

"We're going to have to lock them up." The accent startled you from behind. You hadn't realized that Sherloque hadn't followed them. He gestured towards them, "They'll probably ask you to subdue Mr. Allen."

You shook your head, "I won't." He quirked his eyebrow but gave no response. "No matter what Barry it is, I won't do that to him." He smirked, the way he always did when he solved a mystery no one else knew existed, and you tried not to roll your eyes. "I'm gonna go get some air." You mumbled, leaving before he could say anything else. You had to think… a lot.

-------

What was supposed to be a simple break somehow turned into you walking all the way home. Not exactly the best place to go when you wanted to stop thinking about Barry, especially since the two of you lived together. When they had broken up, they wanted each other to have everything they shared which was basically the opposite of every split couple out there. In the end, Iris kept their house and Barry moved in with you. It was supposed to be for a couple months but as the months slowly morphed into a year, neither one of you wanted him to leave. So, he stayed and you never regretted it for a second. That is, until you realized that that morning instead of waking up to your best friend, you might've woken up to Oliver Queen in your living room instead.

You weren't exactly sure what to believe still. Apart of you always wanted to believe in Barry, no matter what face he wore, because when it came down to it; you trusted him more than anyone. But it was always safer, for everyone, to take precaution. Even if that precaution meant throwing the two vigilantes into the time vault. You sighed, it was times like this where you wondered how Iris did it. How she managed to be in love with Barry and not worry every second, to not let her emotions run her every decision. She was stronger than you ever could be, another reason you knew it could never work out with Barry. "You're doubting yourself again." You jumped, clutching your chest as you turn to see Oliver. "You're jumpy today." He smirked.

"I have good reason to be." He held his hands up in surrender, playfully, an easy smile on his face. Maybe you were looking for it too much, but it was so easy to see your Barry when he did stuff like that.

"I'm not gonna argue with you there." He carefully sat down next to you and you wondered when they were going to say this was all a joke. Or when Iris and Cisco were going to burst through your door and knock the green arrow out. "I know this is hard to understand."

You ignored the look in his eyes for answers, "What did they find? There's no way they would've let you go if they found something."

He smiled sadly, "They found nothing and they still don't believe us. Oliver thought his best chance would be to talk to Iris. So, I went looking for you." You didn't want to connect the dots that your heart so desperately wanted you to; that the real Barry chose you because maybe that wasn't the case.

"How'd you know where to find me?" The man in front of you was Oliver Queen, the Green Arrow. Yet, the more he talked and the more you were simply with him, apart of you deep down knew that wasn't the case.

He laughed, "You always come back here when you need to think. It's a lot harder to catch up with you without my speed."

You cracked a smile without thinking and, for a moment, it felt normal. You knew it wasn't going to last long and from the look on, maybe, Barry's face, he knew it too. "Tell me something no one but us would know." You stared him in the eyes, waiting. "Not Oliver, not Iris, just us."

The blue haze of Cisco's vibe started in the corner of the room, starting a time for Barry to say something and say it fast. No matter how tough he was, the Green Arrow could be taken down a lot faster than the Flash. Especially by surprise. He still hadn't noticed the stretched out arm that was coming towards him. Instead, he looked you dead in the eye, smiled, and said "I love you." right before Ralph knocked him out.

--------

You went back to Star Labs with Ralph and the unconscious Green Arrow, more confused than you thought you could be. His statement was general, it could mean anything. Well, not anything, but it wasn't something only the two of you knew. Everyone knew that Barry loved his friends, Barry loved everyone. It didn't make sense for him to use that as his ticket out of the time vault. Though, you'd be lying if you said you weren't secretly hoping that that was Barry down there. And that he meant it the way you always wanted him to.

"So what's the plan?" Iris asked when Ralph came back up from the vault.

"We're going to look for any reason they might be," Caitlin gestured with her hands for a bit, "like this."

"There's been some weird ass weather going on. Red sky, crazy lightning. We think it might be connected"  Cisco swiveled his chair over to Caitlin and the two of them got to work.

"So you think they can be telling the truth?" It was the first thing you had said since getting back, too lost in your thoughts to contribute anything.

Everyone looked to each other before they looked at you, the simple action saying enough; they didn't. Iris put her hand on your shoulder. "We don't know yet. But we're going to try and figure it out."

Everyone separated then, each with their own job to do; yours being to watch the security camera of the vault. You listened as they argued, like an old married couple you might add, and couched each other through their different skills. They were going to escape no matter what, there was no stopping that, but you could stop them from escaping to another Earth. You just hoped you could get there faster than Oliver could learn how to phase.

It was perfect timing really, the two showing up just as you grabbed the transporter. Oliver groaned in frustration while Barry looked at you in desperation. It was getting a lot easier to separate them. "Y/N, please."

"I can't let you guys go." Even as you said it, you weren't sure why you were stopping them. Maybe because it was the right thing to do or maybe because you just wanted answers.

"Y/N, deep down you know this isn't us." He stepped closer to you, a look in his eyes that you only ever saw in Barry's. Your Barry's. "You know something isn't right." He whispered.

"I don't know what I know anymore." You slumped, not only talking about the two of them anymore.

And, just like always, Barry knew exactly what you were talking about. He lifted you head, making you look at him and his too sweet smile. "You've always known. You just didn't want to believe it."

You scoffed, "I always believe you." It was the truth and you both knew it. From the moment you saw Oliver, you knew something was wrong. Just like the moment Barry said those words, you knew what he meant.

"Even now?" He had always had the power to make you feel like it was only ever the two of you in the world. This was no different. Sure, he didn't look like himself and the person who did was currently pacing a hole into the floor, but he was your Barry. There was no doubt about it.

You kissed him, it was quick and a shock to the both of you, but it was just right for the moment. When he was himself again, you'd have all the time in the world for that. He just needed to fix reality first. You pulled back, smiling like a lovesick idiot. Lucky for you, the same smile was on his face too. "Even now." You whispered.

You dropped the transporter in his hand, to which Oliver gave a very gruff "Finally" causing the both of you to laugh.

"I hope you know when you fix everything we are having a serious discussion on the right time for love confessions."

He opened the portal and turned to you, "You still haven't said it back."

"I'll say it when you're you again." You stepped closer, kissing him again just because you could. "Besides, you already know." Oliver groaned even louder and you were sure he was actually debating going through the portal on his own. You laughed, stepping away from the vigilantes and the portal. "Now, go." And they did.

[temmie-loony]

I really love time travel and « parents meet their kids before they have kids » type stuff. Do you have any headcanons about the Karivarry kids interacting with their parents before they were their parents, through time travel? PS - your blog is amazing! Back when I first started shipping karivarry, it was one of the first ones I found and I have avidly read most of the five you’ve published. Thank you so much for your contributions to the fandom, your positivity, and you!

Okay first of all, BLESS YOU. Thank you so much for your insanely amazing support! I remember you being one of my first ever followers and I’m so grateful that you stuck around and like my content. It’s wonderful and lovely people like that that keep up my motivation to make more and more contributions

Technically I kinda wrote something like this in one of my older fics and my newest one involves Dawn beeing yeeted back in time but headcanons are what’s in now apparently!

A’ight so:

The kids get yeeted back in time by complete accident. 

And it wasn’t even all fun and games. 

They were being attacked.

Dawn had lost consciousness and Connor was on his last thread of strength. 

A breach opened and William quickly gathered his sister in his arms and pulled Connor with him.

The breach leads to STAR Labs and William thanks Cisco for the assist then frantically yells at Caitlin to help him as he hands Dawn to Barry and helps Connor to the med bay.

“Who the hell are you?!” Cisco demands.

“Really? We’re making jokes now? Dawn’s been stabbed with kryptonite and I think they got Connor too!”

“Kryptonite?” Iris asks. “What's that?”

“What the hell is wrong with you guys?”

But then William notices the lack of some medical technology in the med bay, Barry’s suit looks much different and everyone looks… so… young.

“Oh shit.”

Later, about ten minutes after Caitlin removes the last bits of kryptonite shrapnel from Dawn and Connor, the two finally wake up.

“Ugh, what happened?” Dawn asks.

“Our base was compromised. You two got hit with kryptonite.”

“That explains why it feels like I died,” Connor croaks.

“Wait where’s Dad?” Dawn asks. “Or Mom or Papa?” 

Their parents, or at least one of them, would always be there when they’re in the med bay.

“So here’s the thing...”

When they fully recover about an hour later, they learn it’s the year 2016.

Apparently, Barry has only met Kara once so far.

Oliver hasn’t met Kara at all.

Oliver doesn’t even know William exists, not really.

Barry makes the decision to not tell Oliver or Kara.

But before he could tell any of the kids that, Dawn’s already on her way to Star City.

Barry’s phone rings.

“Barry, what did you do? Why the hell is there a speedster here, claiming she’s my daughter?”

After Caitlin is finally able to draw blood from them (Dawn and Connor were tricky to get blood from but William helped her out), she confirms that they really are who they say they are

William has a similar DNA pattern to Oliver’s

And the same goes for Connor, and that he definitely has alien DNA

Dawn’s DNA closely resembles Barry’s, has the metagene and has alien DNA too

“Like... Barry and Oliver and this Kara chick we’ve never even heard before in our life are--”

“Our parents--”

“Together?”

“Well, yeah! Why wouldn’t--”

“Like all three of them? Together? As in like... together? How does that work?”

“I don’t know, they just do!”

They couldn’t bring the kids back to their time (they didn’t know how yet) so they’re stuck.

“What do you mean you can’t time travel?” Cisco asks.

“Yeah didn’t Barry teach you?” Wally says.

Connor bristles. “I’m not a speedster! I can’t actually run or fly that fast.”

“Okay. Can your sister time travel?” Joe asks.

“Have you met Dawn?” Connor says. “She’d wreck the timeline if she knew how to time travel.”

“Wait, speaking of Dawn, where is she?” Barry asks.

William groans. “Oh shit.”

Turns out Dawn went to Earth-38. 

To say Kara is shocked is an understatement.

Kara later heads to Earth-1 (with Dawn’s help).

"Is she telling the truth, Barry?” Kara asks.

Barry rubs his face. “Dawn, I told you to stay put.”

Dawn smiles widely. 

Connor rolls his eyes. “I told you she’d wreck the timeline.”

“So you’re Kara,” Cisco mutters.

It’s so strange being in that time period.

They aren’t used to Barry not totally mastering his powers.

They aren’t used to Kara being so flustered.

They aren’t used to Oliver being so standoffish.

And they definitely aren’t used to them not talking to each other.

Their parents are the definition of true love so seeing them barely look at each other is so weird.

They want their parents back.

Dawn only knows Oliver being soft-spoken 

Seeing him look at her with a complete lack of expression scares her

She’s read about him being like that from old news articles and videos, but being on the receiving end of it is much different than just knowing about it.

She wants to hug him (which she does all the time in her own time) but when she makes the move to do so, he steps back and merely tells her not to.

William knows Oliver is avoiding him.

Oliver doesn’t even know he has a son so he knows it’s probably so surreal

When Oliver later approaches him and asks how he is as a father, William smiles a little and says, “Don’t worry, Dad. You’re the second best father I know.”

“Second best?”

“Uncle Barry has you beat by about ten percent.”

Oliver looks at him incredulously.

“Uncle B took me to Japan, Disney World and a whole different Earth in one day.” 

Connor is less inclined to interact with anyone.

He makes the excuse that he doesn’t want to ruin the space-time continuum.

But his siblings know it’s because he doesn’t like being in a place that’s so familiar but, at the same time, isn’t.

Kara tries to talk to him, tries to get to know him, and they do end up talking for a while until Connor stands up and walks out of the room.

Barry catches up to him and asks him why he’s being so hesitant.

“I don’t want to--”

“Ruin the timeline, yeah, we got that part. But there’s more to it.”

Connor is quite for a while. “It’s just... it’s weird, isn’t it?”

A small smile tugs on Barry’s lips. “Yeah. Weirder things have happened, right?”

“Guess so.”

[my-one-love-is-music]

Sing, Little Bird Ch. 10

I'm thinking there's probably only going to be one more chapter of this. I hope y'all are looking forward to it! 

Also on AO3!

Wally was able to get away with spending all his time with Dick when he was still recovering in the hospital, but now that he was safe in the Manor and his mental and physical injuries were starting to heal, Wally had to return to his own responsibilities. Mainly school and his training and missions with the team.

Wally hadn’t wanted to leave, but both Bruce and Barry were firm in their decision. As much as Wally had helped to comfort Dick, he couldn’t be there at the cost of his grades at school or his dedication to the team. They needed him. Even more now that Dick wasn’t able to contribute to their missions.

And Bruce was adamant that Dick was going to use his time away from Wally to rest and visit Dinah for their sessions. Which, much to Dick’s dismay, took place at the Cave in the middle of the day when everyone was at school.

It was strange being in the Cave with no one else around, but he was glad for it. He didn’t want the other members of the team to see him right now. Not when he was anxious about talking to Dinah. And he had no idea how he was going to look coming out of that room and didn’t need their concern or pity.

Not when the wounds were still so fresh, and he was only beginning to work through his own trauma. Wally and Bruce seeing him so wounded and weak was enough. He didn’t need the rest of them walking on eggshells around him. Or worse, treating him like he was fractured glass and would break at any moment because of the slightest movement or pressure.

“Have a seat Robin,” Dinah said, taking her own armchair while Dick fought to make himself comfortable.

He sat stiffly, trying to find a comfortable position. Sitting on the front of the seat so his feet touched the ground was too stiff and he didn’t want the fatigue that would come with sitting up. Sitting at the back of the chair so he could lean against the cushions left his feet hanging weirdly off the edge of the cushion.

Dick sighed and did something Alfred would most definitely disapprove of and something he didn’t normally do around people who didn’t know him that well, worried it would give them a look at who he really was. He pulled his feet onto the cushion, keeping his knees close to his chest and settled his arms in the gap between his chest and thighs, finding warmth and comfort in the fabric of his hoodie.

“How are you feeling today?” she asked. “I know it’s been a little bit since we last spoke.”

“I’m doing better,” he admitted. “Things have gotten easier. Especially since I’ve been talking more.”

She nodded. “And Wally’s been spending time with you.”

Dick’s fingers twitched, and he fought down the soft smile that threatened to pull at his lips. “Yeah, he’s…he’s been great. He’s helped a lot. I don’t know where I’d be right now if it wasn’t for him.”

“Batman explained that your relationship has delved into more romantic territory as of late.”

Dick swallowed and nodded, anxious about what her next question was going to be.

“Are you happy?” she asked.

Dick stared at her, blinking behind his glasses. “Yes,” he breathed, voice soft. “With Wally I think I’m happier than I’ve been in a while, despite what’s been going on the past few days.”

She nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. How are you feeling about the rest of the team?”

Dick shifted in his seat. “A little awkward if I’m being honest. It feels like there’s something between all of us. Like the events with the warehouse are still hanging over us which I hate,” he admitted. “I don’t want that to be at the backs of their minds every time we’re together and I definitely don’t want them thinking and worrying about it when I’m back on the team after healing.”

“Are you worried they’ll think you’re weak?”

“No,” Dick answered immediately then hesitated. “Yes,” he admitted. “I’m worried they won’t trust me to do my part on the mission and that they’ll think they need to protect me from every threat that comes our way.”

“But they know you’re capable.”

“I know,” Dick said, almost whining. “We’ve been on countless missions together and have trained together. I know what they’re capable of and they know what I can do, but…”

“But you’re still worried they’re not going to be able to separate how they found you in the basement with what you can do on a mission.”

Dick nodded.

“Robin,” she said, voice soft. “We both know that this isn’t going to fix itself overnight. We’ve already seen that in your reactions and healing. But you and I both know that you’re already making progress. This is going to be another step in that direction. Except this time it’s going to be the team who’s healing from the trauma of that mission.”

“What?” he asked.

Dinah smiled, and it helped put his mind at ease. “As I’m sure you’re aware, you weren’t the only one who was affected by your kidnapping and the torture that followed. Your team, your friends were there with you. They woke up and you were gone, and they were forced to try and track you down, having no idea what kind of condition they’d find you in. And then when they did find you, you were in an awful state.

“Right now, they’re doing their best to draw comfort from each other while they’re on their missions and in training. It’s a little easier to ignore because you’re benched while you’re healing and there’s no danger of you being taken while in the field. But once you’re back fighting crime again, it’s going to take a small period for them to adjust and understand that you’re not going to disappear on them again and that you’re going to make it through the next mission just fine.”

Dick swallowed. “I hadn’t thought about that. I mean…I knew Wally was sticking close to me, but I thought that was more because we’re great friends more than anything else.”

“Wally can certainly help with the transition when you get back out in the field. He’s watched you heal more than they have and will be able to support you as you step back into the shoes of Robin once again. But give them some time. I know it’s frustrating and not always what you want to hear, but that’s the best you can do in situations like this.”

Dick nodded. “I know I shouldn’t be frustrated with the time it takes to heal. Physically or emotionally,” he added. “But it still makes me feel weak.”

“You’re not weak, Robin. And you want to know how I know?”

Dick looked up at her and waited.

“I know because you’re sitting here with me. You’re talking with me and you’ve already recognized what you’ve been through. And,” she added with a sly smile, “because you went and confronted the Punisher in his Watchtower cell.”

Dick grabbed a fistful of his hoodie, trying to anchor himself with the feeling of the fabric under his fingers. He swallowed. “You know about that?”

She nodded. “Batman shared the Watchtower footage with me and the Flash spoke with me, too. He was surprised by how well you conducted yourself.”

Dick shrugged. “I kind of freaked out down there.”

Dinah nodded. “It’s expected. How do you feel now that he’s been forced out of the shadows?”

“Better, I guess? I know he can’t hurt me even if he tried to get in my head. I think his words are going to stay with me for a while though.”

“Do you think that’s going to affect you on your first mission back?”

Dick shrugged. “Maybe,” he answered softly, almost hating himself for admitting it. “I don’t want him to have that kind of hold over me, but I’m sure I’ll be nervous. As long as we don’t have to go into any basements,” he said, trying to smile. When Dinah didn’t return it, he cleared his throat and dropped his gaze, staring at his knees.

“I think that’s enough for one day,” she said. “We’ve covered quite a lot. I’m sure I’m going to be seeing you soon for another session. Take care of those wounds and don’t let yourself aggravate them.”

“I don’t think Wally would let me if I tried. At this point he probably has another sense for me getting in trouble and he could speed to me in a second and stop me from doing something stupid.”

“Well, do the both of you a favor and keep yourself from considering doing stupid things in the first place,” Dinah said, raising an eyebrow.

Dick grinned. “Thanks, Black Canary,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome. Are you going to head out or stay in the Cave for a bit?”

“I’ll probably make my way out. I’m sure the rest of the team doesn’t need me dragging down the mood when they get in for training.”

Dinah smiled. “I’m not sure that would be the exact reaction.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think your presence during training would be good for them. Sure, you might not be able to participate, but it would give them a sense of normalcy knowing you’re nearby and on the mend. It’ll give them a chance to be reminded of how strong you are and help you maintain your team dynamic for when you’re able to return to the field.”

Dick smiled. “I guess I can’t exactly argue with that.”

Dinah smiled. “If you want you can head into the kitchen and grab a snack or wander the halls. I’ll let Batman know that you’re staying for a few hours. I’m sure he won’t mind.”

Dick nodded. “Okay.”

He clamored out of the large chair he’d been sitting and left the room, feeling Dinah’s eyes follow him out as they bored into his back.

He had a while before the rest of the team would get in from school. Longer for Wally since he was in a different time zone compared to the rest of them. Even if he did have a free period at the end of the day that let him leave school grounds to meet up with the if didn’t make much of a difference.

Dick walked into the kitchen, glad to have his own run of the place for the moment. The rest of the team would be coming in soon and despite his healing injuries, the rift and awkwardness in the team was apparent.

He could only hope that business as usual would keep things from being too awkward. And the best way he could think of doing that was through food. He didn’t have Alfred’s finesse in the kitchen by any means, but he knew his way around a batch of cookies. Or several batches.

There was a kryptonian and a speedster on the team and they’d easily inhale most of the cookies. Wally more so since he needed the energy to keep his metabolism and speed up.

~~

Recognize Agualad B-02, Superboy B-04, Miss Martian B-05.

Dick paused, pulling the third tray of cookies from the oven. He already had a range of cookies cooling on the baking racks and had gone a little overboard, making chocolate chip, sugar cookies, and double chocolate chocolate-chip.

His nerves had only gotten worse the longer he had to wait for the coming encounter with the team and he’d used his nervous energy to keep baking, the rhythmic mixing of ingredients and shaping of cookies helping to ease his mind.

“Robin!” M’gann said excitedly as she flew into the room.

“Hey, M’gann,” he said with a grin. “Hope you don’t mind that I took over the kitchen today.”

“Not at all. These look wonderful. May I have one?”

“Go ahead,” he said, gently adding the newest batch to the cooling rack before he had to put the last round of dough in the oven. “You might want to be quick since Wally will inhale them all once he gets here.”

The four of them laughed and Dick relaxed. Things felt good, normal, and he could almost forget about the past few days and just revel in the presence of his team. His friends.

Recognize: Artemis – B07.

Artemis walked into the kitchen a minute later, raising an eyebrow. “Cookies?” she asked.

Dick shrugged. “I got bored.”

“Are you staying in the mountain today?” Kaldur asked from his seat on one of the stools.

“Yeah I was going to watch you guys train. Gotta keep in the loop even if I can’t fight right now,” Dick explained. He stopped as an idea blossomed, a smirk pulling at his lips.

“I don’t like that look,” Artemis said around a mouthful of cookie. “That is a very dangerous look.”

“I just got an idea,” Dick said.

“Oh god,” Artemis said, sounding like the end of the world was approaching. “Robin and ideas is bad. We’re all going to end up horribly injured, aren’t we?”

Dick’s mind was already running through the weapons that were kept in the mountain. He might not be able to fight or train with the team, but he could definitely use some things at his disposal. He briefly wondered how it would affect his injuries if he were to climb.

The stitches were healing and were less likely to pop but that didn’t mean his muscles would take the climb pleasantly.

Dick was barely pulled from his thoughts when the oven timer went off. He silenced it and pulled the cookies free, mind still roving over possibilities as he set the cookies on the cooling rack.

Artemis was whispering something behind him about not letting Dick anywhere near the training deck, but he didn’t bother to comment as he turned away and set the baking sheet in the sink.

Recognize: Kid Flash – B03.

“Wally!” Artemis cried, and Dick rolled his eyes.

“Are those cookies I smell?” he said, skidding to a stop in the kitchen.

“You might want to go strap Robin down on a gurney or in a chair for us. He’s gotten an idea,” Artemis said, the suspicion still evident in her voice.

“Rob?” Wally asked.

Dick rolled his eyes and turned. Wally stood right behind him, three cookies clutched in one hand as he munched on the one in his other hand. His eyes were narrowed at him and Dick smiled sweetly. It only served to make Wally’s eyes narrow further.

“What are you planning?” he asked, pointing a cookie at Dick.

“Nothing,” he said with a shrug. “Black Canary said that I could hand around while you trained today.”

Wally stilled. “You’re not training with us, are you?”

“Well…” Dick drawled, unable to hide his smirk. “I got an idea.”

“No,” Wally said. “You’re still healing.”

“You don’t even know what the idea is,” Dick said, crossing his arms and pushing up on his toes to try and get eye level with Wally.

Wally frowned, his eyebrows drawing down together.

“Everyone go get changed and report to the training room,” Dinah said, voice coming through the speakers loud and clear.

“This isn’t over,” Wally said, wagging a finger at Dick before he shoved a cookie into his mouth and sped off.

Dick rolled his eyes, waiting until everyone left the kitchen behind before he made a quick descent down to the training room.

Dinah was already there waiting.

“So, I have an idea that you might think is stupid-“

“Is there a risk of you aggravating your injuries?” she asked with a small smile.

“No,” Dick answered immediately. “I just need a place with a high vantage point to tuck myself away in and something to throw.”

She nodded. “Get gear fast and get up there,” she said, pointing to a ladder set into the stone wall that led up to a concealed platform.

Dick grinned. He sprinted over to the weapon room, ignoring the twinge in his legs and back. He filled a pack with long range weapons and poked his head out, checking the coast was clear except for Dinah who watched him scramble over to the ladder and climb up.

There was a ledge on the platform that was big enough for him to crouch behind. He slipped off his pack and pulled out the throwing discs and explosives he��d grabbed. It wasn’t a perfect plan since Connor would be able to hear his heartbeat, but he’d hopefully have a bit of surprise since they wouldn’t expect him to launch an attack.

Dick pulled his hoodie up and used the shadow to exchange his sunglasses for a domino that he always kept on him. He shoved the hood back and waited, listening as the rest of the team chatted as they came in.

“What kind of assignment do you have for us, today?” Kaldur asked.

“Something that will certainly prove to be interesting,” she said.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with-“ Wally started before the lights shut off.

Dick grinned, switching to night vision with his domino, once more incredibly glad that he made a habit to carry one with him. He glanced over the edge of the of the rock and saw Dinah leaning against the wall. The team had spread out, obviously on high alert for what was coming.

His grin widened, and he barely held back a cackle before he threw three throwing disks. Connor heard them moving through the air and pulled Megan and Artemis out of the way, using his hearing to track them.

Dick sent the next disc wide as it beeped. It embedded into the wall behind the team and set off an explosion, raining rock and debris down onto their heads. He cackled as he watched them scramble away, glad for the uneven rock face of the training room to distort his voice so it was more difficult to tell where it was coming from.

“Rob!” Wally cried.

For a second Dick thought he was mad, but he had a sharp grin on his face and Dick knew he was up for the challenge.

Dick grinned back even though none of them could see it and threw another three discs. Connor dodged easily. The third one exploded on the rock face again. He saw Wally put a hand up to his goggles and ducked down behind the rock face. He’d be looking for him now that he enabled his own night vision.

He didn’t hear any orders given, but footsteps pounded against the concrete below. M’gann must’ve linked them up mentally. Dick rolled his shoulders and prepared three more discs. He was at a disadvantage because he didn’t have the skills to move but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make it hell for them as they tried to reach him.

Dick kept his breathing under control and readied his discs. Hopefully Connor wouldn’t be able to pick out his location based on his heartbeat or breathing.

He rolled onto his knees and carefully raised himself up. The team had spread out to cover the length of the room and interfere with any attack that might come their way.

Dick shrugged to himself and started throwing discs, aiming at each of the groups. Wally looked up and he ducked down for a second, knowing it wouldn’t take long for him to find him.

His next round of discs were caught by Kaldur’s water-bearers and Connor’s fist. Artemis hung back because she obviously didn’t have night-vision goggles and M’gann looked to be concentrating on…something.

Dick sought out Wally and saw him already running towards the ladder on the wall. Abandoning all pretense of keeping himself hidden, he jumped to his feet and aimed his attacks at Wally to try and keep him away as long as possible.

He twisted away from one disc and lost his footing but caught one of the handles of the ladder. Dick prepared to throw another disc and knock him down, but an arrow knocked the disc from his hand.

He looked up, shocked that Artemis had hit him and saw she was firing with her eyes closed. He knew he’d figure that out later and stepped back as Wally climbed closer. He pulled two escrima sticks from his pack and twirled them in his grasp as Wally pulled himself up onto the ledge.

“You really think you can take me, Rob?” Wally asked.

Dick centered his weight in his fighting stance. “I know I can.”

He rushed forward, not giving Wally a chance to speed past his defenses. Wally stepped back from the first swipe of his stick and as Dick raised his other one to attack it was knocked from his hand with another arrow.

He jerked and tried to ready an attack with his first stick, but Wally caught his hand and wound an arm around his waist, pinning him against his chest to keep him from aggravating his injuries since they both knew he wouldn’t go down without a fight.

Dick squirmed, searching for some form of escape but Wally lifted him from his feet.

“I don’t think so. You’ve had your fun, but this is just asking to pull your stitches,” Wally said, sounding far too happy with himself.

“Wally,” Dick whined. “Come on.”

“Nope! You’ve had your fun,” he said, slinging Dick over his shoulder as he ran down the side of the wall to the floor.

“That was certainly a great exercise,” Dinah said, turning the lights back on. “I’ll think you’ll have to join us for more training sessions while you heal.”

Dick shut his eyes while his mask lenses switched back to normal. Wally set him back on his feet.

“Now why don’t we get to some real training?” she said, bracing her hands on her hips.

Dick’s shoulders slumped as he dutifully took his spot next to Dinah and watched the rest of the team train.

If you enjoy my work, please reblog or consider buying me a ko-fi!

[pixelgrotto]

The horrific Resident Evil playthrough, part nine

If there’s one word that can be used to describe Resident Evil: Revelations, it’s “solid.” This is kinda funny, since most of the game takes place on a body of water - or more specifically, a ship floating in the middle of the ocean. This is a good setting for a horror game that, interestingly enough, was used in Ubisoft’s Resident Evil 4 clone Cold Fear and the negatively reviewed Game Boy Color spin-off Resident Evil Gaiden, which I’ll get to eventually.

But going back to my main point, RE: Revelations is a very fine playable experience. It features the over-the-shoulder viewpoint and gunplay that’s been the series norm since RE4, but has a confined, ominous setting more reminiscent of the earlier Resident Evils. Just like the Lost in Nightmares DLC of Resident Evil 5, which saw Jill Valentine and Chris Redfield infiltrating a spooky European manor that bore more than a passing resemblance to the original Spencer Mansion, it seems that Revelations was engineered to combine new school Resident Evil with old school Resident Evil, creating a combo to please all the series veterans who complained that the sunshine of RE5 had made things decidedly un-scary, while still not alienating newer fans. 

There’s a lot of decent stuff in this combo, starting with the front and center return of Jill Valentine. While Resident Evil was a franchise that always did a great job of female representation in its earlier entries, as the games have gotten more bang shoot ‘em up, the main protagonists have increasingly become dudes while the ladies have been delegated to support roles. This falls into the trope of “action games star guys to empower male players while survival horror games star women to make male players want to protect the protagonist,” so it’s nice to see Revelations buck this trend. Jill does spend the entirety of the game in a skintight wetsuit that’s contributed to a lot of cringy fanart, but to Revelations’ credit, she is never sexualized throughout the entire campaign. The two other main females in the cast - Jessica Sherawat, a BSAA member who’s kind of a skank and rocks a ridiculous costume that’s missing an entire leg, and Rachel Foley, a "secret agent” who looks like a Twitch titty streamer - don’t fare nearly so well, but at least Jill is done right. 

Jessica and Rachel aren’t the only new characters introduced into series lore - Revelations has a whole ton of fresh faces, and since the game is divided up into 12 hour-long chapters, it seems like the devs were also inspired to make everyone seem reminiscent of someone in a television show. You’ve got the BSAA boss who seems based on every CSI boss ever, two funky dudes named Keith (finally, a playable black guy) and Quint who buck the trend of these games only starring highly attractive models, a whole bunch of bioweapon-stealing terrorists, a bad guy with a goatee who looks like he wandered in from the Metal Gear Solid party down the hall, and the best newbie of all - Parker Luciani, an Italian BSAA member who looks like Russell Crowe and fills in the same kind of “dad” role that Barry Burton occupied in Resident Evil 1.

Weaving these TV drama-esque characters together is a plot that trades zombies for mutated human/sea creature hybrids, which is an excellent combination since the sea is home to pure terror. The story twists and turns in a mostly understandable way until chapter 11 or so, when it suddenly devolves into deus ex machina cliches and faces the same problems as a lot of Japanese games that are trying to be too witty for their own good. (See: the vast majority of Final Fantasy titles.) It’s not a bad tale, and it plays things straight in the same way that Resident Evil 5 did, but is somewhat less memorable in the long run since it lacks a proper baddie like Wesker to really stick out in your mind.

And that’s probably the only issue I have with Revelations. There’s nothing really wrong with the game, but that means that it’s also oddly forgettable in some ways, and definitely feels like the side story Nintendo 3DS gaiden that it was originally developed as when compared with its recent predecessors. It lacks the super engaging pacing that Resident Evil 4 had, for instance - while RE4 was the sort of game that made me want to stay up late playing just one more hour, I was okay to take a break and go to bed after each bite-sized bit of Revelations. And while Revelations provides a decidedly more focused single-player experience than Resident Evil 5, the strange racial miscalculations of that title and the Hollywood-influenced (but genuine, I believe) portrayal of Africa just make RE5 more interesting, in my opinion. This isn’t to say that Revelations is dull - it’s just that it’s sandwiched in between other series entries that I simply find myself having more to say about. Sometimes when you’re the third child who does his thing well enough, yet is overshadowed by the perfect big brother (RE4) and an annoying at times, compelling at others second sibling (RE5), this sort of phenomenon can happen.

But lest we end on a meh note, I will give credit where credit is due - the many new faces that Revelations brings to the increasingly complex world of Resident Evil are mostly welcome ones, and the game does a solid (there’s that word again) job of bringing back the terror that used to infuse the series in an era when the scares were slowly being forgotten. Though, part of me wonders if I would have enjoyed Revelations even more if it had brought back fixed camera angles, too... Hmm, nine games deep into this series playthrough and it appears that I can finally choose a side in the great debate over which style of Resident Evil I kind of prefer. Make mine fixed camera angles! All screenshots taken by me. For more, check out this Twitter thread showing my step-by-step progress through the game.

[katealexandra26]

A Matter of Choice (1/1)

Summary: Princess Emma is seeking answers. Captain Killian Jones is seeking revenge. Their paths converge in front of the Great Gate of Danann. Reluctantly, Emma chooses to place her trust in him and work together. But Killian seems to be stuck in the past and Emma is terrified of the future. Both must face the consequences of their choices and live with them for the rest of their lives. And for the Fae, that’s a very, very long time indeed. 

Rating: Explicit 

Content Warnings: Explicit sexual content, potential dubious consent between a married couple, brief mentions of past abusive relationship, graphic violence, major character death, revenge, and murder

Word Count: 14,925

Also on: ao3 | ff.net

Author’s Note: Here is my contribution to the 2018 Captain Swan Little Bang. This is the single longest completed story that I’ve ever written and I am so happy it’s finally time to post this. 

So I decided to scrap my original idea 1 week before the final deadline and go with a different Fae story. I wrote over 15,000 words in 7 days (before it was trimmed down to the current version). I got to tell the story I wanted and still managed to include references to Star Wars, Game of Thrones, JM Barrie’s original Peter Pan play and a few others (if you find them, drop by my ask box to fangirl if you want). A HUGE thank you to @jarienn972, @cocohook38 and @forestiyari for dealing with my indecisiveness and last minute changes.

@jarienn972 : You helped me hone my writing to tell a better story and I appreciate your work more than words can express. Thank you for also being a friendly ear when I ran into roadblocks not just with writing but life and encouraging me to make the right decisions for my story.

@cocohook38 : Your work for my story is so incredible. I have never had someone do original artwork for a story of mine and it was humbling. Merci beaucoup, mon ami.

@forestiyari : Both you and @cocohook38 being in different time zones was hard to manage but you were so patient with me and stayed up well past a normal hour for your time zone, all to complete your lovely, ethereal cover art that I’ve attached to this post. Thank you so much for being so accommodating and working with me to find the right way to introduce my story. 

And finally to @ohmakemeahercules : Thank you for being my friend, cheerleader and back up beta reader through this whole process. I am truly glad we encouraged each other to do this project. Everyone else you MUST check out Kristen’s story here and my art for it here and here.

And without further ado…

Princess Emma of Misthaven was never permitted beyond the bounds of her parents’ kingdom; she had known this since she could remember. Her rational mind kept screaming at her that she shouldn’t have chosen tonight, All Hallow’s Eve, of all nights to test those bounds as an ominous feeling settled itself in the pit of her stomach. Emma shoved the thought down and argued that tonight was the perfect night as it was the full moon. Between the two converging events, Emma’s magic would be powerful enough for what she wished to accomplish.

The prospect of dangers she may very well encounter, especially from her step-grandmother, had been something she had considered, but she wouldn’t let fear rule her. Bravery wasn’t the problem. Despite not permitting her outside of their kingdom, there wasn’t much King David and Queen Snow forbade her as she had grown. She mastered the art of war with Sir Lancelot, learned from her Aunt Ruby how to track with all of her senses, and her parents’ Master of the Hunt, Sir Graham, taught her there was more to hunting than taking the life of her prey. Her curiosity was just too much to contain, but the day that her magic bloomed, she ran to her mother in alarm.

“Mother! Mother!” Emma shouted as she ran through the halls of the palace, ignoring the stares of the staff as she ran with unladylike haste.

“Slow down, Princess Emma! You don’t wish to fall and miss your birthday ball.” her tutor urged as she approached the library annex her teacher inhabited.

Emma slowed down and watched her teacher as he leaned against the door, pulling his long white beard between his thumb and forefinger as he so often did when Emma’s behavior was less regal than it ought to have been. Though the man’s wrinkled, time wizened faced held a degree of mirth and conspiracy as he observed her disheveled state, Emma smoothed her skirts back down and stood tall facing her elder.

“What has you in such a rush, my dear girl?” Magnus asked, ushering his pupil to his study.

“Master Magnus, I have discovered something puzzling” Emma answered. Her teacher stared at her, waiting for her to reveal the discovery that had sent her running through the castle.

Rather than explaining with words, Emma grabbed a candle holder from the long wooden table in the center of the workroom. She used her left hand to steady it on her right palm. Then her left hand fell away, leaving the candle holder perfectly centered. She studied the wick, focused on the task she wished to accomplish. She imagined a bright orange flame at the end of the candle. She closed her eyes and breathed out.

The gasp of her teacher informed her she must have met her goal. She opened her eyes to find that every candle in the workroom was alight. Emma smiled with pure glee and the candle holder in her palm began to float inches above it. Emma expected to see a similar reaction from her teacher, but rather than joy or even pride, Emma saw concern etched in every pore on his face.

His hand came up he waved gently, extinguishing the excess flames not lit prior to her entry into the room. Emma sighed, unsure of her tutor’s change in demeanor.

“You must be careful, my dear princess. Magic can be dangerous. It is said by some that all magic comes at a price but your magic is a gift of light, of love. However, you must learn control, because to lose control could be dangerous,” Magnus warned, eyes softening as Emma’s filled with tears.

“Why do I have such magic? I don’t want to be different, I didn’t ask for this,” Emma wailed, hugging around the old man’s waist. Her teacher was one of the kindest people she knew and Emma liked to think that he cared for her, not just as a master may for a pupil, but as a grandfather loved his grandchild.

Magnus knelt down in front of her, titling her chin up to meet his blue-grey eyes. “Do not fear. Mastery of magic is a skill that one can learn, just as you’ve learned to hunt, ride or shoot a bow. I can teach you, but the answers you seek should come from your lady mother. Dry your eyes, my child,” Magnus advised, conjuring a handkerchief, handing it to the young princess. “Now, let me take you to the Queen and see if she can provide the answers you seek.”

Emma smiled at the memory, wondering how her dear teacher would judge her current journey. After Emma had shared her discovery with her tutor all those years ago, he had led her to her mother’s study and her mother revealed that Emma was half-Fae, as Snow herself had been born in the land of the Fae and had been banished from that land by her horrid stepmother long ago. Snow herself rarely used her magic anymore, explaining to her daughter that the last notable time was the day she took David, then Prince of the Realm and heir of King George, as her husband. As they sealed the bonds of matrimony, Snow shared half of her heart with David, granting him her immortality. Snow explained that along with her magic, the moment Emma reached the age of twenty-five, she would cease to age, as Snow had once done.

At thirteen, the idea didn’t make much of an impact on how she lived her daily life or imagined her future, other than beginning a new course of instruction with Master Magnus. At eight days passed twenty-five, part of Emma was horrified at the thought that she would outlive most of the people she loved whom were not of her blood. It wasn’t even a choice she had. She would live forever and while she loved her parents and her younger brother Leo, it felt as though she had been robbed of something.

It was her intention to journey to her mother’s homeland and find answers about her immortality, perhaps even a way to end it if she so chose.  It wasn’t that she wished to, but Emma had come to feel over the last few years that perhaps the purpose of living was knowing someday it would end. Her mother had shared her immortality with her husband and Emma knew that it was perhaps possible for her to do the same if she fell in love with a mortal. Though given she was merely half-Fae, her mother had no definitive answer as to how the ritual bond might work with her.

Guilt plagued her for deceiving her parents, her brother, for not disclosing her plans to a single soul, but her mother couldn’t help her and Misthaven had no records of Fae. Master Magnus once jokingly whispered this was likely because the Fae guarded information, real information about themselves and would often cull the libraries of men to keep those secrets as such. As much as Master Magnus had been a wealth of knowledge about magic, he also couldn’t give her the answers she sought.

As Emma urged her black horse through the dark woods, she was afraid. Not of the forest. She knew every inch of this forest like she did the back of her own hand. No, Emma feared what she would find or worse, that her journey would all be for naught. The trees overhead were thickly bound together, almost curled in an arch over the Kingsroad so that the moonlight barely illuminated the part of the path she traveled.

The howling of wolves distracted her as she rode, likely her Aunt Ruby’s pack out for their monthly hunt, drawing her focus away from her path before she gave the animal its head. Ruby was born of a long line of werewolves but she was Snow’s closest and oldest friend, which was saying something when one considered that Snow herself was at least two hundred years old. The magic of Ruby’s gift, or curse as many others would call it, gave a similar extended life to werewolves, given they continued to embrace their inner wolves and shifted regularly. Emma could feel the magic in the air tighten around her as the wolves ran close to her position.

Emma used a mild spell to hide her scent from the pack so that the harsh wind whooshing eerily through the trees, and any creatures of the wood observing her racing her steed through the night could not carry trace of her back to any who may seek to find her. Her senses tingled once again as she drew her horse off a new and unfamiliar path, the magic growing stronger the closer she got to her destination. Emma reigned in her horse and dismounted with a grace that only years on the back of the majestic animal could teach.

Emma led the horse on foot towards the source of the magic, her body tensing as she heard voices near her.

“Down, Arion,” Emma whispered to her horse, watching as he knelt down on the ground and laid lower than the hedgerow in front of them.

Emma saw an ancient and gnarled tree in an opening of the forest, just beyond where she hid. There appeared to be a locked gate just to the left of the deformed tree. To most it would appear the gate led to nowhere in particular, just an overgrown garden of someone’s long abandoned home. Emma knew better than that. She trusted the gut instinct that led her here. The rusted metal gate was her passageway into the Fae realm.

The voices she heard minutes before suddenly had forms to go with them. A man in a long, black leather duster entered the clearing. Emma could not make out his face. His hair was short and blacker than the leather he wore. She could make out little else about him.

“Smee, where in the seven hells is that powder?” a smooth, lilting voice called out.

Emma observed as a short, fat man rushed from the other side of the clearing. He was red-faced and huffing as he stopped before the other man.

“Here, Captain, here it is,” the man, Smee, bowed, offering a small blue pouch to the Captain. He backed away, pulling a red cap from his head. Smee clutched the cap desperately, his hands wringing it nervously as he backed away from the Captain just a little further.

The Captain marched up to the rusted metal gate, purpose in each stride. Reaching the gate, he sprinkled the contents of the blue pouch onto the ground. He held up his hand towards the gate and began muttering something in a vaguely familiar language. It was Dark Elvish! It was a spell she had not heard before but she could hazard a guess as to its purpose, tonight of all nights. The Captain clearly had the same idea as she. After several minutes, he was no longer speaking, but Emma still felt the presence of magic. Only nothing happened and Emma wondered why. The spell should have worked, if the caster had a proper grasp on the magic being used.

Curses emanated from the man, some in languages Emma understood and others that were foreign to her ears.

“Gods damn that woman!” the Captain cursed, whipping around to face the hedgerow where Emma was concealed. At first Emma feared that the man meant her but she was confident she had not been discovered yet.

Emma took the opportunity with the man facing towards her to study his face. The Captain, as the other had called him, was one of the most handsome men Emma had ever laid eyes upon. The dark locks covering his head were barely swept back off his brow. Raven hair peppered with auburn made up the beard and mustache that covered the lower half of his face. He wore a blood red doublet, that showed off more of the sinful hair that covered the rest of him. Emma shook her head and looked back up towards his face. His hand came up to tuck some wayward hair behind his left ear.

Emma gasped as she saw what she had missed in her perusal. Her right hand flew to cover her mouth and her left ran gently over her own slightly pointed ears. This man was half-Fae. Of course he was! It explained why he was in the middle of nowhere trying to open a gate that only those of Fae or magical descent could open. Lost in thought, she failed to take note of four men behind her, two whom had already secured Arion. The other two grabbed her, hauling her up, unfazed by her kicking and screaming in effort to escape. Emma forced her panic away as her hands were bound and her magic wouldn’t respond to her call. The men dragged her into the clearing to face their Captain.

Emma swallowed hard, channelling every bit of royal training into this moment. She might be captive but she wouldn’t be for long and she needed to be prepared for that opportunity.

“Well, what do we have here?” the Captain grinned, closing the distance between them in two quick steps. Emma didn’t answer, merely watching as the man looked her over. She was wearing a sapphire blue tunic vest, soft cotton blouse, (one that showed more cleavage than her mother would approve of) dark blue breeches and knee high riding boots. Her black cape skimmed the ground and the hood no longer hid her blonde tresses from view.

“Where are my manners,” he smiled, executing a courtly bow. “Captain Killian Jones, at your service,” Captain Jones provided as he resumed his former position. “What is your name, love?”

Emma thought about lying but something in her told her this man would know a lie from the truth. “Emma,” she said simply, not lying but refusing to expound upon her answer.

“What are you doing in the middle of the woods on such a night, Emma?” Captain Jones demanded.

Emma didn’t know how to answer without lying because telling the truth would give this man a reason to hold her prisoner, perhaps even longer than he intended. One of the two men flanking her, shook her violently when she failed to reply. Her hair, which had been braided loosely with several strands carefully arranged over her ears to prevent anyone from noticing the slight difference between hers and a human’s, fell free of its bonds when the Captain’s minion shook her. Hair tumbled down, obscuring her field of vision and tickling her nose while she tried to shake her head so that her hair was no longer in her face.

A pair of rough hands parted her hair in front of her nose, fingertips skimming gently over her forehead and carefully tucked her hair behind her ears as he had done with his own not so long before. His right hand stopped as it passed over her left ear. His eyes found hers. Emma tried to suppress the shiver that tore through her, failing miserably as his hand caressed her left ear, his left hand repeating the process on her other ear, thumbs lingering on her earlobe. The gesture was a deeply intimate one, creating a feeling Emma had never experienced before. Her eyes locked on his cerulean blue ones, she could see a million thoughts flash through them before he settled on one. Triumph.

“Well, Emma, I think there is a lot more to your story than meets the eye,” Captain Jones purred, his face mere inches in front of her own. Emma still hadn’t broken eye contact.

Just then Arion neighed loudly and reared back from those that tried to hold him against his will and the Captain turned to see what was going on.

The men holding her hesitated and she felt whatever was blocking her magic fade. She pulled free and spun around, waving her hand at the minions holding her, sending them catapulting through the air. She didn’t watch to see where they fell.

“Arion!” she shouted, calling her horse to her. Arion was almost to her when Captain shouted several Elven words that brought the animal to a halt next to the vile man. Emma’s sword was still in its scabbard, tied to Arion’s saddle and she had been relieved of her dagger when captured.

“Fuck,” Emma cursed. She had no weapon to defend herself; if she aimed a magical attack at the Captain, she had no doubt he could easily counter it. Or worse, she or he could accidentally hurt her beloved Arion in their struggle. She was plotting various outcomes as his voice broke through her inner thoughts.

“Princess Emma, you want the answers you came for? I have a proposition for you,” Captain Jones offered, walking Arion towards her.

“How did you know that I was the princess?” Emma deflected.

“A number of small details that, when added up, gave a pretty clear picture of who you were.”

Emma glared at him and he seemed to understand what the look said. “Firstly, your name is Emma.” Emma scoffed at him but he continued. “Secondly, your ears are those of the half-Fae, courtesy of your mother,” he explained. “Thirdly, your horse, Arion? There are many tales of the beautiful Princess and her faithful steed Arion who are frequently seen together riding the length and breadth of these woods.”

Emma wanted to knock the smug, self-satisfied smirk off his handsome face. “What is it you are proposing?” Emma grimaced at the choice of word.

“Regina, the Queen who rules over much of the Realm of the Fae, has barred me passage back, spiteful bitch that she is. I believe she did the same to your mother, Snow White,” Captain Jones spat. “Anyway, to get in, I need someone who is not barred from opening the portal and accompanying me through. Once you’re done, on my honor as a gentleman, I vow to set you free to find whatever you came here to find.”

“Your word as a gentleman?” Emma huffed angrily. “I’m supposed to believe the man who held me against my will and somehow bound my magic? You must be insane!”

“I am always a gentleman, love. I apologize that my men were rough with you, that was not my intention when I advised them to capture you. And I resent being called insane!”

“What else should I call a man such as you?” Emma growled as he invaded her personal space once more.

He stuck his tongue out and ran it lavisciously over lips, a frustratingly arrogant and obscene gesture in Emma’s mind. “Oh, love, I can think of many things you can call me,” he drawled. “But perhaps not in the middle of an open field littered with so many of my unconscious crewmen.”

Emma gasped at the outright nerve of the man. Suggesting she let him take her to bed. Emma had never done such a thing. “If I should take a lover, it’d never be you,” Emma vowed.

“Never is an awfully long time, darling. So what do you say? Open this portal and we can be on our way. The sooner we leave, the sooner you’ll be rid of me,” he said before looking up. “This full moon won’t last forever and I would prefer not to have to do this all again in a month. I have revenge I’d like to seek.”

“You want me to let you through this portal to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting world? What kind of woman do you take me for?” Emma asked.

“There is a warlock by the name of Rumpelstiltskin who sought sanctuary there and I intend to kill him for once and for all. Nothing and no one will stop me,” the man clarified, glaring at her harshly.

“Why do you hunt this man?” Emma asked, frustration seeping into her bones that she even had to ask the question.

“He is more monster than man. He took someone from me, someone I loved very much and I have hunted him for centuries. Now that I know how to kill an immortal creature, I will finally put an end to the Dark One!” Captain Jones vowed, looking her in the eyes. The determination Emma found in his blue eyes frightened her.

“As long as you promise not to harm anyone but the man you seek, I will aid you,” Emma promised, extending her hand to the man in front of her.

“Unless I am attacked first, I promise not to harm any innocent souls on our quest,” Captain Jones said, grasping her hand and shaking it once. Emma felt a warmth spreading through her gloved hand and traveling through her. A glance toward the Captain revealed him appraising her with curiosity in his own gaze.

“Enough of that, Captain Jones. Let’s open this portal and be on our way,” Emma grumbled, withdrawing her hand from his for fear it might burn if she didn’t retract it.

“Enough of ‘Captain Jones’. My name is Killian. If we’re going to be companions, you might as well use my name,” he smirked, eyebrow arching in challenge.

“I think not, Captain Jones. Now, let’s get to work. Send your men back to where they came from.” He waved his hand, unconscious men disappearing in a puff of red smoke, and then turned to her once more.

Emma retrieved the scroll she had packed into the saddle bag before she had left and removed her gloves, tucking them into the saddle bag. She had to feel in order to properly perform the spell to remove the enchantment long enough for them to pass through.

As she approached the gate, her right hand reached out to feel the barrier the portal had protecting it. Emma pushed back against the cold she found on the edge of the gate’s barrier, her steps bringing her closer to the gate. Emma rested her hand on it, ignoring the feeling that she should turn around and walk away, expecting there may be some sort of spell here designed to keep humans away. Emma eyes fell closed as she focused. She had spent twelve years honing her magic and she was more in touch with her Fae half at the moment. A rich, post-rain earthy smell with a faint hint of cinnamon reached her nostrils as her left hand rested on the rusted metal. It encouraged her as she dug into the power of the barrier.

Emma’s mouth opened, speaking the carefully constructed spell to open the gate.

“Stop!” she heard from somewhere behind her, but she couldn’t stop now. Her power was so alive, she could feel the magic of the barrier loosen. The power started to wrap itself around her. Emma encouraged it until she was struggling to take in a single breath of air. She tried to fight the feeling, tried to disentangle herself but it was too late.

Warm fingers trailed against her right hand and threaded themselves into hers. The smell of salt, sea and seaweed melded with the earthy smell from before, completely enveloping her as the constriction on her chest lessened and air flowed easily into her body. A thought reached her mind, Repeat after me. Emma focused on the words the voice fed to her, not saying them outloud but focusing her feelings on the meaning of the words, willing them to be reality.

A burst of wind washed over her as she felt the barrier break. The hand grasping hers didn’t let go when the way before them was free to be travelled. Emma turned to face the owner of the hand, Killian Jones. Logically, she knew it was him, but she was surprised he had saved her and was still in a state of shock from the way the portal had defended itself - nay, brutally attacked her for seeking entry.

“I am sor-,” Emma started before he cut her off. “No, don’t say it. It is I who should be sorry. I fear that my attempt to probe the gate previously, must have  triggered a curse built in for encountering my magic. It retaliated on the next attempt to open it.”

“I realized what was happening as you cast your attempt. I felt Rumplestiltskin’s magic all over it. He must have placed this here in case I sought entry. It must be why Regina, your grandmother, accepted him. We don’t have a pleasant history and she probably wanted me dead too,” Killian explained, a bit sheepishly, looking remorseful he was the reason she had almost died.

Emma almost missed that she began referring to the Captain by his first name in her head. After what she felt, his mind against hers during the spell, she simply didn’t want to bother with such formalities any further. It didn’t feel right.

Arion felt uneasy next to her, she turned, muttered softly to him. “It’s alright boy. There is nothing to fear. The danger is gone. You should be able to pass through the portal with me.”

Arion neighed nervously and shook his head, gaze turning towards the scoundrel with whom she had made a compact. Emma shook her head at Arion’s description of the man.

“I promise not to hurt your mistress, Arion. On my life, I promise to keep her safe.”

Emma had hoped he wouldn’t know the ancient Gaelic tongue that she had used with Arion since he was a colt. Given the brief mention of centuries chasing the same foe, Emma guessed he might even have been alive when the language was more commonly spoken. Emma tried to shake the unsettling feeling that arose at his promise. He was a stranger who’d held her briefly against her will and manipulated her into helping him. Why would he make such a promise?

“Shall we go?” Killian asked, having retrieved his own horse. Emma shook herself and swung into the saddle on Arion’s back.

The gate now opened with a gentle wave of her hand and they passed through into a forest that appeared the same as they had left behind except that magic pulsed through every tree, branch, leaf and root. The rusted gate slammed shut with a loud bang. An ominous feeling lingered in the back of her mind. Did she really have any idea what she was getting into? It was too late to turn back.

Killian watched the princess carefully as they trotted at a slow pace down the trail. Her power was unlike anything he had encountered in his nearly six hundred years. Guilt nagged at him that his reckless attempt to open the barrier had unleashed a counterspell meant to kill him. He had no idea what possessed him to grab her hand other than pure instinct. The instant he touched her hand, he felt her power, willfully ignoring the part of his mind that coveted that power for himself. He pushed away those thoughts, knowing if he was going to get into Danann he needed to focus towards helping the young princess break the counterspell since she had successfully broken the initial barrier.

It had been more than seventy years since he had been back to Danann. This was not the world he remembered. It was dark, no creatures or people visible as the road from the gate merged with the main road. Even at night, this place used to be more alive. A once busy thoroughfare was reduced to an overgrown dirt path. This had Rumplestiltskin’s dirty fingerprints all over it.

Anger flared deep within his soul, bound with satisfaction that the damnable warlock would soon meet his end. Killian didn’t even care that the cost may very well be his own life. Half life that it was since Milah had died. The day echoed in his mind as clear now as the day itself.

“Okay, lads. One night here in this port and we’ll be on our way with the morning high tide. Any man who misses the departure will no longer have pleasure of serving on this crew,” Killian sneered, looking around at the men on deck. “See the purser for your share of the haul.”

With that Killian departed and made his way down to his cabin. Milah was sitting at his desk, dark hair a mess around her face as she stared at the drawing in front of her, completely lost in her regret. Her face was covered in tears and she was only half dressed, wearing her leather pants, heeled boots and a white blouse. Her favorite corseted-vest lay discarded on the floor despite her knowing how much he valued clean and tidy living quarters.

Killian knelt on the floorboards next to his lover. He could see the gray which now peppered her raven locks as he pushed her hair out her face.

“I know he wouldn’t look this way, but it’s the only comfort I have. He’d be twenty now,” Milah sobbed, turning to Killian. He gathered her into his arms and coaxed her to let go of her pain.

About eight years after he and Milah had run away from the little port town at which they were now docked, they’d received word that Milah’s son, Baelfire had died.The circumstances were still a mystery even years later. The one detail they had discovered was that her husband, Rumpelstiltskin, had acquired some kind of magic and had been terrorizing the local villagers in sadistic revenge on them for having always called him a coward. Baelfire got caught in the crossfire of the conflict and had been found dead. Townsfolk whispered that it had been Rumplestiltskin himself that had accidentally dealt the death blow to his own son.

Milah’s grief had been untamed, much like the woman herself, and in the early days after he used magic to help heal her which led him to finally tell her of his own heritage. The lasting gift that his mother had given him. His mother, after giving birth to Killian, decided that she want to bind herself to his father, Brennan Jones. For a Fae, it was an enormous commitment to bind their heart to a mortal, to share eternity with them. Ailsa had been certain Brennan was worthy of this honor but to her horror, during the binding ceremony, Ailsa split her heart and Brennan proved untrue. Ailsa died before completing the ceremony.

Milah had wanted it of him then, wanted him to bind himself to her, and Killian had felt guilty that he could not do it. Milah, though she was his in his heart, had bound herself in marriage to Rumpelstiltskin and nothing but death could break that bond. Over time, Milah had accepted what they were able to share, his wife in all but name, and she eventually began to heal from the pain the death of her son had reaped from her heart.

It took years, but Killian had convinced her that since her husband had moved on from their former home, she could finally pay her respects to her son’s final resting place. When the day was upon them, Killian felt regret surge up, his magic screaming at him to weigh anchor and leave. Killian ignored the instinct.

“Milah, we have made port. Just get dressed and we will go seek what we came here for and then we can go to the tavern and get as drunk as you’d like. Can you do that, my love?” Killian asked, tender care for her emotional state at the forefront of his mind.

She compiled without the utterance of a single word. Killian hated seeing his fiery sea goddess so diminished and defeated by ghosts of the past. When they reached the quarterdeck, most of the men had received their pay and departed for the local taverns, brothels and gaming houses. Only the second mate, Smee (a half-Fae as well), their gunner Kincaid, and ship’s doctor, Whale, still sat on the deck and as consequence, no one was guarding the gangplank to the dock. A man, extravagantly dressed in a fine blue silk doublet and brown suede breeches, knee high stockings, paired with jewel-bedecked heeled shoes, now stood on the deck of his ship without invitation. Kincaid made a move to draw his sword and the stranger waved his hand and the blade flew to his outstretched fingers.

The gasp Milah let out and the shaking fear he felt radiating off of her told him immediately who this man was. This was her husband, Rumplestiltskin. The man whose abuse pushed her into Killian’s arms. He was older than Killian had imagined, with long gray hair that hung just above his shoulders and a bit of a bulging belly that showed he was well beyond his prime. Killian surged with anger at this man who had tormented Milah for many years. A woman who had the misfortune to have been sold by her noble father to a man who made his fortune selling weapons to people on both sides of a conflict. The man who had taken advantage of a young girl’s misplaced affection and asserted his martial rights even when she would have preferred anything other than her husband rutting harshly into her, without thought for her pleasure, until he was spent and she was pregnant.

Killian could feel the sparks of his anger translate into the sparking of his magic.

The other man looked directly at him in that moment. “Tsk, tsk, wouldn’t want to start something you can’t win, now would we, Captain?” Rumpelstiltskin cautioned, wagging his pointer finger reproachingly.

“Rumple, why are you here? I simply came to pay my respects to our son. Please just let me visit his grave and we’ll be on our way,” Milah begged, eyes red again from unshed tears.

“You were no mother to our boy when he lived, I’ll be damned if you get to pretend that you were mother to him after he is gone,” Rumple raged, face turning a pale, shimmering blue.

“I knew if I left, you’d wish good riddance upon me but if I dared to steal your heir, then you’d follow me to the ends of the Earth to get him back. No matter how awful you were to me, I knew you loved Bae,” Milah sobbed.

“YOU DO NOT GET TO SAY HIS NAME, YOU FILTHY WHORE!” Rumplestiltskin roared, appearing in front of her with inhuman speed. His hand was on her chest - nay! - within her chest and with a sharp tug, the monster pulled her heart, enchanted by the magic he had used to remove it from its home. Killian had only ever heard of this magic. He had never, despite the evils he had done in his lifetime, used magic against another in such a purely despicable way.

Killian’s hand flinched as he watched the other man squeeze Milah’s heart ever so slightly. Milah fell to her knees on the hard wooden deck, howling in pain.

“If you move, pirate, I’ll crush her heart,” the warlock threatened, squeezing again until Milah screamed louder and several tiny cracks appeared on the surface of her heart.

Killian paused, uncertain what to do. The man before him seemed to sense when he was using magic and there was no way in such close quarters that the man wouldn’t notice Killian unsheathing his sword. Killian reached out to his ship, his beloved Jewel of the Realm, once Liam’s ship and then Killian’s after his half-brother’s tragic death. The Jewel had always had a magical quality to her and had often responded to his magic calling for help. He cloaked his effort and slowly, one of the rigging lines crept towards Rumplestiltskin. Just as the line was about to ensnare him, the warlock turned and directed the rope around Killian so tightly he could barely breathe. Rumple ordered Milah to her feet and with no choice but to comply, she rose. The man dragged Killian through the air until he was just inches from Milah’s face.

“Now, pirate, I want you to look into the eyes of the person you love most in this world. Tell her how much she means to you,” his tormentor ordered. “Now!” he screeched when Killian didn’t comply immediately.

Milah spoke first. “Killian, I love you. Thank you for the adventure of my life. I will always be with you. Never forget me. I don’t regret loving you,” she lamented, pressing her lips to his for what she knew was their final kiss.

“I love you, Milah. I promise that no matter how long I live, I could never forget you,” he pledged, wishing he could run his hand along her cheek.

“Ah, how sweet. True love,” Rumple crooned. “But love never lasts,” he cackled, crushing her heart. Milah crumpled to the deck, light gone from her eyes.

In his glee, the monster let his spell slip and Killian broke free of his binds. Killian drew his sword and ran the monster through. Instead of dying, the monster laughed as Killian stumbled back. Rumpelstiltskin drew the sword from his torso and swung it around to chop off Killian’s hand. The sword sliced clean through but Killian picked up the severed hand, held it up to the bleeding stump at the end of his arm and reattached it with his magic. It still pulsed from the repair but his magic was working on the inside to knit sinew and bone back together.

“Not easy to kill, are you pirate? Well, neither am I,” Rumpelstiltskin laughed, dropping the bloodied sword to the deck.

“I will find a way to kill you, know matter how long it takes,” Killian swore, venom surfacing in his magic in ways he had never experienced.

“Good luck living long enough to try,” the monster hissed, disappearing in a cloud of smoke.

“Captain Jones?” a sweet voice jostled him out of the memories.

“Aye, lass?” he replied, uncertain how long he had been unfocused. Taking stock of their position on road, he had zoned out for a very long time - if the setting sun was any indication, he’d lost more than sixteen hours. He was grateful that even with his mind unfocused, he managed to keep them on the right path toward civilization. Killian turned to his companion to see she was slumped over slightly and looked like it was taking every ounce of her strength to keep her seat.

He really should have accounted for how much strength - magic - she had exhausted.

“There’s a tavern a short distance up the road,” Killian supplied. He grabbed her reins and drew her steed to his. Tying them around his wrist he turned to her. “Get some rest. Between, Arion and I, you shall arrive safely.”

She blinked at him suspiciously, clearing not trusting him as she adjusted herself so she sat ramrod straight in her saddle. She turned and nodded for him to lead the way. She was headstrong, this princess. She reminded him of Milah in many ways. But just like the differences of their hair color, he suspected the two women were as diverse as night and day.

Night was fully upon them before they reached the inn. He guided them to the stable and hopped to the ground. He gathered his things from his horse and turned to find the princess still sitting perfectly straight in her seat. He walked around to the side of her horse that wasn’t tied to his.

“Princess, you need to come down now. We’ve reached our destination,” he implored gently. She seemed to rouse herself from whatever trance she was in and tried to dismount. Unlike the grace she had shown earlier, she couldn’t seem to summon the will to come down.

Killian placed his hands on her waist and lifted her down. He suppressed a groan as she slid down along his body. The second he had her on the ground, he realized she had cast a spell to keep herself upright but now she was dead asleep. He was going to have to wake her because, unless the inn before them had changed hands, Tiana would not appreciate him hauling an unconscious woman inside and demanding a room. Killian deposited the sleeping princess on a bale of hay outside the stall, waiting for a moment as she slumped over against the wall. Certain that she wouldn’t fall and injure herself, Killian removed her saddle bag and placed it near her feet and brushed down both of the horses. He started with Emma’s Arion and then his own gray, Kelan.

“Where are we?” the princess asked groggily, scrubbing her hands over her face in an effort to wake herself.

“At an inn,” Killian replied, turning back to his task. He could feel her surprise.

“I’m surprised a man such as you would take the time do such a simple task,” Emma scoffed, rubbing Arion’s ears, conjuring an apple to her palm for her valiant steed. The horse snapped up the treat with enthusiasm.

“Don’t judge a man by appearances. You don’t know me, love,” Killian chided, turning to look her in the eyes.

“I’m not,” she said defensively. “I’m judging a man who had me held against my will, manipulated me and almost got me killed. But you did also make sure that I didn’t die back there, so for that, at least, I thank you,” Emma conceded.

“Well, perhaps there is more to me than meets the eyes,” Killian smirked, arching his eyebrows in challenge. The princess blushed and looked away and he had to wonder what exactly prompted that reaction. “Now let’s go see about a room for the night. I know the innkeeper,” Killian remarked, picking up their bags and letting her walk before him.

Just as before she reached to open the door, Killian rushed in front of her and halted her progress. “Before we enter, I just wanted to ask that you let me do the talking. And whatever you do, don’t stare,” he cautioned.

“At what?” she asked indignantly, as though a he should expect a princess would have better manners than to stare.

“Any of it,” Killian grimaced, just wondering what kind of creatures they were about to encounter, grabbing the latch and pulling it open.

The music inside the tavern was loudy and heady, there was a siren on stage. The taproom was dirty and dark, half dressed faires bustling from table to table keeping the alcohol flowing. This certainly wasn’t the place he remembered.

At the table closest the door sat two disgustingly ugly goblins, their greenish-black skin glimmering in the low candle light. Their companions were three bridge trolls, dressed in heavy firs with small bugs running across their coats every now and again. Killian took note of several dwarves, gremlins, a singular warlock and two male fairies with black-tipped ears, a sign they were dark magic practitioners.

The energy in the room was murky and ominous. A damp, dank, black magic signature pressed against Killian’s until he felt like gagging. Killian froze as he recognized whose magic this was.

“Killian Jones?” a tall, slender dark-skinned man inquired, slithering from the back room of the tavern to the bar. “As I live and breathe, I thought Regina banished you.”

“Ah, Shadowman, I thought you knew better than to underestimate me. Regina did exactly that. She failed miserably,” Killian laughed confidently.

“And who is this lovely young woman?” Shadowman cooed, dropping his elbow to the bartop and resting his chin on his palm. Killian watched the wizard assess the young princess with a disturbingly lustful glint in his yellow eyes.

“My wife, Emma,” Killian said, grabbing her hand and squeezing it hard. He could feel her anger radiating through her at his statement and his touch. He gave her a sharp look and she nodded. “We need a room for the night,” Killian said, extracting his hand from Emma’s to summon the needed coin to pay Shadowman. Killian had truly missed how much easier it was to call on his magic here in Danann.

“Just your luck, Jones. I have one left for the evening,” Shadowman said as a key appeared in a puff of green smoke and dropped into Killian’s palm. “Mrs. Jones,” Shadowman said, tipping his hat at her as they left the taproom.

They traipsed up the stairs and found the corresponding room for the key number. Killian let her enter ahead of him again and then followed. He dropped his bags and drew out his dagger, slicing a small cut on his wrist. He pressed his bloodied wrist to the door and sealed the room from any of the shady patrons occupying the taproom. Emma was leaning against the wall, whispering something he couldn’t hear. He felt her seal off the sounds of their room with a silencing spell. No sounds in or out. He was certain the only reason she was able to bind the room was because of the well of magic that this world held.

“Your wife? What in the hell were you thinking?” Emma demanded, shaking angrily.

“I was thinking that Shadowman would have harmed you if I hadn’t claimed you as mine. I was trying to protect you. If you think I’m the villain in this situation, just know that all the horrors I’ve visited on others are NOTHING compared to that man. That collector of souls! Even if I hated you, I would not let you fall into the hands of that man,” Killian huffed, ripping off his duster and throwing it in the opposite direction from her. Something to release the tension he felt.

“I am no man’s, least of all yours!”

“I’m well aware of that, Princess,” Killian sighed, watching the exhausted princess rail against him, despite knowing she just wanted to sleep. She faltered and he stepped to her side and helped her lay down on the bed.

“Just try to get some sleep,” Killian begged, removing her boots with a flick of his wrist. She was staring at him and he wondered how much longer before she reached for the dagger she had tucked into her bosom on the trek.

He chuckled, “I’m not sleeping here, the bed is yours. See,” Killian gestured to the pallet he conjured for himself. “No need to fear for your innocence.”

He laid down and let sleep claim him, thankful he could almost always count on his slumber to arrive on swift wings.

Emma awoke with a scream. She looked around the room for the cause of her fear but found nothing but a scantily clad pirate with towel wrapped low on his hips, apparently having just emerged from the bathtub behind a three-paneled screen with elaborate paintings on each pane. The dark chest hair she had seen before trialed down below the line of the towel. The sound of him clearing his throat caused her to abruptly turn away, she could feel the redness of embarrassment from her chest to cheeks.

“Like what you saw, Princess?” Killian chuckled.

Thoughts pooled in her mind and lower but she voiced none of them. “You shouldn’t call me that,” Emma settled on.

“Princess? I suppose not since I told a whole room full of people that you are my wife,” Killian reminded her.

“I am not,” she huffed again.

“Perhaps, I’ll call you Swan. Given how you kept your seat on your horse with your neck as elongated as possible and with more grace than most could in such a state of exhaustion. What do you think of that, wife?” he said, empathizing the last word just to heckle her.

“I like it I suppose, but I’m not your wife,” Emma chided.

“Very few people will believe that, given you’ve been holed up with me in this room for a week,” Killian said calmly, disappearing behind a screen once more to dress.

“A WEEK?!” her shrill cry surprising even her. How on Earth could a week have gone by?

As if understanding her confusion, he just laughed and she was not pleased. He appeared from the other side of the screen dressed in a white shirt that was open to the middle of his chest and his leather pants, boots still near his pallet on the floor.

“Time passes differently here. A week here is usually close to a day in the realm of your birth,” Killian explained, sitting down in a chair by the table in opposite corner from the bath. He pulled his boots on, watching her closely.

“What have you been doing for all this time? Why didn’t you leave?” Emma asked, unsure why this man did anything, let alone protect her.

“You should bathe and change. I’ve left fresh, hot bathwater and clean towels for you,” he nodded towards the screen, avoiding answering her questions.

Emma had no desire to be naked in a room with a man, let alone one she didn’t exactly trust but her muscles were sore and stiff from disuse. The toll the counterspell had taken on her body was greater than she had anticipated. She slipped behind the screen and disrobed, setting her dagger on the small table by the tub just in case. Instinctively, she knew if he had meant her harm, he could have done it whilst she slept. Instead, she had awoken still fully clothed, save her boots and wholy unmolested. Still, the dagger remained accessible as she prepared to cleanse herself.

A moan escaped her as she sank into the steaming water of the tub. She heard the Captain falter in his steps and the unmistakable sound of his groan just before she submerged her head under the water. Emma relaxed and tried to let her mind go blank. She had dreamt even though she couldn’t remember any of it. Strange thing for her because she always remembered her dreams. Sometimes her dreams were prophetic, though not in large, world changing ways. Her dreams often revealed fragments or details about a future event, most just a small but concrete sense of déjà vu.

Emma sat back up out of the water, frustrated she couldn’t let her mind clear. She tried again, letting go of everything until the only sound she could hear was her own rhythmic breathing. She let her mind drift back into the dream state.

Emma opened her eyes to find she was in the middle of a burned and desolate ruin, that of an unfamiliar castle. She turned to see if anyone was around but found no other souls. She walked through the rubble until she came to a wall that was still standing. In the center of that wall was a heavy oak door with no burn marks like the rest of the structure. Everything in her was telling her not to open the door, but she couldn’t listen to that voice just now.

The door handle jostled as she attempted to open the door and upon her second attempt, it gave way. The room she entered was undamaged like the door had been. There were walls lined with ancient looking tomes, a table of to her right stacked with potions and potion making supplies and in the very center of the room was a giant spinning wheel.

Emma stepped closer to it, curiosity unabated. On the floor below her feet she heard crunching sounds so she knelt down to inspect the source of the noise. ‘It looked like straw’ was the first thought that flashed through her mind. Her finger grasped the thin object and brought it in front of her eyes for closer inspection. It was gold. What a strange thing to find in the midst of her dream. Emma stood, thin gold piece still in hand and found herself face to face with a scaly monster with bright yellow eyes.

“I’ve been waiting for you a long time, Dearie,” the creature hissed, hand reaching out towards her throat.

Emma awoke in the tub, screaming once more. Shuffling on the other side of the screen and the clatter of something being dropped.

“Swan, are you ok?” Killian’s voice croaked from the edge of the screen. She could tell he was trying to be gentlemanly but his concern was unnerving. She wished he would leave.

She exited the tub and cloaked herself in the oversized towel, using another to dry her hair. “I am unharmed, stand down.”

He did as she asked and when she sensed he was away from the screen, she quickly dressed in a clean blouse she had packed, along with a dark blue vest that laced up the front for ease of wear. She donned a pair of soft, brown leather riding pants and pulled on her knee high boots. Clothing secure, she stepped out to face the Captain.

“What did you see?” he demanded, every inch the commanding man she had first seen.

“Nothing,” Emma lied.

“What did you see?” he repeated, blue eyes glaring at her, anger brimming at her dissemblance. “The spell I cast on this room when we entered should have blocked you from harm, but it didn’t,” Killian said, handing her the mirror from the table next to him.

Emma accepted the mirror and held it up. On either side of her neck were purple fingerprint bruises. She set the mirror on the table and slumped into the chair. That had never happened before. Her dreams had never left a physical mark before and it terrified her.

Killian sat across from her and was silent, awaiting her response. Emma sighed and relayed the dream to him. When she was finished, she looked over at him to find he looked pale and uncomfortable.

“You know the man with yellow eyes, don’t you?” Emma asked cautiously. “Yellow eyes are a mark of a warlock of non-magical heritage.”

“Yes, he’s the warlock - demon - I am hunting,” Killian said after several long moments. “Why he’d be after you, I have no idea.”

“Because of what you said in the taproom. When you claimed me as your wife, you marked me. Someone down there told him we were here. So now if he comes, he’ll come for both of us,” Emma predicted, confident in her statement because, strategically at least, it made sense. If she was really his wife, then she would be a weakness to be exploited. A means to get to the man who sat before her.

Emma wanted to be angry, part of her was irate, but she also recalled what Killian said about losing the one he loved to this monster. She couldn’t imagine how she could have recovered from such a thing had she been in his place. She might have even considered a path of revenge herself if this Rumpelstiltskin had done to her as he had done to Killian Jones. She pushed away the thought, cursing her sympathetic heart and her stupidity for getting mixed up with this man.

“All I wanted when I journeyed here was to find answers about my heritage. To learn where I came from and why my magic is different. My mother told me that when I was younger that upon my twenty-fifth birthday that I’d stop aging and I’d never grow older. Never die. I wanted to know, even if I never use it, how an immortal, such as I am, may seek to have finality,” Emma raged, not talking to him in particular but rather at the ether.

“If you help me rid the world of Rumpelstiltskin, I’ll accompany you to the library in your mother’s former home,” Killian promised.

“My mother’s former home is the current home of Regina, my step-grandmother who drove my mother out and banished her from this realm. I doubt she’ll just let us waltz in and use her library,” Emma scoffed.

“She’s in league with Rumpelstiltskin so I imagine we will have to face her as well,” Killian pointed out.

“So we’d be taking on the evil warlock who killed your love and the evil queen who tormented my mother and murdered my grandfather?” Emma asked, feeling the need to make sure they were on the same page as far as the level of insanity for this venture.

“That’s the sum of it, yeah,” Killian agreed, having the decency to look her in the eye as he confirmed her assessment.

“I suppose given that if I say no, I’d still be walking into a quarrel I never asked for, I don’t have much of a choice,” Emma conceded, ceasing her pacing and siting once more on the soft mattress of the bed.

“You’ll find, the older you get, that there is always a choice. Whether or not you like the choices, but there is always a choice involved,” he advised, tone sounding wistful and mournful at the same time.

Emma had to wonder how many lifetimes this man had lived. It was plain to see he had lost a lot in his life. Suffered immense pain but also experienced immense joy. Was that what awaited her? Eons of emotional ups and downs with no true destination. Fear crept into her skull and rooted itself firmly. Emma knew at some point she’d have to look the fear in the eye and give name to it, but today wouldn’t be that day.

“Do you have some kind of plan?” Emma asked after a lengthy pause, decision made.

Killian smirked, but then schooled his features. “I do have a plan and as much as I am confident in the spells we have placed upon these walls, I would prefer we depart from this place and gain some distance.”

“I understand. A strategy is worthless if your enemy knows what you intend,” Emma agreed.

They finished dressing and gathered their things in silence. Emma and Killian approached the door in unison. Emma lifted the silence spell from the room and Killian broke the blood magic seal on the room. Emma walked behind Killian as he seemed very familiar with the inn. As they entered the tap room, a brief silence descended upon the patrons before the chatter resumed. Emma could feel eyes lingering on her as weaved through the tables towards the door. Killian grabbed her hand and hurried her along.

“People are leering at me,” Emma whispered in his ear, her body pressed closer to his back than was appropriate.

“They are probably wondering how you are able to walk if I have spent the last week fucking you on every surface in our chamber,” was his gruff reply.

Emma made a noise of indignance at his coarse words, which he seemed to ignore. Emma coldly ignored the traitorous voice in her own head that was intrigued by the idea.

Once outside to the stables, they each quickly attended to their horse, preparing to ride away as quickly as possible. The sound of straw breaking behind them caused the hairs on the back of her neck to stand on end. Emma quietly drew her sword from its sheath, turning to bring her blade against her assailant. Steel clashed against steel as the goblin she had spied in the dark corner of the taproom days ago slashed at her without pause. Emma turned her head slightly to see Killian was occupied fighting two other goblins, their green skin cut in several places and a reddish-black substance - their blood she realized - oozing from their wounds.

Emma turned to her own opponent, testing his defences for a weakness. The goblin’s long, bony fingers of the hand not gripping his sword made an attempt to grab her hair and Emma dodged him. After a few moments, Emma realized the goblin was leaving his right side open every time he attacked. Emma fented and dodged his blade while driving hers into his side. The goblin’s eyes snapped to hers in surprise. Emma withdrew her sword and stared at his failing body, shaking.

Killian appeared in a rush behind her, hand on her back. “Time to go, Swan. Get on your horse,” he commanded. Emma stood there, hands still shaking, watching the goblin bleed out in front of her.

“EMMA!” he shouted, dismounting and at her side in seconds. He took notice of the corpse in front of them, understanding dawning on his features. “Emma, you had to. It was you or him and I’m rather glad it wasn’t you. We must go,” he urged, panic in his voice at the sounds of others preparing to arrive.

When she didn’t move, he physically grabbed her waist and flung her over his shoulder. He threw her into her saddle and vaulted into his own. Killian took off at a gallop and Emma was grateful Arion followed without her commanding him too. She had taken a life. The goblin had been an assassin or maybe just a thief but Emma grappled with her actions. Arion galloped at full speed just behind Killian’s gray, putting as much distance between them and the danger of the inn.

After nearly three hours of hard riding, Killian pulled up and guided them off the road to a stream, letting the horses drink freely and relax after the hard ride. He turned to Emma and without words, gathered her into his arms, as she crumpled against him. Emma sobbed and he simply held her as one would a crying child. Eventually Emma dried her eyes and reluctantly withdrew from his embrace.

“I feel a guilt I can’t shake. I know if I hadn’t chosen as I did that I’d be the dead body in that stable, but that doesn’t make it easier. Will it ever be easier?”

Emma could sense the empathy he felt for her situation. “I wish I could lie to you, but you’ll never forget your first,” he sighed, hand swiping his wind-blown hair out of his face. “For me, all my years as a pirate, I was a ruthless man at times. I’ve killed more than I can remember. Sometimes it haunts me, all this blood on my hands,” he held out his hands towards her. “I feel the shame of it at the worst times. I shove it away and move on. If I look back, I’m lost,” he confessed, sitting down on the sandy bank of the river.

Emma studied him for several minutes. This enigma in front of her, this man who had dealt more death in his life than Emma could even fathom, and yet he seemed to be weighed down and felt some measure of regret. If I look back, I’m lost, he said it like one might a prayer or mantra, something oft repeated to help him bury the regrets of the past.

Emma sat on the sand next to him. “So now what do we do?” she whispered, pulling her knees to her chest, resting her head on top of her arms, looking out at the horses they wandered up the grassy embankment.

Killian removed a dagger from his boot and held it out to her. It was an ordinary dagger, she looked at him puzzled. His hand passed over it as she held in both hands. It transformed in her hands to kris dagger made of the finest steel, inlaid with a black obsidian, a name inscribed along the length of the blade. She open her mouth to speak and Killian’s finger pressed to her lips, silencing her.

“Don’t say the name,” he warned, taking his finger from her lips. She nodded.

“This controls him. I’ve hunted it for a very long time,” Killian said.

“If it does as you say, why wouldn’t he carry it with him?” Emma wondered aloud. Emma had always been warned by her various teachers that if an enemy knew her weakness, she would be extremely vulnerable.

“He buried it at the foot of the monument he erected for his son,” he said calmly. Emma listened intently as he wove a story of love, tragedy and vengeance. Emma’s heart constricted watching Killian relive the worst of his memories.

“I’m sorry,” Emma apologized. She almost wished she hadn’t asked but to make sound choices going forward, she needed to be able to see the whole board.

“Thank you, but you have nothing to apologize for. Anyway, this blade was once part of a mystical blade, Excalibur, forged here in Danann by the great wizard Merlin. For the research I’ve done here in Danann and in the realm of men, the sword is rumored to be hidden in the town of Camelot.”

“Camelot doesn’t exist,” Emma insisted.

“It does. And it’s here in Danann. The birthplace of the first Dark One. We must retrieve the other half and use this,” he pulled a small box from his coat pocket, “to reforge the sword. Once the broken blade is renewed, one nick from it will cut all immortal ties.”

Emma absorbed the new part of the plan. “But you don’t just mean to nick this warlock with the renewed blade, do you?”

When he turned, Emma could see bloodlust and anger in his blue eyes, making him look a madman. “No. No, I do not. I intend to stab him through the heart. Or in the chest as it is unlikely the monster even has a heart.”

Emma said nothing about his plan. She hauled herself from the ground, brushing the sand and dirt from her breeches and mounted Arion. Killian shook off the demons on his mind and mounted up as well. “Lead the way,” she nodded.

Emma had a lot of time to think as they rode. After their short respite, they rode hard again, stopping only for the bare necessities of water, sustenance and to relieve themselves. Two days passed this way. In silence. Killian seemed determined to make sure the distance between the two of them was as great as the distance between their current location and Shadowman’s inn.

She simply had to take cues from his behavior to know what might be expected of her. Not that reading his body language was a problem for someone who had lived in a royal court her whole life, Emma wondered at the change. He had shown her glimpse that he wasn’t just a bloodthirsty pirate. Emma knew he wasn’t whenever he used his magic. If he had been the evil man he seemed to want her to believe, she would’ve sensed it in his magic.

He always seemed of two natures and Emma knew what it was like to feel like two parts of herself were at war with the other. Emma was human and Fae, but she didn’t exactly fit in either world. She knew very little about the realm of her mother’s origin and there was much Emma still had to learn about her own power she wouldn’t learn at home. And at home, she couldn’t truly fit in because she was different, not entirely human and it bred a distrust among some people. There was one person who could give her answers but he wasn’t taking.

After the third day of silence, Emma had had enough. In the middle of the path she pulled Arion to a stop and jumped down. Arion followed her after a brief flicker of his head towards Killian.

“I’ve had enough of the silence. It’s maddening,” Emma bellowed, crossing her arms over her chest. Killian looked taken aback, red creeping alone his neck to the tip of his ears. Whether in anger or desire, Emma had no clue.

“Swan, I-,” Emma cut him off with a harsh glance. “Don’t make excuses. We agreed to be allies in this assine quest. I even got answers that I’ve searched for for months all within days of meeting you, but I almost regret this trip now. I don’t know what you hope to accomplish, but walling yourself off isn’t going to make it easier for me to trust you when this plan inevitably goes to hell. So cease acting like a child!”

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I will do better.”

“Thank you. I have never in my life met another half-Fae. I was curious about your life, what you know about our kind. Maybe you can tell me as we journey towards Camelot?” Emma prompted.

“Seeing as it will take three weeks to reach Camelot and another three to reach your grandmother’s stronghold where the monster resides, I suppose that it not an unreasonable request,” Killian confirmed.

“You were going to be silent for six whole weeks?” Emma shrieked.

“It’s not the longest I’ve gone without talking to another soul. That number would be more like three and a half years,” Killian laughed at the horrified look Emma knew must be plastered on her face.

Killian seemed to be lighter once Emma snapped him out of his stupidity. During the day they would ride and share stories of their lives. At night they made camp, and he would tell her tales of the peoples of Danann, its history and its magic. Emma’s short years meant she listened to Killian’s life story more often than not. She had been right that he had lived many lifetimes. He was nearly three times her mother’s age. He didn’t hide any of the unpleasant parts of his past, often looking away when he told a tale that involved him as the villain. He would always follow such stories with self-deprecating humor and tales that had Emma roaring with laughter.

Emma had never laughed so much in her life as she did when they shared bits of their embarrassing moments. Sometimes she felt a wistful longing when they laughed together.

“I was so drunk, I stumbled on to my ship to the wheel where I lashed myself to it to keep me upright. Once I was finished I promptly passed out. When I awoke my helmsman, Anderson, was standing so close to me that I could feel his co- his um, presence against my arse. His hands spread on either side of my head to grasp the wheel. He made a suggestion in my ear and I was still too drunk not to take him up on it. He was very good with his hands,” Killian smirked, lost in the memory.

Emma looked away, half disgusted by the implication, yet still half aroused at thoughts of her own hands exploring the Captain’s body. Emma shifted uncomfortably in her saddle, sighing a little at the friction her movement brought. Killian’s head whipped around to look at her. He heard her. Emma burned crimson, a color she felt all the way to the tips of her own half pointed ears. He continued on with a different story, but Emma could feel his steely blue gaze fixed on her the rest of the day’s ride.

In the nearly four weeks she had known him, she knew her attraction to him was undeniable. His dark hair that he ran his fingers through so often it seemed like a tic. His blue eyes that seemed as changeable as the sapphire seas he loved and thick eyebrows that could convey an entire conversation separate from his words. He was a very well educated man who told her of his collection of books back on his ship. Killian was so smart and witty (and damn if he didn’t know it, the bastard), they could spar verbally for hours on end. He also challenged her to spar with him and more often than not ended up correcting her form or critiquing her technique. Emma tried not to let her irritation cloud her learning, Sir Lancelot’s and her Father’s lessons of ‘don’t lose focus’ and ‘remember not to let your emotions cloud your actions in warfare’ always in her mind. After their sparring, blood running high, Emma thought about grabbing him by his lapel and dragging his face to her lips. Which she didn’t do - wouldn’t do, but very much wanted to.

As the sun was getting low, he suggested they stop to camp for the night. They had been following the river for weeks and not once had Emma taken advantage of its cool waters.

“We should reach our destination tomorrow,” Killian said as he lit the fire and stored his flint. Emma was glad to find as much as he was versed in magic, he preferred to do simple tasks without it as often as possible.

“I’m going to go down to the river. I haven’t had a bath in weeks and there is only so much my magic can do for me before I need the actual thing,” she grimaced, referring to her magical hygiene routine. She turned her head over her shoulder and winked at him before she beat a hasty retreat.

Why had she done that? Emma focused on her destination and task at hand. Simply magicking the dirt away was effective but Emma loved the feel of the water and she just needed to do one thing she truly wanted to. It had nothing to do with the idea of a certain pirate gentleman who would be nearby with knowledge that she was naked in the river. Emma smirked as she shed her clothes and dove into the water.

Killian nodded soundlessly and stared at the hedgerow she had walked through long after she had disappeared. The bloody siren winked at him. For the love of the gods, she was trying to kill him. After he had seen her shifting and moaning in her saddle earlier in the day, he had been hard. He wanted to chase after her and run his fingers along her lithe form, to cup her cheek as he brushed his lips against her, to fuck her under the stars.

Killina groaned, his thoughts not helping his situation. Emma was a bright light in the darkness of his endless years. For the first time since Milah was alive, Killian felt some measure of happiness. He felt guilty at his feelings. He was never one to slowly slip into love. No, Killian Jones fell head first into it without thinking. Without realizing how lost he was until he was drowning.

Killian peeled off his duster and left it on the log beside the fire. He resolved himself and made his way to the shore. The moon was full again and he could see Emma was farther out in deeper waters. His clothes hit the sand in record time before he could think too much or talk himself out of it. When he reached the water’s edge, Emma turned to face the shore. Her eyes were wide as she took in his nakedness. She swam closer until he could see her emerald eyes, blown wide with shock and desire. He hadn’t been wrong then. She had meant for him to follow her. So he did.

When he reached her she was smiling as she tread water. He kept his distance still, wanting her to be sure. She closed the distance and wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her pert breasts, floated buoyantly, her dusty pink areola brushing against his chest. She shivered at the contact. He ghosted his fingers along her jaw towards her forehead before tucking her wild, wet locks behind her ear.

“May I kiss you, Swan?” he asked, reverently pressing his thumb along the seam of her lips. Her mouth opened slightly and his thumb brushed against her tongue. He rubbed his thumb down her chin, tilting her open mouth to his.

His tongue tangled with hers as she pulled herself closer. He groaned into the kiss. Killian had never tasted anything sweeter, though the thought brought to mind something that might be just as sweet. Emma legs kept grazing over his cock and he could tell from the mischief twinkling in her look that it was not an accident.

“Let’s get out of this water,” Emma suggested, her voice hoarse. They swam the short distance quickly, he made it first so he could see her when she emerged. His eyes roamed over her, head to toe, pausing briefly at the thatch of darker curls covering her womanhood. Killian growled at the sight and picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her back to their fire.

Killian laid her down on his duster, relishing her naked form against the aged-leather. He kissed a trail from her lips to her breast, spending an age lavishing each nipple with attention before kissing the underside of each breast and continuing down in his exploration. Emma gasped when his hand pushed her thighs apart so he looked to her for her approval. A nod. Killian ran a finger though the slick residue and brought his finger to his lips. She was sweeter there. He lowered his tongue to her core, ignoring her yelp of surprise as it faded to soft mewls of pleasure.

He lapped at her teasingly, enjoying how her hips chased his mouth when the pressure lessened. He pressed a finger into her slowly opening her, waiting until she was relaxed and squirming before adding another and then another. Killian watched her chest heave as she struggled to breathe, fighting her body’s reaction.

“Let go, Emma,” Killian commanded as he fucked her harder on his fingers. Emma’s scream rang out through the deserted wood.

“Please, Killian, I want you,” Emma begged as he tried to disentangle himself.

“Are you sure?” He could walk away if she commanded him to, but he had never wanted anyone more in his life.

Emma guided him to lay down. She straddled him and positioned herself over his cock. She sank onto him in one swift motion and Killian couldn’t help the curses that left his lips. She stilled when they were fully joined.

“Are you alright?” He knew there was discomfort for a woman’s first time, which was hardly fair.

“Yeah, it doesn’t hurt as much as I thought it would. Just feels strange,” Emma muttered, clearly overwhelmed by the sensations.

“You should move, love,” his hands settled on her hips and helped her move up and down on his length.

Soon his hands wandered her body, no longer needed to help her find her pace. She looked like a goddess above him, riding him under the moonlight. Her long blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders, covering her breasts until she pulled it behind her head. Emma’s movements were becoming more erratic so Killian leveraged his strength and flipped their positions. He slipped out of her before lining up and pushing in with a hard thrust. He wasn’t going to last much longer. Her hands were wrapped around her breasts as he bucked against her. His thumb trailed down her body and pressed on her clit as he increased his pace. Green eyes met blue and in that moment, he was certain they were a perfect reflection of the other. Her core tightened around him and she hollered his name. He pumped his hips twice more and followed her into blissful aftermath.

Killian woke a few hours later, Emma curled to his side, blankets covering their naked forms from the chill in the night air. He drifted back to sleep, mission forgotten in the arms of the woman he loved.

The next morning they roused themselves and broke camp as usual, but with a lot of pausing to kiss,  touch or hold each other. Arion and Kelan neighed loudly at them several times to hurry them on their way. It took only four hours to reach their destination, a large moss-covered boulder that sat before an ancient ruin, the castle of Arthurian legend. In the center of the stone, the hilt of a sword was visible. He and Emma shared a look of triumph as they trotted to a stop in the clearing. Once they were free of their mounts, they approached the stone.

There was a barely discernible inscription carved on the bottom of the stone: Whosoever wields this sword, be he worthy, shall possess power over life and death.

“Go ahead, love,” Killian encouraged, “Take the sword and we shall bind it together with the promethean flame.”

Wide-eyed, she shook her head. “Love, as much as I wish I could do this, I’m not worthy. But you, you are pure and wonderful. Do it,” Killian ordered.

Emma had to climb onto the stone until she stood next to the blade. Both hands grasped it and tugged  and it let loose without resistance, shocking Emma but apparently not Killian.

She clambered down and passed over the broken blade. Killian retrieved the little box from his pocket and set it on the ground. It was a white mass but there was no fire to it. Killian knew he would have to give something up for it to work. All magic had a price.

“For the first time in my life, I’m not afraid of the future,” Killian breathed to Emma, resting his forehead against hers.

He turned to find the flame was lit. He held the pieces over the flame and within seconds, they were joined. He stood and handed her Excalibur. “For you, my darling Princess.”

Emma accepted the blade in awe, promptly leaning it against the rock so she could embrace Killian. “I was worried when I found I would live forever, that time spanned empty before me. Eternity with you might not be so bad.” Killian laughed and kissed her. “Or growing old with you if we chose.”

“To die would be an awfully big adventure,” Killian laughed, stepping away from her.

“I couldn’t agree more,” the voice of his nemesis cried gleefully. Killian grunted as he felt something hit him in the stomach. He looked down to see Excalibur sticking out of his chest before he collapsed to his knees.

Emma watched in horror as the unattended sword flew through the air and impaled Killian. The monster with the yellow eyes stood before her along with a woman clothed in a black leather riding outfit. Emma realized the dark haired woman accompanying the monster was Regina.

“See Rumple, I told you they would do all the work if you let them live,” Regina cackled.

“Indeed, dearie. Per our deal the girl is yours to do with as you please and Excalibur is mine, once I pry it from the pirate’s corpse.” Rumple clapped his hands together and hopped jubilantly.

“I won’t let you have that sword without a fight!” Emma vowed, kneeling next to Killian.

“You have to take the sword, love,” Killian encouraged.

“If I do, then you’ll bleed out!”

“I’m going to die anyway, remember? The sword reforged cuts immortal ties.” His eyes pleaded her to take the sword and defend herself.

She stood back and as she pulled the blade from his gut, he let out a terrible scream. Regina came for her first, her own sword in hand.

“Magic is too good for you, half breed!” Regina charged her.

Emma found that the Queen’s skills with a blade left something to be desired, perhaps from an overreliance on magic. When Emma saw her opening, she struck hard and true, slashing across the Queen’s chest. The other woman fell to the ground, a look of complete shock on her face as she fell forward into a pool of her own blood.

Rumpelstiltskin looked a little impressed Emma had taken out his pawn. Emma stalked towards him sword in hand. He looked like he wanted to fight, changing in an instant to looking as though he wished to flee but he was immovable as the mountain. Emma glanced at the blade, the man’s name still emblazoned on the portion that made up the kris dagger. Emma realized she still had command of him as his name was bound to the sword she wielded.

“Whosoever wields this sword, be he worthy, shall possess power over life and death,” Emma muttered, scrutinizing the blade.

“Come here!” she ordered. The demon walked towards her grudgingly. When the scaly man was close enough, “Hold out your hand and do not move a muscle,” Emma ordered. A palm outstretched in front of her as the monster stood rigid per her order.

Emma drew the blade across the monster’s palm, ignoring his screams. Emma waved her hand and he was silenced by a gag, hands and feet bound. Emma felt relief for a brief moment until the triumph died with the realization Killian was dying. She turned on her heel and sprinted to Killian’s side, placing her hands over his wounds. She willed her magic to heal him to no avail.

“That will not work, child,” a familiar voice called out. Magnus, her once-teacher, knelt at her side. Emma thought he knew nothing of her mother’s people, of the Fae.

“There will be time for questions later,” he chided, sensing her train of thought as he had always done. “To save him, you must bind your heart to his.”

“No,” Killian begged weakly. “I won’t let you do that. If you’re wrong, old man, she’ll die and I’d rather die a thousands deaths than see her die before my eyes.”

“And I cannot imagine a thousand lifetimes without you. I promise, you will be alright,” Emma said, pressing a kiss to his pale lips. Turning to Magnus, “What must I do?”

“You must remove your heart which I will split. One half for you, the other for him. This is considered a sacred bond of marriage that nothing but death can break. Do you understand and choose to proceed?”

Emma bowed her head in agreement. Killian mumbled his assent quietly. Per Magnus’ instruction, Emma plunged her hand into her chest and with a sharp tug, pulled out a glowing red heart. She placed it in Magnus’ hand and when he rent it two, Emma let out a yelp but brushed aside Killian’s concerns. She knew that if she survived her heart being cleaved in two, there was nothing left to fear. Emma felt the moment Killian’s heart stopped beating as though she too had stopped breathing. She never dreamed he would die, succumbing to wounds Rumpelstiltskin inflicted. Sobbing, Emma healed the open wound on his abdomen, praying the ceremony would bring him back to her. She was confident today was not the end as Magnus had already begun the ceremonial blessings. If wrong, Emma knew with certainty she would find him in the life beyond.

“Two souls, one life. Two halves, one heart. From this day until your last day,” Magnus intoned, quickly shoving one half of the heart into each of their chests. After a tense, unending moment, Killian gasped for breath. He shot up, confused. touching his chest, then Emma’s face.

“Swan? How?” he asked, kissing her her fiercely before she could respond.

“I bound my heart to you, my beating heart has enough love, enough life, for both of us,” Emma cried, throwing her arms around him, burying her head in the crook of his neck, the passing of time unnoticed.

The sound of throat clearing had Emma whipping around to address her teacher. “Master Magnus, how did you know?”

“This was my home once, when Camelot was more than a ruin. Guarding the Grail was my duty, until duty led me to become the teacher to a wonderful young princess,” he smiled at fond memories.

“Isn’t the Grail a chalice?” Emma asked, confused.

“It was once, before my master forged it to a weapon to break immortal ties. Now it can be a chalice once again,” Magnus said, conjuring the promethean flame from the ground to his palm. He held the sword over the flame and it morphed into a chalice of silver, inlaid with the obsidian design like the blade.

Magnus offered her the chalice. “Killian was right when he told you there is always a choice.”

“If I- if we drink from this chalice then we’ll grow old and die?” Emma asked in awe.

Magnus nodded. “You’ve bound your hearts in love and in life. With this,” offering the chalice a second time, “in death and what lies beyond. For a mortal, it would grant life eternal if one was worthy.”

Magnus paused for a long moment before adding, “Though I think you may want to wait at least nine months before you decide.”

Killian looked back and forth from Magnus to Emma in shock and disbelief until understanding dawned and his hand rested gently on her stomach.

Emma looked at Killian, tears in her eyes as she smiled. She wasn’t afraid any longer. She knew what she wanted. Emma wasn’t certain about what tomorrow might hold. Rumplestiltskin once told Killian that love didn’t last, that true love wasn’t real, but she and Killian were living proof of how wrong he had been. She had shared her immortality with him and couldn’t regret that.

Perhaps at some point, maybe in fifty years, a hundred, or a thousand years, they may decide to drink from the chalice, breaking their immortal bonds to live a single mortal life and journey to whatever life awaited beyond this one. Perhaps not. Even in the end, it was all a matter of choice.  

Killian’s grin matched hers as he realized her choice.

“To die would be an awfully big adventure,” Killian said, echoing his earlier sentiment.

“No,” Emma protested, “To live will be an awfully big adventure.“

Fin

[smoaking-greenarrow]

Crisis on Earth-X: Crossover’s Top Five MVPS

Number Five

Number Four

Yep, I’m counting Olicity as one person, because they’re MARRIED so I CAN.

Felicity has always been a hero in her own way. But Crisis on Earth-X saw her willing to die for Kara Danvers twice. And the best part? She looked scared as hell while doing it. Her hero counterparts always look calm when a gun or shaking hand that can rip their hearts out are pointed at them. Felicity looked terrified, but she still did it. And that was okay. It was so okay. It doesn’t mean that she’s less of a hero than them because she gets scared. 

And how fantastic was it to see Felicity Smoak protecting Supergirl? To see her climbing through vents with Iris, making plans, kicking Nazi ass and taking down a spaceship? She was definitely an MVP of this crossover by herself and with the people she was working with, which was such a highlight because she kind of got pushed aside in last year’s crossover.

I cannot tell you how important Felicity Smoak and the special actress who plays her are. If you don’t get it by now, you probably never will. And that is your loss.

Anyway, Olicity. 

I want to count them both as number four on this list, both individually and as a couple, because their relationship, them together is what made the crossover better. But they also did just fine on their own. Even when they weren’t in the same scene, or even on the same earth, they were always thinking about each other. We got so much of them this crossover, more than even Barry and Iris. 

Oliver blew his cover because he couldn’t kill Earth-X Felicity. He didn’t know her, she wasn’t his Felicity, and it still wasn’t worth it to him. I don’t think that it was just that the girl was Felicity’s doppelganger, though. Oliver grows every season, and it is what makes Arrow so enjoyable. Watch the pilot again, I dare you. That guy doesn’t seem like the Oliver I’ve gotten used to on my screen lately at all.

I think Oliver’s empathy for Earth-X Felicity showed us his growth. He saved her because she’s innocent. Oliver’s moral compass may not be as righteous or perfect as Barry’s or Kara’s, but Arrow is a different show because of it. I don’t think that Barry and Oliver were every truly meant to be compared. They’re different kinds of heroes. Still, room full of evil Nazis be damned, Oliver couldn’t execute an innocent person just to keep his cover. He’d rather risk a shoot out.

I love that there was no evil Felicity. I can get on board with this idea. No matter what earth it is, every version you meet of Felicity Megan Smoak is going to be kind, brave, and selfless. I’m down for that. And it would have been even better if every version of Felicity somehow made Oliver into a better human being. But I’ll just block Nazis from my brain and go with that instead. 

I did have one problem with the scene though. Oliver’s “the strong protect the weak” line was bullshit. Earth-X Felicity was living and surviving in a literal concentration camp. She was risking her life to feed starving children. She was not weak. How dare you call someone like her weak???

Since I talked about Felicity on her own, Oliver Queen deserves a little celebration too.

For starters; the one, and only thing that this Nazi invasion did was show that Oliver is better than Kara and Barry in a way. Kara kind of got off the hook, her evil twin was dying anyway, so she didn’t have to deal with the “to kill or not to kill” superhero stuff. Oliver and Barry both had to face the decision, though.

But Barry let’s Thawne go? With a stupid, cheesy, “see ya next time, my evil nemesis!” LAME. I get it, Barry doesn’t kill. But Thawne should have been an exception. I’m sick of him. It’s not interesting anymore. It’s not fun to watch. The story is old. I would have been more surprised if he was really dead than I was that he lived. That’s when you know you’ve exhaused a character. Get some new material. He needs to die and he needs to stay dead. Also, IF YOU ALIGN WITH NAZIS, YOU ARE A NAZI. Barry Allen literally let a powerful, murderous Nazi walk away. And it pissed me right the hell off. So you know what, fuck Barry.

But you know who didn’t hesitate to kill the evil Nazi that shared his face? Oliver Queen. He had the shot and he took it. I didn’t take that as, “well Oliver’s the only one okay with killing.” or “he didn’t have to.” I took that as, “Oliver knows when to kill and when not to kill. And he made the right choice.” He doesn’t have the abilities that Barry and Kara do, so giving Nazi Oliver a chance to live would have been a risk that Oliver wasn’t willing to take. Barry took that risk with Thawne, and it was stupid as fuuuuuck. 

I love Oliver Queen, I really do. And I’m glad that the crossover didn’t overshadow him or the other “non-powers” players. They seemed like they were consciously writing the story to make sure that Oliver, Sara, and Alex weren’t just twiddling their thumbs or contributing to the plan, but they were also leaders.

But anyway, Crisis on Earth-X gave time to Olicity that it didn’t last year and sure as hell hasn’t in a while. Season six scenes have been great, but we still haven’t seen them talk. They had a lot of baggage, and we assume that they worked it out, but we need to see it! That’s how TV shows work! So Crisis on Earth-X took some time to do it. That meant Felicity getting the chance to tell Oliver, and us, what she’s afraid of.

But she sooo wants to marry you. Honey is just scared, okay!? Honestly, the only unbelievable thing about this to me was that Oliver couldn’t guess why she didn’t want to marry him. She yells at him that she doesn’t want to marry him, but then they talk. She assures him that it’s not about him, because she loves him and wants to be in a committed relationship with him. She just doesn’t want the title of husband and wife.

She wants everything about marriage, just without calling it marriage.  Oliver can be thick headed sometimes, but he’s not that dumb. Of course she’s afraid of something. 

Unlike what we’ve seen in the past (SEASON FOUR) Felicity gets a scene where she tells Iris why she doesn’t want to be legally married to Oliver. And everything she says is valid and fair. Slow clap it out for Felicity Smoak, sharing and talking through her feelings with someone she trusts. Once you do that, it’s only a matter of time until you either talk to your person about it or you resolve the issue inside of you and move forward. She did that, finally, and it was wonderful. 

Her explanation was something that I honestly hadn’t considered, which made it powerful and sweet. Felicity was shot and paralyzed on her engagement night. Then they broke up. The night they got engaged, as beautiful as it was, was extremely traumatizing for her. She associates the end of their relationship with the beginning of their lives as a married couple, because that night was when the train went off the rails and they couldn’t get it back. 

She loves him so much, and she still wants the relationship with him, it’s just the public marriage and ring on her finger that scream bad signs to her. I loved being able to see this side of Felicity. I’m glad that they gave her the screen time to explain it. 

And I’m so happy that we got to see this scene. Oliver Queen is moping. He just wants to marry his honey and give her kisses for the rest of his life but she’s scared and she’s not ready to tell him that yet and it’s hurting his feelings. Both of their responses and feelings were honest and understandable. They were kind to each other. They expressed themselves. Oliver was upset, but Felicity still made sure that he knew how much she loved him. And Oliver respected her choice and didn’t push it, even though he clearly still wasn’t satisfied with her answer. This is the kind of fighting I want to see.

What I really loved about this though was that not only was it a fair fight, where they both had valid things to say, but we knew that they would resolve it. This fight had a clear beginning, middle, and end. The writers were not just throwing shit at us and seeing if Olicity would survive it. Which, isn’t that literally what they told us season four was going to be?

The Olicity arc in Crisis on Earth-X was well-paced, fair, and entertaining. What more could you ask for?

Okay yeah, Oliver kissing Felicity while in the Green Arrow suit was fantastic. I didn’t ask for that but fanfic dreams do come true.

Oh, a wedding?

WELL YOU GOT IT.

Congratulations, Olicity!

[agentmarymargaretskitz]

One Year

As I write this, it has officially been one year since Destiny aired. It was a hard episode for the whole fandom, and I'm still not over it. It broke my Captain Canary loving heart and sent me on a fic writing craze in the days that followed.

@stillthewordgirl was the genius behind suggesting that the various Snartdoms write fics of fluff and happiness to commemorate this day. This is my contribution- a sort of follow-up to Flashforward (which you might want to read beforehand but totally don't have to).

AO3, Fanfiction

“It’s been a year.”

               Sara rotated her head to face Leonard. He had that look on his face where he seemed to be close to getting lost in his thoughts. She had a feeling she knew what was responsible for it. Since they’d found him in the temporal zone, how he had ended up there hadn’t left her thoughts. After all, they were together because of a second chance.

“You’re talking about the Oculus, aren’t you?” she asked, even though she knew that he definitely was.

Leonard nodded. “After you and the team rescued me, I asked Gideon how long it had been for you since the Oculus exploded. She gave me the number. Ever since then, I’ve been counting the days. Today, it’s been a year since I stayed behind to blow up the time bastards.”

“Well, I can say I’m glad you’re with us,” Sara murmured, resting her hand on top of the one he had lying on the sheet. “I’m happy that you’re here and alive.”

“So am I,” he smiled.

Sara curled a little closer to him. “After all that happened there, everyone tried to move on. In some ways, we did. But there was always this hole in the team after the Oculus. It couldn’t be filled by anyone, not even Nate or Amaya. So the hole just stayed there, right until we found you. When you came back to us, it was like someone had completed a puzzle for the team. You filled that hole you left.”

“All of you needed me after all, huh?” he questioned, a teasing note in his voice.

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t get so full of yourself. But you were that part of us that was gone. Then you came back. You filled in the holes, and reminded everyone of second chances.”

“That I’ve gathered,” he smirked, dipping his head down to kiss her lips. “I know I’ve learned not to take them for granted.”

“Mmm,” Sara grinned. “Losing someone makes you think of all the things you didn’t say or do. Getting that person back gets you to act on what you didn’t before. I wanted to make sure that I don’t have any regrets this time around.”

“Me neither.”

               Sara sighed and relaxed against him. The morning sunlight streamed through their thin curtains and onto the bed. Everything seemed ordinary normal around her. It wasn’t a feeling that she or Leonard really experienced often. In her mind, she filed away the feeling, letting it sink into all her senses. When things in the future got crazy with time travel or the other Legends, this was a moment Sara felt she could look back on to remind herself some days there was an escape from the madness.

“The Oculus wasn’t the only thing I thought of,” Leonard added, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

“Oh?” Sara raised her eyebrows. “What else was on your mind?”

“Do you remember after the team rested me, and all of us got a vision of our futures from the Oculus?” Leonard asked her.

“Of course,” she nodded.

               The vision she had experienced still had yet to occur. Ray had told them his had occurred when he encountered Lily Stein in STAR Labs. Both Mick and Amaya’s had also come true when they left the Waverider. Sara knew hers would come when they returned for a future mission, along with Kendra and Barry coming aboard the Waverider too. There was also a ring in her vision, so that would be another clue of when it would play out into reality.

“When I woke up and I saw you still asleep, I didn’t think anything of it,” he explained. “But things did seem familiar. Then I realized that this was my vision playing out. This was the future I saw.”

A smile spread across Sara’s face. “Sounds beautiful.”

“Just like you.”

Sara snorted a laugh before kissing him.

[anarchetypalarchive]

you make me feel like ben and jerry’s would

aka that sorted.food ben/mike/jamie/barry poly fic literally no one asked for, does anybody even ship all the boys together, i’m so sorry this channel has consumed me (happy valentine’s day @egocentrifuge​) rating: teen for lads being lads content: takes place in an au where either the boys are all single or their partners are aware and accepting of the relationship, no infidelity in my house; lots of banter; lots of sap on ao3

“Not that I don’t love having Barry’s thigh pressed sensually against my own,” Jamie starts, “but would someone care to remind me exactly why we thought it was a good idea for the four of us not only to take one car on this seven-hour journey, but to take the smallest car we own between us? No, no, Baz, get your damn hand off my leg!”

Up in the front seat, Mike laughs. He shares a grin with Ben, watching through the rearview mirror as Jamie and Barry scuffle.

“Mike’s car has the most efficient gas consumption,” Ben says reasonably from the driver’s seat.

“Alright, sure, fine, but it’s a bloody tighter fit than Mike’s skinny jeans,” Jamie says, giving Barry a solid shove against the door.

“Hey!”

“And twice as sweaty,” Barry contributes, pushing back.

“Hey.”

“Complaining isn’t becoming on either of you,” Ben says primly, laughing and ducking his head when Jamie swats at him from the backseat. “Oi, no distracting the driver!”

“And no taking the piss out of my car unless you want to walk,” Mike adds.

“Why aren’t you driving?” Jamie asks. “I’d be able to fight Ben for passenger seat if he weren’t driving.”

Mike shrugs. “Ben wanted to drive.”

“Oh, well, if Ben wanted to drive,” Jamie starts, cooing, and Mike grabs the nearest object (his phone) and throws it at him (whoops).

“Shut it.”

Barry and Jamie make loud, obnoxious kissing noises at him until Barry pauses and frowns. “When are we going to stop?”

Ben glances at the GPS. “We’ll be there around four.”

“No, I meant— The type of stop where we get to take a piss.”

“Are you kidding?” Mike says, incredulous. “We left twenty minutes ago!”

“Why didn’t you go before we left?” Ben asks disapprovingly.

“Well, I didn’t need to go then!”

“I don’t have a stop scheduled until noon. And that’s for lunch.”

“That’s three hours from now!” Barry protests.

“Do you have an itinerary?” Jamie asks, sounding delighted about it.

Ben looks defensive. “Yes, what of it?”

Jamie and Mike break out into a simultaneous rendition of SuperGeek while Ben rolls his eyes and tries to shout above them about how it’s important to stay organized during a long trip.

Jamie breaks off mid-harmony to yelp. “Barry, what the hell are you doing?”

“If we’re not stopping, I’m still going.”

“Zip up your jeans right now.”

“It’s fine, I’ll do it out the window, nobody else is even on the road right now.”

“If somebody doesn’t switch seats with me I am going to lose my mind.”

Mike rolls his eyes and tunes out their bickering. Ben offers him a smile.It’s the first real trip they’ve been on since—well, since this started.

Mike keeps referring to it in his head and sometimes out loud as this, or that thing we’re doing, or just it. It’s not because he’s embarrassed by it or uncomfortable with it—hell, he’s never felt so sure in his place with Ben and the lads, never felt so loved and cared for and all that stupid shite. That thing they’re doing, it’s good.

Jamie calls it a fourway shag even though they haven’t managed to navigate more than messy necking and wandering hands with all four of them at the same time. Honestly, Mike’s glad they’re taking it slow.

Barry doesn’t actually give words to it; maybe he’s in the same boat as Mike, nothing feeling quite right in his mouth, but he’s never been hesitant, giving affection easily to each of them and calling for the occasional lad’s night in. Maybe that’s how he sees it in his head.

Mike’s pretty sure Jamie and Baz have been getting together since school, and he’d been nervous at first, like it’d be intruding on something that already existed, but Barry’s easily affectionate and Jamie’s general attitude is the more the merrier with food and people, apparently, so it’s been good.

Ben takes to the word polyamory with such equanimity that Mike wonders if he’s been thinking about it for a long time, researching it the way he does with anything he’s curious about. Ben likes definition, likes specifics, likes knowing, and Mike’s sure the word brings him comfort.

He figures it doesn’t really matter what they call it. It works, is the point, and Mike’s glad to have finally arrived here after the four of them had floated aimlessly, beating around every bush and avoiding each other and frustrated as they struggled to sort things out in their heads.

Ben was the one who brought an end to it, calling a meeting like it had been just another work issue. Somehow, the familiarity of that was enough to break through the tension and finally get them talking.

(“All in favor of one giant shagfest?” Jamie had said.

“Aye,” Barry piped up.

“Jamie,” Ben said reproachfully. “This isn't about shagging.” At Jamie’s expectant face, he rolled his eyes, looking to Mike without responding.

“Aye,” Mike said, grinning.

Ben laughed, relaxing. “Alright, alright. Aye.”

“All those opposed?” Jamie continued, playing it up. He looked around the room and waited, then clapped his hands. “Excellent. Motion passed. Let the shagging commence.”

“Sorted,” Mike and Barry said at the same time.

Ben sighed, fighting a smile.)

That had been a few weeks ago. They’d been especially busy with the show that month, and Mike’s been looking forward to the trip all week. Sure, it’s for work, but it’s still kind of a vacation.

“Mike, I love and respect you as a person, and I love and respect your car as a car, but if we don’t stop soon I’m going to be marking my territory in it, fair warning,” Barry announces, throwing Mike from his reminiscence.

“Ben,” Mike begs. “Ben, please save my car.”

Ben laughs, relenting. “Fine. I suppose we can top off on fuel.” He eyes the gauge dubiously. It hasn’t moved much below full.

Barry bursts from the car before Ben even comes to a complete stop at the station. “I never thought I’d be this overjoyed to enter a disgusting petrol station bathroom,” he sings out as he rushes into the little quick-mart.

“Wash your hands!” Ben calls after him, shaking his head when they hear Barry’s cheerful Nope! in the distance.

Jamie wanders inside after him. “I’m getting a Daim bar. You lot want anything?”

“Oh, excellent, yes, I’m coming in with you,” Mike says.

“I packed food,” Ben says. “Good food. Lovely food.”

“Exactly. Good food,” Jamie says, letting the door to the shop swing shut behind him.

“We want rubbish food,” Mike explains, grinning, and darts in to peck Ben on the lips before chasing after Jamie.

He notices Ben’s surprised but pleased expression; Mike’s not one to initiate much, but he’s feeling loose and relaxed and confident today. He tries out the word boyfriends in his head and ends up smiling idiotically to himself until Jamie asks what the hell he’s smirking at.

Mike shrugs, gathering the bag of junk food he just paid for. “Just that I’m gonna get the front seat again,” he says nonchalantly, and then breaks into a run for the car.

He hears Jamie swear and chase after him, shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor and then crunching on the gravel outside. Mike manages to get the passenger side door open and then he’s shouting, laughing, as Jamie grabs him around the waist and hauls him back. They scuffle, Ben watching with a smile, and then abruptly Ben’s cracking up.

They pause, looking back at the car, where Barry has managed to sneak past them, get into the coveted spot, and throw his seatbelt on.

Jamie sets Mike down. “Oi!”

“Lads,” Barry acknowledges them with a nod.

“You utter—”

“Nah, we’ve lost,” Mike says diplomatically. “C’mon.”

As they return to the main road and get back up to speed, Mike realizes Barry and Jamie were not, in fact, exaggerating the small amount of space in the back seat of his car. He’s going to have to fight for his spot back next time they stop.

He and Jamie tear through their junk food; Jamie takes pity on Barry’s complaints that they didn’t get him anything and tosses a candy bar at him, then promptly falls asleep leaned against Mike once his sugar high wears off.

“That’s a picture moment,” Ben announces quietly, smiling.

Mike frowns. “No.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Barry agrees, digging in his pocket for his phone and twisting around in his seat.

“I hate you.” It’s not like Mike is going to risk waking Jamie up by pushing him off.

Barry shows him the picture once he’s taken it; Mike’s raising an eyebrow at the camera, and Jamie’s face is half pressed into his shoulder, mouth open slightly.

“If you post that on instagram,” Mike starts, “I’ll—”

“Sorry, what was that?” Barry asks, tapping at his phone. “I couldn’t hear you. I was too busy posting this lovely picture to instagram.”

Mike can’t find it in him to get annoyed, not with the way Barry and Ben are laughing quietly and with Jamie’s warmth pressed against him.

It’s quiet for a while, just the hum of tires on the road and the occasional murmur of conversation. Jamie stirs occasionally, Mike shifting to make him more comfortable.

He shakes Jamie awake when they stop again for lunch; Ben’s meticulous planning means they pull off onto a side road that leads to a picnicking area.

They tear into their sandwiches, complimenting Ben’s  work and thanking him for it (Barry doing so with a mouthful of food, making Ben roll his eyes fondly and bump shoulders with him).

Ben’s meticulous planning also means that he orders them all up and back into the car before they manage to finish eating. “We’ve got to make up time for Barry’s impromptu bathroom stop.”

“Ah,” Barry says. “Well, actually, speaking of bathroom stops—”

“Go in the bloody bushes,” Mike says, and the second he’s thrown away his trash, he’s racing Jamie to the car. Jamie hip-checks him before he can get the door open, and he lands in the dirt as Jamie throws himself into the car dramatically like he’s just won an Olympic-level race.

“Arse,” Mike says without any real heat, dusting himself off.

“It was my turn.”

“Well, then, it’s my turn next.”

“Unless I beat you again.”

“Then you don’t get to use turns as an argument!”

“Ah! No, no, wait, here, hold out your hands,” Ben says from behind them, stalling their bickering. Barry’s rolling his eyes, Ben brandishing a small bottle of hand sanitizer.

“I barely even touched,” he starts, and Ben looks at him like he’s prepared to upend the bottle over his head. “Fine, fine, give me that, then.”

They’re back on the road soon after, Barry kicking at the back of Jamie’s seat and demanding more leg room until Ben says I will turn this car around, so help me, and they’re all cracking up, Ben looking decidedly pleased with himself.

They’re all half-dozing by the time Ben pulls into the parking lot of the hotel they’re staying at. Mike rouses, picking his head up off of Barry’s shoulder, and rubs his face, feeling the imprint of the seam of Barry’s shirt pressed into his cheek.

Ben’s as alert and cheerful as ever, due to witchcraft or a deal with the devil, probably, and they grab their suitcases and trek into the hotel lobby to check in.

They had deliberated over how to book rooms before they left, and finally Mike had said, “How about one room with two king-sized beds?”

There’d been a long moment of silence, and Mike had flushed, ready to pass it off as a joke, but then Jamie had nodded, and Ben said it was a “fantastic idea, and it’ll save us some money,” and Barry suggested they push the beds together and “have a sleepover, paint each other’s toenails,” and Mike had punched him in the arm.

The room is enormous, the beds more luxurious than the one Mike has at home, and he takes a running start and leaps onto one of them in a belly flop.

“Incoming!” Barry calls out, and Mike barely manages to roll out of the way before he hits the bed where he’d been a fraction of a second ago.

“I thought we’d go to dinner around seven,” Ben says, dragging his suitcase further inside. “There’s a lovely place not far from here we can walk to.”

“Sounds great,” Mike says. “You want to get some footage and then watch telly for a bit?”

“I am going to go down to the pool,” Jamie announces, rifling through his bag.

Ben looks mildly concerned. “Jamie, you are aware it’s the middle of winter.”

“The pool’s heated,” Jamie says. “Barry told me.”

Ben and Mike look at him. Barry nods. “Yeah. It’s deece.”

Jamie snags a towel from the bathroom and tucks his room key into his back pocket, a swatch of fabric held in one hand. “You lot are free to come join me if you like.”

“Noted,” Mike says.

Barry’s looking at the fabric in Jamie’s hand with a horrified expression. “Is that a speedo.”

“Absolutely,” Jamie says proudly.

“You know, suddenly I think I may not be joining you.”

“Your mouth says no, but your heart—”

“Says hell no.”

Jamie shrugs, grinning. “Your loss,” he says, heading out into the hall, shaking his hips as he goes.

Ben folds his arms over his chest. “Barry.”

“Ben.”

“The pool isn’t heated, is it.”

“Not in the slightest.”

“Footage opportunity?” Mike chimes in.

Ben cracks a surprisingly devious smile. “Oh, absolutely.”

(Jamie greets them when they reach the pool, changed into his speedo and commenting about how lucky it is that they’ve got the pool to themselves. He takes a running start and cannonballs into the water, the rest of them scampering back to avoid the splash, and then emerges with a shriek.

“You wanker!” he splutters, splashing about frantically until he reaches the wall and hauls himself back onto the deck.

“Oh, don’t get all stroppy,” Barry says. “It’s not very becoming.”

“You are so dead— Actually,” Jamie says, calming down suddenly, “no. No, you know what, you’re right, it’s not becoming.”

Barry looks at him warily. “Well, good.”

“No, I think what you need is a hug.”

Barry takes a couple of steps back. “Now, Jamie— Mate—” He yelps when Jamie charges forward and wraps his arms around him tightly. Squirming in Jamie’s grip, he pleads for help, going from a joking tone to a panicked one when Jamie lifts him off the ground and falls back into the pool, taking Barry with him.

The two of them shiver pathetically all the way back to the hotel room, trying unsuccessfully to share a single towel. Ben and Mike push the beds together while they change into dry clothes, and they pile into the mega-bed, blankets and pillows strewn chaotically around them as they search for a decent program on television.

By the time seven o’clock rolls around, Mike sees Ben take in the sight of them—laying on each other in a haphazard pile, bickering over a rerun episode of Downton Abbey.

“You know,” Ben says thoughtfully, “perhaps we could just order room service.”

Mike kind of loves his life.

[americanahighways]

WoodyFest Day 2

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

The Virtual Woody Guthrie Festival continued Saturday July 18. Beginning at noon, the festival resumed with action packed line-up of panels and workshops streaming live and completely free via a plethora of streaming options. First up, there was a songwriting workshop hosted by Ellis Paul, and the invaluable education series went on to include: Appalachia: This Land is Home to Me hosted by Tom Breiding, Folk Collusion hosted by Tim Easton, Woody’s Country hosted by Rik Palieri, Collecting Woody Guthrie hosted by Barry Ollman, This Land is Your Land: A Celebration of 80 Years hosted by Deana McCloud, and lastly, fascinating panels discussing Native Music of Oklahoma presented by Oklahoma Film + Music Office, moderated by Sterlin Harjo & Dr. Hugh Foley |and included Zoom Panelists: Samantha Crain, Jula Harjo, Kylee Robison, Johnny Akeketa, Nokosee Fields, K-OSS, and Kalyn Fay and a second panel, Something to Say: Making Music That Matters presented by Oklahoma Humanities Moderated by Barry Ollman |and featuring panelists, Louie Pérez, Mary Gauthier, & Dr. Sunu Kodumthara. Strategically place between the last two informative panels, the winners of the 2020 Woody Guthrie Songwriting Contest were announced with Randy Lewis Brown taking top honors with his song, “Desoto Parish Nights.” In second place was Sharon Goldman with ��Woody & Marjorie” and in third, Daniel Neihoff and his song, “Appalachian Cry.” Congratulations to these songwriters as well as all that entered. I have no doubt we’ll hear more from all of them.

The panels continued on until 7pm when the music schedule took over, with this evening’s host, Jaimee Harris, who nearly immediately hit you right in the feels with her powerful Texas “folk-n-roll” take on the late Jimmy Lafave/Woody Guthrie composition, “Peace Town,” followed by her own “Catch it Now.” What a beautiful start to what was an action packed evening. Next up, Jared Tyler delivered his “A Little Tonight”from his 2017 release, “Dirt on Your Hands” followed by Paul Burch and his take on Guthrie’s “Pretty Boy Floyd”. At the 2019 fest, Betty Soo joined Michael Fracasso for his Crystal Theatre set, but this year, she delivered a simply stunning, stop you in your tracks version of “Deportee.” Betty Soo is currently performing with Rebecca Loebe and Grace Pettis as the trio, Nobody’s Girl, and their album self-titled release should definitely be on your radar. Detroit songwriter Chris Buhalis with “Don’t Kill My Baby and My Son” a song Guthrie wrote about Laura and L.D. Nelson, a black mother and son lynched from a bridge over the Canadian River near Okemah in 1911. Buhalis’ rendition was one that truly resonated.

Next, the legendary Graham Nash who played the festival in Okemah back in 2016 returned, virtually to the festival, contributing “Be Yourself”, the classic sing-a-long “Teach Your Children” and what I believe was a new song, “Stars & Stripes.”  It’s got to be tough to follow a real legend like Nash, but that’s exactly what Crys Matthews did, and did admirably, with a trio of socially charged songs, “Change Makers,” “We Must Be Free” and “Battle Hymn For an Army of Lovers”. Next up, was Massachusetts songwriter and autism activist, Seth Glier, first with, “Coronation,” then “Justice For All” and finally with a bunch of friends joining in via Zoom for “This Land is Your Land.” The multi-talented, Gregory Page followed with Woody’s “Danville Girl” which was just a great version. Oklahoma’s own, Samantha Crain was next with perfect timing, having just released her brilliant new album, “A Small Death.” Crain’s recorded performances here, “Time On Your Side” and “High Horse” were definitely a highlight for me. Tom Breiding followed with a pair of songs addressing the blue-collar union workers, “Now It’s Here” and “This Land Is Home To Me.” Next, and moving down south we had Houstonian Matt Harlan and his timely “Low Pressure” which really impressed me.

Bonnie Whitmore was next, and dropped some wisdom, reciting Woody’s quote, “It’s a folksinger’s job to comfort disturbed people and to disturb comfortable people,” before unleashing her 8-string bass for a brand new song, “Time To Shoot” from her forthcoming album, Last Will & Testament due September 1st. Live from his barn, we had Jacob Tovar delivering memorable takes on “I Felt Love” and “Three Good Reasons (For Leaving Tulsa)” providing a necessary honky-tonk atmosphere. The captivating Branjae returned to WoodyFest, this time with Josh Westbrook on guitar for a great pair of tunes, “Who Knows” and “Everybody Knows”.  Branjae and the band she co-fronts, Count Tutu were a highlight of last year’s festival, so it was great to see her back. If any musician has gotten the whole livestream thing down, it’s BJ Barham. The man’s a workhorse by nature, and has been sharing songs online ever since this damn pandemic coincided with the release of his amazing new American Aquarium album Lamentations. Barham is one of my favorite songwriters presently, and he certainly didn’t disappoint by delivering two of his recent bests. “Me + Mine” (Lamentations) is from the new album, and I personally think it might be the best song he’s written. Of course, his performance of “The World Is On Fire” from 2018’s Things Change was perfectly chosen as well.

Next was Emma’s Revolution featuring Pat Humphries and Sandy O., joined by Grammy Award winning fiddler and Klezmatics member, Lisa Gutkin performing, “Gonna Get Through This World” along with a Zoom screen collective of other musicians. Another Texas songwriter that’s won over the hearts of WoodyFest, is Jamie Lin Wilson, who provided a beautiful version of “Oklahoma Stars” written with Okemah’s own, Evan Felker. Hot on the heels of his album release, “Bloomin’”, the fabulous Josh Okeefe delivered two of the album’s best, “We’re All The Same” and “Son Of The Working Class”. Okeefe was one of the artists I was most looking forward to seeing and talking to at this years fest, but his performances here certainly hit the mark. Fresh from his “Folk Collusion” panel earlier in the day, Tim Easton returned to play two of his best, “Old New Straitsville Blues” and “Don’t Spectate, Participate”. Next, Brennan Leigh brought her smart country flavored storytelling with a great protest song, “Pipeline.” Following Leigh, we had songwriter and activist, Seth Bernard with a cut from his brand new album, “Let Love Light The Way” and “This is the American Earth”, before Raye Zaragoza presented “Fight Like A Girl” and a new song from her upcoming release Warrior.

WoodyFest just wouldn’t seem complete without John Fullbright, and though he’d been featured on the Tuesday night broadcast with a song recorded from 2019’s fest, tonight he was back with a new song, tentatively titled, “Sailors At Sea”, and the wonderful “Fat Man.” It’s got to be hard to follow Fullbright, but if anyone could do it, Glen Hansard certainly could. Now, I’m not sure if Hansard was going to be a performer had the 2020 WoodyFest actually gone forward in Okemah this year. But having been fortunate to see him perform live in 2019, I can only imagine how great of a performance the man would have delivered from the Pastures of Plenty stage. As it was, Hansard gave one of my favorite performances of the evening, with recorded songs from his home in Dublin. “Leave A Light,” a cover of Woody’s “Ramblin’,” and what seemed to be a brand new song capturing the turmoil in our streets. Hansard is one of my favorite music discoveries of the past ten years or so, and I highly recommend diving deep into his catalog of solo songs as well as with the Frames and The Swell Season. His new album, last years, The Wild Willing is nothing short of genius.

Taking us into the evenings home stretch, Mary Gauthier was joined by host, Jaimee Harris for stunning versions of “Make America Great Again” and the perfect story song, “Last of the Hobo Kings.”  Jason Mraz and his ukulele were up next for “Look For the Good,” before moving to the piano for “Make Love,” and lastly, joined by Joel Rafael for an intimate version of his song “Under Our Skin” from Rafael’s 2019 “Rose Avenue.” Finally, Jaimee Harris returned to her hosting duties to close up shop for the evening with a tale of the great Jimmy Lafave and a clip of Lafave and friends closing out the 2014 WoodyFest with “This Land Is Your Land.” Always a perfect choice.

WoodyFest continued its Virtual 2020 Festival for its final day on Sunday July 19th hosted by Terry “Buffalo” Ware, and featuring Carter Sampson, Butch Hancock, The Red Dirt Rangers and more. I’ll detail this final day and recap WoodyFest 2020 in a final piece later this week. Stay tuned!

https://www.woodyfest.com/

A replay of this first night can be found here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G8P2ZoMCZ-I

  Show Review: Woody Fest 2020 -- Day 2 @woodyfest @tim_easton @bettysoo @jaimeeharris @thegrahamnash @pbwpa @sethglier @crysmatthews @sjcrain @branjaemusic @bjbarhamtweets @lisagutkin @johnrfullbright @emmasrevolution @marygauthier_ @ellispaulsongs @latterette WoodyFest Day 2 The Virtual Woody Guthrie Festival continued Saturday July 18. Beginning at noon, the festival resumed with action packed line-up of panels and workshops streaming live and completely free via a plethora of streaming options.

[sandinz]

Rather than our previously planned almost five weeks of pottering on this charming waterway, unexpected events dictated we’d instead experience just short of three weeks – from 29th May to 17th June.

When I say ‘we’, in reality Barry relished three days short of three weeks, while I managed to squeeze in a measly eight days. Was it worth it you may ask?

Of course! Every inland waterway in the UK is worth visiting. Needing some planning and booking (as we’ve discovered!) to access, this is unfortunately one of the ‘canals less travelled’ on the system – we feel it’s definitely worth going to of your way for. A bit like Barry’s home town of Gisborne – remote – but that may be one of the reasons it’s so serene and special!

Once again this post’s a mixture of Barry’s and my words – but all the pictures are his Inspirational Images.

The Lancaster Canal had been on our ‘waterways bucket-list’ for a number of years, and we were determined to embrace whatever opportunity we had to see it. At a mere 41 miles long (and lock-free once you’re off Savick Brook which was widened to connect the Lancaster Canal to the River Ribble in order to open the Ribble Link in 2002), it doesn’t take too long to travel the length and breadth of it.

It can proudly boast the accolade of being the longest lock-free canal in the country – leisurely cruising and chilling is the order of the day in this delightful part of the country.

Admittedly we experienced a few irritating challenges too. Like the reality of the reported sparse mooring availability as most of the sides are extremely shallow; but also around the more scenic areas, suitable spaces seemed to be mostly taken up by long-term moorings which was frustrating at times.

On a brighter note, there’s a number of pleasant places to meander around along the way …

Gorgeous Garstang

The remains of Greenhaigh Castle on the hill as you approach Garstang

Garstang (purportedly ‘The World’s fist Fair Trade Town’), is a popular mooring stop, with a lovely shopping area containing plenty of quirky shops, and a couple of welcome supermarkets.

John Rennie’s aqueduct (started 1792) over the Wyre River at Garstang. Very similar but earlier and smaller design to his Dundas Aqueduct (started 1794) on the Kennet and Avon Canal.

Garstang town centre

Lush surroundings in Lancaster

This time of year in England was the perfect season to languish in these surroundings, with the foliage in full magnificence.

Magical.

I’m sure you’ll concur from the images below that the lighting amongst the lush greenery was quite spectacular.

The beautiful Ellel Grange Bridge just before the turnoff to Glasson Docks, which we explore on the return journey

Approaching Lancaster the canal winds through a deep and very green cutting, emerging on the outskirts of the city itself

Lancaster Castle – which until 2011 it was still used as a jail; the barbed wire, visiting hours sign, etc, all remain for posterity

Affectionately (!) known as ‘The Hanging Town’, Lancaster has apparently strung up more people than anywhere else in the UK – not to mention the many jailed for life or transported to Australia.

On his first evening in Lancaster, Barry took a walk around this fine city and captured a few of the older buildings in the centre, taking a veritable collage of unusual windows, doors, and fine architectural nuances. What a surprisingly fabulous and  fascinating place.

Barry moored up in Lancaster not far from the infamous Water Witch pub, which many years ago was the stables for the horses who hauled the fast boats between Preston and Kendal. Happening to be fortuitous enough to be in the vicinity for their quiz night, he teamed up with cajoled Carol and Colin into participating; a couple of locals who thought they were just there for a quiet drink. They informed him they were rubbish at quizzes, and were right – their ‘team’ came second last!

However …

Carol went on to win the prize draw and successfully completed the ‘Guess Your Cards Right‘ round, to win the jackpot of £210.00 – of which she insisted Barry got a third. How wonderful. Very nice thank you Carol – he reports that he’s since then invested the cash wisely on alcohol! (addendum from Sandra – he wishes!).

One of the unique aspects of this canal is that for a while it almost hugs the coast – though to be perfectly honest the views weren’t as spectacular as we’d anticipated or been led to believe.  Especially when the tide was low, as the ocean’s then a considerable distance away. There’s  warnings aplenty about quicksand and fast-moving tides where Barry managed to moor briefly at Hest Bank.

A few minutes walk from the canal you can view Morecombe Bay at Hest Bank. Here it was full of water at high tide. In the following post there’ll be considerably less!

Splendid mooring spot outside the Canal Turn pub

Barry did a bit of trading outside the fabulous Canal Turn Pub at Carnforth, with new owners Bill and Victoria going out of their way to give punters a great experience. They were astonishingly welcoming of The Home Brew Boat trading, even going so far as to post a photo of us on their Facebook page. They also bought a few canal greeting cards.

If you’re passing – call in, Barry highly recommends the establishment and feels sure it’ll go from strength to strength.

Going quackers

This year we’ve started selling duck food from the boat. Watching so many people thoughtlessly feeding ducks, swans and geese bread, we wanted to do our bit for nature.

Along with a stapled bag of high quality duck food, Sandra shares a leaflet containing information she’s discovered explaining WHY it’s best not to feed them bread:

“Bread has no nutritional value. To ducks it’s a ‘junk’ food – filling them up with carbohydrates and consequently stopping them from foraging for food that DOES provide what they need.

Rotting bread also makes ducks sick, contributes to algae growth, which kills animals, and attracts vermin, which spread disease to birds and humans.

PLEASE DO NOT FEED BREAD TO DUCKS/SWANS/GEESE

For more information, check out the links below:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yKzPw9lzshc

https://www.popsci.com/feeding-ducks-bread

What foods CAN you feed ducks? ~ Kale ~ Lettuce (cut up) ~ Corn (canned, frozen or fresh) ~ Peas (as above) ~ Seeds (not apple or cherry) ~ Porridge oats ~ Rice (cooked) ~ Cherry tomatoes (cut up) ~ Flowers – dandelions, pansies, clover ~ Fruit (not citrus) – especially apples cut up, banana chips (broken up) ~ Cat and dog food   Foods to avoid: X BREAD –of any type X Junk food X Avocados or onions are toxic to ducks X Citrus fruit X Nuts X Chocolate X Popcorn X Carbonated drinks X Alcohol!!”

Barry befriended a local female mallard. This duck would have to be the friendliest one we’ve ever met. She had no fear and you could even pat her. It did help of course that we had some particularly tasty duck food on offer!

Our new poster girl! (Amazing how a bag of duck food overcomes any model rights)

Venturing to the most northerly point of the English canal system

Barry had the good fortune to be able to travel all the way to the end of the Lancaster Canal at Tewitfield, having been joined at the Canal Turn pub by Jim (ex nb Starcross) and his wife Hilary, along with her spritely 94 year-old mum Jean for the journey. Jim wrote a blog about their experience.

Touching the end of the canal with the front fender

Jim drove all the way there and back, with Barry suspecting at one point he detected a tiny tear of nostalgia.

As it’s the furthermost north canal on the linked system, He felt it important to photograph the ‘touch the end of the canal with the front fender’ shot, just to prove we’d finally done it and have Jim there as an ‘Expert Witness’!

This particular journey up the Lancaster was taken with Barry on board Areandare, while Sandra was on a planned week away in Menorca with my daughter and grandsons.

There’s lots more fabulous memories to share of our journey from Carnforth back to the Ribble Link, including a side-trip to Glasson Docks – in the next post!

Where are we in ‘real time’?

John and Angela joined us in Wigan for an overnight stay and morning cruise with three locks

We’ve cruised from Tarleton to Worsley since we returned on the Link Sunday 17th June, heading to Manchester for the weekend where we have kiwi guests jumping on board. we even had some surprise visitors yesterday from Australia, originally from Hawkes Bay in New Zealand.

  Thank goodness we chose to travel to new vistas and not trade this year. Our income from floating markets and festivals may be drastically reduced, but we feel incredibly rich in relishing life and all it has to offer. And we hope to be running Calendar Club in Lichfield again from October to January, so we don’t feel that ‘pressure’ to do the same old, same old anymore.

By the way, if any boaters are considering applying for Calendar Club this year, here’s the link.

Our long awaited enchanting journey on the Lancaster Canal Rather than our previously planned almost five weeks of pottering on this charming waterway, unexpected events…

[habibialkaysani]

okay, let me preface this with a little note about my identity. I am a queer, mentally ill muslim british cis woman of colour. specifically, I was born in britain and my parents both hail from bangladesh. I am not white or black or latinx. so my opinions will - understandably, I hope - be from the perspective I am offering based on the intersecting parts of my identity.

so, let’s start with that. as a nonblack woc, I think it’s pretty patronising to be told that you don’t have to be black to be a person of colour. I know that. I don’t need that explained to me when I am literally not even black to start with. nowhere in my post did I say a mixed race pairing requires a black person. of course it would be interracial if someone was latinx. rene/thea is interracial. so is cisco/caitlin, and amy/jake, and those are just off the top of my head. pairings involving asian people are also interracial - wally/linda, for instance, and lena/jack. and while not latinx myself, I am aware of the issues latinx people face, enough for me to know that of course they are people of colour. I never said that latinx people face the exact same struggles as black people. I know they don’t, although they do overlap at least insofar that they’re groups that deserve far better.

my focus on black people in this post, btw, was partly to address the antiblackness I see in my own racial community. but also, me making the focus on antiblackness in my post does nothing in and of itself to dismiss other poc or, as you’ve suggested, throw other poc under the bus.

and that brings me to my main point. as far as I was aware, for a character to be considered racial representation and thus a person of colour onscreen, I thought the person portraying that character had to be, at the very, very least, a person of colour also and preferably also at least the same race as the character purports to be.

let me put this another way. as a desi woman, I would not have considered jack spheer to be desi if he was portrayed by a white actor who’s a bit tanned, calls himself bengali onscreen and calls his mother “amma” and, idk, eats rice and curry every day, and thus I would not consider him bengali representation because he was whitewashed. I was under the impression that a similar logic could be applied here, because, yes, maggie calls herself nonwhite and andrew kreisberg called her latina and she spoke spanish to her father, but floriana lima is still white. if you personally feel like whitewashed representation counts as representation, fine. but to me, sanvers is just another white wlw ship that the racist white non straight fandom flocked to because god forbid they give an interracial ship, irrespective of genders, a chance. I listed it because I was trying to make that very point - and, absolutely, if maggie were portrayed by an actual latinx actress, I would never suggest that sanvers is the same representation wise as clexa, wayhaught, cophine, avalance, etc., because there would be a person of colour who could potentially make the pairing important and groundbreaking and different. but she’s not. floriana is white. chyler is white.

now, I don’t know a lot of latinx people on here, so I’m not sure what the general consensus is on this. but I have seen latinx people speak out against maggie being whitewashed. at the same time, I fully acknowledge that I am not latinx myself, so if you think that representation that is so watered down and in your own words flawed is still adequate, fine. but put simply, me slighting maggie sawyer or sanvers with regards to racial representation isn’t me slighting latinx people at all. because maggie, to me, at least, and to a fair few others, isn’t truly latinx when she is portrayed by a tanned white actress. just like an ~exotic-looking white woman does not desi representation make. *coughamyjacksoncough*

I feel like poc should be in solidarity with each other. and if I said anything against samantha arias, rosa diaz, amy santiago, cisco ramon, rene ramirez or any of the other latinx characters on tv who are genuinely portrayed by actual latinxs, I do apologise. but in this instance, I can’t in good conscience consider maggie a woman of colour when the actress portraying her is white and she is clearly whitewashed, and therefore, I don’t see sanvers as a truly interracial relationship when they clearly are not in reality.

fandom racism is a huge problem, I agree. but you pointing this out doesn’t help. in this instance, I’m pretty sure it was supergirl and floriana lima who whitewashed a character who was meant to be a woc, not the fandom. the fandom whitewashing actual poc played by poc is what you should be calling out - zari tomaz, for instance, is often whitewashed in edits, and people assume sameen shaw is white even though she’s persian. people lauding chyler leigh and caity lotz, two straight white women, for being lgbt ~allies when maisie richardson sellers and keiynan lonsdale, two non-straight black people, are right there being as straight and white as a rainbow, is fandom racism. the 100 fandom practically starting a riot over a fridged white lesbian who wore brownface and a bindi and then staying radio silent or, worse, defending poussey washington’s death is what you call fandom racism.

I get that you mean well, but I did not say anywhere in my post that I felt nonblack poc were in any way less important than black people. me focusing on one race of people in no way diminishes the importance of other (nonwhite) races. if you truly consider maggie sawyer a woman of colour, good for you. I don’t, and I won’t until they decide to recast her with an actual latinx person (which is highly unlikely). so please don’t assume all other poc share your view, and don’t label my behaviour as ignorant or careless. 

- same anon as before, that's understanable. and i'm sorry for the racism that you do get. i'm glad you're able to just ignore it, and that most people respect you. (and for the a*dena,l*xa,s*ra thing) that makes sense. i like them all as characters. but the fandom saying that l*xa is wearing the helm of awe? (not sure if that's what they call it, but it is a bindi, that's just awful. s*ra being shipped with only white women, makes sense. i haven't watched lot for awhile. - p1

p2. but i did hear about the fandom shipping her with “new” character called a*ya? ev*? i’m not sure. and i was a bit confused, if they had like 5 lines together. (if ev*) now that i think about it, she is white right?

yeah, her name is ava, and they’re clearly building up to it and that’s - whatever, but just. five white women and one fleeting poc (leonard) and one woc who isn’t even mentioned by name this season does not diversity make. 

it’s sad that that more subtle racism exists, but what’s sadder is that fandoms on the whole don’t want to admit that it’s a thing and that we’re complicit in that racism. and I say “we” because I’m guilty of it too. I remember when I was watching poi and I was for some reason reluctant to ship carter with reese. just like how I was initially reluctant to ship sara with jax romantically. even tho in both cases the ships had wonderful dynamics. I’m not saying that everyone who brotps them is racist. but this refusal to view black people as love interests for white people is definitely a worrying trend - look at finn in star wars, for example, or even iris west with barry allen and to some extent amaya jiwe with nate heywood. it’s this less blatant racism that most if not the vast majority of us are guilty of to some degree that I think we need to recognise in ourselves and try to do better with. and that doesn’t mean you can’t ship sara with ava, or kara with lena or cat, or, hell, even maggie with alex, but I just think we also have to recognise that that racist bias exists and is a real thing, and, I don’t know, just try to do better by taking a step back and seeing where that racism inherent in all of us is manifesting itself.

[flauntpage]

Your Friday Morning Roundup

There’s about five days until the Flyers take on the San Jose Sharks in their regular season opener. And most of their lineup is set in stone.

Five different Flyers scored in the 5-1 win over the Boston Bruins, including Travis Konecny’s third of the preseason. The power play unit also went 2-for-7, which was one of the team’s weak areas throughout the preseason. Alex Lyon played the entire game in goal for the Flyers, stopping 31-of-32 shots he faced, while starter Brian Elliott was a healthy scratch. And for some reason, Nolan Patrick decided to fight.

Robert Hagg, Taylor Leier, Oskar Lindblom, Andrew MacDonald, and Michael Raffl were other notable healthy scratches for the game. Who could be safe and who might start the season in Lehigh Valley?

Let’s start at forward: I think Raffl is a lock, as well as Lindblom. Taylor Leier is an NHL-caliber player, but with Patrick and Scott Laughton in front of him, Leier might have to start in the AHL.

There a very slim chance Ron Hextall decides to send Patrick back to juniors, but I absolutely see him contributing immediately with the big club.

The defense is still uncertain. Outside of Radko Gudas, Ivan Provorov, and Shayne Gostisbehere, four spots are up for grabs. Sam Morin, Travis Sanheim, and Robert Hagg have had their share of good and bad moments this preseason, but also have MacDonald and Brandon Manning with them. Morin is a beast at 6-6 and I would love for him to finally crack the Flyers roster. Hagg is the most NHL ready out of all three, and I think I see him and Morin up with the Flyers.

I would love to never see Andrew MacDonald again, but unless a team decides they want to eat up part of his huge cap hit, he’s sticking around. Manning is the more likely candidate for a trade, which means Sanheim stays in Lehigh Valley for another year.

The preseason concludes Sunday at home against the New York Islanders at 5 pm, which is in the middle of Eagles-Chargers.

In other Flyers news, Wayne Simmonds would rather discuss the actual issues involving racial inequality instead of kneeling.

The roundup:

The Eagles continue to get ready for their game in LA against the Chargers. After filling in for Jordan Hicks in the second half of last week’s win over the Giants, Mychal Kendricks still isn’t happy with the amount of playing time he’s getting.

A year and three games into his career, Carson Wentz is already showing he’s in charge of the offense:

Sunday highlighted the significant freedoms Wentz has in operating this offense. Pederson explained that there is a “take-it system” that the coach can shift into at any point in the game where he just gives Wentz the formation and has the quarterback take it from there, the restriction being that the plays are to be pulled from that week’s game plan. The playbook is loaded with run-pass options (RPOs), allowing Wentz to make a judgement call at the line of scrimmage based on how he reads the defense.

Center Jason Kelce believes Wentz — just 19 games into his professional career — has more pre-snap authority than any quarterback he’s worked with in his seven years in the pros.

“Under Chip [Kelly] we weren’t switching in and out of things. I though Sam [Bradford] was a guy that probably could do something like this, but he just didn’t get to do that. [Michael] Vick certainly had the ability to change the play and do certain things like that. We just probably do a little more of it with Carson,” he said.

“If you have a guy who can do it and you have a guy that’s good at it, obviously being in a conducive play is huge for the offense. Having the numbers be correct on a run play, you still have to block it up when the play is called, but it definitely sets you off the right foot. You’re not running uphill, you’re running downhill at that point.”

But why is Wentz struggling with the deep ball?

Wendell Smallwood may have a chance to become a feature back for the Eagles, and he could be worth picking up in fantasy leagues.

Kyle talked to Merrill and Mike on the Jake Elliott kick and their brand new podcast.

SB Nation did a cheesy video feature on Randall Cunningham and the 1987 Eagles.

Game predictions will come later today.

—

Over in Camden, Sixers training camp continued. Markelle Fultz is experimenting with new shooting mechanics.

It might take some time until Fultz is ready to take on some of the NBA’s top talent:

“It’s two things,” Brown said. “The first is the athleticism in the men who jump you right from the get-go. It is relentless. There is no sort of unforgiving stage. It is very, very ruthless, what he’s going to experience — not so much in preseason, but when all of a sudden John Wall crawls into him, and Otto Porter’s length is alive, you realize there is an athleticism and there are men, and it catches people off-guard. And then we’re going to talk about January the 10th, and we’re going to talk about a rookie wall because of the nature of our league.”

Because of the teammates surrounding him, because of their skills, Fultz may have more room on the court than Carter-Williams did. But that doesn’t mean teams will leave him alone. Everyone around the league knows, even from just his one season at the University of Washington, that Fultz can handle the ball and shoot well enough to excel in pick-and-roll situations. Opponents will try to prevent him from creating those matchups when he’s on offense, and they’ll try to trap him in those matchups when he’s on defense.

I also love his Players’ Tribune video, where he makes fun of his draft day Instagram blunder:

.@MarkelleF's first @sixers media day was … just watch. http://pic.twitter.com/PkJwxlKEa5

— The Players' Tribune (@PlayersTribune) September 28, 2017

You can also start buying new Sixers Nike products this morning. Jerseys will be available through the Wells Fargo Center New Era Team Store this weekend, and the 11th Street Team Store will have special hours today and Saturday from 10 am until 5 pm, and Sunday from 10am until 1pm.

Jerseys can also be purchased online via Shop.WFCPhilly.com today at 10 am until October 12.

Head coach Brett Brown sees some interesting qualities in Furkan Korkmaz:

“I mean, really just trying to get him defensively built, like an attitude and a mindset to try to grow him as a defender,” Brown told reporters Thursday. “He can score. He’s got a real sort of interesting body for a basketball player in his position. He’s long and he’s lanky. Years ago I coached Brent Barry (who had) sort of that bouncy, pogo stick, can shoot, can dunk (body type). I see, you know, that (Furkan) has got some real interesting qualities. The defensive side needs work. I’m always trying to help and grow him, like you would any rookie, from a defensive standpoint.”

Part of the defensive improvement comes with bulk, and Korkmaz has already added about 15 pounds to his 175 pound frame. He won’t be finishing around the rim any time soon, but he’s a tall perimeter shooter with plenty of upside depending on how he adapts to NBA physicality.

The Sixers and Nik Stauskas have not engaged in contract extension discussions.

—

The Phillies wrap up the regular season this weekend at home against the New York Mets. Ben Lively takes on Matt Harvey.

Odubel Herrera takes an insanely long time during his at-bats, and that might change next year:

Major League Baseball will introduce rule changes this winter to help quicken the game. Average game times this season — 3 hours, 5 minutes for a nine-inning game — are 15 minutes longer than 10 years ago. The new rules have yet to be announced, but they could force a batter to stay inside the batter’s box or even employ a clock that times when a pitch must be thrown. Herrera’s routine will have to change.

“I’ll adjust if they change the rule or if they make it a rule,” Herrera said. “I’ll adjust to it. I don’t think I have a choice there.”

—

In other sports news, there was a Thursday Night Football game. The Packers beat the Bears 35-14. You didn’t watch? Good, because it was bad. Example:

Have a feeling this Mike Glennon kick-fumble is going to become an unfortunate meme. #Bears http://pic.twitter.com/xT5lgAqpaP

— Larry Hawley (@HawleySports) September 29, 2017

This was also bad, for different reasons:

Don’t let Danny Trevathan play the rest of the season for this garbage http://pic.twitter.com/Vf820PRPTP

— Barstool Sports (@barstooltweetss) September 29, 2017

And this hot mic caught the best reaction to every Thursday Night Football game.

NBA Draft reform, along with new rules on resting players, passed yesterday. Even though draft reform will give the three worst teams an equal 14% chance at the top pick, the “Sam Hinkie rule” may not stop tanking.

The league has a legitimate interest in its worst teams not feeling as if they have to get any more embarrassingly bad in order to secure improved lottery odds. The NBA does not want to relive Trust The Process, even though the architect of the most aggressive — and most coldly rational — multiyear tank job in league history was ousted precisely because of the scheme’s naked aggression. It would kindly prefer the Suns not send Eric Bledsoe home for two months; new rest regulations, also approved Thursday, may take care of that.

Reform may change team behavior on the fringes. Bledsoe types may play more. The next version of the Sixers might be more open to signing a couple of stable veterans, even at the “risk” of winning a couple more games. April basketball will be a little less bad.

Multiple NBA players have severed ties with agent Andy Miller in the wake of the FBI corruption probe in college basketball:

Los Angeles Clippers center Willie Reed filed the claim in part because of Christian Dawkins, one of the 10 people arrested on federal corruption charges on Tuesday. Dawkins was reportedly terminated by Miller and his company, ASM, in early May following a National Basketball Players Association probe into the unauthorized use of a player’s personal credit card.

However, Dawkins remained the primary ASM representative for Reed and other players, including Indiana Pacers rookie Edmond Sumner. Justin Patton of the Minnesota Timberwolves and Sumner both fired Miller since the FBI investigation became public, sources told ESPN.

But Joel will always Trust The Process:

Trust The Process https://t.co/7qHHiDomjz

— Joel Embiid (@JoelEmbiid) September 28, 2017

Mets owner Fred Wilpon protected manager Terry Collins from being fired after other front office heads wanted the manager out:

People with knowledge of the situation, who spoke on the condition of anonymity, described organizational dysfunction, discord between Collins and his players, and a broken relationship between the manager and the front office.

Despite what the front office perceived as Collins’ constant tactical blunders and concerns about his relationships with the players, sources said efforts to explore a change seriously were thwarted by the elder Wilpon.

“I don’t interfere,” Fred Wilpon said while declining an interview request earlier this season.

A high school football team in Upstate New York is forfeiting their season after seven players took OxyContin before one of their games.

In a statement released Monday afternoon, Geneseo Central Schools Superintendent Tim Hayes wrote, “These dismissals stem from serious violations of the district’s Code of Conduct and Athletic Eligibility Standards.”

“Due to the sheer number of student-athletes involved and the serious nature of this incident…, the remainder of the varsity football season will be forfeited,” wrote Hayes.

During a late afternoon press conference, Hayes said the decision was painful because it also affected several players and families who were innocent and had done nothing wrong.  Some of those innocent players, said Hayes, had come forward to report the drug use.  However, Hayes explained the number of students involved made it impossible to field enough players to continue the varsity football program this year.

—

In the news, 6abc New Jersey reporter Nora Muchanic and cameraman Andy Doane are retiring at the end of October.

Actress Julia Louis-Dreyfus revealed she has breast cancer.

Just when you thought… http://pic.twitter.com/SbtYChwiEj

— Julia Louis-Dreyfus (@OfficialJLD) September 28, 2017

Elon Musk has another idea for how to send people to Mars.

The first trailer for Red Dead Redemption 2 is out and it looks really stunning.

Gambling while playing Pac-Man. You can do that now.

Your Friday Morning Roundup published first on http://ift.tt/2pLTmlv