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warnersister · 2 years ago

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The Three Instances that Tom Riddle denied his love for you and The One Instance he didn’t.

Tom Riddle x Reader

The first instance - Not enough seating on a cold winter’s morn

Tom was allowing himself to indulge in a book while sipping on a butter beer in Hogsmeade, finding a source of comfort in the warm building - a rather oxymoronic atmosphere to the bismal blizzard beyond the doors. However, what wasn’t comforting was the rest of Hogwarts being practically packed into the building - others having a similar idea to Tom, however deciding against a silent narrative; and. Instead opting for a loud and irritating conversion across the building.

Something implored him to look up from the page he had been repeating in his mind for the last twenty minutes to glance towards the door. The bell had been a constant ring however for some reason only this one drew him to it. Your face was red and your teeth were chattering, frosted flakes forming on your lashes and lips plump as a reaction to the cold. Your mouth flashed into an excitable grin when you saw your friends, making an effort to remove the matching white earmuffs and gloves and shrugging off the similar coat. He noticed how despite the wind and snow, your hair managed to stay perfectly intact, finalised by a black ribbon pulled into a bow to hold the final pesky strands back into a more visually satisfactory position.

Tom wanted to tell himself that it was sickly how perfect you looked, but he was also knowledgable enough to know the way his heart started to palpitate and how beads of sweat emitted from his forehead despite his cold stature wasn’t by chance - his heart could not lie so he settled on confused. Never before had he felt such strong emotions but then again he welcomed the swarm of butterflies encircling his stomach. After all, your presence was keeping him warm.

His eyes darted back to his book when you began to approach him and a flurry of questions rose in his brain. Why were you coming towards him? Did he have something on his face? What did you want? Did you reserve this table? And why was he panicking? “Excuse me?” You say, voice small yet sweet giving a delightful contrast to the bustling environment surround you both. He silently cleared his voice. “Can I help you?” He replied, surprising himself as he mirrored your sweetening voice. “I’m terribly sorry to bother, but is this seat taken? I’m afraid we are void of some.” You say, sincerity in your tone and your face visualised your apologetic comment. “Oh no, not at all. Please” he motioned to the chair and you thank him with a grin, taking it and sitting beside your friends.

The butter beer you were handed gave you a frosted stash and you licked it away quickly with a giggle. Tom thought wall he was watching one of those wizard porno magazines he had found on his dorm-mates bedside table. You were too perfect and he hated it.

Yes. He hated it.

The second instance - Tom is late.

He needn’t have been late. Thomas Riddle was never late. On time is late and early is on time in his book. His watch was lying. But no, his swift entrance into the potions classroom proved futile as everyone was already seated and settled. “Welcome, Mr Riddle please find a seat.” His teacher said, lucky to be favourites and his eyes calmly darted for a chair.

“The seat beside me is free, if you would like.” I voice spoke quietly from beside him and he peered down to see your doe eyes peering back kindly at him. “Yes, thank you.” He sat and soon realised he was unsure of what a was going on.

Your elbow touched his side slightly, drawing him away from his thoughts and towards you. You lean in and whisper “I’m aware you like to write your own notes, but I hope these are good enough to help you catch up.” You hand him your own that are scrawled in a declare and sophisticated hand and smile, turning away. Your whisper made his hair stand on end and spine shiver. He didn’t understand why something as simple as your made him feel this way, blaming it on the temperature of the dungeons and not you.

Soon enough however, it was time for the practical work to commence and he was therefore stuck being your partner. Not that he minded, of course. He just told himself he did. You were each gathering ingredients, you had spit the list into two and appointed one another different roles of which he just complied and went along with, scuttling about to source what you needed.

Walking back towards the cauldron, you find yourself suddenly getting caught on another student’s protruded chair and lurching ever so ungracefully falling. Tom turns as you do so, and for some reason instinctively dripping his own supplies to catch you and break your fall, landing in some sort of forbidden classical dance finale. You look up at him, breath caught in your throat as he mirrors your expression. He eyes you, looking you over concerned that you had hurt yourself. “Are you alright?” He asks, small and you nod, allowing him to help you back to your feet. “Yes, just a little surprised that’s all. Thank you, Tom.” You give him a small smile and hold his arm then turn back to the task at hand.

The student who’s chair it was hurries over to apologise. “Maybe if you hadn’t been so lazy to not put the stool where it belongs she wouldn’t have been in this predicament.” Tom snaps at the student who silences his apology, turning away and handing his head.

Tom looks at you both surprised at himself for protecting you and for the look you were giving him. A mischievous smile. “Aren’t you a knight in shining armour?” You giggle and he chuckles with a smirk. “Shouldn’t have been so negligent.”

But Tom shouldn’t have protected you, Tom Riddle let’s damsels in distress fall. Tom Riddle does not do selflessness.

The Third Instance - Your Festive Nature Rubs Off On Him

Christmas - the muggle celebration - was fast approaching. Spirits were high in Hogwarts and students were busy awaiting excitable festivities and warming hot chocolate; schoolwork discarded and teachers uncaring as they too felt the jolly spirit. But not Tom.

Tom thought it was ridiculous that people so incredible and wise as wizards and witches would celebrate such a lowly muggle holiday. He was quite happy to tuck himself away in the darkest corner of the library until it was all over. Some much needed studying was to be done and he wouldn’t let this infuriating date ruin his exceptional record.

Tom was nose deep into a pile of books taller than himself, when he heard footsteps fast approaching. He peered up slightly to see who dared to disrupt him and had to double take as he noticed it was you. You were adorned in bright red despite being a devoted green, holding a box of sickly sweet decor between your hands, walking towards him with a strong and meaningful stride - you wanted something.

“May I interest you in a Christmas Biscuit or Father Christmas hat?” You ask, holding your treats towards him and he complies by peering into the box of goods. If it was anyone else he would’ve pushed the box out of their hands or use foul language to send them on their way. But for some reason he was yet to put his finger on, not you. “No thank you.” He says and you let out a dramatic sigh.

“A man as hard working as yourself surely needs some sugar to keep his energy up.” You wave a gingerbread man in front of him with a hopeful grin. He eyes you slightly and decided it would be simpler to take the sweet goodness from your hands than to argue, not because it was you - he was just hungry, his growling stomach of which he had been neglecting told him so. It wasn’t you at all.

Your lips form a gleeful smile as he accident lets out a satisfied hum at the taste. “I am a good baker when it comes to Christmas.” You tell him then wrestle through your box and put and odd shaped cylinder-like object, holding one side and encouraging him to pull at the other.

You raised a brow but you remain stubborn and shake the object and it rattles, dull. “It’s a cracker, please indulge and humour me on this one, Tom.” He nearly melts at your words and holds onto the other side, jumping slightly and feeling all gooey when he hears your giggle at his reaction. He holds the full side and does indeed humour you, curiosity killing the cat as he peers inside; pulling out a small muggle rubber duckling, a joke card, and a purple party hat.

He looks from his prize to you and you take the joke from his hands. “What do you sing at a snowman’s birthday party?” You asked, voice overflowing with a sense of humour. “What?” He allows himself to indulge. “Freeze a jolly good fellow.” You laugh and he smirks. “I know you found that funny, Thomas you are allowed to laugh.” You jokingly tell him, removing the party hat from its plastic confinements and reaching to put it on his head.

He should feel repulsed, horrified, disgusted, yet he allows you to put the purple hat on his head and stand between his legs to adjust it perfectly. Your tongue protruded from your lips slightly in concentration and he was enthralled by the sight, a warm bubbly feeling in his stomach when you look down at him. “Perfect.” You conclude and step back.

“Well I’ll allow you to get back to your studying, thank you for that, Tommy.” You say and make your leave. Tommy. What an awful nickname. You should call it him more often.

Tom thumbed the rubber duck and surveyed it for a few moments, before placing it into his breast pocket and tapping it securely as it began to thaw his cold chest, moving to adjust his oversized hat.

Tom enjoyed your unbearable love-ability.

The Instance When Tom Submitted - The Yule Ball.

Tom believed the Yule Ball to be a pointless annual ceremony. Drinks, facing, festivities, how pathetic. What infuriated him the most was how everyone was crowding in the common room to seek out their friends or nightly companions to accompany them to the great hall. How dare they interrupt his peaceful study period!

His breath caught abruptly in his throat when you descended the stairs of the girl’s dormitories. Your skin was glittery and radiating, reflecting from the contrasting black breaded gown tight on your body, corset forcing your breasts to sit in a forcibly plump and admirable position. You hair was in a tight up-do, a headband matching your dress, black lace gloves highlighting the dark and fluorescent green on your well-kept manicured nails, Vivian Westwood flats on your feet and a red lip to tie of the lip. Tom thought he had died and ascended to the holy land where he would reside after death.

You notice his stairs from beyond his book and give him a sweet, adorable tight-lipped smile before descending the final step and joining your friends who were each being complimented by their dates as yours interlocked your arms. Tom felt a horrible twang in his chest as the man touched you - how dare he? How dare he lay his eyes upon you? How dare he breathe your precious oxygen? How dare he - Tom shook his head, ignorantly ignoring his thoughts and forcing his brain to absorb another several paragraphs of perfection-worthy potions essays.

Tom had the common room all to himself. It was peaceful, it was relaxing, it was ideal. But his calm world came crashing around him when the sound of familiar sobs echoed from the entrance of the common room and drew closer. Looking up, he noticed the rivers of ruined mascara and smudged lipstick on your face and his face immediately dropped, discarding his book and standing to stride over to you. You lol up at him, slightly surprised at his response your entrance and allow him to survey you.

“What happened? Are you alright? What did he do?” He bombarded you with questions in an unfamiliar; caring tone. “He left me to go dance with some Ravenclaw who had her breasts practically hanging out. I was forced to sit by myself while I watched my friends dance with their partners and not once been offered a hand. I feel foolish.” You say and Tom’s knuckles go white at his sides from clenching them at your words.

Very much in his own control, he lifts his thumbs to wipe below your eyes and remove the remnants of sadness the residue of your tears had left behind. As much as he wanted to kill the foolish boy, to hex him, to torture him, to make him feel the pain you did currently, his heart told him that you needed him and his comfort more than he needed revenge on your behalf.

“He is the foolish one. He does not deserve you. He should be lucky he still has eyes look at you and a voice still to apologise with.” He says. “You should not have accompanied him, regardless.” He adds. “Who was I supposed to go with? Myself?” You laughs slightly. He shakes his head in response. “I’ll have you know I rejected a plentiful number of offerings and accompanied him as a last resort.” His eyebrow quirks in confusion. “And what did he have that the other bachelors lacked?” “Nothing. A small, foolish part of me ridiculously hoped that you would have asked, Tom.” You said in a small voice looking into his eyes.

His heart beats quick and his breathing stops. The moment in frozen as the world surrounding you both spins in a painful cycle. He looks down at you and forfeits. He surrenders. He raises his white flag. He admits the reason he loved you so much was because he simply did and it was an unavoidable conclusion.

“Perhaps I would have attended such a ridiculous event if you were by my side.” The sides of your mouth quirk into a small smile which quickly drops as you look above your head. Curious, Tom does the same and a small, white-berried bush becomes suddenly apparent. “Mistletoe. What a ridiculous muggle tradition.” He says quietly enough for you to hear it. He then looks down to you and notices the disappointment in your face. “It’s a good job your gingerbread was as delicious as it was, I may have to indulge once more - just this once.” He says and dips his head down and leans in.

Your soft lips touch his and a powerful firework erupts in his stomach in a euphoric manner, settling his inner dispute with a true loves kiss. You each pull away and you go to rest your head against his chest but get confused by the dull ache in your cheek. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out the small duck. “Turns out I enjoy indulging.” He tells you, leaning back in to continue his euphoria.

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nbofvoid · 1 month ago

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It's Cold Outside

Written for the dreamnblade christmas event @alterdnbweek is holding this year.

Day 24 Prompts: Stuck Together; Embarrassment

Happy National Eggnog day everyone! Grab some if you can and enjoy it spiked or not. Oh, and happy Christmas Eve if you celebrate.

Just a quick note for how this au works: admins on their own servers get a permanent 'perk' that removes any weather or environmental affects they might encounter. Others on the server are still affected by it, though.

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Dream is wandering around, trying to find any hidden spots that he'll have to take care of before the others find them. In the very start, he didn't care as much if they did find things, but with the many, many wars that have started over near anything, he doesn't want to risk them getting their hands on something that would cause even more destruction. L'Manberg alone is taking weeks to repair and that was just some tnt and two withers that were taken care of pretty quickly. He doesn't want to think what would happen if they get a hold of something more powerful.

He's focused on his map, trying to figure out where the hell one of the markers is when snowflakes start landing on it. He frowns, brushes them off and hunches over the map more to block more from landing. It's always a risk when traveling through the colder regions, but these flakes are refusing to stop and he's constantly brushing them off.

Sighing, he looks up and-

Oh.

Well... being in the middle of a blizzard probably explains why the snow kept landing on his map. It's impossible to see anything specific through the white swirling around. The map is going to be useless and he vanishes it back to his inventory to free his hands. He holds them in front of his eyes, trying to spot anything he might be able to hide in. There was a village marked on the map earlier and he's pretty sure he's still close to it. He just has to hope he's heading in the right way.

Dream's careful as he walks, pressing under the few trees he comes across to mark them in case he does start going in circles. He doesn't come across the same marks and what feels like a hours later, he finally spots a building barely visible in contrast to the white whipping all around him. He beelines straight for it, spotting a few fences around and launches up the staircase at the first door he sees.

It's heavy and hard to shove open, but he gets it open and man. Dream might not be affected by the weather like the others thanks to being the admin, but the cold is not fun. Neither is being covered in snow.

He starts brushing the piles of snow off himself, muttering curses as he watches the pile at his feet grow. This is a damn strong storm and he hopes it-

Cold metal presses into his throat and he goes very, very still. His eyes track along the sword to the hand holding it and up to Techno glaring at him.

They stare at each other for a long moment until he finally breaks it, "Uh, nice storm going on?"

"Why the fuck are you here?" Techno demands, an ear flicking.

"I was just taking a walk! And I didn't notice the weather turning," he says, seriously wondering if he should just dive out the nearby window. His neck might be cut open because of how hard it's pressed to him, but it's probably better than staying where he's not welcome.

On the other hand, does he really want to run blindly through this blizzard with an actively bleeding neck wound and no clue where he's going? Might be better to just wait. If Techno kills him, he'll respawn out of the blizzard and if for some reason Techno decides he can stay, cool.

"You aren't walking back through this," Techno huffs, lowering the sword and turning back to the counters covered in potion ingredients.

Dream blinks, "Um, what?"

"You already got lost in this storm once. Do you really want to do that again? Because I will dig out my comm and message everyone that you did."

"I was trying to read my map! I didn't notice the storm coming in!"

Techno stares at him, "So you're saying your awareness of things around you is that bad?"

Dream opens and closes his mouth wanting to argue that he does have awareness of what's going on around him, but then Techno will just go back to mocking him for getting lost in the storm.

Techno hums, looking down at whatever he was in the middle of doing, "You're going to want to get out of those clothes before you get sick."

"That's not how that works," he mutters, carefully taking a few steps further into the room. "I'll be fine."

The building doesn't look bad. Is pretty nice, actually, though it is definitely built with only a single person living here in mind. Chests crowd most of one wall, the kitchen another, a small living room consisting of a single chair, lamp, side table, and rug, and a ladder that connects to two trap doors leading up and down. He's not sure about the lower level, but the upper floor can't be that big given what he quickly saw from outside and this room.

"Then you're standing there until you dry off," Techno says. "You aren't ruining my property value by destroying my stuff."

He nods slowly and turns to stare out the window. There's not much out there. Just a huge curtain of whites and greys that shows no sign of breaking. He squints at it, pulling out his map to check what kind of biome they're in. If it's just a taiga, the storm isn't going to last that long, but- This is a tundra plain. It could last for several days.

He vanishes the map again and resumes staring out the window. The thunking of a knife comes from behind him as Techno works with the various ingredients. Dream shifts, his clothes sticking to him oddly as they dry unevenly and he starts looking at all the things in the room again. There's a few small things he didn't note before - a few plants tucked against a different window, a basket with balls of what looks like yarn shoved almost behind the single chair - but there's nothing that holds his attention for long so he finds himself staring at Techno's hands as he cuts up various ingredients.

It's interesting to watch him work with something that requires a more delicate hand. Dream's only had the chance to see him ready for a fight before, never in this kind of domestic situation.

The knife gets very close to Techno's knuckles, but it never nicks him even when the ingredient he's working with is small. He doesn't pause at any point except to grab a new one and adjust it to the correct position and Dream is fascinated as he watches even when Techno puts down the knife and grabs some other tool already prepared on the counter. This one he dumps a bit of the ingredients into and starts smashing it with a rounded stick. Each time he's done, he dumps the remains into a glass vial.

Techno stretches, arms reaching above his head almost to the ceiling and Dream tears his eyes away from the shirt sleeves that road down enough to reveal solid muscles underneath.

"...Okay, you're dry," Techno says and his head snaps right back. "I'll get you a spare bed to use down here. Don't look through anything, got it."

And he vanishes up the ladder leaving Dream alone on the bottom floor. He can hear movement above him, some faint muttering, and then the heavy shifting of wood paneling as Techno descends. A bed is dropped right in front of the door and he looks between it and Techno.

"Are you really using me as a blockade to protect yourself?" he asks.

Techno stares back at him, "Which one of us got lost in a blizzard and is squatting in the other's house?"

He squints behind his mask, "...Touche."

Techno snorts, waves at the bed, and turns back to the counter where he starts packing all of the things he was using away. The tools are set in a bucket under one of the counters, but all of the ingredients are vanished into his own inventory and he heads downstairs with them.

Dream is sitting on the bed when he comes back up, not bothering to look at him as he locks the lower trapdoor and climbs up the ladder to what has to be his bedroom. He blows out a breath, looking around for a moment before tucking himself into bed. This isn't the worst place to be stuck in during a storm no matter how long it might last.

-----_____-----_____-----_____-----_____-----_____-----_____-----

(Dream will forever deny that he wakes up the next day coughing and sneezing and shivering under the heavy blankets with Techno staring down at him with a raised eyebrow. He will refuse to acknowledge when Techno mocks him for thinking staying in wet clothes after being in a blizzard for who knows how long. Though he will, quietly when no one else is around, admit that Techno is really good at taking care of someone when they're sick.)

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AU Notes:

as mentioned at the top, admins aren't affected by things like the cold. they can still get sick if they spend close to an hour wandering around in a blizzard and refuse to take off their soaking wet close or to warm up.

this au takes place sometime after techno moves to the tundra, but before other events such as tommy's exile and the butcher army. i'd say it's up for interpenetration if things change or not because of this, but it is at least very possible the butcher army arc is derailed.

I am intending to get tomorrow's fic posted hopefully in the morning as well, though it might be later depending on how long it takes me to proofread it and in case anything happens to come up. I'm also planning a little bit of a christmas surprise so keep an eye out :)

#dnbxmas24 #dreamnoblade #dream #technoblade

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snarrybang · 6 months ago

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Backhanded Compliments

by Trueliarose on AO3, for @realfatesmistake, FatesMistake on AO3

Teen And Up Audiences No Archive Warnings Apply Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling

Harry Potter/Severus Snape

Characters: Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Minerva McGonagall

Additional Tags: Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Teacher Harry Potter, Romance, Matchmaker Minerva McGonagall, Humor, Crack Treated Seriously, Veritaserum Potion (Harry Potter)

Words: 19,607

Summary: In hopes of keeping disputes between her colleagues to a minimum, Headmistress McGonagall has Severus and Harry sign a contract. What she didn't tell them is the consequences of breaking the new rules, or that there was only one way to stop the annoying punishment: set aside their differences and reconcile. What could go wrong?

SnarryBANG! 2024 Gift Exchange AO3 collection

Guessing game: who wrote what?

Gorgeous banner by @ac1d6urn! ID under the cut

Severus scrutinizes Harry, who is face to face with Severus' patronus, a silver doe with bright green eyes swooping in with the magic whirlwind resembling a winter blizzard. Both Harry and the doe are mesmerised with one another. The tip of Harry's index finger is over the tip of Severus' wand. Harry is holding up lily of the valley blossoms below the doe's chin. Harry's cravat is green with white decorations to match the flowers. Severus' expression is stern and attentive. Behind him, bats descend from the top of the drawing. A tree stretches its branches behind Harry. They are enveloped in sunrise pinks and blues of the sky. A full moon hovers between Severus and Harry's figures, with a solitary shadowed spec of a bat against its yellow glow.

#snarry #severus snape #harry x severus #snape #harry/severus #harry/snape #snarrybang #snarryBANG24 #harry james potter #fanfiction

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sarandipitywrites · 1 month ago

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writemas (day 7)

day 7's prompts, courteous of the lovely @agirlandherquill, made me think of necromancy (and a story that i haven't started writing yet about an aspiring lich queen). so that's what we're getting today :D

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“If I were to die, would you try to save me?”

Nerisa jolted, her lover's voice yanking her back from fantasy, from the spiderwebs of shadow their entwined fingers cast upon the ceiling. The wind beyond the cabin walls moaned, reproving her silence.

“Would you try to save me,” Miri continued, turning her hand to better catch the lamplight, “or would you hasten my end?” The shadow grew and twisted; from the web, a monster emerged.

Nerisa clutched Miri's hand, stilled her fingers' tenebrous writhing. “I'd try to save you. You know I would.” What choice would she have? Who else could calm the dark clouds of Nerisa's mind with nothing more than a smile? Who else could listen to her endless ramblings about science and magic with the same infinite patience with which she endured Nerisa's silence? Who else in this town—in this world—would lay here, with her, like this?

“Do you promise?” The hitch in her voice drew Nerisa's eye. Miri lay there, arm stretched to the heavens, her jaw tight and quivering. The lamplight caught in her eyes, sunlight in dewdrops.

“Miri, what—”

“Promise.”

“Yes.” Tears springing to her own eyes, Nerisa drew Miri in close, tucked her lover's head under her chin. She held her, even as Miri's body shook with sobs. She held her, even as her mind raced to determine the cause of Miri's sudden despair. “Yes, of course. Of course I promise.”

That night, those words, that promise echo in Nerisa's mind now. They howl as loud as the wind, blinding as the snow in her eyes as she searches the blizzard. “Miri!” The storm steals her voice away, just as it stole Miri.

She'd said she would be back quickly—before the storm hit. A quick errand—just to check the fishing lines before they froze over. Nerisa hadn't wanted her to go at all; she should never have let her go alone.

That she finds Miri at all is a miracle. Only when she gets her lover's still and frozen body back home does she remember that miracles do not come in pairs.

Without Miri, Nerisa hardly eats or sleeps; the thought of comfort, of wellness nauseates her, drives her back into the musty world of books and potions. As she works, all the while, Miri sits with her, as patient and loving as ever.

Preserving a body, mercifully, is far easier than reanimating one.

She succeeds because she must—if what she achieves can be called 'success.' Miri's spirit is too far dead and gone to be retrieved in its entirety; a piece of Nerisa's own must do. When Miri awakes, it is as from a long sleep. She remembers some things, but not others; she remembers those nights in the lamplight, those spiderweb shadows on the ceiling. She remembers begging, pleading for Nerisa to save her, to promise. She cannot for the life of her remember why.

Miri loves and hates her by turns. Nerisa tries to dredge the void for the rest of Miri's spirit, to reform her into the person she used to be. Miri stops her. She doesn't want to go back; she doesn't want that utter devotion. She abhors it, just as she abhors the thought of leaving Nerisa.

Love, Nerisa once heard, is a blessing; blessings, she now knows, cannot but wither in her hands. If only she'd never felt love's light at all, perhaps she could have lived a harmless life. A dark one and a lonesome one, but a harmless one. If only she'd never met Miri.

If only Miri had never calmed Nerisa's storm with her smile.

#writemas #writeblr #writers on tumblr #short story #flash fiction #my writing #lich queen

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felassan · 5 months ago

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Dragon Age: The Veilguard - site update - companion blurbs and abilities. [source] Some of this information is new, including each companion's Abilities list.

Text reads:

"LACE HARDING Inquisition This dwarven scout has a positive outlook and a ready bow – as well as unexpected magical powers. At her core, Harding is still a girl from Ferelden; she loves adventure, animals, and nature and is fiercely protective of her family and friends. Abilities: Seismic Shot; Heavy Draw; Shred; Adrenaline Rush; Soothing Potion Harding's skills with the bow are unmatched - her arrows can stagger enemies and shred armor. DAVRIN Grey Wardens Bold and charming, this Grey Warden has made a name for himself as a monster hunter. Though he was raised in a Dalish clan, he craved excitement and adventure. He’d rather make history than reflect on it. Now, he cares for Assan, a young griffon. Abilities: Battle Cry; Death from Above; Heroic Strike; Assan Strike; In War, Victory Fiercely loyal, Davrin brings his enemies down hard with a combination of mighty attacks, teaming with Assan to keep their companions out of danger. BELLARA LUTARE The Veil Jumpers Bellara is creative, romantic, and obsessed with uncovering the secrets of ancient Elvhenan. She has a strong sense of self – a clear idea of who she is and what she wants – and will push herself to her limits to find the answers she seeks. Abilities: Fade Bolts; Enfeebling Shot; Replenish; Time Slow; Galvanized Tear Bellara manipulates the Fade and uses electricity and control magic to support her Companions and diminish the powers of their foes. TAASH The Lords of Fortune A Qunari dragon hunter allied with the Lords of Fortune, Taash lives for adventure and doesn't mind taking risks. While her interests include sparkling treasures and hitting things with an axe, Taash is also deeply knowledgeable about many topics. Abilities: Fire Breath; Dragon's Roar; Dragonfire Strike; Spitfire; Fortune's Favor Blunt and straightforward, Taash is a mighty warrior, who wields dual-axes and breathes out flames, igniting enemies with draconic fury. LUCANIS DELLAMORTE The Antivan Crows Lucanis is an expert assassin for whom the Antivan Crows are a family business. He is poised & pragmatic, but he’d rather not be the center of attention. His focus is usually on his work. Lucanis specializes in executing powerful mages and has earned himself the title Demon of Vyrantium. Abilities: Eviscerate; Abominate; Soothing Potion; Debilitate; Adrenaline Rush Lucanis stylishly deals necrotic damage in battle with his dual-daggers, whilst supporting his companions with potions and buffs. EMMRICH VOLKARIN The Mourn Watch A necromancer of Nevarra's Mourn Watch, this well-meaning scholar comes complete with a skeletal assistant, Manfred. Emmrich is as serious about his duty to protect innocents from the occult as he is about his studies and his interest in the mysteries of the fade. Abilities: Final Rites; Replenish; Entangling Spirits; The Bell Tolls; Time Slow Emmrich summons forth spirits of the dead to both entangle and hinder his enemies and heal his companions. NEVE GALLUS The Shadow Dragons A cynic fighting for a better future, Neve is both a private detective and a member of Tevinter's rebellious Shadow Dragons. Born and raised in a working-class neighborhood of Minrathous, she does not believe in the superiority of mages. Abilities: Icebreaker; Blizzard; Glacial Pace; Time Slow; Replenish Neve uses her talents as an ice mage to freeze and slow enemies, stopping them in their tracks."

[source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age the veilguard spoilers #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #long post #longpost

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shithowdy · 1 year ago

Note

I miss old skool Death Knight rp so much. I know there are classic servers and people who are still dedicated but I’m so checked out of WoW now. I came back to tumblr recently and all my old WoW mutuals seem to have had the exact same experience since 2018~2019 of just completely checking out of the game. Most of us seem to have quit even before the big Blizzard scandals.

But idk, I just get so nostalgic for Acherus. I don’t think I’ll ever get over Death Knights 💀 I didn’t play on US servers but I always wished (I could have joined you all!)

It really was a flash-in-the-pan type of RP that can never truly be revisited, and I miss it terribly sometimes. With the scourge plotline basically concluded not once but twice-over for good measure, the whole premise of the class loses its identity and casts them adrift and without purpose-- something for which they were always sort of destined, but with Shadowlands even things like the crises of faith and redemption and what happens when they finally let go and properly join the dead are negated. The uncertainty and fear of it all is what made them so interesting!

When I left the game, it felt like 90% of the RP happening was very "domestic"-- family dynamics, shipping, people having bake sales, exploration/travel, picnics, parties. It can be occasionally fun to see how a living weapon tries to fit into that sort of dynamic, but I personally found it quickly tiresome and unfulfilling as the moral quandaries of existing at all fell to the wayside. It's very hard to continue to RP someone grappling with their identity when all the other RPers are basically going "oh yeah i just drink a potion to stop the endless hunger so i can run my fashion business :)", and rather than mire in my lore snobbery I just... left.

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one-of-many-journeys · 2 months ago

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Day 36

Song's Edge

Finally bought myself something warmer to wear. It’s a little ungainly, heavy when wet through with snow, but worth it. I’ll be able to keep going for longer. Hard to move my fingers as deftly in these gloves, but it’s worse when they’re numb.

I caught up with Burgrend in his workshop to stock up on supplies, and he told me about three Banuk hunters he’d managed to rope into dealing with him. They’d set out to hunt machine parts to pay off the gear Burgrend supplied them with, but hadn’t returned in days. Burgrend was worried about them—and more importantly his finances. Of course, I’m no debt collector, but given the state of the Thunderjaw heart the group salvaged, split and sparking, it seems like they could use my help. Besides, I’d be interested to meet Banuk hunters who'd dare deal with Burgrend and his foreign goods.

I headed down the path from the village to meet the Shaman set on improving my spear. He remained evasive, made me speak in whispers, and still wouldn’t explain exactly what he was doing. It didn’t feel right leaving my spear in the hands of a stranger, but I left him to his work, keeping one eye on him, and soon he called me back over in a pointed whisper and handed the spear back. He'd reinforced it with the rail, allowing components to be slid on and secured with ease. Extra weight to adjust the swing, sparkers, tear cores, chill water sacs…It’s impressive, and useful. Definitely worth the trek north.

Journeyed out onto the ice to check out the buried Tallneck. I snuck past the Scrappers and Glinthawks feasting on frozen metal to survey the huge machine. Fortunately my Focus had analysed enough of them out in the wilds to pinpoint what was wrong. Three major pieces were missing, probably torn off by the scavengers. I set upon the machine sites one by one, killing the scavengers and salvaging the parts they stripped from the Tallneck.

Scrappers first, then onto a frozen lake and the blue-lit cave beyond where yet more Scrappers nested, this time guarded by a Scorcher.

Finally, a trio of Glinthawks on the cliff’s edge, and I had all three parts. I refitted them with a little work and used my override module to jumpstart the Tallneck's power. I honestly didn’t think it would be that simple, but I guess the Tallneck was just overwhelmed in a blizzard one day, collapsed, and couldn’t get up. Then the scavengers came and there was no chance of repair in the thaw.

The Tallneck came back to life, shaking itself from the ice as if no time had passed since it fell. Shook me off too, so I had to climb up to its head from the ground as usual. I have data spanning the entire Cut now. Should make navigating it a lot easier.

I was close to the western clearing where Burgrend said the hunters were headed. Setting off along the river, I picked up a Strider from a nearby site and rode on.

Soon I came across another of the Daemon’s towers. Or it came across me, more like. A splash of its purple rot targeted my Charger as it rode into its domain, throwing it to the snow, unresponsive.

I overrode the tower then began picking off the four Shellwalkers keeping guard, gulping down a shock wax potion before facing them. I took down two of them by tearing off their shield generators, then frosting them up to remove their electric claws, but when I was down to the last two one of them cornered me, slashing again and again with waves of shock that immobilised me. The closest shave I’ve had in a while. These Daemonic machines are not to be messed with. I can accept when I’m beat. I got back on my Charger and rode to the nearest camp to rest and patch myself up. At least I took down the tower.

Riding further west, I found Burgrend’s hunters scoping out an area with a Scorcher, two Longlegs and many, many Scrappers, as usual, with two of the Daemon’s towers forcing them all to its will. The hunters weren’t pleased to see me, especially Tatai, who is either their leader or just their loudest. It was time to speak in deeds once again and lead the hunt.

I overrode the towers, tearing off the Scorcher’s mine launcher while it was shocked down. That evened things a bit, but the three hunters' help was more than welcome. They kept the Scorcher busy while I took the Longlegs, then returned to tie the Scorcher down, riddle it with mines, then frost, then hardpoint arrows. Even Tatai was impressed.

The hunters told me that they’re on the run from Ban-Ur after they questioned the leadership of their Werak’s Chieftain. Now they’re starting their own Werak. Explains why they were desperate enough to trade with Burgrend. They’re heading for the Sundom. I guess it must symbolise the opposite of these harsh lands in their eyes. I gave them some parts I salvaged to pay back their debts, but they had more still to wipe clean. They’re heading to another hunting site to the north. If I’m out that way, I’ll make sure to join them.

Waning toward evening then. I returned to Song’s Edge and gave Burgrend the news of his newest customers, though they wouldn’t be for long, then settled down in an open tent I’ve practically claimed as my own at this point. Not as warm as the communal tents used by the tribe, but it suits me fine.

#aloy sobeck #aloysjournal #hzd #horizon zero dawn #hzd remastered #aloy #photomode #virtual photography #horizon

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 2 months ago

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Christmas Reruns 2024–Day 15: ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t! One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia. A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns. So here you go! Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Word Count: 5072

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Notes: This story was written for CSSS in 2019. It should hopefully be obvious from the story itself, but this is a canon divergence from 3x20. It’s been a minute, so a quick reminder of what was going on in our favorites’ lives at this point in the story: Zelena cursed Hook’s lips so that the next time he kissed Emma, she’d lose her magic. She threatened to kill Emma’s family, starting with Henry, if Hook told Emma about the curse. Hook then decided to send Henry to New York where he’d (hopefully) be safe, but before that could happen, Zelena’s monkeys attacked. With the help of Emma and the Charmings, Hook was able to defeat the monkeys, but not before Zelena showed up, told everyone about the curse and promised to kill Henry. Emma and the Charmings are furious at Hook for keeping the curse secret. This story takes place in the following episode just after Hook and Emma head to the farmhouse to confront Zelena. Divergences for this story: 1. Snow hasn’t yet gone into labor. 2. Zelena and Rumple aren’t waiting for CS at the farmhouse. 3. It’s Christmas Eve. 4. Blizzard.

–Without further ado:

‘Twas the Night Before Christmas

Emma stomped into the farmhouse, ripping off her thoroughly snow-covered beanie and scarf and tossing them to the floor. Of course she was trapped in the freaking Wicked Witch of the West’s creepy farmhouse–with Hook–on Christmas Eve–because of course she was! That’s the way her life worked anymore. Why’d she ever let Hook talk her into taking that memory potion in New York? Her life was good there. No monsters. No over-the-top fairy tale villains. No magic. Just her and her son living their lives and being a normal family.

Granted, none of it had been real, she’d almost gotten engaged to a flying monkey and a part of her, even during the best moments in New York, felt like there was something missing, but that was beside the point! She and Henry had been happy. Was it really such a terrible thing to want to be happy?

Why the hell did Hook have to show up and destroy it all?

“We’re in luck, love,” the man himself called out cheerfully as he stepped inside and then, with some difficulty, closed the door against the bitter, howling wind. “Zelena may be wicked, but at least she’s practical. She left a nice, neat pile of firewood on the far side of the house. Perhaps being stuck in a blizzard is’t the ideal way to spend Christmas Eve, but at least we’ll be quite comfortable.”

She rounded on him, wanting nothing more to wipe the smile from his face with a swift right hook. “Not ideal? Not ideal?! Hook, my son, my parents, my baby brother or sister and the whole town are in danger from a crazy witch who wants to go back in time and wipe out my entire family line. I think we’re a long way past not ideal.”

The smile slid from Hook’s face. “It was not my intention to be flippant, Swan, but we must deal with the situation at hand. You will be of no use to your lad or the rest of the town if you freeze to death, and at least we have the means to prevent that.”

“But Henry–”

“Will be fine,” Hook reassured, striding across the room until he could place reassuring hand and hook on her shoulders. “He’s with Regina, and even at the height of her villainy, she loved Henry. Protecting him will be her number one priority.”

Loathe as she was to admit it, Hook was right. After the whole debacle yesterday–the storybook bringing back Henry’s memories, Zelena showing up and exposing Hook’s whole kiss curse situation, Zelena promising to kill Henry, Henry and Regina breaking the curse with True Love’s Kiss, the revelation of how the curse was cast in the first place (she still couldn’t believe her mother had actually crushed her father’s heart to cast it!)–Regina’s first act was to place a number of complex protection spells over Henry and every location he frequented. Henry would likely suffer no lasting damage.

But Emma hadn’t wanted to take any chances. With Regina protecting Henry, and with Emma’s brother or sister still showing no signs of coming out to greet the world, Emma decided she was done playing defense. It was high time she take the fight to the Wicked Witch. It was time to end this. So armed with her magic and her faithful pirate, Emma had stormed out in the direction of Zelena’s farmhouse.

Stormed, it seemed, being the key word. It began snowing just before she and Hook left her parent’s loft, and by the time they reached Zelena’s place, they were dealing with a full on blizzard.

Really, being home was the least Zelena could do given the fact Emma was giving up Christmas Eve with her son to kick her ass, but no. She couldn’t even give them that. There was no telling where Zelena and her Dark One puppet had gone, but it was clear they were not at home.

Emma hoped the witch froze solid in the blizzard.

Killian busied himself arranging the logs in the fireplace and then tried–without success–to start a blaze with the lighter he’d found lying upon the mantle. Emma watched him struggle for a while, before growling, pushing him aside and calling on her reserves of anger and frustration to produce a fireball that soon had the fire blazing merrily.

“Bloody brilliant, love,” Killian murmured in obvious awe. Despite herself, Emma felt her confidence soar in the wake of Hook’s constant, never-wavering faith in her.

“You know Swan, it could be worse,” Hook said with a wicked grin. “At least you’re trapped with a dashing rapscallion like meself. There are any number of ways we could find to amuse ourselves that I can promise would be very enjoyable for both of us.”

When he waggled his eyebrows in that ridiculously over-the-top way of his, she lost it.

“Are you freaking kidding me right now?” she nearly shouted. “We’re stuck here, my family’s in danger, a psycho witch and her equally psycho Dark One sidekick are still on the loose and all you can do is flirt!”

Growling, she turned to the fireplace, and tossed another fireball at the kindled wood for good measure, furious beyond belief at Hook, at Zelena, at the situation and, if she was being totally honest, at herself for the secret thrill that went through her every time he made outrageous or suggestive comments to her while giving her that look. There was nothing between them! There never would be. She wouldn’t let it.

The farmhouse was silent for several moments, save for the crackling of the fire, and Emma eventually turned back toward Hook. The look he gave her was a little too knowing, a little too understanding. When he’d come for her in New York, he’d told her he knew her better than she knew herself, and though she hated to admit it, it was true. It was a little unnerving how very well he understood her.

“Swan, what is this really about?” he asked simply.

Emma growled. “What do you mean, ‘What’s this really about?’ Did you forget about a certain green bitch with an insane grudge against her sister?”

“Of course not,” Hook said patiently, “but despite being snowed in, we are in no worse straights than we were yesterday. You heard it yourself from your mother when you used your talking phone to let her know of our whereabouts. Your family is fine, and Zelena hasn’t been seen since our confrontation in the boat house. I reiterate. What’s this really about?”

Emma glared at him for a long moment, before she finally sighed and dropped rather dramatically onto one of the ornate armchairs before the fire. “It’s just…it’s just Christmas is Henry’s favorite time of year. That kid loves Christmas. Every year back in New York–and then in Boston before that–Christmas Eve was special. We made a tradition out of it. We’d sit before the tree drinking cocoa, reading ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas’, singing our favorite carols. Sometimes he even managed to talk me into letting him open a present or two. It was the one night I never, under any circumstances, accepted a case or worked on one I had ongoing. Christmas was for us.”

Emma felt the tears threatening at the back of her throat and she swallowed roughly, doing everything she knew to keep them from spilling over. “And now, here I am on Christmas Eve, separated from him. The kid’s going to be crushed.”

“Love,” Hook said gently, “the lad has a kind heart and a good head on his shoulders. He understands the circumstances are beyond your control. He knows how much spending this night together means to you, and he knows you’d never willingly miss spending it with him.”

“You know what the worst part of it is?” Emma asked bitterly. “The worst part of it is, as you’ve pointed out to me multiple times, none of it was real. It didn’t happen. It was nothing but the pleasant fake memories Regina gave us.”

Killian took ahold of her hand, and in a move that shocked even her, she let him. “This past year, the lost year, was real. Trust me love, Henry understands why you weren’t with him during the first ten years of his life. He knows you didn’t abandon him. He knows you did what you had to do to give him a good life.”

“Maybe,” Emma said, a lone tear breaking free and flowing down her cheek despite herself.

“Definitely,” Killian said with conviction

The lights flickered once and then went off completely, pitching the farmhouse into darkness, save for the flickering light from the fire. Despite it being merely late-afternoon, the storm outside seems to have eclipsed the sun entirely.

“Fabulous,” Emma said with a groan. “As if being stuck in a witch’s farmhouse on Christmas Eve wasn’t bad enough, now we’ll probably freeze to death without the heat.”

“I rather doubt that, Darling” Hook said with a flirtatious quirk of his eyebrow. He slid his tongue along his bottom lip in a way that had Emma’s pulse racing, before invading her space and whispering the last bit. “I’m sure we can come up with a way to keep warm.”

Emma leaned into him, actually leaned into him for a moment, before shaking herself out of it and taking a deliberate step back.

“Stop, Hook, just…stop!” she said through gritted teeth. “This whole thing is your fault! All of it! We were happy in New York, and you had to barge in and destroy it for us. Then we get back here, and you manage to get yourself cursed–joke’s on Zelena by the way. If she was smart, she’d have chosen to enchant the lips of someone I’d actually kiss. Then you decide to take matters into your own hand instead of telling me about the threat to my son. Hell, this is probably part of the plan too, isn’t it? Get me alone, stranded in a blizzard and then try to seduce me.”

She’d hurt him. She saw that clearly in his face for the space of two heartbeats, and then that hurt coalesced into anger. “Despite what you may think of me, Swan, I’ve not yet developed an ability to control the weather.

Without another word, he stomped to the door.

“Where are you going?” she yelled after him, fire still flashing in her eyes.

“To gather more firewood,” he answered, voice hard.

And with a fierce slam of the door, he was gone.

For long moments after the door slammed after Hook, Emma continued to seethe. Why was her life the way it was? Why couldn’t she just be normal? Why couldn’t she go back to her pleasant, comfortable life in New York with her son? When she told people she was going back after this whole Zelena situation was over, why did they all look at her like she had just stated her plan to kick puppies? This was her life, and she could live it as she pleased! It was her prerogative to do what she felt was necessary to protect her son. Where did Hook get off trying to convince her to stay with her family–and with him?

It’s not like she’d never see her loved ones again. They’d still visit, and her family was welcome to come visit them. But she was done. She was done being the “savior”, done going after psychotic fairy tale villains, done being everything to everybody. And most especially, she was done dealing with a pirate who made her heart race in a way she couldn’t control.

She’d done the whole “falling in love” thing before, and she had no intention of doing it again.

But as the minutes continued ticking past, Emma’s anger began to fade, and concern took its place. Hook had been gone a long time; way too long to just gather up firewood. What if….what if she’d finally driven him away? What if he’d actually left her this time?

A sick feeling took up residence in the pit of her stomach at the thought. She wanted to tell herself she didn’t care; that she was glad he had finally stopped pestering her, but she couldn’t lie to herself anymore. Hook had become much more than an ally to the heroes’ cause. He’d become a friend, quite possibly the best friend she had. He was her confidant, her support. His endless faith in her gave her confidence when she no longer had faith in herself. And the fact that he was so drop dead gorgeous and romantic that her insides turned to mush whenever he looked at her couldn’t be denied, at least not in the deep recesses of her heart where the truth resided.

Truth was, he’d been everything she needed during this whole stupid Wicked Witch business. Despite what she might have said to him, she knew he pushed her not to further his own romantic interests but because he genuinely wanted her to find happiness.

And what did she do? Time and time again, she pushed him away. Time and time again she reforged the wall around her heart, trying to drive him away with cruel, cutting words.

Had she actually succeeded this time? Was he ready to give up on her like everyone else had? Gods, how was she going to handle it if he had? Through everything, he’d been a constant in her life. Why did she always do this? Why did she always push away the people in her life that meant the most?

A small kernel of hope still lived inside her, reassuring her that he’d never abandoned her before, he wasn’t going to start now.

But that thought brought with it an entirely new concern. What if something happened to him? What if he was lost, freezing to death in the blizzard? What if Zelena was lying in wait for him? What if…?

As the minutes continued to pass, increasingly more fantastical worries about what may have happened to him took up residence in her mind until Emma feared she’d go crazy with the worry. She was just on the point of going after him, when suddenly the door swung open, the furious blizzard winds blowing in both Killian and a fair amount of snow.

Without a word, Killian deposited an arm full of firewood beside the fire and then stepped outside to grab one more thing, before firmly closing the door again and shaking his head and shoulders like a wet dog.

The relief that suddenly flooded Emma was so strong that she couldn’t help herself. She threw herself in his arms and buried her nose in his icy cold neck. He was here; he’d come back to her. He was okay.

For a moment, Killian stood still, but then his hooked arm came around her, and he hugged her to himself as tightly as she clung to him. “Swan?” he asked.

Emma stepped back, wiping at her suddenly damp eyes. “I’m sorry, okay?” she said, voice wavering with the emotion still at the back of his throat. “I thought you’d left, and I get it. The stuff I said to you–it was over the line and I’m sorry.”

Killian took a quick step back, unmistakable hurt back in his eyes. “You thought I’d left? Emma, haven’t I proven to you by now that I’d never leave you?”

“I know!” she was quick to reassure. “It was stupid okay? I just–I don’t know; I got scared, and when I get scared–” she shrugged. “Wounds from the past tend to linger.”

His face softened. “Well they needn’t with me,” he said gently. “I’m not so easily driven away.”

She smiled at him, a small, tenuous thing, but then the item in his hand caught her eye. “Is that a pine tree?”

Killian smiled again. “It’s not much, I’m afraid, but it was the best I could find in this tempest.”

“You got us a Christmas tree?”

Killian suddenly turned away, scratching at the back of his ear. “I thought about what you said, Swan, about the traditions you are missing with your lad today. I know it’s not the same as spending the day with him, but I thought–” he shrugged self-consciously, “I thought perhaps it would make your holiday marginally less bleak if we recreated some of your favorite traditions ourselves.”

For the second time that evening, Emma threw her arms around Killian. “That’s one of the most thoughtful things anyone’s ever done for me.”

“I aim to please.”

******

Two hours later, Emma and Killian sat with each other before the fire, steaming mugs of instant hot cocoa in hand. Emma smiled, looking over at the tree that they’d managed to decorate with bits and baubles they’d found scavenging through Zelena’s house (and leaving quite a mess in their wake, which felt rather satisfying). Phase one of “Operation Christmas Cheer”, as Emma decided to call it in honor of Henry, complete, they’d turned their pillaging to the kitchen, managing to put together a haphazard meal of bread and cheese that Killian had toasted over the fire. It was Emma who found the box of instant cocoa mix in Zelena’s cupboard, and, resourceful as always, Killian had heated it over the fire in a small saucepan.

Meal prepared, they’d raided every bedroom and closet, bringing all the pillows, blankets, comforters and afghans they could find and arranging a nest for themselves before the fire.

“I’m afraid we’ll need to bed down for the night here before the fire, Swan,” Killian said, once again scratching at his neck. “With the storm still raging fiercely, we’d freeze in any of the bedrooms.”

Truth be told, Emma thought, as she bit into her grilled cheese sandwich, though she missed being with Henry, this Christmas Eve wasn’t turning out half bad.

They ate in companionable silence, and when the last crumb had been consumed, Killian turned toward her with a smile. “Are you ready for your story, Swan?”

“Story?” She asked.

“Of course,” he answered. “That was an integral part of your Christmas Eve tradition, was it not? Reading with your lad?”

Emma smiled. “It was, but don’t worry about it. It would be too much to ask that the Wicked Witch would keep any Christmas books around.”

“No matter,” Killian said, settling more comfortably onto his side of their blanket nest. “I’ve no need of a book.”

“Oh really?” she grinned. “How are you going to manage to read me a story with no book?”

“I’ve all I need up here, love,” he said, pointing to his head. “Sit back and prepare to be transported into the holiday spirit. ‘Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the house…”

Emma’s jaw dropped. “Wait, you know ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas’?”

Killian gave her a mock offended look. “I do read, Swan. Quite extensively in fact.”

Emma smiled, laying upon her pillow and pulling a comforter up to cover her. “Well, by all means, then, continue.”

As Killian’s voice droned on, reciting the story of a man awakened by the arrival of Santa Claus on Christmas Eve night, Emma felt her eyelids become heavy, and before she knew it, she was drifting off to sleep, not visions of sugar plums, but visions of a thoughtful pirate that she just might be starting to fall for, dancing in her head.

************

Christmas morning dawned clear and bright, the blizzard finally at an end. Emma woke to bright sunshine streaming through the front window. For a moment, she was disoriented, wondering where she was and how she’d gotten there, but then the previous day rushed back to her. Going after Zelena, the blizzard, being trapped in the farmhouse, taking out her frustration on Hook, being afraid Hook had left her, being overjoyed when he returned, his thoughtful Christmassy gestures.

Still thinking of Hook, Emma gradually became aware that she was quite warm and comfortable–and that was all thanks to the man who was currently spooning her, his strong arms holding her close. They’d gone to sleep with a respectable amount of space between them; how did they wind up in each other’s arms?

For a moment, Emma wanted to run. This was too close, too intimate, too–much.

But the more Emma thought about it, the more she realized she didn’t want to run, not anymore, not from this man. He’d been proving himself to her over and over again since Neverland. In the past few weeks alone, he’d been her rock as all this Wicked Witch crap had been going down. He’d found her in New York–somehow; she was still fuzzy on the details–restored her memories, brought her back to her family, contributed an excellent strategic mind to planning sessions, been one of the best listening ears she’d ever had.

And then the harder to swallow stuff. In these early morning moments, she could admit to herself that though some of the things he said to her were uncomfortable, they were uncomfortable truths. Walsh’s presence in her life proved that she couldn’t get away from the fairytale crap, not really. The fact that Henry had his memories back meant she couldn’t take him back to New York, at least not without a hell of a fight–with him, with Regina, with her parents, with everyone. He’d spoken the truth to her about all of it, even at the risk of her turning on him completely. It was the mark of someone who truly, genuinely cared.

And all the while, she’d treated him like something nasty she’d stepped in. She’d pushed, and pushed and pushed, but he’d stayed by her side. He’d been so patient with her, he really ought to qualify for sainthood.

It was Christmas, the time to be with the ones you loved. The time to tell them what they truly meant to you.

She turned over in his arms and ran a hand over his stubbly cheek. Still caught up in sleep, he mumbled “Swan” on a fond sigh, before opening his eyes–and then jumping to his feet faster than any person she’d ever seen.

“Swan!” he said, face flaming. “My apologies love. Not that I didn’t enjoy waking up with you in my arms, but I had no intention of taking advantage.”

Emma smiled, rolling her eyes fondly. “Sit back down, you Victorian drama queen. You didn’t take advantage. Somehow we just–ended up like that over night. Besides; I kind of liked it. You’re warm.”

Killian did as she asked, sitting cross legged beside her as she sat up to mirror him. “Just warm, love? I’ve it on good authority that I’m hot.”

Emma laughed, playfully swatting his arm. “Do you ever run out of these cheesy lines?”

“Haven’t yet in my three hundred years of existence.”

They laughed together for a moment, but then Emma turned serious, remnants of her musings of the morning still very much in mind. “Hook, I think we need to talk.”

The smile slid from his face. “As stated in Neverland, love, I find when a woman says that, I’m rarely in for a pleasant conversation.”

“You might be surprised this time.”

“Aye?” he asked, brow raising in interest.

“I just–” she started, not sure how to even go about untangling all of the thoughts twisted up in her head. “I get it; I get why you didn’t tell me about the lips curse thing. I get that you were trying to protect Henry the best way you were able in an impossible situation. I’m sorry I jumped down your throat about it.”

“You were concerned for your lad,” Killian said. “I quite understand being angry at finding someone was keeping something about his welfare from you.”

“It’s not that,” Emma said, “or at least not just that. Hook, I trust you; I really do. I know you wouldn’t deliberately hurt Henry. It’s just–hearing what Zelena threatened and what she did to you, it just brought it home again that I’m not enough. Even with the whole savior thing, I can’t do a damn thing to help my family. Zelena knows if she takes my magic, I’m useless.”

Killian straightened, frowning ferociously down at her. “I cannot abide that kind of talk about the woman I–well, the woman I care for, particularly when it is blatantly false. Emma, you are enough. You’re more than enough, and it’s because she knows it that Zelena is going after you. She said something similar to me. She told me that she wants me to take away your magic, the thing that makes you special, but she was wrong as well. Your magic isn’t what makes you special. There’s not a bit of you that isn’t extraordinary. Swan your determination, your goodness in the face of a difficult childhood, your strength and courage. All of it make you who you are. All of it convinces me without a doubt that even without your magic, you could defeat Zelena.”

Emma felt like a ball of warmth surrounded her, suffused her at his words. She loved him. She’d never admitted it to herself before, but nonetheless it was true. She loved him, and she was done hiding behind her walls.

And she was certainly done letting villains try to determine her love life.

“Killian, can I ask you a question?” she asked.

“Anything, love.”

“Back in New York, when you first came to my apartment. That was True Love’s Kiss you tried, wasn’t it?”

There was the scratching at his neck again. “Aye. I knew it was a long shot, but I had to try.”

“So you…you love me?”

His eyes widened. “Swan, if you haven’t realized that by now, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“No I mean, you truly love me, like curse-breaking true love?”

“For my part, aye,” he said, looking directly in her eyes. “There’s no doubt in my mind, but for True Love to break a curse, it must be reciprocated. New York proved that it is not, as is your prerogative, of course.”

Emma was silent for a moment, gathering her courage. Finally she met his eyes. “True Love’s Kiss also doesn’t work when one party doesn’t remember the other.”

He stared at her incredulously for a long moment. “Are you saying you think we share True Love?” he began, apparently unable to finish the sentence.

Emma shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know. How could I? But–I’m willing to test it out. Are you?”

He swallowed hard. “Gods know how badly I wish to kiss you, Swan, but are you sure? Your magic is part of who you are. I cannot be the reason you lose it.”

“You won’t,” Emma said, scooting forward and invading his space. “I think this will work, but even if it doesn’t I know that there’s nothing our family can’t accomplish. With or without my magic, Greeny doesn’t stand a chance. So what do you say? Are you willing to take a leap of faith?”

In answer, Killian leaned forward covering her lips with his own. Emma sighed into the kiss, everything about it felt right. Come what may, she was not denying herself this pleasure again.

Emma had just tilted her head to deepen the kiss, when suddenly a shockwave burst forth from their joined lips and suffused the entire farmhouse. She pulled away. “Hook–was that–?”

His face a mask of awe, Killian answered. “I think so. Give it a try, my love.”

Emma concentrated her emotions, directing them toward the place within her where her magic had always been. Continuing to focus, she waved her hand, and suddenly a fireball shot forth, reigniting the fire that had burnt down to mere embers.

“True Love,” she said in shock. “It’s true love.”

“Aye that it is,” Killian said, moving toward her once again. “The question is, what are we going to do about it?”

“Well, for starters, this,” Emma said, surging forward with enough vigor to knock him to the floor. Emma took his mouth with the kind of wild abandon she’d never even imagined displaying. He gave back as good as he got, his hand tangling in her hair and his hooked arm molding her to himself.

Emma’s hand had just moved to unclasp his vest when suddenly the farmhouse door opened and Leroy burst through, walkie talkie in hand. “Relax your majesties,” he said. “I found ‘em. They’re at the farmhouse sucking face like a couple horny teenagers.”

Emma sighed in frustration before getting to her feet and then offering Killian her hand.

“You know, Swan,” Killian said when he was back on his feet. “I think someone needs to muzzle that dwarf.”

Emma giggled, as the sound of her father’s shocked “WHAT?!” on the other end of the walkie came through.

She shrugged. “What can I say? It wouldn’t be Christmas without a little family drama.”

“True enough, love. Shall we adjourn to your parents’ loft and face the music together?”

“Absolutely,” Emma answered, taking his hand and lacing his fingers with hers. “Together is how I see us doing a lot of things in the future.”

NEXT CHAPTER->

#cs fanfiction #cs christmas reruns 2024 #my fanfiction #'twas the night before christmas

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