#and i looked it up and it was the inspiration for lower decks! delightful

[botanicallyinclinednerd]

With how today has gone in my country, I'm going to get drunk and walk Star Trek, and at my brother's recommendation, I'm gonna watch Lower Decks. So get ready for a flood of me watching that show

[samwisethewitch]

In Defense of Fluffy Bunnies, or Witchcraft in Times of Burnout

At the very end of 2023, I used my Christmas bonus from work to buy myself a tarot deck I never would have purchased six months earlier.

This deck was from a creator whose work I had really enjoyed in the past, but when I had looked at it earlier in the year, I'd had concerns that it was softening the meaning of some of the more "difficult" cards in the tarot. For example, The Hanged Man is replaced with "The Patient Witch" and Death is replaced with "The Broom." I'd had concerns that replacing these cards, which are traditionally associated with more dire or upsetting readings, meant the creator was trying to whitewash tarot into something cute and fluffy, sacrificing a lot of its depth in the process.

The deck is The Cozy Witch Tarot by Amanda Lovelace, and I'm so glad I gave it a try. This deck has an incredibly kind and gentle feel, but it is absolutely capable of giving serious readings. The depth of the tarot hasn't been compromised at all by Lovelace's changes, and her version's greater emphasis on agency and personal empowerment is exactly what I need in my practice right now. I use this deck to read for myself almost every day.

So what changed? How did I do a complete 180 in my thoughts on this deck in only a few months?

I've always been very opposed to "love and light" or "fluffy bunny" witchcraft. For those who aren't familiar, these are both terms used online (usually negatively) to describe witches who only do "light" or positive magic. According to the Witchipedia, "Generally, the 'fluffy bunnies' have based their practice on only the most delightful aspects of their spiritual path or romanticized, fictional Hollywood or literary accounts of witchcraft or Wicca." From what I can tell, this term came out of Wiccan Internet forums in the 1990s, and it refers to someone who dons the aesthetics and mythology of Wicca or witchcraft without actually engaging critically with magic theory. Fluffy bunnies also tend to focus on feel-good magic, at least according to stereotypes.

Similarly, "love and light" witches are known for only focusing on the lighthearted side of witchcraft. In an opinion article for The Wild Hunt, Storm Faerywolf writes that, "On the surface it seems harmless enough: a philosophy of love, kindness, non-violence, and a concerted practice of positivity." This type of witchcraft is very closely tied to the "spiritual but not religious" movement and borrows a lot of concepts from New Age spirituality, like crystal healing, the Law of Attraction, and chakras. While fluffy bunnies are very much a product of the 1990s, love and light witches are very much a product of the New Age boom of the 2010s.

I've been very vocal about my dislike for both of these types of witchcraft on this blog in the past, and I still 100% agree with Storm Faerywolf, who says in that same article: "But to assert that pain, and fear, and even anger are somehow less important than our joy, our courage, and even our love, is to do a grave disservice to our collective mental and spiritual health... groups that embrace this mode of thinking have effectively ensured that they can mutually avoid anything that might challenge their cultish mindset. Angry over injustice? You’re just living in a lower vibration. Afraid of contracting a deadly virus? You just don’t trust Jesus enough."

I think accepting and working with challenging emotions is an important part of what it means to be a witch. Spiritual bypassing and cries of "good vibes only" do more harm than good. But for a while I got so caught up in rejecting anything even remotely fluffy or love-and-lightish that I ended up with a magical practice that, to be honest, kind of made me miserable. And I don't think I'm the only one.

I spent a lot of 2022 and 2023 wrestling with injustice, both in my spiritual practice and in my personal and professional life. My practice is inspired by witches like Starhawk and Christy C. Road, and politics play a key role. Most of the spells I did in 2023 fall into the category of justice magic, including breaking family curses and hexing rapists. At the same time, I was working a series of direct services jobs that saw me working closely with homeless teenagers, domestic violence victims, and people battling addiction, just to name a few. And that's not even getting into my personal life and recovery as a queer, disabled survivor of abuse.

And let me tell you: By the end of 2023, I was fucking exhausted. I was beyond burnout. And I didn't even want to do magic anymore, because magic had become just another part of my life where I had to face the injustice and harm happening in the world around me.

I was in desperate need of some fluffiness, some love and light. And that was when I bought the Amanda Lovelace tarot deck.

I knew something had to change. In my burnout, I desperately needed to be tenderly cared for. I needed my spiritual practice to be a source of peace and comfort, not a drain on my energy. I needed to get out of the dark for a bit so I could remember how to see the stars.

What I've realized in the last few months is that yes, anger, pain, and fear are important in a balanced magical practice and a balanced life -- but joy, love, and comfort are equally important. And if you spend a lot of time in one part of your life dealing with pain and fear (like I do in my day job), focusing on love and healing in your witchcraft can help keep things balanced.

"Comfort" and "care" are definitely the keywords for my magical practice right now, and that means my magic looks a lot more fluffy than it has in the past. And that's a good thing.

[purplemoonabove]

Art-inspired Fanfic - No. 8

I noticed my numbering was wrong. Missed no. 7 on the last one.

Nexts up - @mjulmjul

.

.

.

Swords broke the silence air at every clink. Buttons was no where to be seen on the upper deck as there was currently a new moon out, so no point for him to moon bath this evening. If anything, it just gave a new opportunity for a certain pair of co-captains to practice on improvement of their sword fighting.

“Ah!”

At least, one of them for improvement.

Ed smirked as the poor blond rubbed his back. “That makes it three for me, and still zero for you,” he taunted, wiping his forehead from the thin layer of growing sweat. Even with his leather jacket off, the outside air was cool to sweat instead of cold to fight the increasing of body temperature.

Stede whipped his hair back when straightening, Ed’s heart racing for a second at the sexy view. His smirk became of a grin of delight. “Yes, well, I am improving. Hardly cut myself once through it all.”

“Yeah, I’ll admit that’s true.” He then straightening the sword once more. “Loser comes at winner, again.”

Stede rolled his eyes but did so anyway. Foots stomped and glided across the floorboard. The pressing of their swords almost act on shoving one or the other off balance. A swipe from Ed gave Stede a quick duck, hardly catching a fizz of the curls. A forward jab by Stede was avoided, Ed turning at his side before hitting the blade with his own away.

Clink! Clink! Clink!

His arms then tensed, but his heart was racing on a horse track as their swords led to their faces inches closer than before. Close up, Ed can catch on the sweat resting at Stede’s forehead, some close strands getting dark as the new moon’s sea. Even with a few candles nearby, how Stede’s excitement sparkled in his eyes and eager grin made the stars dim in bright defeat. Seawater and hazel caught his senses, knowing Stede had a bath hours before and was one of his favorite scents on him.

Anything could work as a cologne for Stede. Blood and fish guts could rest on his skin and Ed would still find it hot.

Just as hot as Stede’s grin to a smirk.

It took a second to catch up.

Being shoved back, Ed almost lost balance but not enough for—

Clink!

“Ha!”

Thud!

His hand was cooling by the air, no longer in grip of the sword. Bewilderment blinked his eyes twice. Then went crossed at the tip of the blade a foot away from his nose.

“Foolish Captain, you cannot defeat the Gentleman Pirate!” Stede taunted in playful delight. His eyes sparkled further at finally beating him – by one point.

So fuckin’ cute.

“Any last words?”

Ed brought his gloved palms out, a silent gesture of given defeat. Then a glint was caught from Stede, a second off guard.

That’s all Ed needed.

“Wha—Ed! I’m—Ooph!”

THUD!

With their bodies collectively on the floor, the sound would alert anyone below deck and may come up in concern. Or not, if they either don’t care or were heavier sleepers than imagined.

“…not… stabbing you again,” Stede then voiced out, groaning at the impact. Ed was kind to have his hand take most of the blow for his head, but the rest of him was slammed at his weight to be pinned at the ground. Nevertheless, Stede ended up with one arm, his sworded arm, around his waist in a protective firm hold. “What was that for?” He then complained, looking up as Ed pushed his torso to hover.

Hair usually half up was entirely down for the night. It was at first concerning to Stede, not wanting his hair to blind him as the hairstyle was best appropriate to see clearly. “Been through plenty of sword fights with my hair out, mate. Not a problem,” Ed assured – and still was no problem. He could tell by the slight widening of his eyes and a bit of red increasing on his flustered cheeks.

Ed didn’t need a mirror. He always knew he was a sight.

He smirked. Elbows bent to lower. Noses were a centimeter to touch. He could hear Stede’s breath be caught.

His whisper traced at the agape lips.

“Don’t question. Just do.”

Another whisper from the man below was returned. Tracing, and attracting the urge that has been burning his stomach for minutes now.

“Okay.”

Stede’s eyes fluttered close. He knew him so well. All the reason to love him so much.

His hair of salt and pepper shielded both of their faces, pressing with an ankle as lips danced upon each other. There was no pressure, and no problem. Any footsteps that would come can be heard by rapid thuds and then the sharp opening of the door. None of that happened; the crew below pretended what was happening above deck was nothing of their concern.

He wasn’t a prayer man, but Ed at least hope to whoever was in the sky as his Creator to have the moment last until morning.

.

.

.

I

WANT

SEASON

TWO

ALREADY!

very useful fencing lessons

[calumrose]

There’s No Place Like Home || C.H

A//N: Let’s just say I’ve not been doing so good since Calum posted that tiktok two days ago... And this is what became of that <3 Also, this might just be the smallest thing I’ve ever written so it’s feels very unfinished to me although it is actually done. Anyway, I hope you like it! Let me know what you think!

Word Count: 1.8k

The morning sun was low as Calum ventured outside, the neck of his guitar securely in his grasp as he took a steady step down onto the smooth stone path which surrounded his home. The golden glow cascaded across the garden around him, shadows being painted across his surroundings as they danced in the gentle morning breeze. The sun provided a welcomed warmth to his back as he edged towards the small decking area where he usually kept his gym equipment for workouts. 

He held a mug in his hand as he sat himself down, palm curled around the pale ceramic as he lifted it to his lips to take a tentative sip of the bitter brew. His tongue touched his lip as the scalding liquid stung his sensitive skin, leaving a fresh pinch-like feeling behind as he lowered the mug from his face and placed it down next to him. He swallowed his mouthful of the warm coffee, his taste buds bouncing in delight at the shot of caffeine that was entering his system. Coffee was the only way to start his day according to Calum. 

Or so that’s how it used to be.

Looking over to his left, his chin tilting just barely so he could catch a glimpse, his eyes fell to the soft shadows which lay beyond the thin curtains that hung behind the open door that led out into the garden. Small glimpses of you being captured as the soft morning breeze blew, causing the curtains to split and small snapshots of the sight he loved become clear to his eyes.

A smile graced his face as he made out the soft shapes as they moved behind the curtain, the golden light shining against them only to bring out the darkened contrast of the shadow of the body which stood not too far behind it. Every movement was graceful through the curtain, the smooth lines of your body as it moved came across like that of a dance, the gentle lifting of your arm looking like a delicate petal of a rose that flew in the soft breeze.

His eyes were mesmerised as they set on your silhouette through the net curtains, his smile never fading as he watched the gentle movement of your legs as you swayed in place. He knew you weren’t alone, the faded sight of your craned neck looking downwards as your own eyes settled upon the small body that lay peacefully in your arms. He wondered how long she would continue to sleep for, her small body being removed from her crib in the early hours when you both arose from your slumber upon the sound of her soft cries. It wasn’t long before she drifted back to sleep to the gentle sound of your heartbeat as you prepared some morning coffee for yourself and Calum.

Setting the guitar on his lap, the curve of the wood bending so it rested comfortably on his thigh, Calum’s thumb slowly began to brush against the delicate strings. He allowed for his fingers to be placed along the neck of the guitar, knuckles bending as the pads of his fingertips pressed against the strings as he played the familiar chords he had known since he was young. 

A familiar acoustic melody filled the peaceful morning, the plants which littered the dirt along the fence gently blowing in the soft breeze. It was a sound that reminded him of the journey that had led him to where he found himself, what twists and turns he had taken throughout his life that had led him to find himself living a life that he could only have dreamed of living.

The soft words fell from his lips as he continued to play, the familiar lyrics lacing together as they left his tongue in a soft voice as he looked out into the golden rays of the sun as they danced and painted the garden in a beautiful light. The garden had always been a little getaway for the two of you, finding yourselves laying out there as the sun would set at dusk, eyes cast upwards to the sky as you’d watch the shades of orange and red brush across the wide-open canvas. You hoped that one day you’d be able to show your daughter the wonders of the world, to be able to bring her out and sit with her to watch as the sky changed colour, pointing up to the descending sun and waving it a warm goodbye before welcoming the blue moon in its place.

Lyrics slowly turned into mumbles, a soft hum sounding from within his throat as he gently bobbed his head to the rhythm he was creating with his hands. His eyes closed momentarily as he lost himself in the song, his lips curling as memories danced across his mind. Memories of days on the road, memories of late nights spent tucked away in small bunks, and memories of sweet kisses before running off onto stage to the sound of fans calling their name. The song held a lot of memories, most of them happy, some not so, but all of them important, nonetheless. They held memories of days spent with his brothers, days spent with his family, of days spent with you. Those were days he never wanted to forget.

Opening his eyes, Calum looked back towards the open door, the thin curtain having been pulled open so the sunlight could break through the open frame. He could see into the house from where he sat, the strip of sunlight stretching across the wooden floor as far as he could see inside. You were still in his eyeline, your body still gently swaying with every small step you took as you walked around the room. He noticed how your eyes were still settled upon the small body in your arms, your lips curled upwards as they moved and silent words were spoken into the air. He wondered what you were saying, what words you were speaking to the sweet girl who slept against your chest. He wondered if he would ever know the conversation that you shared with her, if he would ever gain knowledge into the private whispers and small giggles that escaped in the moments you stole with her in the times when Calum wasn’t around.

He watched with warm, kind eyes as one of your hands brushed her supple cheek, a finger curling at the second knuckle as you allowed for your skin to brush against hers. The blanket she was wrapped him hung from your arms, soft corners hanging in the air and brushing against your legs with every step that you took. He smiled at how the sleeves of the — his — sweatshirt you wore were slightly bunched up at your wrists, the fabric almost ballooning around your arm due to the size. He took in the tired lines that had pressed into your face, ones that he was sure matched his own, but they were marks that you each came to wear with pride. They were marks of parenthood. 

His smile grew once more as he watched you turn, your body moving towards the open door, your feet coming to a gentle halt just before the doorway. You kept her shielded from the crisp morning air, your sweatshirt-clad arms tucked around her as the oversized fabric acted as a warm wall to protect her from a threatening chill. He could just make out the details of her as you came to the door, his eyes finding the delicate features of her face and feeling how his heart leaped at the sight. She was so precious to see, her eyes closed, and little hands clenched into small fists as they gripped onto the fabric of the sweatshirt that adorned your body.

“I like the summer rain, I like the sounds you make,” Calum’s voice gently carried out into the morning air as he sang the chorus for a final time, eyes remaining set on the sight of his sleeping daughter as he sang, “We put the world away, we get so disconnected.”

Slowly raising his gaze, his eyes came to meet yours. The sight of your smile made his heart feel like it could burst, the slight push up of your cheeks as your eyes were soft as they connected with his. He felt his heart flutter as he continued to sing, fingers strumming the melody of a song he knew you loved to hear, even after all the years. He watched as your body swayed still, your movements in time with the soft strumming on his fingers against the delicate strings of the guitar in his lap.

Eyes never tearing from yours, Calum watched as your lips moved along with the words which he continued to sing, the lyrics being lost in the springtime air as they fell from your lips in a peaceful breath with no volume unlike him. You both kept smiling as Calum reached the end of the song, fingers plucking the melodic chords with ease as he played the final few notes and allowed for his hands to fall against the strings with a final strum.

“I could get used to the sound of you playing in the morning again,” You let out a blissful sigh as you looked out at him. “I’ve missed it, and I think someone else has to.”

Calum chuckled as he stood to his feet, one hand grasping the neck of his guitar, while the other took a hold of the half-empty mug that he had placed on the floor earlier. Bare feet padding against the ground as he made his way back over to where you stood, one foot becoming perched on the step as he came to stand in front of you.

The golden sunlight bounced off him, the warm glow shining against his skin as he stood in the open air. He was a beautiful sight to see, a sight that made your heart sing almost as beautifully as he had done seconds before.

“I guess you could say I was inspired this morning, being in my favourite place with my favourite people,” He let out a soft laugh, his smile wide as he gazed down at you. You joined his eyes as they drifted further down, both sets of eyes falling to the sight of her as she continued to sleep soundly in your arms. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here.”

There was nothing like being at home, wrapped up in the home comforts that Calum had come to love. His home was his safe space, a place where he could be himself, a place to unwind after a long day, a place where he could find the happiness and beauty in the life that he had claimed for himself. It was a place unlike any other. 

It was a place where he had those who mattered most. It was a place where he had everything he could ever want or need.

There was no place like home.

---

Tag List: @steviemae​​ @elsysoza​ @treatallwithkindness​​ @loveroflrh​​ @another-lonely-heart​ @zhangyixingxing1​​ @devilatmydoor​​ @karajaynetoday​​ @ophelia-enthusiast​​ @hoodhoran​​ @lyss-xo​​ @tpwkcth @mythicalamphitrite​​ @hemmo1996-5sosvevo​​ @maggiesupertramp​​ @calpops​ (if it’s crossed out it means I couldn’t find your blog to tag you)

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[absolutepokemontrash]

You don't need to write this if you dont want too because it's up to you but this is something wholsome

WHAT IF L!MC M!M & BBY A!MC BECOME BABIES AND THERE EVEONES HAS TO CARE FOR THEM,

I apologize for having such horrible writing and grammer. I never payed attention in school, nor could I afford to pay attention 👉😎👉

Bro I feel you on the not paying attention in school thing. Fear not, dearest asker, ask for demon babies, and since I am a merciful writer, you shall receive.

Oh Shit, Half-Demon Babies are Running Amok Send Diapers and Help-

Mini summary for the casual reader, L!MC is Lucifer’s half demon child who got summoned into the Devildom to be one of the human exchange students, M!MC is Mammon’s half demon kid, and A!MC is Asmo’s. Let’s get to the fic!

Ah, what a relaxing day... Lucifer was sitting back in his desk chair, enjoying a nice glass of Demonus and listening to one of his favourite cursed vinyls. He had done a damn good job on his work earlier and Diavolo had insisted there was no more work to be done and he could have the weekend all to himself.

Of course, his brothers were still a factor that could have ruined his me-time... on any other weekend! Satan had just gotten a new encyclopedia to read, so he wouldn’t be causing any trouble, Beel and Belphie were going to take that Devildom food tour, Mammon and M!MC were planning on spending the entire weekend shopping, Asmo and A!MC were going up to the human world on Saturday and staying until Sunday, and Levi... He got a sudden burst of inspiration for his Animal Crossing Island and most likely wouldn’t be leaving his room for the next month. Lastly, L!MC wouldn’t be causing any problems, his child would probably spend their time with him rambling about musicals or anime they had seen, and Lucifer found their intense interest very adorable.

Ah... peace and quiet...

...

...why did Lucifer hear crying?

There, standing in the entrance hall of the House of Lamentation, was Solomon, holding three screaming babies.

What, and I cannot stress this enough, THE HELL?!

“Ah, Lucifer,” Solomon attempted to wave hello, but needing to continue to bounce one of the babies on his hip kind of hindered the gesture, not that Lucifer wanted a wave at that moment. “I’m sure you have questions.”

After everyone had gathered into the living room, Solomon explained how a spell gone awry had hit L!MC, M!MC, and A!MC with the effect of turning the three into the screaming infants that stood (or... awkwardly sprawled out) in front of them.

On the bright side, the spell only had a timespan of roughly two days, so they wouldn’t be stuck like that forever.

Everyone sat in silence for a few minutes (save for the babies, who were still either crying or incoherently babbling) as they processed that information. Lucifer, ever the flawless older brother and leader, stood up and clapped his hands together once.

“Alright then, everyone cancel your weekend plans, we need to deal with this.”

Lucifer’s dearest little brothers all whined in protest, Satan in particular. “They’re not our kids, why do Belphie, Beel, Levi, and I need to cancel our plans?!”

“Satan,” Lucifer said sternly. “You don’t remember this, but it took six people to take care of one of you. The kids may only be half demons but there are three of them. We need all hands on deck. Besides, if you all want someone to blame, blame Solomon.”

Everyone turned and levelled their practically murderous glared at the sorcerer, who suddenly pulled baby A!MC into his lap and began to rock them back and forth.

“I have never felt more unsafe.” Solomon laughed nervously. “But you wouldn’t kill me while I’m holding my not-child would you?”

Asmo stomped over and snatched A!MC away from Solomon. “I can’t believe you- ACK! A!MC! Stop drooling!”

A!MC had a long trail of drool coming out of their mouth which caused Asmo to shriek and hold A!MC at arms length away. “Stop that! That’s gross, A!MC, you know better.”

The adorable baby continued to babble and drool.

Mammon picked up M!MC, who almost immediately stopped crying upon seeing Mammon’s watch, they began making grab hands at it. “Ah, ya want the watch?”

M!MC squealed in delight as Mammon dangled the watch above them, Mammon was delighted that his little brat still had their expensive taste, even as a baby. “Hey, look at me! I’m doin’ pretty good! Suck it, Asmo!”

As Asmo and Mammon bickered, Lucifer took the time to look at L!MC, they pulled at Lucifer’s tie and hummed to themselves. They were mind numbingly cute despite the screeching they were doing earlier. The sight tugged at the cold spot where Lucifer’s heart should have been, he had missed this part of his child’s life... maybe just that weekend he’d get a chance to-

“Solomon where do you think you’re going?” Lucifer was pulled from his thoughts when he noticed the shifty bastard trying to make his escape. “You’re staying to help manage this nonsense.”

—————

A!MC may have been an absolute ray of sunshine normally, but as a baby, they definitely lived up to the term demon-spawn.

A!MC would scream, cry and pitch a fit if they didn’t get what they wanted immediately, not that they had any way of articulating what they wanted because they were a god damn baby! Asmo and Solomon were at the point where they were just holding stuff out to A!MC to see if it would make them stop crying.

“Come on butterfly, don’t you like this... antique perfume bottle?” Asmo asked, A!MC took one look at it, then burst into flames and started wailing again. “For the love of my father WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!”

Now there were two sobbing messes in the room, and one was on fire. Solomon quickly magically took care of A!MC’s little fire problem (the baby was fiiiiiiine, demon babies light themselves on fire all the time!), picked A!MC up, sat down on Asmo’s bed, and snapped his fingers. Tiny balls of light gently floated into the air around the three, Asmo looked up from his pity party upon hearing A!MC stop their crying.

“See, you still like my magic, even as a baby, right A!MC?” Solomon asked, A!MC looked around in silent wonder, trying to reach up and touch the lights.

“Oh Solomon, this almost makes me forgive you for screwing up my weekend plans...” Asmo sighed in relief, he sat next to Solomon and pulled A!MC into his lap. “Not very colourful though, is it? Let me fix that.”

Asmo smiled as his own magic added streaks of colour, it was like their very own private showing of the northern lights. A!MC had on one of those goofy baby smiles that can make even the grumpiest person smile back.

Solomon and Asmo shaped some of the lights into shapes and animals, Asmo let a pink butterfly land on A!MC’s nose, much to their adorable delight.

“And that one’s a bird, and that one’s a giraffe,”

“That’s an alpaca.”

“Sorry, an alpaca with a weirdly long neck, oh! And a sheep!” Asmo looked down at his lap where A!MC sat and tickled their sides. “Everyone likes sheep!”

He then quickly shaped a ball of light into a scorpion and made it scuttle into A!MC’s lap. “But I have to say, scorpions are the best.”

The fifth born sighed in contentment as their sweet little hellspawn continued to watch the magic show. Never in his life did Asmodeus ever think he’d be this happy holding a baby, usually babies were things he thought should be handled with hazmat suits, but not at that moment. His little butterfly truly did have him wrapped around their finger.

“Asmo, hey, Asmo,” Asmo looked over at Solomon, who had a glowing triangle over one of his eyes. “Would you like to join my secret society?”

“Solomon, you are ruining the moment.”

——————

“C’mon kiddo! Eat your damn food!” Mammon once again tried to shove the spoon into his kid’s mouth with the same result as the 50 previous attempts.

“YUCKY!” M!MC shouted and slapped the spoon away.

“Here,” Beel took the spoon from Mammon. “Maybe it’s yucky like they said.”

Beel ate what was on the spoon, then smiled brightly. “You can really taste the mango!”

“See bud..? Beel likes it.” Mammon gestured at Beel, who was eating the entire jar of baby food as Belphie watched in amusement. He was such an asset to the team. “Beel! They need to eat!”

“Fine, let me try.” Belphie grabbed another spoon, and waved it in M!MC’s face. “Here comes the airplane... whoosh... whoosh...”

M!MC didn’t budge, Belphie knitted his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. “Okay, fine, be that way.”

Levi pushed open the door to the kitchen, and upon seeing the scene before him, immediately turned and tried to leave. “Nope! Food isn’t worth getting spit up all over me-”

Mammon lunged forward, grabbed the back of Levi’s jacket and practically yanked him into the kitchen, he slapped a spoon into his hand and smiled. “C’mon, do a favour for your super great big brother!”

The third born looked at M!MC, who defiantly stared back at him, the baby had the upper hand and the little brat knew it. Babies were so much cuter in anime...

Levi nervously stepped forward and held out the spoon like a weapon. “O-okay M-M-M!MC... you need to eat your food... pls... pls eat.”

M!MC said nothing, they only did what most babies did.

...

They spun their head 90 degrees until the back of their head was all Levi could see.

Everyone in the kitchen stood in complete silence, until Mammon jumped a foot in the air and started screaming bloody murder. “MY BABY!”

He dove forward and scooped M!MC up in his arms, the baby, obviously freaked out by the sudden loud noise, had begun to cry.

“It’s okay! It’s okay! Uh... uh...” Mammon looked around frantically. “Hush little baby don’t say a word... papas gonna buy you a mockingbird. And if that mockingbird don’t sing, papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring... and if that diamond ring is brass, butitwon’tbebecauseyouroldmanwouldn’tgetcheatedlikethat-”

M!MC spun their head back to its correct position, but their crying sounds were now several octaves lower... It sounded like if someone put a baby in the Darth Vader mask but without the weird breathing sounds...

Mammon looked to Belphie. “I’m blankin’ on nursery rhymes! Ya hafta know some kid songs!”

Belphie, after being put on the spot, suddenly forgot every single nursery rhyme and lullaby any of his brothers had ever sung to him. Oh! A song popped into his head! He could sing that!

“Lizzie Borden took an axe, gave her mother forty whacks, when she saw what she had done, she gave her father forty one-”

“Not that one!” Mammon squeaked, holding M!MC closer to him. M!MC’s voice had returned to normal, the next problem is that they were only speaking in infernal. “Somethin’ else!”

“There was an old lady who swallowed a fly,” Beel began to sing. “I don’t know why she swallowed that fly... I forgot the rest of the song...”

“Dammit... Leviiiiii!” Mammon wheezed, desperately trying to calm the angrily growling M!MC. “Sing! Sing anything!”

“A-anything?” Only one song came to mind. “Uh um... With the doors of heaven and Hell barred, there is no other but the guard, Master of the Hellish Yard...”

Mammon lit up and nodded like Levi had just offered him a million Grimm. “Aw hell yeah! This song!”

He handed M!MC to Beel and began to dance and sing next to Levi, who had really gotten into the song as well!

“With those sins that you've committed, If you pay you'll be acquitted, and your crimes all permitted,” the two paused for dramatic effect before both belting out the best line in the song.

“ONLY ONES WITH CASH DO WELL, WELL AT LEAST IN HELL!”

As Levi and Mammon continued to sing, M!MC became so entranced by the dance, that they stopped their demonic babbling and just watched the second and third born dance and sing the English cover of an old vocaloid song. Belphie and Beel made brief confused eye contact to make sure the other twin was seeing the same thing.

The duo finished the song and took a bow, Beel lightly tapped M!MC’s chubby baby hands together to make it look like they were clapping. It was enough for Mammon and Levi.

“Thank you, thank you,” Mammon said. “We’ll be here forever, next show ain’t free.”

“We should sing The Tailor on Enbizaka next!”

“Levi! No! That song is like... seven minutes long!”

“Hey, morons,” Belphie stuck his thumb at M!MC. “They still haven’t eaten.”

Mammon’s triumphant expression dropped right to the floor. “Ah fuck...”

——————

“Satan, where’s L!MC-” Lucifer looked up at the ceiling of Satan’s room and his jaw dropped. “WHAT ARE THEY DOING UP THERE?!”

“I can’t get them down!” Satan hissed back.

L!MC. L!MC the BABY. They were on the ceiling. They were sitting upside down on the ceiling like it was an average Friday. Lucifer was too old for this shit...

“L!MC.” Lucifer held out his arms, L!MC squinted at him, that’s when Lucifer remembered L!MC was practically blind without their glasses. “L!MC, it’s your father, come here.”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried calling them down like that?!” Satan spat as he quickly ran a hand through his hair.

Lucifer shot a glare at Satan, then Lucifer heard something that nearly made his (lack of) heart stop. Oh no- L!MC was yawning-

L!MC yawned and suddenly detached from the ceiling. Lucifer and Satan both dove forward to catch L!MC, which culminated in one of Satan’s piles of books falling down, but with L!MC safe and sound.

“Damn it.” Satan grumbled as Lucifer shifted to properly hold L!MC. “This is going to take forever to clean...”

“That was clean?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow as L!MC began to fuss slightly.

Satan growled and rolled his eyes. “Yes, it was clean thank you very much. I knew exactly where everything was.”

The cat that unofficially ruled the House of Lamentation pranced into Satan’s room like it didn’t have a care in the world, it began to bat at one of the loose papers that had been scattered around the floor. Detective Toe Beans, you’re an esteemed detective, and technically RAD’s mascot, stop that!

Satan scooped up the cat and began to put the books back in the pile, when Lucifer noticed a familiar, beat-up old book lying near the bottom of the pile.

“Ah, I remember this book,” Lucifer leaned down and picked it up, showing the cover to L!MC, who didn’t seem very interested and continued petting the fur part of Lucifer’s jacket. “It’s good for a bedtime story, right L!MC?”

Lucifer tucked the book under his arm and turned to leave when Satan practically shot upwards. “If you think you can just take that out of my room, you’re completely delusional.”

“Are you seriously going to whine about getting a bedtime story for L!MC?”

“CAT!” L!MC looked over Lucifer’s shoulder and reached for Detective Toe Beans. “CAT!”

“Yes L!MC, cat.” Lucifer whispered to them, then turned back to Satan. “And if I’m remembering correctly, I used to read this to you. Do you really want to deprive poor L!MC of bedtime stories from me?”

“Pff... deprive...” Satan rolled his eyes and huffed. “I’d be saving them. You were the only one who never did any voices for the characters, I was bored to sleep.”

Satan walked forward and swiped the book from Lucifer. “If anyone’s reading L!MC a bedtime story, it should be me. I’m twice the storyteller you’ll ever be.”

Lucifer scoffed. “Ridiculous. We’ll both read L!MC a story and they can tell us who did best when they get back to normal.”

“Fine by me.”

The three (four if you count Bean) were soon seated on the couch in Lucifer’s room. Lucifer took the first story.

Satan listened along and absentmindedly pet Bean, hearing a story he had heard over and over again had managed to bring back memories of a time where he had significantly less control over his wrath. Every night he’d demand a bedtime story or he’d throw a tantrum unlike anything the Devildom had ever seen.

The eldest was always there to swoop in and read Satan a story whenever the little ball of seething rage looked ready to kill the unfortunate brother who told him it was bedtime.

It had gotten to the point that Satan could recite most of the stories in the book completely by heart. He chuckled under his breath as he remembered the time he matter of factly told Lucifer that he’d be reading him the bedtime story that night and proceeded to pretend to read the story of The Hydra and the Pufferfish. He hadn’t actually learned to read, much to Lucifer’s dismay, Satan just memorized what to say and when to turn the pages.

Though, it was apparently impressive enough at the time to warrant a head pat from Lucifer.

The fourth born leaned closer to Lucifer to get a better look at the book’s illustrations. They were always slightly off and strange looking, much like the pictures in the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark book that L!MC had given Satan for his birthday.

Lucifer abruptly stopped reading.

“Why’d you stop?” Satan looked up at Lucifer, then over at L!MC. Aw... Satan didn’t even get a chance to read...

“Our audience has fallen asleep.” Lucifer stifled a yawn and prepared to close the book, Satan quickly shoved his hand on the page to stop him.

“You started reading,” Satan looked away and grumbled. “So at least finish the story...”

Lucifer smirked and opened the book back up. “If you insist, Satan.”

————————

Yayyyyy! Babies! I’m sure the three get back to normal by Monday... hopefully...

Here’s a link to the song Levi and Mammon are singing!

I hope you all enjoyed! As of the time I’m posting this, the next set of Lessons 1-5 Headcanons will be out tomorrow at 8:30 pm EST.

[barbiedha-deactivatingsoon]

A New Year Tradition

Because Barbie's New Year's Eve vlog was soooo cute and fantastic and it also gave us some Karbie crumbs... I got inspired from it so I wrote a drabble.

Here's a short from me to you to start off the new year! Cheers to 2022 ya’ll! 🥂 ===================================

Barbie gazed at the beautiful fireworks lighting up the sky in the distance. Since she's not a fan of the deafening noises of firecrackers, her parents graciously agreed to just watch the light show at the beach from their house. She decided to watch alone at pool deck while Renee and her family enjoyed Skipper's perfected lavender-infused lemonade in the backyard.

"Hey." Ken suddenly popped up from behind her holding a slice of apple pie that Renee made. "Mind if join you?"

"Of course." She gestures beside her and he accepts.

"You should really try this pie!" He mumbles through a mouth full of food. "It's so good."

She giggled at the crumbs flying out of his mouth. "And you really should learn to not talk while you're eating."

Ken holds the fork with a pie chunk towards her. "Wanna bite?"

She opens her mouth without hesitation and bites onto the piece. "Mm... yum."

"So why are you here all alone?"

"What? The view's nicer here."

"True... true..." he chuckled.

He sets the plate aside and leans against the rails, his elbow now touching hers. They enjoyed watching the firecrackers in silence, delighting over the beautiful explosion of hues coloring the black canvas of the night sky.

"Did you really mean what you said back there?" Barbie asked. Her curiosity finally getting the better of her. She'd been wanting to address the thing he mentioned right when they were counting down for New Years, but felt too shy to ask him about while being surrounded by others.

He suddenly grew quiet. His cheeks were quick to turn pink and he started awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other as the question hung in the air. She had to suppress a laugh at how flustered he looked.

"Of course, I did," he said, timidly. A flash of blue splatters across the sky, illuminating his features in an enticing way.

A thought came to mind, and it made Barbie blush and turn away. Ken noticed this and inched his head closer, offering a wry smile.

"You thinking about something?"

"Um... well���" She shyly tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, side-eyeing him as the idea slowly embarrasses her. "You know... there's a tradition that couples kiss at exactly 12 midnight to celebrate the New Year, right?"

His brows shot up and all of a sudden he was even more flabbergasted than before. "I-uh—y-yes... I suppose I am er... aware of that trend." He stuttered through nervous coughing.

She doesn't know how or where she got the courage, but she grabbed his hands firmly in hers and faced him head on.

"Would you like to kiss me, Ken?" her voice shook slightly as she said that. It was dawning on her of how much she was being bold right now and it might not lead up to the result she intended to.

"Huh?" he articulated dumbfoundedly.

Barbie giggled again, releasing one of his hands to close his dropped jaw. "I said... would you like to kiss me this New Year, Ken?"

His eyes drops its gaze to her lips, fumbling over himself to form the right words. But the way she squeezed his hand gave him the affirmation he needed. "Y-yeah. I'd really like that, Barbie."

The smile on her face was a thousand times more brilliant that any fireworks he'd seen tonight. And then she was angling her face towards him, brushing her lips gently against his before pressing further for a more passionate kiss.

His hand found itself on her lower back, pulling her in, while his other hand held her face, feeling her supple skin underneath his fingertips as he melted at the sensation of her sweet taste on his lips.

She panted when they finally let go, eyes closed as she breathed. And Ken just realized how his arm was now fully wrapped around her waist. Her hands were still clung onto his shirt when she opened her eyes to look at him.

His breath was warm on her face. "Have I ever told you how pretty you are in that red dress?"

She chuckled and relaxed a bit more into his arms. "No. But I have noticed you always staring at me when I put this on. It's nice to finally hear an actual compliment though."

Another sequence of firecrackers made them look up to marvel at it, but somehow it felt different now. More heartfelt. And when they looked back at each other, their smiles for each other went way beyond just pure elation.

"Happy New Year, Barbie."

“Happy New Year, Ken."

[curator-on-ao3]

21 answers for a fanfic 2021

1. fandoms you wrote for this year

Star Trek: Voyager

Star Trek: Picard

Star Trek: Lower Decks

Star Trek: The Next Generation

Ted Lasso

2. favorite fic you wrote this year

I’m really proud of The Autobiography of Kirsten Clancy. I’ve always wanted to write a character backstory, and am grateful to have had the opportunity.

3. favorite fic you read this year

I fangirled — hard — for Who Shot AR’s Everything Will Come Right (If You Only Believe), a Julius Eaton/Kay Eaton origin story from Star Trek: Deep Space Nine’s “Far Beyond the Stars” universe. I misted up for parts of @marymoss1971’s The Inspiration, in which newly minted Captain Kathryn Janeway visits a mentor, Captain Benjamin Maxwell, who is in prison due to the events of TNG’s “The Wounded.” I, of course, delighted in @ussjellyfish bringing Kirsten and Matthew Clancy into her Star Trek: Janeways universe with her delightfully naughty Unscheduled Time and sweet what we can. Oh, and the Michael Burnham & Paul Stamets conversation in SiderumInCaelo’s i don’t forgive you (but please don’t hold me to it) was exactly the between-the-seasons discussion I needed for those two characters.

4. favorite opening line/scene you wrote this year

I’m pleased with both opening scenes of Fly Me to the Moon, a non-linear Kathryn Janeway/Tom Paris story that examines four universes of their relationship — three canon and one AU.

5. favorite ending line/scene you wrote this year

Again, I’m pleased with both endings to Fly Me to the Moon. I love the feeling of tying up a story with a little bow, and I think I did it well on that one.

6. a trope you wrote this year

I actually kicked off the year with a Kathryn Janeway/Tom Paris four times, one time: Console Me (Four Times Paris and Janeway Almost Had Sex and One Time They Did).

7. pairings you wrote this year

Just looking at main pairings, not sub-pairings, I wrote:

Jet Manhaver & Tom Paris

Kirsten Clancy/Original Character (Matthew Clancy)

Raffi Musiker/Seven of Nine

Kirsten Clancy & Jean-Luc Picard

Kirsten Clancy & Sonya Gomez

Kirsten Clancy & Edward Jellico

Kirsten Clancy & Simon Tarses

(untagged, but I’m proud of it) Kirsten Clancy & Tom Paris

Kathryn Janeway/Tom Paris

Kathryn Janeway & Tom Paris

Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway

Tom Paris/B’Elanna Torres

Kathryn Janeway/B’Elanna Torres

Kathryn Janeway/Kes

Kathryn Janeway/Harry Kim

The Doctor (Star Trek)/Kathryn Janeway

Keeley Jones/Roy Kent (Ted Lasso)

8. a fic regret from this year

I don’t know.

9. a song that helped you write

Fly Me to the Moon (of course). That fic had an entire playlist. And I have, ahem, four Clancy playlists.

10. total number of fics you posted

I think 14 [edit: 15 — another little one happened]. (It’s a little hard to tell with so many crossovers within the Trekverse and one fic that carries over from last year.)

11. total number of words you posted

92,769 [edit: 92,960 — yes, the little addition was very little]

12. most popular fic written this year

By hits, kudos, subscriptions, bookmarks, and comment threads, Fly Me to the Moon was my most popular fic this year, which makes me happy because I am very proud of it. (Shout out to beta extraordinaire @caladeniablue! 🎉)

13. least popular fic written this year

It’s a little tougher to tell least popular, but I think In Bed has my lowest hit and kudos count. That’s okay. I knew my E-rated vignettes that dip into The Autobiography of Kirsten Clancy universe through the perspective of Matthew Clancy wouldn’t get a lot of traffic. I’m pleased with the work, though, and that’s important.

14. longest completed fic you posted this year

That would be The Autobiography of Kirsten Clancy, at 32,536 words.

15. shortest completed fic you posted this year

As a stand-alone story, the shortest is Starlight, a 154-word, G-rated, Chakotay/Kathryn Janeway musing on the ways different people see and express love.

16. favorite character to write about this year

Kirsten Quayle Clancy

17. a fic you didn’t expect to write

All of them.

18. most memorable comment/review

So many! When Fly Me to the Moon comments became a forum for Tom Paris character analysis, I could feel my fandom soul begin to ascend. Also, every time someone commented some variation of, “How did you make me care about Kirsten Clancy?” or, “I don’t usually ship this, but …” or, “I’m so happy you wrote this friendship/scenario/pairing,” my writerly heart filled with joy. I don’t want to single anyone out, but comments wishing for an Autobiography of Kirsten Clancy book club, comments from regular commenters who said they tried something new because I wrote it, and comments from re-readers were all especially meaningful.

19. trends you noticed in your writing this year

I don’t know why but, across three stories, I wrote experiences during and immediately after Wolf 359 for Kathryn Janeway, Tom Paris, Raffi Musiker, and Kirsten Clancy, plus glimpses for Nick Locarno and Edward Jellico, the latter of whom was in two stories, so he got two experiences — and two characterizations.

20. fics you wanted to write but didn’t

Real life has been demanding this year. I have a few fics I hope to finish next year.

21. something you want to write next year

I’d like to finish my post-Endgame Kathryn Janeway/Mark Johnson story. I also have a few other WIPs rattling around. But I just don’t know.

If anyone has questions on any of that, please ask. Also, if you write, I’d love to read your fanfic 2021 answers!

[imtryingthisout]

I’ll cut away me Bonny hair, let no man ever think me fair

Fandom: Descendants

Ship: Fem!Harry Hook x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3,415

Content: It’s a self insert fic inspired by @descendantofthesparrow check out their series and art if you like this. I’m not sure about any warnings, but there is references to British Imperialism and just The Isle of The Lost in general. Ask me to tag anything if you come across it.

———————————————————————-

It was a calm night.

The push and pull of the tides was a mighty sight, but their temperament was overall sedated. Waves of drowsy titans swaying on their feet. There were ships that lined the shore, vessels of varying shapes and sizes and degrees of being intact. Some had their ribs ripped open by thieving hands, cannibalized by their captains and left to rot tethered to their anchor. All empty husks of rot wood and former glory, that rocked like cradles in the breeze. Dipping lower and lower till their cheeks brushed the ocean, before rising upwards to repeat the cycle once more.

Pirate’s Port was a town that was seldom silent, in fact it had quite the reputation to the contrary, yet as the fog rolled in from the sea, sinking low and to the ground, reaching its long and heavy hands around the bases of driftwood shacks and other buildings, not a whisper could be heard amidst the streets. The few people who lingered in the Night Market took one good look at the creeping white mist and quickly fled into their houses. Curious children who mustered the will to stick their heads outside the window frames or from the corner of doorways were hastily ushered inside by their guardians. One young girl nursed a busted earlobe, that her Mother had yanked so fast and hard to get her to move indoors, that it now sported a dark red bruising.

A single man walked along the streets. Stumbling along the cobblestone path till he came to the end of the seaport. He stood there for a breath, as fog swirled around the old wooden pole beside the street. The remnants of a great mast, now left to crumble by the sidewalk. Old barnacles, moss and other things stuck to the sides of it poked against his back as he rested his weight beside its frame.

The clothes he wore, if they could be called that, were tattered and ragged and hung off his frame in great sheets of cloth. They might have fit a different man, once. Grains of salt stuck to his beard and hair, catching the reflection of the water like stars in a blackened and oily sky. His fingers were wrapped in stained cloth and bound with a myriad of dirty copper and golden rings.

Those fingers were wrapped around an old harmonica, silver, clean, with the likeness of twisting vines and waves etched into the frame. Hours of craftsmanship decorating its borders. His grip around it was so tight, it drew the skin around his knuckles white, as he held the instrument to his cracked lips and let out a mournful tune. His song the only echo in the darkness.

“I dreamed a dream the other night, lowlands, lowlands away, my John. I dreamed a dream the other night, lowlands, lowlands away~”

There was no moonlight on the Isle of the Lost, even now, for on the rare occasion that the moon dared show her fair face, the omnipresent storm clouds that plagued the land marred her, obscuring her smiling figure. There was no moonlight on the Isle of the Lost, nor was there starlight, or streetlamps.

Night time was an abstract shadow here, where reality seemed twisted and fearful. The only thing illuminating the dark streets and alleyways, was the light emitting from the crevices and cracks of house windows, as well as the occasional fire pit, but tonight the windows were shut, the cracks stuffed with cloth, and every barrel of flame doused with water and ash. There was no moonlight on the Isle of the Lost.

But the sea, who so loved the moon and her light, would never deny her glory, so for the lonesome ship who drifted, not by the shore, rather in the heart of the tide, their deck was basked in a pale luster. As well as the two figures who sat beside each other.

You have one hand burrowed deep into the inky black curls of Harry Hook and the other on the handle of a knife. The shine of the blade catches the silver light burning from the moon above the two of you, the silent observer whose gaze watches as you move the blade closer and closer to the flesh of the neck. A flash of heat runs down your spine as you-

“Hurry it up would ye, I’m starting to get a crick in me neck”

-slice upwards through your handful of hair. Watching absentmindedly as some rogue strands flutter down and are carried to the sea by the breeze. “This would be a lot faster if I had proper scissors” you mutter low beneath your breath. Not low enough apparently, because the next thing you hear is Harry replying “It’s not me fault I got hair growin’ thicker than tha soup at Ursula's Slop”

You angle your knife and get to work cleaning up the final few edges. “It wouldn't be so hard if ya didn’t insist on cutting it every time it gets longer than a butter knife’s blade. I swear- would it kill ya to grow it a bit longer? Let ya curls show?”

“And let people compare me more to me Da? Walking around like some great fop, nah, me name is bad enough, don’t wanna be walking around lookin’ like a pale shadow of that bloody English fool”

“Oi watch it” you say, bringing your blade playfully closer to nicking him before correcting it at the very last moment, “Don’t forget my Mother is of English blood”

“Ha! And you’ll ne’er catch a englishman claimin’ her!” Harry exclaimed, kicking a foot out to mark the punctuation” I swe’r the day that Elizabeth Swann is called a sassenach is the day the barrier breaks”

Her movement causes you to accidentally slash a bit too close to her skin, making the hair fall awkwardly. You bite your tongue to keep from scowling, and get to work correcting the cut. “Quit squirming- I still have to clean up this last bit fore’ ya can be back to moving about”

“Ughhhh- whyyy, I’ve been sittin’ he’re for ages” Harry groans, you can practically hear her pouting expression. Even so she stops, reluctantly, sullenly, she keeps her body as still as the statue, not even twiddling her thumbs.

“You know, when someone has a knife to your neck, you could stand to talk to them a bit more politely” Harriet Hook, whose name invokes such wrath that even her own father calls her Harry, turns to look at you. The grin that sails across her face is nothing short of wicked. “Of course, how rude of me to forget me manners. After all, it isn't every day one gets to rub elbows with royalty” She says, drawling out the word royalty with a flourish. You would be lying if you said that something in your heart didnt flutter at her voice, but you would be damned if you let her score an easy victory over you. You roll your eyes to the moon and back. “Oh stop that nonsense Hook'' you say, giving a stray lock of hair a quick tug. “Ain't no royalty on the Isle, no matter how The Fair Folk of Bargains Castle want to pretend otherwise”

“Aye but that's where you’re wrong Miss Swann.” You snip away the final strand. “The way I see it this ship has got not one, but two! Two whole members of royalty gracing us with their presence” Harry slides away from you like water in a strain, spinning around your waist and forcing you to turn around to follow her movement. Her voice is loud. Loud and full of delight, the very definition of boisterous. “First off we have our very own Captain- The Queen of The Sea!” she laughs with her arms extended upwards and to the sky. And something, you cannot say what, in you relaxes. Harry’s love for Uma was a familiar sight. It was a eternal spring that you could feel laced around every word that fell from her lips. Harry stands radiant in her adoration. “Oh but let’s not neglect our Dear Miss Swann, whose Mam ruled over fleets of ships- an armada! And dared to claim the Pirate King’s Crown”

Your fingers furl themselves around the hair in your hands. A part of you wants to braid it, hide it in a locket and keep it close to your heart forever. “How long must I remind you Hook, my name is free to say?”

“At least once more Miss Swann”, she says and takes your hand into hers “For I do so love it when you plead”. She bows, slowly, deeply in a way that would make your Mother’s old governess cringe at the impropriety- and kisses the back of your hand.

(Her lips are warm and rough against your skin, the chapness tickles slightly as she lingers. Looking up at you with eyes paler than riverstones and twinkling with mirth. Second stars to the left and right, stolen from the sky and embedded in her sockets.)

Your knife hits the wood with a clang and a thud, a faint part of you redisters the noise, but the whole of your head is swarming with heat and air. The goosebumps on your arms stand still and tall and you can’t say it's from the cold. Your bones feel hollow, your spirit barely tethered, you are a mind outside of your body outside of yourself and you wonder if this is what pixie dust feels like.

(Harry Hook’s lips are still pressed against your hand. Her eyes fixed onto yours. At first her expression is playful- cocky. All wiggling eyebrows and the crinkles of laughter, but as the silence stretches on it shifts. Confusion blooms with the tilt of the head. A wordless question written in the furrowing of the brow. Then, suddenly, her eyes widen and grow wild with realisation- before hardening into something else. Something more akin to victory.)

“Why Miss Swann-” Harry says moving forward, lacing both of your fingers together and closing the space between you, till you can feel the sting of her grin burn across your cheek. Her laughter rings like toll bells in your ear, sealing your fate. “Do you fancy me?”

You should take your hand back, you know you should take your hand back.

You don’t want to take your hand back.

A retort bubbles in the back of your throat, with that thought, its rough and scratching and feels just like the lock of hair curled around your fingers. You don’t want to let go. There is saltwater roaring behind your back as the sea dips the ship in a lover’s embrace. Harry’s hand grips your hand is gripped to your chest. She’s waiting. You can see it in the corner of your vision, expecting eyes that seem so blue, they shine silver in the night air.

So you answer, in the only way you possibly can. “What’s my name?”

“What?”

You run your free hand through her hair, balling a fist near the center of the scalp and pulling hard- taking her face off of yours and forcing your eyes to meet. “What’s my name Hook, I want to hear you say it” you say, it’s not a question anymore, not a plea, but a command.

And Harry Hook will always heed a command.

“Cassandra Swann” she whispers, the words fall clumsily out of her mouth and into your heart. You smile beneath her chin, using the leverage to pull yourself higher. You growl against her flesh “Again”

“Cassandra Swan”

A shrieking laugh escapes your lips, “Again!” you scream “Again! Again! Again!”

Harry loops her arms around you, killing the space between the two of you. “Cassandra” she says, “Cassandra, Cassandra, Cassanra Swann” With every reprise her words get smoother, and soon “Cassandra! Cassandra!” flies effortlessly from her mouth, as if she had always longed to say it, as if it was always meant to be there. Harry lifts your body into the air and spins the two of you around the deck all the while murmuring into your hair “Daughter of Elizabeth, Prince of Pirates, Daughter of William, Heir of The Flyin’ Dutchman”

The tips of your boots graze the floorboards as Harry’s momentum lessens and lessens, slowing to a stop near the center of the deck. Your head is pressed firmly to her chest. Here, in this place of comfort, you can hear the frantic beating of her heart, the rise and fall of her breath, the rush of blood beneath her flesh. You feel the storm that rages inside of her. And still she holds you close.

You linger there for a breath, hands clinched around the fabric of her shirt, while the two of you sway with the breeze. You’ve danced before, danced atop this very deck even, but nothing can compare to the silent watz the two of you share here and now. Just you and your love and the Moon. Harry’s touch is firm and soft and oh so gentle with you. If this were anyone else you would say it was hesitant, but that thought was absurd- Harry Hook was never hesitant, you weren’t sure she even knew the word. If she saw something she wanted, she took it. If she saw something she hated, she destroyed it. Love, rage, sorrow, desire, she bore them all proudly before the world, without shame or modesty. Harry Hook lived a life without restraint.

There is shifting under your fingernails, you are gripping her so, so tightly, as if you’re afraid she is not but a visiting dream, a girl made of moonlight and shadow, a passing specter doomed to fade away come dawn.

A strikingly strong gust of wind sends your hair flying outward and towards the sky. Waves of sun-kissed and flaxen strands twist and knot in the air, creating an arch of golden color above your head. You, with your father’s skin and days spent working out at sea, and Harry, with hair darker than the space between stars and skin so fair it put the moon to shame, the two of you were quite the contradictory pair.

Then the wind abides and Harry laughs as your hair falls in front of your face.

“Oh ha-ha hook,” you say, blowing a gust of breath up to get the threads up and out of your eyes, which only makes her chuckle louder. You do not pout, you don’t, you scowl like the very fierce pirate you are and you won’t hear any word to the contrary. “I mean really what’s so funny about--”

You are interrupted by Harry shoving a finger on top of your mouth “Sssh” she says, looking out and over her shoulder, “Do ye hear that?”

Hear what? You try to ask, however it comes out sounding something like “Hrrwat?” with Harry’s finger still covering your mouth. You strain your ears to listen, and sure enough you hear something on the wind, but the noise was far too muddled to make out anything further than a melody.

Luckily, a melody was all you needed.

“It’s a song” Harry says, her voice barely a whisper.

“It’s a shanty” you correct, and a very familiar one at that. No matter how time changes, or what variant of the lyrics become popular, you would be dead in the grave before you didn’t recognize a seafarer's lullaby, sailing along waves of wind and water and air.

You slowly raise your hand to Harry’s pale cheek, careful to give her time to see the motion and accept it. Her skin is chilled against your touch, as you pull her face away from the Isle and all its troubles. You both can feel the weight of the full moon at your backs as you begin to sing. “I dreamed a dream the other night, lowlands, lowlands away, my John~”

What it is, you could not say, but something inside of Harry relaxes when she looks at you. The crease between her eyes vanishes and a part of the frantic energy tensed into her shoulders, lessens. The heavy gaze of the moon lessens slightly.

You rarely ever see her like this. This calmer, tender side of her, that she hides away from the world. How wonderful it is to witness, to share vulnerability, how beautiful she looks when she joins the chorus, your two voices becoming one. “I dreamed a dream the other night, lowlands, lowlands away~”

Taking a step to the side, you begin to lead Harry and your bodies in a proper waltz. Well, as proper as a Pirate waltz could be, at least. You are so focused on your dancing that you almost miss Harry’s voice singing. “I dreamed my true love came all dressed in white, lowlands, lowlands, away me John, I dreamed my true love came all dressed in white, lowlands, lowlands away”

“She sat by my bed when I was asleep, lowlands, lowlands away my John, she sat by my bed when I was asleep, lowlands, lowlands away”

“That’s wrong,” Harry tells you, very seriously, you can’t help but giggle “I’ve heard this sung a thousand times, with a thousand different tongues and a thousand different ways. If the rhythm is right then what does it matter?”

Harry nods her head, “Aye, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s wrong”

“Well if that��s the case Miss Hook, then why don’t you show me how it’s really done?”

“Gladly Miss Swann” Harry grins, puffing her chest up proudly as she sings, her voice so deep and genuine it brought tears to your eyes. “She sat by me bed and did nothing but weep, lowlands, lowlands away my John, she sat by me bed and did nothing but weep, lowlands, lowlands away”

“Cold water soaked her skin so fair, lowlands, lowlands, away my John, cold water soaked her skin so fair, lowlands, lowlands away”

A warm hand runs itself through your head, racking fingers wander as Harry counters, “An’ the salt-sea weed it was in ‘er hair, lowlands, lowlands away, me John, an’ the salt-sea weed it was in ‘er hair, lowlands, lowlands away”

The wandering comes to stop on top of your ear. Her tumb is nestled under your eye, cradling the side of your face. You feel the heat of the touch, burn past your skin and set your blood a boiling. “She made no sound- nor word she said, lowlands, lowlands, away my John, she made no sound- nor word she said, lowlands lowlands away”

For a second time stood still as two souls shared the same thought. Harry moves to rest her forehead on yours, and before you could even think to give a command, your body rose up to meet her halfway.

“That’s when I knew my love was dead, lowlands, lowlands, away my John, that’s when I knew my love was dead, lowlands, lowlands away” you harmonize with each other, voices barely a whisper drowned out in each other and the beating of your hearts.

“I dreamed a dream the other day, lowlands, lowlands away, my John. I dreamed a dream the other day, lowlands, lowlands away”

Up beside the horizon, where the water meets the sky, the first blaze of sunrise streaks along the border. There is a brief moment, when the light is just right, that the entire ocean ignites in a pale blue splendor. The exact shade of your love’s eyes.

“Then I awoke to morning’s keen, lowlands, lowlands away my John, then I awoke to morning’s keen, lowlands, lowlands away”

Miles away from the ship where you and Harry Hook stand, frozen in time, the fog retreats back into the sea. Windows are unplugged, fire restarted, the air begins to be polluted with the shouting and the everyday noises of life.

Inside a small wooden shack there is a Mother, carefully applying cream onto her daughter’s ear. She does not apologize, not openly, not when she doesn’t regret causing it, but she does gather her daughter close in her arms and opens her mouth to sing her favorite lullaby. A song about a distant and beautiful land, far away and low by the sea.

And of course, beyond the two lovers and the mother and daughter, there is an old man standing by the sea, and singing. “Now I’ll never see my love again, lowlands, lowlands away, my John, now I’ll never see my love again, my lowlands, lowlands away~”

[mylittleredgirl]

~dear yuletide santa~ (2020)

yay and thank you for writing fic for me! i’m mylittleredgirl on ao3 as well as tumblr. i’m pretty easily delighted, so do your thing and i’ll love it, but in case it helps to inspire you, here are some things i love/do not love, and some specifics on the fandoms i requested.

general things i love:

happy or hopeful endings

episode-related fic

pining, especially of the no-i’m-definitely-NOT-jealous variety

reunion/rescue/oh-my-god-you’re-not-dead/hurt-comfort omfg

friendship fic: pre-ship, characters having friends outside of a ship, families getting along, found families getting along... 

canon divergence, of the “everyone-lives-nobody-dies” variety and otherwise

i enjoy all ratings!

kinks enjoyed: light dom/sub vibes (bondage yes, pain/shame no); praise kink; amtdi (dubcon yes, noncon no); masturbation (mutual, pining, whatevs); overindulgence (food, drinks, whatevs)

general things not so enjoyed:

character death

character-bashing: please assume i like everyone in canon, including canon love interests that are not my preferred pairing

incest

hurt no comfort: we have canon for that

crossovers (except within a larger canon universe, like star trek)

historical AUs

questionably helpful thoughts about requested fandoms below the readmore:

star trek: picard (chars: laris, soji)

i love all the characters

i requested laris & soji because i love them both, but would be very happy with just one or the other

characters/plot points from other treks welcome as i am Big Trek Nerd

personally devastated that elnor & seven were not nominated because i want them to go on Righteous Assassin adventures together

Can Soji Asha Have A Nice Day For Once

lost in space (2018) (chars: john robinson, maureen robinson)

the robinsons are good for all moods:

the angst of season one/ongoing hurt-comfort angst

the ridiculous love & badass partnership of season two

being Good Parents -- feel free to include any/all of their children! i think don is probably also their child at this point though no one involved would agree

they are. Very sexy. in that consensual kink sort of way

i’m not super into don/judy

also one look at the fandom tag in ao3 makes me feel like i should add that i think the robot does not and should not fuck

star trek: lower decks (chars: any)

i love everyone, literally, all of them i love them so much

the lower deckers and the bridge officers, really, i just came out to watch a cartoon not fall in love with an entire animated ensemble

so please use any/everyone you choose

but mariner is my fave

gen fic strongly preferred! friendship is magic

unless you want mariner to hook up with a girl that’s fine then

i love the light-hearted spirit of the show so Deep Angst would feel kind of out of step? but you do you

what if there was a day where absolutely nothing went wrong but it constantly seemed like things were ABOUT to get like, completely batshit weird, like the soundtrack is foreboding but they can’t find the thing that’s supposed to jump out at them

jake 2.0 (chars: jake foley, diane hughes)

this is the rarest fandom; there is no way you’re here to write this

would love to see jake and diane ending up in the field together, like suddenly jake is the Spy Expert except that’s not a high bar to clear in this scenario so probably kyle has to rescue them both

nnnnnngggg or anything to do with their amnesia almost-romance that absolutely murders me

you can just write them arguing over the crossword puzzle and i will fall all over myself with gratitude tbh

sga rpf (chars: torri, joe)

really into the torri/joe of it all

i’d prefer neither of them be romantically involved with anyone else in the cast; other love interests/joe’s real life marriage at the time is cool

i’m really into the ~Oh No We Mustn’t~ (or the corollary: ~Oh No We Did~) nature of it all

and joe being jealous really works for me

i’ve written them before and it’s all on ao3, but locked to logged-in readers only

the good place (chars: any)

are you tired of me saying i love everyone because i always do

so please include anyone you want and no one you don’t!

i ship chidi/eleanor and janet/jason and i friend-ship absolutely everyone

really curious about wacky earth hijinks in season 3

this show is the greatest example of the greatest trope: characters annoying each other into deep eternal affection. 

in conclusion, thank you so much for writing for me. i love these characters and these fandoms and the whole idea of surprise wonderful fic, so i am guaranteed to love whatever you do!

[alyas-ladyblog]

LBO AU ficlet

Soooo I’m kind of obsessed with @miraculouscontent’s LadyBugOut AU, and seeing where the AU was going really inspired me to write something for it! So I wrote something for LB and Cat!Luka’s first meeting, as well as Adrien’s discovery of the new Cat. Hope you guys enjoy!

To put it lightly, Marinette’s week hadn’t been great. She’d watched her partner get decommissioned, had it revealed that her partner was Adrien of all people, then spent the week dodging his attempts to talk to her.

The irony was not lost on her. Any other week, she would have been over the moon to have him be going out of his way to approach her, but this week, it was mentally strenuous and emotionally exhausting.

She couldn’t even outrun that ache as Ladybug: her patrols, which once acted as a way to clear her head, were now too quiet without the lighthearted puns thrown her way. People could say what they wanted about Ch-Adrien’s effort during akuma attacks, having someone to someone to keep her company on patrol was nice.

Not to mention he did some of the work, Ladybug thought, lungs burning as she swung over another building.

Mindlessly, she headed towards the Eiffel Tower, perching herself on the lower viewing deck’s bannister.

She looked out at the city, her bleary eyes turning the glimmering lights into a gentle golden haze.

“I thought I might find you here.”

Ladybug snapped to attention, hand moving instinctively to her yo-yo as she flipped off the railing. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the shadows, locking onto a pair of green eyes peering out at her. She unattached her yo-yo, and the eyes widened.

“Woah, no need for that! Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I’m gonna come out now.”

Ladybug heard shuffling, and tensed.

A figure began emerging from the shadows. They stepped into the light and she recoiled.

It was a new Black Cat.

She looked over the new cat. He had his hands held sheepishly up by his head, cat ears twitching in his black hair. His mask was sharper than Chat’s had been, coming up to a point at the temple, with what looked like a green lightning bolt surrounding the right eyehole.

His suit was drastically different than Chat’s, with black pauldrons on his shoulders, a chest guard, and boots that came up to the knee. His belt and tail were more or less the same, though she noted he kept his baton split, with one half on each hip, rather than together on one.

The new Cat cleared his throat, and Ladybug started, realizing she was staring.

“So, this is kind of awkward,” the Cat said, scratching his neck. His ears continued to swivel and shake. He took another step forward, then hesitated.

Ladybug stepped forward warily, her hand moving away from the yo-yo.

The Cat exhaled, relaxing. As he did, his ears settled, laying flatter against his head.

There was something in his posture and the way his mannerisms that she recognized, though she could not pin down where from.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

The Cat grinned. “Last you saw me, I was carrying a flute.”

Ladybug gaped. “Cadmeancio?”

The Cat nodded, his mess of black hair reflecting purple in the light.

Ladybug crossed her arms. “How can I know it’s you? Tell me something only Cad would know.

The Cat chuckled. “The first time we met, you almost broke my arm.”

Ladybug winced. It was true. He’d snuck up on her in a similar way, and thinking he was an akuma, she’d attacked him, twisting his arm behind his back in the process. She knew she’d never live that down.

“I’m still sorry about that Cad.”

Cad’s smile widened. “I know. You’ve told me a million times.” He paused. “I probably shouldn’t go by Cad now though.” His brow furrowed and he pursed his lips

“Hekatos,” he said finally, the grin returning.

Ladybug felt herself smile. “If you keep grinning like that, I might start calling you Cheshire instead.”

Hekatos feigned offense. “Unbelievable. We’ve been partners for less than ten minutes and you’re already making fun of me!” He stuck his nose up in the air, and crossing his arms, turned away from her.

“Well if you’re gonna continue to hold me almost breaking your arm over my head, I’m gonna make fun of you too!” She shot back, doing her best to keep a straight face.

Hekatos threw his hands up. “You asked me to prove it was me!” He said indignantly.

Ladybug burst out laughing.

—

Hekatos stared at her.

Ladybug took a shaky deep breath, grappling for composure. She straightened up, looking her new partner in the eye.

Then burst out laughing again.

Hekatos grinned as he watched her. Then the grin became a chuckle. Then the chuckle became full blown, doubled over hysterics when he heard his partner snort, and cover her mouth in wide eyed mortification.

When they had both gotten their fill, and their sides ached from laughing, Ladybug flopped on the ground. “You’re so much easier to rile up in this form,” she said, chest still heaving.

“It’s my first day, leave me alone!” He replied, lying down next to her.

A comfortable silence fell over them. Luka marveled at how easy it had been to build up that rapport. She trusted him, he could feel it. He wouldn’t let her down.

Ladybug sighed. “Yeah, I think this will work out nicely.”

“What will?”

“This partnership Cheshire!”

“Hey don’t call me that!”

Ladybug laughed again, clear as a melody. Hekatos smiled fondly. He knew being the Black Cat came with more responsibilities, but watching her in her element, more relaxed than he’d seen her in months, he knew it would be worth it.

—

To put it lightly, Adrien’s week hadn’t been great. He’d had his miraculous stolen, had his identity revealed to Marinette, his partner’s right hand of all people, and then spent the week with her dodging his attempts to talk to her.

The irony was not lost on him. Any other week, he would have been delighted that Ladybug might learn his identity, but this week, with all the drama that had gone down, it was mentally strenuous and emotionally exhausting.

He couldn’t even outrun that ache as Chat Noir for..obvious reasons. His patrols with his Lady, which once acted as a way to feel free and alive, were now over, and his life felt all too quiet, all too predictable without them.

Not to mention it was important work, he thought.

Mindlessly, he headed out to the steps of the school, towards his father’s limo.

He looked up at the city, feeling smaller than he’d felt since long before he became Chat.

A laugh, clear as a bell, cut through his reverie.

Adrien snapped to attention, hand moving instinctively to where Plagg used to sit. He sighed, moving his hand back to his backpack strap, when he saw her. His eyes widened.

There was his Lady, racing across the roofs in broad daylight, laughing and swinging from roof to roof, happier than he’d seen her in a long time. And behind her....

Adrien recoiled.

It was a new Black Cat.

“Keep up Hekatos,” she called to the Cat, barely slowing down as she leapt off the roof of a nearby bakery.

“You know I’m right behind you Spots,” he responded.

Adrien’s grip tightened on his backpack.

His Lady landed on the roof of the college. The second she touched down, their eyes locked.

He could have sworn she hesitated, though it might have been wishful thinking.

Before he could react, she was off once again, taunting the Cat as she swung towards the Eiffel Tower.

The Cat yelled something at her, and she laughed again, clear as a melody.

Adrien felt something in his chest tighten. He knew that no longer being the Black Cat meant he was free of those responsibilities and people’s preconceptions, but watching her in her element, looking more relaxed and free than she’d ever been with him, he wondered if it was worth it.

[thecandywrites]

Of Heaven and Fire Part 10

So, the storm is building and when it get’s bigger, we’ll see a spiral and then devastation, like a tornado. And all I can say is. Buckle up and I’m sorry. I’m usually the quintessential soft, sweet and fluffy writer, I don’t know where all this angst is coming from, but this story is keeping me sane during quarentine and maybe that’s why this story is as emotionally charged as it is. 

Tagging the crew. @probablyclever​, @imherefortheforthefanart​ and @funmadnessandbadassvikings​, your comments are giving me LIFE. And if anyone else wants to be tagged, just let me know. Enjoy. 

Of Heaven and Fire Part 10

The next morning came all too soon, you barely got any sleep the night before because all your worries kept eating away at you and once the storm died out. More angels and more heavenly moura than you could ever count surrounded the fleet. Two weeks ago you would have cried tears of joy and relief, now, just seeing them gave you dread. What looked like clouds was just...all angels and heavenly moura and you couldn’t tell which was which at this distance. It was an awe inspiring sight. And all the orcs were too afraid to come up on deck. 

“My Lords.” You greeted Suriel and Prince Cordene along with Prince Oriles who came up from the water via a pillar of water as you looked out and noticed the water practically teaming with merfolk trying to corral schools of fish. 

“Benyana, as you can see we brought reinforcements.” Prince Cordene practically crooned as he gestured to his many troops. “I have brought a hundred and fifty legions.” He bragged. 

“And I brought 200 legions, all who are ready to do your bidding.” Suriel beamed smugly as Prince Cordene tried to cover up his jealous glare. But you could see his feelings in his eyes. You didn’t know if you had the energy to juggle their competing egos today. 

“I see that and I’m eternally grateful for them. But I must prey upon your patience because this fleet still needs to fish. They can not return empty handed and as it stands, they are fearful for their own innocent lives to even come up onto the deck.” You tried to plead. 

“Well let us then send messages to them that they have nothing to fear from myself and my troops at least.” Suriel was the first to offer. 

“Likewise.” Prince Cordene immidiately added. 

“Thank you, that would mean a lot to me.” You thanked him sincerely as Suriel simply raised his hand and angels flew to every ship to deliver that message followed by Prince Cordene’s troops as well. 

“And please allow me to offer my own services, even as we speak, my citizens are schooling the various kinds of fish together. Please, tell me which ones you would most prefer.” Oriles offered before he pulled a wall of water up next to the ship that had the different kinds of fish in their own sections. Organized from the smallest to the largest which made you gasp in delight and astonishment. 

“Cugas, come here please.” You called before Cugas peeked his head above deck before he seemed to be pushed onto it by his crew below deck. 

“Hi,” Cugas greeted meekly before he came over. 

“Captain Cugas, I am Suriel, let me assure you that you and your fleet have nothing to fear on our account, Lady Benyana has informed us that you need to fish before you can return home since the fish are a food source for your clan. Please feel free to do so without fear. Once your boats are at their fill, then we escourt this fleet back to your harbor safely.” Suriel reassured him which you were grateful for. 

“Thank you.” Cugas nodded. 

“Prince Oriles is being oh so kind and considerate as to offer his assistance in the fishing.” You began as you reached into the column of water and got Oriles’ hand before you pulled it out and kissed his knuckles affectionately before he quickly and easily flipped his hand so that he was holding your face as you could see out of the corner of his eye that Prince Cordene was getting insanely jealous again. 

“Cugas, since I still only know a little about fish, I will follow your lead, please pick which ones you think would be best both for your clan and for Suchi.” You put to Cugas as you pulled away from Prince Oriles as he then lowered the wall and moved it around so that Cugas could get a good look at all the specimens. 

“This is the craziest thing to ever happen to me.” Cugas muttered under his breath to you as he looked at them all. 

“Oh, just wait.” You muttered back through a smile. 

“Uh so if I could get some of…” Cugas started to order off as he went through all the fish presented to him, especially happy that there was just a huge, massive variety and even the greater fish like tuna and swordfish, ironfish, cloud shark and stromwelo was offered as he then directed which boats he wanted which fish to go on and then which kind of crabs and lobsters he wanted in the pots before they got into position around the black eye of water and dropped their nets and in a matter of minutes, every net was full to almost the ripping point of the nets and in a matter of hours every hold on every ship was so full it was to the point of almost bursting before you saw the water dragons come up and blow ice at the boats, just enough that they had a nice layer of ice around the hauls, instead of being jagged like crystals, it was smooth as if it was carved that way and the boats were suddenly smoother in their sailing and the fish holds themselves were instantly frozen solid before you thanked the dragons personally before they presented you with a bubble that floated up from below the water up past it’s surface and into your hands. It was a sphere of what looked like a large ball of jade and while it was cool to the touch, it didn’t freeze your hands but the moment it touched your hands, it started to change colors into brilliant blues and purples and even pinks and reds. It was hypnotizing. 

“A special gift for the princess, your new most precious possession.” Yingshen winked at you. 

“Thank you.” You thanked her gratefully. It looked like it should weigh quite a bit but it was incredibly light before it shrunk down in size so that it fit into one hand and you were able to put it into your little purse like satchel for safe keeping as your instincts told you to protect it because it was something especially precious and something you should guard with your life and that the power contained within it was greater than you had ever known before and you were grateful it was contained, you would have to learn how to handle such power before you could wield it. 

“So while the nets are being put away, I wish to speak to all of you. Once I return to Suchi- I will begin accepting courting proposals. However, I would like- in writing- the rules of courting in each of your spheres, according to your ways, traditions and cultures and once I have all of them- I will read them and consider them before I set out my own rules on how I will wish to be courted and terms that will be fair and acceptable to all. And I can tell you right now that the first rule that no harm is ever to be done or even threatened against myself, my family, my colony or any of the other competitors, their families and their own dwelling places, be it a town or clan or tribe or city or whatever and there will be no sabotaging the other competitors.” You put to them as they weighed those terms over. 

“More details to follow, as soon as I figure them out myself.” You added which got them all to grin. 

“Agreed,” Suriel was the first to offer. 

“Yes, agreed.” Oriles agreed before Cordene begrudgingly agreed as well as you could already tell he had planned on sabotaging everyone else. 

It was almost instantaneous that once the fleet was squared away and the fleet was pointed back to port- the stiffest breeze the sails could take began to blow before a massive ship came up from the waters, it was the largest and most magnificent ship you had ever seen in your life. Like it was it’s own city on a ship and was so much larger than any ship in Cugas’ fleet and it followed the fleet before the winds picked up. The winds were so strong and so deliberate that what had taken you three days to sail out- now took barely a day to sail back and you barely had time to pack up your room with help from Brock as he watched you anxiously clean and pack. 

“Hey,” Brock softly murmured as he stilled your hands and made you just stop for a second and look at him. “Talk to me.” Brock invited. 

“I can’t. I’m sorry, I just...can’t.” You excused yourself as you pulled away from him but he quickly pulled you into a hug and just held you before you broke down crying.  

“I’m sorry,” He apologized. “It really is all my fault. I was being incredibly selfish in taking you and keeping you, I should have set you free that first night. And now we’re both worried about everyone around us being collateral damage.” He apologized and it was like he was pouring a soothing balm to your soul as you clung to him. 

“We’ll get through this, you’ll see.” He reassured you. 

By sunset you were back at Stormbreaker’s harbor and Brock’s family was at the docks waiting for you along with another family, judging by the way they were dressed, were of great importance but the relief on Brock’s family’s face when that shackle was nowhere to be seen on you was readily seen as you watched as Oriles came off the ship, sporting a pair of legs as you could tell he was still getting the hang of walking on them, his trident however still in his grasp as he came to stand with you as you introduced everyone to your new “friends” and revealed that Suriel and Cordene were also tasked with bringing you home and that no one should be fearful of the heavenly forces above all of you. 

“Oh thank the gods.” Rhos exclaimed as she hugged you tight before you pulled away and picked Kari up and held her tight, kissing her cheeks affectionately as she hugged you back. 

“Warchief Onvan, this is our moura friend Benyana.” She introduced you to them before he introduced himself and his family. 

“It is most auspicious that you’re here to celebrate the alliance. For we’ve discovered that our clans are sister clans.” Onvan announced. 

“Oh?” You feigned surprise. 

“Yes, it’s been discovered that the warchieftess is auric orc and Hurricane Breaker is the only clan to have auric orcs.” Onvan revealed proudly as you gave a curious look to Rhos who gave you a meaningful look in turn.  

“Auric...like, gold? Gold orc?” You repeated in confusion before they all turned around and you saw that...all of them had the moura gold neck tattoo. 

Oh shit. Fuck. 

You didn’t need to feign your surprise, your jaw was on the floor as your eyes got wide as you gasped as you and Prince Cordene were both shocked as you two looked in surprise at each other with hints of alarm while Suriel simply had a knowing smirk on his face. 

“What’s going on?” Oriles whispered to Suriel who gestured for him to just watch the scene unfold. 

“Wow. That’s..that’s amazing.” You tried to flatter despite the panic whirling ferociously in your chest. 

“Come, a feast is already ready for your return, let the others unload the boats.” He invited as his little ones came forward and encircled around you and urged you to come with them as Oriles, Cordene and Suriel and Brock followed you and you could see the panic in Brock’s eyes as Rhos was just simply trying to remain calm as you walked with them to a magnificent tent had been set up across from the warchief’s house and you sat down with the other kids surrounding you as they inspected all the embroidery on your clothes with eager eyes and fingers as you made your dress even bigger with stories sewn into the embroidery on the skirt to keep them and Kari entertained as you noticed Kari also had her hair up and it showed off her own golden neck tattoo as the guys sat nearby, all except for Suriel giving Brock a wide berth. 

“So tell me about auric orcs, I’ve never heard of them before.” You invited the warchief’s family.  

“For countless generations our clan has had this mark. When our babes are born, they grow a feather blanket out of it and once the blanket stops growing and detaches itself from the baby, the gold night happens, our god Zirvush comes alive and takes the feather blanket as it’s tribute and leaves behind the most wonderful treasures as a blessing! We use these to buy what the baby needs and what the family needs. And part of the blessings is that we cry diamonds!” Duzi, on of Onvam’s daughters who was only about seven or eight,  informed you excitedly before she went over and got her baby brother from her mother, one of Onvam’s dozen wives but not his warchieftess and the baby boy- who was only a few months old and brought him to you. 

“See? It’s almost done growing but it’s still stuck, once it’s done and it comes off, like an umbilical cord after a baby’s born,” she explained as you gathered him into your arms and started to coo at him. He had to be the most precious baby orc boy you had ever seen as you held him as he stared up in awed wonder at you, his little hands reaching out to grab your own free finger before he cooed back at you. 

“Aren’t you just so handsome! And oh so strong, you have a grip like iron!” You cooed at him and begin to rock him gently as you just take a moment to appreciate him as Onvam and his family beamed happily while you were sure Onvam’s eldest son Bedhu was imagining all the ways he could impregnate you judging by his leering at you holding his youngest half brother even though he himself had six wives too, all with children his younger sibling’s ages. 

“Warchief Onvam, I’m well aware that my grandmother has contracted you to bring me home and I know all the details of that contract. And while I know you are anxious to deliver me there, I have a proposition for you.” You began as you continued to rock the baby as Onvam and Bedhu practically drooled at your choice of words while the others simply looked to you curiously.  

“I know that your clan is quite rich while Stormbreaker is poorer by comparison. I wish to bring great wealth both to Stormbreaker but also to your clan as well.” You explained as you could feel Brock flush with a bit of embarrassment which made you feel a little guilty but you didn’t show it. “As it stands, all but one of the ships in port have their holds frozen solid, frozen on purpose by my friends Yingshen and her mate Pantaou that are a mated pair of oriental water dragons that I befriended in my times in the sea as a siren. Because as you’ve been informed, I’m a moura, granted a half blood mountain moura but a moura nonetheless and mouras and dragons, no matter the species are always allies and I’ll happily group you in with the blessing the water dragons have given me. If you don’t fish right over the black eye, but fish around it with shallow nets- they won’t destroy your boats and I trust your fleet as well as Stormbreakers fleet can come to an agreement about fishing that will benefit everyone, in fact I dare say you’ll have more success if you fish together. Now the fish and other seafood in those holds is intended for Suchi. Since I know the river that Stormbreaker sits on goes straight to the mountains that Suchi rests in. At the base of the mountain, where the river meets them is something of another harbor where all the merchants who travel up this river go to unload their ships of goods headed to Suchi and that they get paid in gold for their cargo at Suchi as well as the other colonies. I wish for Stormbreaker to be another merchant to Suchi and the goods they will sell will be some of the seafood they catch. And I wish for Stormbreaker to keep all the proceeds of that sale both this time and everytime in the future. But the citizens in Suchi may not know how to cook it, or at least cook it well. When you go with us, I want every good cook in your clan to bring all their cooking supplies and when we get to the colony square inside the gates, set up cooking stations, the citizens of Suchi will gladly pay Stormbreaker for the fish, but they will also pay you to process, clean and cook it all for them. I want the cooks in Stormbreaker to also feel free to do the same and the ice around those blocks of seafood will hold until we get there. No one should eat spoiled seafood and once it all sells, then you and Stormbreaker will be free to go back down the mountain back onto your boats and go out to sea to fish again. And if you sail in the circle current around the black eye over the water dragons, they will freeze your holds but only your holds and you’ll be able to come back, not just to Suchi but to the other colony Twilla that is at the top of the other side of the mountain who’s river estuary your own clan sits on and you can repeat this process and you’ll be able to sell all that you catch twice, once raw and again cooked. Ask ridiculous prices for it, make the cheapest fish go for a gold piece a pound and another gold piece for it cooked. And you’ll be able to repeat this as much as you want in addition to improving the river and the harbors in your territory as Stormbreaker will do the same in theirs and simply ask for either a flat fee from all those merchants to sail in your river to Twilla or a percentage of their own sales, whichever you prefer. Have your people pack as quickly as possible. Once you deliver me home, consider all of the terms of your contract with my grandmother fulfilled, nothing further will be asked or expected of you and you’ll receive your final payment and blessing before we even leave for Suchi. Because you’ll need those funds to buy whatever you would need or want because Suchi is an expensive place to stay for any length of time.” You proposed. 

“My clan will need a few days to get ready, will that be too long?” Onvam returned. 

“No, that’ll be just fine, I will need time myself to convene once again with my grandmother.” You smiled appreciatively at him just as a feast was brought out for you as you readily shared the giant portion of your food with all the little ones, helping them to eat too as food was brought out to the other guys, as Cordene and Oriles looked at the food wearily but after a few bites began to dig in as Suriel and Brock ate as well as you enjoyed yourself with Hurricane Breaker. 

As you walked out of their tent into the warchief’s house, you started to pace in their living room as you tried to grasp everything and all the components to this huge puzzle and try to figure out how they could be pieced together. 

“What?” Prince Cordene asked. 

“I need everyone’s help. I need to set a trap. That baby’s cloak is a day or two away from coming off. I need to know who this “Zirvush” is.” You explained. 

“Hide in plain sight as a bird then, in a “cage” if need be.” Brock shrugged as you all blinked in surprise. 

“Have Suriel and Prince Cordene hide their legions in the clouds themselves. I’m sure Suriel has a way of hiding them in plain sight too.” Brock suggested as Prince Cordene went to point out how beautifully simple that is.

“Then that only leaves me a day to strike the deal with my grandmother.” You insisted. 

“Uh, actually, let Prince Oriles go get her, he can get her and come back faster than you can. Time is of the essence. And Yana, no need to change into a bird to hide in plain sight, I’ll do that. They’ll be suspicious if they see you in a cage since they already know that you’re free.” Suriel stopped you as Oriles was all too eager to do so before he quickly left and you didn’t think twice as to Suriel’s objections. 

Come morning, your grandma was in the water at the end of the dock as you sat on the end of it and talked with her and she begrudgingly gave Hurricane Breaker their final payment which they happily accepted as well as a gift for yourself. Quite a bit of treasure, a whole treasure trove full, conveniently in another orb. This one was gold in color and carved like it was made out of pure gold with a slot at the top, all you needed was to turn it over and limitless fortune would fall out, like a piggy bank. You thanked your grandmother and offered to go on one last swim with her but she stopped you. 

“No, don’t bother getting any more than those pretty little feet wet Darling, I’ll see you again, probably more than you realize.” She hinted with a knowing grin before she swam away into the dark depths as you mentally chided yourself for being so transparent that even she could see your affection for Brock. But one look over at the builders down the coast building their own harbor, you got a brilliant idea...

[majeregaming232]

How to upload to your corsair gaming mouse

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[mappinglasirena]

Mapping La Sirena

Welcome one and all to the Mapping La Sirena Project!

If you are a fan of Star Trek: Picard and you would like to know more about the show’s most prominent ship, to check out floor plans and screencaps, and to discuss theories about the layout of this magnificent vessel, this is will be the place for you!

(Long, slightly rambly introduction and masterpost after the cut ;] )

Hi! My name is Lili and I’ve been a fan of pretty much all things Star Trek ever since I started watching Voyager at the tender age of 6. Besides the sometimes goofy, often brilliant storytelling and the wonderful characters, I always loved the worldbuilding of these shows - and in particularly the starships.

When Star Trek: Picard started airing a  few months ago, I was immediately drawn to the main ship, La Sirena. The mixture of the monumental physical set, judiciously used CGI, and sheer attention to detail made me fall madly in love with this little mermaid, and I wanted to find out every little thing about her that I possibly could. And since I imagine, I’m not the only one who feels this way, I decided to take you all on this journey with me!

What am I doing here?

As a reader and writer of fanfic, I know how helpful it can be to have a clear sense of the location your story is set in. When I realized that a good month after the final episode of ST:PIC season one aired, there still was no floor plan of La Sirena easily found on the web (easily = using my very limited googling-skills), I figured somebody had to sit down and do it. And apparently, that somebody was me. (May the gods help us all =D)

So, I sat myself down, and over the course of a few long days screencapped every single last scrap of Sirena that appears on the show. I now have a library of reference images and will post my progress as I work through them, trying to determine questions about the general layout of this ship, the details of its architecture and furnishings and all the questions that still remain. By the end of it, I am pretty confident that I will have a mostly accurate floorplan of the set that was used on the show (at least the parts of it that were shown to us thus far). We might even end up with the basis for a plan of the ship as it would exist in-universe (more on the movie set vs. “real place” issue later).

The following soon-to-be-links might give you an idea of what I plan to post over the next few months and I’ll keep adding links to this post as I go. So, without (even more) ado: Have fun exploring La Sirena!

Schematics & Floor Plans

A very crude first sketch

Official Set plan

We finally have an official set plan from the Ready Room!

A First Deeper Look at the Ready Room set plans

Centred Floor Plans from Set Me Up + cross section & more designs

Layout of the Captain’s Quarters

Shape and size

How large is La Sirena as seen on the show and is she larger on the inside?

Upper Deck

The Bridge

Where is the Holodeck?

Picard’s Study

Transporter Pad and Engine

The Trouble with Locating the Quarters/Conference Room

Crew Quarters

Captain’s Quarters

A closer Look at the windows

Conference room

The Mysterious Back End of the Ship

Crates, Tanks, Boxes, and Miscellania

Lower Deck

The Mess

Sickbay: Pt. 1: Size and Construction; Pt. 2: Furniture

So Many Nets

The Wall Problem, aka. Mysterious Nonexistent Corridors

Cargo Bay and other Speculative Spaces

Is there a dedicated cargo bay at the back of the ship?

Where are the rest of the crew quarters hidden?

Overall Design and Technological Aspects

A quick rundown of the Engine placement and history

Some Considerations

Tv Set vs . Starship

The set of La Sirena is just that, a tv set. When building a set, there are many constraints of time, budget, and practicality that will force the creatives to make decisions that will not always make sense when mapped onto a “real” starship. Take, for example, the fact that the Captain’s Quarters and the Conference Room were likely filmed in the same physical set, just redressed for the occasion.

Of course, there can always be Watsonian explanations for these kinds of incongruities and I’d love to hear people’s takes or read fics about them (after all, the entirety of La Sirena is apparently equipped with holoemitters, so I suppose technically, anything is possible).

But I am sticking with the Doylian “it’s a movie set” approach and will generally ignore these kinds of problems when trying to draft an in-universe-accurate floorplan of what we can know of the ship so far. I will be very diligent about pointing out whenever I handwave anything, though, so if you want to stick as closely to what we actually see on the whoe, you’ll know which parts of my analysis/headcanon to disregard ;)

Questions about “silly little details”

I have spend a ridiculous amount of time on this little project so far and in the course of it have gotten pretty familiar with a lot of aspects of the interior and exterior of this amazing starship. If you have any questions regarding details about what we can see of La Sirena on the show, please ask me and I will do my best to help! I absolutely love digging into the really nitpicky, tiny little scraps of information, and at this point, I can probably tell you straight away which scene might provide the info you’re looking for or whether there likely is no answer and you’ll have to get creative. So if you don’t feel like scrubbing through the entire 10 episodes of Picard to find out, say, the colour of the plates produced by Sirena’s replicators, please shoot me an ask, I’m always utterly delighted to help! (They’re white, btw.)

And just to make clear what I mean by “tiny little details”: in the course of writing some of my stories, I have collected answers to such important questions as

On which side of the desk does Rios have his chair? (Both)

How many cups are on the shelf next to the replicators? (4, even when one of them is currently in use)

Could a football roll under the railing on the upper deck and fall down into the mess hall anywhere but where the stairs go down? (No, there is a raised edge all around the rim that would catch it. Bouncing would work, though, since the space between the railing bars is large enough.)

Could I just say “Fuck it, I’ll just write it however, because it really doesn’t matter at all?” Yes. Would it be better for my sanity? Probably. Will I still keep trying to figure out as much about this crazy little ship as I possibly can at every turn? You betcha! So, no question is too silly, please ask away!!

A Quick Thought on Fanfic and “Accuracy”

This whole project started because whenever I write fanfic or make up stories set on La Sirena, my brain keeps insisting that we need to know which side of the mess hall the replicators are on! We need to know where exactly the holodeck is located and whether a football could fall to the lower deck through the railing. I would never hold anyone to these standards of “accuracy” - in fact I frequently don’t hold myself to these standards. Fic is for creative expression, so if in your imagination, La Sirena is twice the size of what we see in the show and has a ton of additional rooms and features, I would love to read that story! I want to create a resource for anyone looking for Sirena references to get inspired, not to point out inconsistencies or canon-divergence in lovingly created fanworks. I hope it comes across that way =)

[meteor-writes]

#FFF41 - Blooming Blossom

Man I thought I’d do a shorter one this week and then ended up having to edit it down to get 1000! How does this happen ??

Thanks @flashfictionfridayofficial! This prompt is my dream during lockdown ♥️

Queen of the Night - 1000 words

The crickets were chirping when Ava unzipped her tent. The sky was a dull pink and the thin trees of the park dim in the reclining light. She hoped she still had time.

Grabbing the laces of her abandoned shoes, Ava tiptoed out. In her pockets, lay her phone, wooden pencil and the worn botany book she’d owned since she was nine. Around her neck hung her small pair of binoculars and they swung as she hopped between the sharp stones.

Behind, Ava could hear the buzz of laughter from tents followed by the metallic crunch of empty cans being crushed in enthusiastic fingers. She wasn’t interested in partying though. That’s why she picked her way across the campsite barefoot, silently wincing as she grazed a Lego brick engulfed flames.

Luckily, Ava had pitched close to the edge, and soon flopped down on a boulder, jamming her dust-covered feet into dust-covered shoes. No one would believe they were red at the start of her trip.

Now fully shoed, Ava strode up the dirt path. Her skirt whipped around her legs but with the bird song waning, she didn’t have time to go back for an extra blanket. Instead, she shoved her hands into her hoodie pockets and hastened her ascent.

It had been mere hours since Ava had wandered the botanical gardens. She had been considering returning that night but, ever the eaves dropper, she overheard some interesting words.

‘Ferris Villa are having one of their blooming parties again.’

This was barely of interest until the response came: a gutted sigh.

Instead of standing up after photographing an interesting succulent, Ava pretended to adjust the focus, ignoring the fact her camera was permanently set on auto.

‘One day.’ Another woman replied dreamily, ‘one day I’ll walk in that paradise garden.’

‘Hey, maybe you can!’ Her friend cried, ‘go up on Amaranth Ridge tonight and look over like we did when we were kids.’

‘Hah. Yeah. And bring my kids too, they love it when I ruin their naptime with flowers that bloom once a year.’

Ava’s ears pricked.

‘Alright, maybe give it a few years.’

With a bolt of laughter, their footsteps retreated and Ava dug out her phone. Amaranth Ridge. It wasn’t too far from the campsite. And zooming in on the map, revealed an enormous white house knitted into the landscape. Not only that, the mansion was set inside a sprawling sculpted garden with bold lines and undulating curves, stairs leading to new levels and bridges linking each sector and, though the image was blurry, Ava could just about make out huge cactuses lining every corner. She grinned at the phone. This was where she would witness the night-blooming cereus.

Ava hurried up to the ridge as the sun dipped under the horizon. There was light glowing from the city below and as Ava approached the ridge her breath caught in her throat.

The garden was closer than she’d even imagined. The various decks  worked their way up the opposing hillside, reaching just a story below her. And each stone staircase was decorated with potted flowers and hanging plants that spilled like waterfalls into the lower levels.

On the ground, creamy gravel paths weaved between plots of lettuce-like succulents and tiny bejewelled cactus’s. And, to Ava's delight, the entire place was lined with three foot tall cactuses, bowing into climbers. Then she noticed, right below her seat, a gathering.

Instinctively, Ava jumped back. She may be spying innocently, but these people seemed to have a lot of money. Best to stay hidden. So Ava laid down on the cliffside and shimmied up to the edge. She rummaged in her pockets, placing the book at her side and twirling the pencil like a baton. Then she lowered the binoculars onto her eyes.

The party below wasn’t much like the tents. The guests were dressed up in glittering skirts and open neck ties. They each held glasses and with a pop, were suddenly being poured something spouting and fizzing.

‘How long til this thing starts then?’ A man asked, quickly downing the the bubbles before they boiled over.

‘Soon.’ A woman replied. She was extra regal, with silver hair tied up in a fancy-looking swirl, chest left open to frame a gigantic ruby hanging off her neck. The owner, Ava assumed, feeling not in the least bitter as she stabbed her pencil into the ground.

She checked her phone. 10:55. She flicked through her dog-eared book, peeling apart pages that seemed stuck together with glue.

“Queen of the night - Peniocereus greggii - one can find this rare pearl in-”

‘Oh look!’

Ava scrambled for the binoculars.  

Right in the centre of the sprawling cactuses, a single flower had bloomed, bright white like a chunk of the moon had fallen off and landed there. Ava cursed herself for missing it. But then, her mouth fell slack.

A second later, the entire garden was blooming, bursting with a hundred white stars. Buds flicked open all along the stems, wrapping around stones and trunks alike. It was like watching fireworks exploding all at once, dazzling the darkness in a sudden display.

Ava shuffled closer, watching as another corner went from dark to light, a bulb igniting in the middle of a black ocean. She could barely contain her excitement, scribbling down the time and day before switching to her camera.

Bless her sister for gifting her a zooming lens!

Now, Ava could see the flowers every petal. They were like sunbursts. Outer petals thin and inner forming a cup, dotted stamens glittering like champagne bubbles - a glass of nectar for the birds and moths.

Ava took several pictures before the insects began descended and the light flickered too much. Then, she rest her elbows against the stone and breathed deeply the smell of vanilla, watching the gardens and guests below. The flowers would wilt before dawn. But it was hours until then. So she stayed sitting, and soaked it all in.

This story was inspired by the night blooming flowers found in Arizona, USA, I read about here :)

[eirabach]

Demons [2/12]

It’s only been 4 GODDAMN MONTHS folks. Nothing to see here but the results of an eyebleedingly horrendous attack of writer’s block. Enjoy I guess? Believe me when I say this was a terrible struggle.

Threequel to Renegades and Heathens, dedicated as ever to my darlings @seastarved @katie-dub @phiralovesloki  and @losttalongthewayy who have inspired and supported this ridiculous project from the start even though I am a hopeless case. Tagging @hencethebravery and @swanandapirate   if you’d like tagging please ask!

Rated E. On AO3 here.

The Lady Swan is quicker under Killian’s command, but still not quick enough. Emma spends her days hanging over the bow rail desperately scanning the horizon for birds that don’t come, her twitching, shaking hands leaving scorch marks in their wake.

The relief she feels when Misthaven’s coast finally appears is tempered by that same sickening nervous energy, her magic on high alert and her skin itching with it.

“Home sweet home,” says Killian grimly as the ship keeps parallel with the shore. “Are you alright Swan?”

“I’ll be better when I know what’s going on.”

The letter hasn’t exactly been reassuring, but nor had it been full of the sort of cackling glee Emma might have expected. It wasn’t full of much at all, really. A single line written in smart cursive on thick parchment.

Return at once, we have much to discuss.

Regina R.

She’d almost laughed. If it hadn’t been written on parchment bearing Misthaven’s Royal Crest, she might have ignored it entirely.

A joke. It had to be a joke. Surely.

Except, of course, it wasn’t.

“I suspect that might not be entirely true,” Killian says grimly as the royal dock hoves into view, “but I admire your faith.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“There’s some comfort, anyway.” He nods toward the dockside where her parents’ standard flutters in the leeward breeze.

“Do you think redecorating would really be Regina’s first priority?” Emma asks, wryly. Killian scoffs.

“You forget I’m older than I look, love. And from what I recall from her last rise to power, appearances are everything.”

“I forgot I was married to a walking corpse,” Emma mutters, swallowing her nerves long enough to cast a sideways glance at his horrified expression.

“Excuse me?”

“You started it.” She pushes off the guardrail and checks her sword where it hangs at her side. “Ready, old man?”

“Aye.” Killian draws his own weapon, and without taking his eyes from the dock bellows instructions to the crew. “...and look lively lads, we know not what we sail into!”

“Nor whom we sail for,” mutters Erving darkly. “These are uncertain times.”

“Only for a man whose loyalty can be bought,” says Killian, gripping his sword a little tighter.

“Says a pirate,” scoffs Erving. “How are we to know you won’t turn your coat again?”

“He won’t,” Emma snaps, turning her own weapon on Erving. “I trust him. You I’m less certain of.”

Erving withdraws slightly at the point of her cutlass, but his expression only turns more grim.

“Then we’d both best pray your parents still live.”

“To save your own skin?” Killian shakes his head, lowering his sword as he does so. “Who’s the pirate again?”

“That’s enough.” Emma looks out at the empty dockside through narrowed eyes. “Erving, you and your men stay with the ship. Killian and I will head to the castle, find my parents and get to the bottom of this.”

“Not a hope.”

“Is that wise?”

“Oh, now you agree with each other?”

“You have no idea, your Highness, what you may find. You alone would surely be no match for the Evil Queen and her forces.”

Killian scowls. “She wouldn’t be alone.”

“And I thought you and I were in agreement.”

“We agree that the Princess should not be anywhere near the Evil Queen.”

“The Princess,” spits Emma, “is right here! And I’ve dealt with Regina before.”

“I’ll go alone,” Killian grits out, “There’s no chance she hasn’t already realised we’ve arrived, but if I can make a private approach -”

“Spoken like a true pirate! I -”

“Enough!”

Both men drop their swords, the steel glowing red hot and leaving dark singe marks on the deck.

“Ouch,” Killian says, shaking out his hand and raising both his brows. “Problem, Princess?”

“Yeah a massive one,” Emma seethes, tampig her magic down as best she can. “My parents kingdom - my kingdom - is possibly being over run by a psychotic witch and you two are too busy comparing sword sizes -”

“Hardly a comparison, love.”

“-to listen. Regina wrote to me. This is my job.” She points at Killian. “You can come with me. But only because I don’t trust you to stay here with him.”

“Charming,” mutters Killian.

“Delightful,” grumbles Erving.

“Now come on.” Emma waves her hand, and Killian’s sword resheathes itself neatly at his waist. “Armageddon won’t wait forever.”

---

Armageddon is…

Quiet.

The castle has changed in the time they’ve been away. There are tapestries hung over the worst of the damaged walls, ones that feature bluebirds and woodlands and children with hair like sunlight that Emma can’t quite bear to look at too closely. The broken windows are reglazed with bright glass and the floors are swept clean of the plaster dust and straw that had been fixtures of Emma’s own brief period of occupancy.

But the kitchens are empty. The corridors silent.

Wordlessly they approach the closed door of the throne room, and draw their swords.

Here, the air is thicker. Blue flames flicker in the sconces and cast strange shadows against walls that are bare of tapestries. Emma’s magic fizzes out a warning deep in her bones and she clutches her sword a little tighter.

“Redecorating not her priority you say?” Killian whispers.

“She always did have a flare for the dramatic,” Emma admits. “I’m surprised she hasn’t accessorised with the beating hearts of her enemies.”

“Again?” Killian chuckles quietly but there’s little joy in it. “How passé.”

They enter the throne room unaccosted, weapons at high point.

“Emma!”

Emma’s sword drops to the floor with a clatter and the air is knocked from her chest. For a moment her magic fires from her fingertips, sparking against the blue lights before dimming away to nothing under the force of her mother’s hug.

“Unexpected,” says Killian, smiling as he sheaths his sword. “But preferable.”

Emma hums in something that isn’t quite agreement, and pats the sobbing queen awkwardly on the back.

“This is… nice? Hello.”

“Oh Emma, I’m so glad to see you!” Snow pulls back, and takes hold of Emma’s face in both her hands before adding,  “You too, Killian.”

Killian grins, and dips his head in a bow.

“Your majesty.”

“Oh please, spare me.”

There’s a scream of metal, a shower of sparks, and the evil queen laughs, long and low, from where she sits in the shadows at the side of Snow’s throne.

“You’ve gone soft, Saviour. I’d be touched if I weren’t so nauseated.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Emma snaps, magic still fizzing in her palms.

“Emma it’s okay,” Snow soothes, “it’s quite safe.”

“Safe?” Emma splutters. “Safe? You’re mad. You’re crazy. You’re - ” she steps back, eyes wide and hands held up before her. “ - not my mother, are you.”

“Emma!” Snow gasps. “Don’t be ridiculous -”

“Me?! Me be ridiculous?”

“Your majesty with all due respect -“

“She drugged you!” Emma cries, cutting Killian off, “Drugged you for decades and murdered and - where’s dad?” Another flare of light from her palms and the Evil Queen’s mouth grows thinner. “Where’s Dad?”

“Oh calm down,” she sneers. “You don’t think I have better things to do than go around offing recalcitrant shepherds?”

“Not especially,” says Killian, all false brightness as he steps in front of Emma with his sword held high, “no.”

“Relax,” Snow pleads. “I promise -“

A doorway to a small antechamber opens, and a grey haired figure enters with a swoop of a fine ermine cloak.

“I see this is going about as well as I predicted.”

“David.” Killian lets a out a sigh of relief, but doesn’t move to sheathe his sword. “Late to the party I see.”

“Not really my scene,” David says, smiling grimly as he moves to stand beside Snow. “but needs must.”

Killian raises an eyebrow. “Must they?”

“Alright.” Emma lowers her hands and rests them on her hips. “Explain.”

Snow looks to David, and the two of them move back to their thrones. Emma and Killian follow, keeping a wise distance from where Regina watches them with sharp, hooded eyes.

“Would you believe,” she says, her teeth a flash of white in the darkness. “That I’ve turned over a new leaf?”

Killian scoffs.

“A tornado couldn’t turn your leaf over, your Evilness.”

“My name,” she grits out, “is Regina.”

“That’s not what they call you on the streets.”

“And what do they call you, Captain Jones?” Regina lifts a perfect brow. Killian grins.

“Would you like a list?”

“This isn’t helpful,” Snow says, fingers rhythmically tapping against the armrest of her throne. She addresses them all but her gaze is fixed on Regina, her already pale complexion almost translucent in the cold magical light.

“Helpful how?” Emma cries, frustrated. “What the hell is going on? Where is everyone?”

“Hiding,” says Regina. “They’re not all fools.”

“From you?” Emma wrinkles her nose. “Not surprising.”

“Me?” Regina laughs coldly. “Hardly. There are far worse creatures than I.”

“I find that challenging to believe,” mutters David, and Emma flashes him half a smile.

“Believe it or not, shepherd, it’s the truth. Just ask your son in law.” Regina tilts her head and smiles almost sweetly at Killian. “After all, it’s not just women’s hearts he steals, is it?”

Emma scowls.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“Children, please,” snaps Snow. “We haven’t time for this. Tell them what you told us, Regina.”

“Oh yes, please do.” Killian drops to the floor and sits cross-legged, chin resting on the curve of his hook. “I do enjoy a good tall tale.”

Regina’s expression doesn’t shift from its state of sour displeasure.

“When the two of you took off on your little Hero’s Journey to find Mommy and Daddy dearest, you failed to take into account the sort of people you’d be encountering.”

Killian smirks and lifts a brow in David’s direction, but David shakes his head sharply and Regina continues uninterrupted.

“That ridiculous leggy mermaid and her fancy man were one thing, but then you go involving fairies.” If possible, Regina’s face becomes even more pinched with disgust. “I would have thought you would have known better, Saviour. Since you spent your whole childhood with the untrustworthy little insects.”

“And whose fault was that,” Emma begins, but she too is silenced by a look from her father. “Are you telling me Tinkerbell is evil?”

“I’d believe it,” mutters Kilian under his breath, but Regina is already snorting out a denial.

“Hardly. The little mosquito hasn’t the brain power for it. If she had, she wouldn’t have sent you after her.”

“The witch,” Emma says. “The witch who helped us?”

Killian stands and moves to pull her into his side, his sword back in hand, the action almost as unconscious as the fear beneath his sneering tone.

“As fascinating as your ramblings are your Evilness, do you think you might eventually get to the point?”

Regina turns her glare on Killian, and Emma’s magic boils in her fingertips.

“Tell me, Hook. Exactly what do you think the witch was getting out of assisting you on your oh so touching quest? Warm fuzzy feelings?”

“She said there was a price,” Emma says softly, and Regina rolls her eyes.

“There always is. Your fairy friends should have taught you that. Magic always comes with a price.”

“So you’re, what? Here to collect on her behalf?” Emma shakes her head sharply and steps out of Killian’s embrace. “I don’t deal with third parties.”

“Ah,” tuts Regina, and for a moment she looks ineffably smug. “But she does. And as I said, there are far worse than I out there.”

“Still sounds unlikely,” David mutters, but Emma’s attention is on Killian, on the way he stiffens and pales at Regina’s words.

“He knows,” Regina says, a trifle gleefully. “He’s figured it out. Not bad for a man with more fingers than brain cells.”

Killian drops his sword arm, his face slack in horror.

“It can’t be,” he says, “it’s impossible.”

“Impossible means nothing to a creature like him. I’d have thought you of all people would have known that.”

“Killian?”

He isn’t looking at her, isn’t looking at any of them, his eyes are dark and his gaze is distant and Emma is filled with the sudden terrible feeling that he’s gone somewhere she shouldn’t follow.

“The Dark One,” he growls, and she knew that didn’t she. Knew the moment that shadow crossed his face.

It shouldn’t be, though. It can’t be.

“But he’s gone! Into a portal to another realm, how could he be back?”

“Seems like your method of banishment could use some work,” Regina says with some relish. “Even death himself cannot contain the Dark One. Some measly portal was hardly going to cause him a problem.”

“I could have killed you,” Emma mutters. “Maybe I should have.”

“Maybe,” says Regina. “But then, what would you do without me.”

“I think you’ll find,” says Snow, her voice cool and level and soothing Emma’s rising panic, “that you came to us for help.”

“Because you,” and Regina’s pointing at Killian now and Emma can finally see the cuff around her wrist, holding back her magic if not her rage, “are the fool who got us into this mess.”

Killian’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline.

“Come again?”

“The darkness isn’t created by just one man - it’s huge, bigger than any mortal soul. It’s an entity made of bile and spite and hatred and you -“ she jabs her finger at Killian again “you lost the only means of controlling it in the middle of the ocean.”

“The dagger,” Emma breathes.

“Not quite as stupid as you look,” sneers Regina. “But yes. Without that dagger the darkness is untethered. Free to destroy whatever it chooses and anything that gets in its way.”

“What I don’t understand,” Killian says, “is quite why that would concern you?”

Regina looks at him as though he’s something particularly ugly dragged in on the hem of her cloak.

“I kept him in a dungeon and let you throw him through a portal.”

“A fair point,” Killian concedes, but Emma’s already shaking her head.

“So what are we supposed to do? The dagger’s gone, you can’t honestly expect us to find it?”

“Hardly,” Regina scoffs. Snow interjects before another round of insults can begin.

“Without the dagger, the only hope we have of fighting dark magic is with light magic.” She fixes Emma with a smile. “Magic like yours, Emma.”

“Mine?” Emma protests, “but I can’t - I can hardly -“

“You’re the Saviour, aren’t you?” Regina’s mouth twists, vicious and a little bit victorious. “So save us.”

—-

There are days he misses his sheep. This is turning out to be one of them.

He dismisses Regina back to her cell under the watchful eye of Grumpy, and then turns to watch Emma’s retreating back. Killian’s hand is firmly settled between her shoulder blades and David tries to dig his fingers into the wood of his throne.

“Do you think she’s okay?” asks Snow, twitching in the throne next to him as though barely resisting the urge to rush after their departing daughter. She’s like that a lot, he’s noticed. Flighty in a way he doesn’t recall her being during their war-riven youth. Nervous. “I didn’t want to worry her - “

“Well I don’t think inviting our mutual enemy to supper will have helped there.”

Snow sighs, sinking into her seat, and he immediately regrets his words.

“She’ll be fine,” he tries. Then, gritting his teeth somewhat, “she has Killian.”

Snow seems to relax a little. David’s jaw tightens further still.

“Yes, yes she does.” She turns to him with wide eyes, and it hits him how tired she looks suddenly, her steel grey hair falling into her eyes. “Do you think it’ll ever end?”

“What?”

“This!” Snow throws her hands up.”This - this constant second guessing ourselves, worrying, looking over our shoulders! I thought when Emma found us - I thought -”

David rises - a little slower and more creakily than he’d like - and pulls her into his arms. She relaxes against him as he rests his cheek against the crown of her head.

“It was never going to be easy,” he says, rocking slightly back and forth. “Even without this. Emma’s grown. She has her own life, her own ideas.”

He feels the gentle rumble of Snow’s laughter against his chest.

“Her own taste in men?”

David grunts.

“He could be worse.”

“High praise indeed.”

“I hope he sleeps with that hook on tonight, at any rate.”

Snow looks up at him. “Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

“Regina?” David scoffs. “Why would she change the habit of a lifetime?”

“She seemed to mean it.”

“She would, wouldn’t she.”

“No, I mean…” Snow steps out of the circle of his arms. “When I was lost - when she visited me - I knew her. I think I knew her better then than I ever did when my father was alive.She was… sad.”

“She was also poisoning your mind, Snow, or did you forget?”

“I know. I know. I just - I can’t help but believe there’s something to this tale of hers. Some truth. She didn’t have to turn herself over to us. We could have killed her on sight.”

“And most people would say we should have,” David agrees. “But we didn’t.”

“No.” Snow turns, looks out over the shadowed empty hall, and sighs. “I didn’t.”

—-

The door to their room shuts with a solid, final sounding click, but Emma’s waving her hand at the lock without even thinking about it. No harm in extra security. She has worse things to keep out than Erving, now.

Killian is immediately beside her, and she allows him to pull her close, rubs at her throbbing temples and leans back against the comforting warmth of his chest.

“Do you ever wonder if you’ve made a horrible mistake?” she asks, closing her eyes. She feels the rumble of his laugh all the way to her toes.

“Darling my whole life has been one horrible mistake after another, with one very notable exception.”

“Oh yeah?” Emma smiles despite herself. “What was that?”

“Chasing down a particularly bold and beautiful thief in order to recover my property.”

“And did you? Recover it?”

He presses his lips to the crown of her head and she hums in satisfaction, her migraine already fading away. It’s hard, when they’re together like this, to think about the world outside of Killian’s embrace.

“I discovered a greater treasure still. One I have no intention of losing.”

Emma sighs and turns her face into his neck.

“That’s a comfort.”

He laughs again, and winds his hand through her hair.

“I try.”

Hard, sure. But not impossible.

“What are we going to do?”

“Well, we could liberate your parents’ flagship. I’ve some experience, after all.”

“And what? Run away?”

“If that’s what you wanted, I’d be gone in a heartbeat. But it isn’t, is it.”

It isn’t a question, but Emma shakes her head anyway.

“It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“Of course it matters!”

“No. No I thought maybe I could run away - that we could get away from all this and just be. But it doesn’t work like that, does it.”

“What doesn’t?”

“Being the saviour.”

“Being the Saviour, or being Emma?”

“Is there a difference?”

“I believe so.”

Emma sighs into his skin, and tightens her grip on his hook as though to steady herself against the doubts she can already feel creeping into her heart.

“You might be the only one who does.”

---

On the ship her dreams have been peaceful, forgettable sorts of things. The memory of them little more than smoke that fades before she can catch it.

On land they’re something different.

The woods around her mother’s cottage are as wild and as dark as she remembers, the silence as oppressive, but she’s not scared. Not now. There’s blood on her belly again but the cursed arrow is long gone and she stands, tall and strong, in the centre of the clearing, watching the woods for something she expects but cannot name.

The shadows along the treeline lengthen and merge, thickening into something solid that steps out, forward, towards her - and she ought to run, she knows that, even in her dreams.

She ought to run.

She holds out her hand.

—-

“I appear to still be here.” The disembodied head of the Dark One sits amongst the flames of her fire, the small cottage that she’s forced to call home filled with smoke, the scent of sulphur, and his displeasure. “You aren’t holding up your end of this deal, Zelena.”

Zelena looks up from her looking glass, irritation clear as the image of the Saviour and her pretty boy lover is dashed.

“You’re very impatient for an immortal, aren’t you.”

The Dark One glares at her, but she only lifts a brow at his impertinence. She holds the power in this room. Even if he doesn’t know it yet.

“I may be immortal, but you aren’t. I’d prefer if you got me out of this hellhole before you crumble into dust.”

“I’m a busy woman, Rumple,” she says, taking pleasure at the way he grimaces at the old, old nickname. “What? Can’t I call you by your real name? And here was I thinking we were such good friends.”

He scowls, and her smile grows wider.

“Busy with what?” he says, and she laughs. Age has changed it from the bell-like sound of her youth to something more of a cackle. More suitable for an old woman who lives in the woods in a house made of sugared treats.

More wicked.

She likes it. The Dark One doesn’t. He’s still glaring at her as of there’s anything he can do from his enforced banishment. As though he isn’t relying on her. Desperate.

She likes desperation, too.

There’s been so much of it lately. She’d be a fool not to take advantage.

She leans down until her nose is only an inch or so from the leaping green flames, and grins.

“Oh, wouldn’t you like to know.”

She cuts off whatever retort is brewing behind the Dark One’s sneer with a wave of her hand, the fire dying away to nothing but ashes and smoke and taking him with it.

“Really,” she scoffs to no one at all, “the ingratitude.”

She tosses her head, and her hair shimmers, gleaming, back to the vibrant red of her youth. From a small wooden box on the table she pulls a chain of gemstones and shells that she holds up to the light before tying it around her wrist, her smile growing ever wider.

“Still. Patience, patience, dearie” she chides the smouldering fire, and taps one long nail against the gems. “We have an appointment with royalty.”

[darth-salem-emperor-of-earth]

47. “Go on, I dare you”, whoever you like!

This is going to be fun one to do. I’m going to pick my Arcana ship, Kahina x Julian because I’ve always wanted to write about them for years. So now is the time! I took inspiration from one of the steamy scenes in the game because dammit do I love it when my apprentice and Julian get frisky. ;)

While having a wanted man as a lover and keeping him out of public view did posses its share of stress and difficulty, there was no denying how exhilarating and enticing Kahina felt harboring Julian in her chambers (courtesy of Nadia for when she stayed in the palace during the investigation) right under the countess’s and castle staff’s noses. Her and Portia spent most of the day dragging a disguised Julian around to search for any clues about what betided on the night of the Count’s murder or any evident that pointed towards Julian’s innocence. So far, not much relevant information was gathered, rendering Portia dejected, Julian in utter turmoil, and herself discouraged. Yet lying in bed with Julian did managed to chase those negative emotions and thoughts of hopelessness, especially in her case, the quest to prove Julian wasn’t the Count’s murderer seemed more daunting and fruitless than ever. She tried not to ponder how time could have erased most of the evidence needed to clear his name. Instead, she settled for keeping both her and her lover’s spirits up by kissing his exposed chest and leaving bite marks along his torso and neck. Julian moaned softly into her ear as she suckled the thin skin around his collarbone, her teeth scraping his flesh. 

“Oh Kahina, you know exactly what I want,” he murmured, voice thick with passion. His hands gripped her hips while she straddled his prone form, grey eyes cloudy with desire as she moved her mouth up his throat and near the side of his face to nip on his earlobe. Julian shuddered with delight and Kahina grinned prior to clenching down hard on that sensitive bit of flesh in-between her teeth. A pleasurable hiss escaped his parted mouth, fingertips digging into her bare abdomen and lower back. He then buried his face into the crook of her neck, breathing in her citrus scent from her brilliant scarlet hair. Kahina thoroughly enjoyed teasing her lover and gauge what sort of sounds or reactions she could induce from him. 

If only we had time for a blindfold or some bindings…

“I finally have you pinned down and right where I want you. No more running away for you.” Kahina remarked, swirling her tongue around the throbbing bump at the center of his throat. She inclined her head at the door as if to challenge him to do just that. “Go on, I dare you.”

He shot her a devious grin, auburn curls sweeping out of place and shook his head. “No need to. This was all a part of my ingenious plan. To get myself under you and at your complete mercy.”

“At my mercy you say?” she purred, trailing her fingers slowly down his chest, tracing every curve, shape, or muscle she could find. Julian jerked a little when her two pointer fingers drew circles around his pectorals, brushing his nipples with a flick of both thumbs before giving them a pinch. “I like the sound of that.” 

“Don’t torture me, Kahina,” Julian begged, his pale visage flushed and eyes brimming with arousal. She could even feel the bulge in his pants up between the juncture of her thighs and for good measure, rubbed her womanhood up against his awakening length. A deep moan warbled from the back of his throat, his fingers slipping underneath her skirt’s waist and pulled the article of clothing down bit by bit, gripping the material for support. He only paused when she dragged her nails across chest, his pained whimpers of rapture filling her empty quarters and exciting her even further. 

“Whatever do you mean, dear Julian?” Kahina cocked her head innocently at him and gave an export roll of her hips, beaming puckishly as he tensed up and exhaled sharply. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The former doctor chuckled. “There you go again, teasing me and torturing me with your charm. Now I’ll never leave this bed.”

Teal eyes gazed down at him fondly, drinking in the sight of his disheveled, shirtless appearance as she wondered how much time they would have to explore the earthly pleasures their touch, tongues, lips, and bodies to grant one another. She had been yearning for such a moment, ever since the two of them shared a bed in Mazelinka’s house and bantered back and forth as night time stretched across the sky. Kahina was never the type to wait to take her prurience but so many events transpired between her and Julian that they finally had some time to relax and know each other better before they resumed their search. 

The door abrupt knocked impatiently, shattering the lusty spell shrouding them both and Kahiha cut a scathing glare to the offender behind the panel of pine and ashwood. “Who is it?” She strained to keep her tone light and even.

“It’s Portia! Do you have a minute?”

“Figures Pasha would interrupt a moment like this,” grumbled Julian but an amused expression dancing on his alabaster, chiseled features. “I better make myself presentable or she’ll make faces at me later and tease me about it.” 

“We’re going to continue this later,” Kahina remarked as she moved one leg over him and slid off the bed, readjusting her long tresses and smoothing out her asymmetrical skirt to hide any traces of what exactly she and Julian had been up to. “There is an itch I need you to scratch.” 

His lips curled up into his trademark knowing smirk. “Oh? And where is the itch located exactly?”

“Somewhere you have yet to see,” she replied without missing a beat, her sultry look enough to get her message across, causing Julian to simper even wider as he put his collared and long, puffy sleeved undershirt back on, letting the laces dangle from the eyelets and bear his neck and upper chest. 

Such a tease. Then again, whom am I to complain? I love it when he’s dressed like that.

Opening the door, she motioned for Portia to come in and playful mood in the room quickly transformed into a more serious one. For her, a magician’s apprentice turned detective, respite was as fleeting as the advice from the tarot deck itself.