#but at least I am now done and can start collecting all the little threads x'D

[mitamicah]

And so I have finished all four of the gig stickers for the upcoming Käärijä europe tour :3 The plan now is to order them as soon as I am done eating :3

Any preferences whether you'd like to see the designs now or closer to the gig dates :3? I mean, the Polish dates are first in december after all x'D

[lovecanbesostrange]

A quick list about what I loved about the Agatha All Along finale.

Agatha still isn't a good person. She's not completely evil either though. She looks out for number 1, herself. To protect herself she killed witches before and she's still willing to do it again. Which doesn't mean she is completely uncaring either. She has buttons that can be pushed, mostly the big one that says "Nicky" on it. And I love the way she is torn between "Billy reminds me of my son, but he also very much isn't my own".

Billy also has done shitty things. Much like his mother out of not having proper guidance. When he realizes that he created the road and thus caused suffering for others, his devastation is genuine. And he does lash out by trying to banish ghost!Agatha (honestly understandable reaction). But then he doesn't.

And these two form a most interesting pair for a mentorship!! I need more of that. I am not devastated about Agatha's death, since she is a ghost. Hilarious. Being dead doesn't stop her from being a character that can be easily used. And oh, what a death scene that was. Fantastic! Plus how she insists that it was not a sacrifice. Because she is not nice. Nobody ever dare say anything nice about Agatha Harkness!!

The true devastation are those scenes with Nicolas. Her son. The one who started singing a silly little tune and oops, they created the whole ballad together. FANTASTIC! I love everything about that and how Agatha uses it as a con, when the ballad spreads. A lie she can use. Wow. Epic. Agatha All Along!! She said the road was fake and she meant it. But also can we talk how the ballad did become a protection spell for a child by her mother? Best use ever and it hits harder now.

I do wish there had been a scene prior to Agatha being pregnant. To show her with Rio before. Agatha killer her own mother and her first coven and I'm sure that's when Death took note of her. A witch who kills her own coven, who sucks them dry and leaves bodies for her to collect. I think just a short scene from their first encounters would have helped. Also to explain why Rio feels such sympathy for Agatha that she doesn't take Nicolas right away at birth. ONLY FOR AGATHA TO SUFFER MORE BECAUSE KNOWING HIM WAS EVEN HARDER... more wow. It hurt so much. Rio was so gentle, and how she sends him back to kiss Agatha goodbye. Only for Agatha to find her dead son in her arms, unable to do or say anything. And all of that is WORSE. She said she would never forgive Rio and she kept that promise.

I do think it's a bit weird how easy it is that it comes down to "I will take one of you", even though Billy upset the natural order by taking over William's body. And then he did it for Tommy. Holy shit. The deal and natural balance felt a bit... well, not focused on enough. But just the way Billy comes to help Agatha and does give her some of his power, and she actually does stop herself -- these two! (Honestly I wish Agatha could learn about what went down in MoM. If there is one person who could appreciate massacring a bunch of wizard monks just to follow an insane plot to get some children back - it should be Agatha.)

JEN IS ALIVE! And she has her powers back. From Agatha. Fuck it, Agatha All Along, who knew.

Agatha still isn't good. She was an opportunistic witch and now she can be a cunty ghost mentor. The way she says that she is not ready to face her son, breaks my heart. Maybe it's also because she used their song to kill more witches and he didn't like that part all too much.

What a great trip. The big reveal hidden in plain sight. A very character focused emotional journey, yet some dangling threads to connect it to ge greater known Marvelverse, pushing the door open for Tommy (I'm glad they told us right away and nobody has to now make up theories how his soul was around and why didn't Wanda sense him at least). I think it would be fun if this has the greater effect of making the road real and that others can now walk this path (with all the dangers attached), but that doesn't matter and it's probably this isolated event. Jen survived the road and she found sisterhood along the way.

Oh, in that fight between Rio and Agatha, I like how Agatha tried to use the things she learned about protection and healing, also of course listening to Lilia's last warning. Oh Agatha, you would be better off with a coven, you know.

[jolalibrary]

Hey my lovely Jo!! We’re going to start with a writing question before we get to 🤡.

When you’re writing a multi-chapter fic, are you writing it chapter by chapter or do you write a large chunk (or the entire fic) before posting the individual chapters?

Love you 💜💜

lovely lovely jenn! what a fabulous question, okay, I may ramble here, forgive meeeee.

previously, I have written a huge chunk of the fic to an outline I have (a skeleton, as I call it) and then begin posting when I’ve banked what I suspect is 30-40% of the fic, to allow for buffer time. this is mainly because I upload weekly and life can happen/sickness/etc.

late night texts was one I wrote three chapters of (thinking it would be five) and began posting and then spent every week writing the next and it was AMAZING! but I also didn’t have assignments then, one shots coming out of my ears (both my fault) or fandom friends to talk to. I just had writing. but with do me yourself, I had a chunk of that written and then I dedicated time aside to do as much of it as I could as i was posting but noticed near the end that I almost lost a thread 😂 like I didn’t close it up. I managed to sort but it kinda made me realise that when I do a slightly bigger plot (for me) my brain can forget little threads.

so I realised for actual series, I need to change it up.

HOWEVER, more recently, blue x frankie WAS supposed to be a collection of one shots that have somehow become a story? (let’s not even ask 😂) so, for this I’ve made a hard plan and made sure it has bullet points so I know what I’m doing.

but with new things, i am trying to write in full at least a draft. there’s something I’m working on that I’ve worked out could be around 12 chapters, and while I could get to four or five and begin posting, I really want to make sure for myself that I’m happy with elements before posting. so I won’t even be teasing that out into the universe because I’ll get excited and post 😂. (I succumb to peer pressure very easily).

now I’ve rambled a lot and I know you asked me for what I do, but I do want to stress there’s no right or wrong way, as long as you can be confident in what youve done. that’s all that matters.

I never used to be a planner, but I’ve found a tactic that works well for me. It’s good for my brain and how i work, and it’s taken years to craft and tweak it to be how i want. so if anyone is after advice: just try things.

and I think because I am now a planner who pants, that has changed me as an uploader, and I think I’ve learnt that I’d like to enjoy the process of posting it more if I know I’m completely done. its especially important as I’m trying to weave more things in and also make the readers lean a bit closer to OCs so people can really sink into them.

anyway, that’s a lot of ramble. but I hope I answered your question! thank you for it, it really made me think!

ily, jo

[zehecatl]

2024 media thread PART OCTOBER

2th October: Sonic The Hedgehog: Scrapnik Island

so i've never, in my entire life, read a Sonic comic- even though i've been eyeing them for literal years at this point, i just. never got around to it. and i remember when this mini-series dropped, i was like 'oh? 👀' because i am nothing if not weak for (vaguely) spooky settings, so at some point or another i bought it, didn't get around to it for a bit, and then, finally- sat down and read it today

and yeah. yeah. i like this. i would, literally, die for Mecha Sonic, and i guess? i have to buy the IDW Collections now??

it's kind of hard to judge all of Sonic (IDW) comics just from one mini-series, but it did very much pull me in, and the art was genuinely gorgeous- like, woah! some of those scenes! i especially like the indoor scenes, really leaning into the spookiness there, and also i really like how the scrapnik looks... funky little friends 🥺

funnily enough, i think the character i liked the least is Sonic, but i'm kind of compelled by that? like, i'm nowhere near as deep in the Sonic hole as i want, but i kind of like the fact that he's a bit of a jerk. it adds charm <3

also i love Tails. like. i absolutely adore Tails. he's my sweet baby boy, and i can't wait to see more of him (since i likely won't see Mecha...), he is literally perfect

anyway, uh. good comic! yay! :D

5th October: The Amazing Digital Circus 3

man, TADC really just keeps on putting out bangers, and- in my humble opinion- this one is the best one so far

like first of all, love the setting and genre use here. it's not too spooky or anything, so people unused to horror can still watch along, but it's still really well done horror, and it's perfectly balanced with TADC's usual comedy. also the monster design- chef's fucking KISS. love the reveal at the end, it's so fun

secondly, rather obviously- THE KINGER FOCUS. god damn, they really hit it out of the park there- he's very obviously In Focus, but he doesn't overtake Pomni's spot as main character, and i really like how we're learning about him with Pomni. it's very charming, and really centralizes her as the main character. like. we are on this journey with her

also i just love him. like let me make that clear. Kinger i love you and i would kill for you

Zooble's wasn't as focused on, which is kind of sad, since they likely won't get an episode to themselves, though we can hope for more focus. on the other hand, i really like the dynamic they had with Cain, and using that as a way to let us see more of Cain was a real treat

it's honestly just such a good episode. like. TADC continues being nothing but genuine peak, and i cannot wait to watch more of it! good fucking show

9th October: Dome Keeper

oh Dome Keeper, i wish i liked you more than i do. there is, for sure, a really good game here- it's not very positive on steam for nothing, after all- but i simply did not click with it

like, i did put 30 something hours into it. i absolutely got my money's worth. but i'm already starting to forget about it entirely, leaving only vaguely bored memories of it behind... quite honestly, i just don't think i was the target audience, here

i do wish i liked it more, though. lovely atmosphere, mining is rather chill, and the base defending -while not a genre i particularly like- was a good enough combination of chill and tense. it was just not meant to be 😔

10th October: The Boy and the Heron

thinking back on it now, writing this after like, twenty days, the Boy and the Heron truly didn't hit as hard for me as i wanted it to

it's not a bad movie- it's a great movie, even, because it is nothing if not a Ghibli classic, and i think anyone who likes animation should watch it, immediately, but... i don't know. something about it makes me wrinkle my nose a little, looking back. it almost feels too busy, too full of its own ideas- none of the relationships between Mahito and the others really hit, not even the one that truly should have, no matter what. i liked the characters, i loved the world, but somehow it just.. didn't hit me

plus, the ending left me feeling kind of flat. like, i get what they were going for, i see the vision, but it personally just... didn't accomplish what it meant to accomplish

haha, i feel like i have to reiterate- great movie. like, it's Ghibli. as much as i'm nitpicking at it now, it was a great watch, and definitely one that's going to be remembered, down the line. just not a personal fave

13th October: The Wild Robot

man. this is such a good fucking movie

like. i knew it was gonna be good- i ended up going to see it specifically because everyone was gushing about it on the twitters, but, like. man. this is such a good fucking movie

i honestly don't have a lot to say about it, other than, like. this is with a family (animated) movie should be. it's such a perfect example of a Good Movie, with such genuine heart and so much love poured into it, and just. yeah. that's the good shit

i know some people wasn't overly fond of the ending, but at least personally, i think it was the right ending. like, it felt very fitting for the story, and could lead into a sequel. which isn't something i'm personally hankering for, but the book does have one, so, hey, that could be fun

but other than that, yeah, i don't have a lot to say? it's a really good movie

19th October: Niichan (by Harada)

i'm kind of waffling about how to properly talk about Nii-chan, because it is very much a manga about the relationship between an adult and a child, but it's also very much outside of reality, like. it's not unrealistic, exactly, but the ending is very much a fantasy, and one i really rather like, but at the same time, it does address the grooming aspect rather realistically, at least at first, but also, just. it's a yaoi. hmm

i do really like this short series. i like how it starts, and how it develops, and i like how it ends, and yes, it's fucked up, but that's the charm of it- the fact that Yui (the child) falls in love with Kei (the adult), and gets to stay in love with him, would in reality be beyond fucked up, but in the realm of fiction, it's. sweet

i saw someone interpret it as more of a work about the 'specific agony that comes from being considered “disgusting” to society, especially the disgust shown to direct or indirect victims of abuse who behave deviantly', and i do think that's more accurate than taking it Deeply Serious as a work about grooming. even if i did not read the actual essay lol

OH, ALSO. DEEPLY IMPORTANT. there's a really charming and delightful female character in this, and i love her so much; the way she sticks by Yui even as she finds Kei disgusting, is so very cute, and i'm deeply enamoured with her. Maiko <3 you are the queen of this whole story <3

i do wish we had a proper translation for this one, since the one i read was... messy. and it's a great work! as much as it touches on deeply taboo subject, i think it's fascinating, and extremely well-written, and also the art is a treat

19th October: Tenchi Muyo OVA series 1

i don't really like harem anime. like, i don't hate the genre, but in general, i find it deeply boring and bland, and unless an anime sounds really interesting, or i've heard amazing things, i am just. not going to watch it

and yet. Tenchi Muyo

at some point not too long ago, but still far enough back it's probably been at least a year, i watched a video on one of the anime series. and said video had praise. and despite myself, i was interested- so fast forward to now, more or less, and i decided- hey. there's a six episode OVA. i could watch that

and oh boy, am i glad i did, because Tenchi Muyo slaps

it is, genuinely, such a great little series- the animation is nice, the writing is surprisingly good, the characters are great, and despite feeling a little bit all over the place, the plot is interesting and engaging. like, it's no wonder this was such a hit back in the day, because i am charmed

and despite being a harem, it barely feels like one- Tenchi isn't a pervert, and is instead a surprisingly normal guy, who has just found himself in the most bonkers situation, and is doing his best to handle it- like, he's nice! he's endearing in his normality! i would pet him gently on the head!! and while there is a whole lot of women around him, none of it feels forced, or particularly in your face

also, the only real romance genuinely seems to be between Ryouko, Tenchi, and Ayeka, despite what Mihoshi and the branding would have you believe. and i'm pretty sure those three will eventually figure it out and kiss about it. they got those poly vibes

also, importantly- the female characters. like holy shit, i love these gals. i am genuinely, still, surprised at how well-written these girls are. they're genuinely such great characters, and i am really looking forward to coming back to them, at some point down the line

like Tenchi Muyo is just- it's just good. it's definitely one of those classics that shouldn't be forgotten, and deserves to be remembered, because they were cooking some good fucking food, here. it's great <3

30th October: The Legend of Zelda: Echoes of Wisdom

i did not mean to take a month to finish this dang game, but such it is, and, unsurprisingly- it's good

like. it's Nintendo. it's Zelda. of course it's good. it's charming, it's fun, it's got an interesting gameplay mechanic at its core, there really is not much else to say

i do think i would have personally preferred a more typical Zelda, but that's not really related to anything other than personal preference. i like stabbing and slashing and jumping around, and while i think the mechanic is neat, it's not one that personally appeals

i do think it's a very smart take on a playable Zelda, because it's unique (and therefore gives us a reason to actually play as her, outside of 'i would like to') and does fit into the whole. wisdom role. she has. i do wish the menu was. better. because holy shit, it's so bad, but apparently TOTK (<- has not played it) has the same problem, so... ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

there's obviously not a lot of story or anything, it's a Zelda, but it's got the usual charm and energy, and i really liked the characters. it's such a joyful little world to explore, and even when i was forcing myself to Lock In, i was very much having fun. also i would kill an entire nation for Condé

31th October: Late Homework

a little horror snack! for my Halloween!!

genuinely a fantastic little game that i had a great time with, even if it wasn't particularly long or difficult. like, it's just a good time! a little spooky! amazing atmosphere! absolutely fantastic lowpoly graphics!! there is nothing here NOT to love, and i definitely don't regret buying it for a second

there's also a bunch of costumes to find, and some score chasing you can do, including an option for a harder difficulty, so there's definitely a little bit of replayability here! it's generally not my thing, but maybe i'll do it with this one... it's such a neat little game :]

also there's a bonus secret folder in the game that shows you low res cat pictures, and i think that's the most genius idea i've ever seen. please. devs. do more of that. i wanna see your cats (other pets also allowed)

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Claimed by the Beast - Chapter 6c

*Warning Adult Content*

Desire and Fear - Part 3

- Knox -

Is it wrong to corrupt someone so innocent?

The rhetorical question runs on repeat inside Knox's head as he raises a hand to Everett's face, lightly dragging his thumb across the boy's bottom lip.

A kiss or two won't be so bad, will it?

Hell, as hard as he is right now, Knox will happily settle for a hand-job at the very least.

"Keep going, huh?" Knox casually throws Everett's words back at him.

Then, ever so slowly, he pushes his thumb inside the boy's hot mouth.

"The thoughts running through my mind as I'm looking at you..."

Everett moans and sucks on instinct.

"You should know I'm barely holding back."

Everett is also hanging on by a thread.

It shows from the dazed look in his eyes and how his tongue continues to swirl around Knox's thumb.

He's a seductive little brat and he's fully aware of it.

After a few more seconds of teasing, Everett pulls Knox's thumb out of his mouth to speak.

"I never asked you to hold back."

"You should."

"But I won't, so take me to bed."

Knox cups Everett's face with one hand, the other resting firmly on his hip, while leaning down to rid the space between them.

He swipes his tongue across Everett's bottom lip before declaring,

"I'm fucking you if we touch that bed."

"Oh, God..." Everett's voice catches.

"You sure you're ready for that?" Knox's grey eyes darken a shade, excitement lighting his insides on fire. "Because I don't think you're ready for something like that. If I'm being completely honest, I don't think you can even handle a man like me."

"You'll never know until you test me." Everett boldly strokes Knox's erection from the outside of his jeans, sending another spike of desire rushing throughout both their bodies. "So fucking test me."

"Careful what you wish for, kitten."

Knox finally makes a move to kiss the boy, his hand lowering until his fingers are gripping Everett's neck.

Their lips touch for less than a second before Everett's cell phone starts ringing.

From the way his eyes widen, be it out of shock or fear, the ringtone appears to belong to someone important.

He quickly comes back down to earth and pushes Knox away from him to answer the call.

"What the hell just happened?" Knox mutters to himself, scratching the back of his neck in confusion.

When he finds the will to move again, he readjusts his aching cock and takes a seat at Everett's desk.

He busies himself by skimming through a romance novel that was collecting dust beside the keyboard, though every so often his eyes will drift to the closed bathroom door that Everett disappeared behind.

'Dad' was one word Knox could clearly make out from Everett's not-so-hushed conversation.

Minutes later, Everett steps back into the room with an entirely different energy.

His freckled cheeks are no longer tinted pink and he holds his head high as he walks toward Knox.

They lock eyes and fall deeply into each other's gazes, figurative fireworks going off all around them.

Reacting on impulse, Knox lifts a hand to reach out for the boy he knows he shouldn't ruin.

"Sit..."

"No. Playtime is over." Everett swats Knox's hand away. "That was my dad who called. He and my stepmom are on the way back from their date."

"Why so soon?" Knox asks.

"Food poisoning. You need to move your bike out of the driveway," Everett says, keeping his eyes on Knox's face. "Better yet, I think you should just leave. We've caused more than enough trouble."

Knox laughs, then he stands to tower over the boy.

He cups himself with one hand, his cock throbbing violently.

"Exactly what the fuck am I supposed to do about this?"

"You're the one who started that shit. If you really want to finish it, the bathroom is all yours." Everett crosses his arms over his chest and smiles brightly. "Don't forget to clean up after you're done."

"You seriously suggesting I go rub one out in your bathroom?" Knox questions in disbelief.

"Yep." Everett nods.

"You're an evil little shit," Knox grumbles.

"Are you just now figuring that out?" Everett giggles, patting Knox on the shoulder.

"For real though, what happened earlier... that was a mistake. It can't happen again and I'm sorry for not putting an end to it sooner. I don't want you to get the wrong idea about us...."

"I'm not apologizing for being attracted to you," Knox interrupts, his nerves shot and chest tightening shortly after the confession leaves his mouth. "And I damn sure ain't apologizing for wanting to fuck you, so don't hold your breath waiting for either."

Everett sighs, looking conflicted.

"You can't keep saying things like that. We aren't... We will never be anything more than what we are right now and I'm still not even sure what the hell that is."

Knox nods, unsure of how he should respond.

Could this be what rejection feels like?

A simultaneous jab to the gut and the heart?

Knox can't remember when last he had to ask for sex.

It normally falls in his lap whenever he gets in the mood.

The work he has to put in just to touch Everett should be enough to make him want to stop pursuing the boy.

For some odd reason, it doesn't. Truth be told, Knox has thoroughly enjoyed the chase.

"We're not going to end up on the same page, so let's dead this conversation," Knox says. "I'm going to go move my bike."

"And then leave?" Everett asks.

"No. When I come back, we're going to find something to keep us occupied until I'm ready to go home," Knox answers.

"Problem?"

"Several," Everett mutters.

He moves to sit in the middle of his bed after grabbing the television remote.

He opens Netflix and begins browsing through the catalog of films.

"I hope you're a fan of romcoms because that's what we're watching." Knox tilts his head to the side and grins.

"How'd you know those were my favorite?"

"No way..." Everett blinks in surprise. "Really?"

"Fuck no." Knox laughs, narrowly dodging the pillow that Everett launches at his head.

After putting his boots back on, he goes outside to move his bike away from the house, then his cell phone buzzes in his pocket.

The first set of texts is from Mason, the club's hacker, informing Knox that he has yet to find a way inside the encrypted USB he'd stolen from Everett.

The second text is from Finn.

It makes Knox's blood run cold and he has to read it twice just to make sure his eyes aren't playing any tricks on him...

Finn: Sorry I fucked up again.

Finn: I don't mean to be such a screw up.

Finn: For what It's worth... the kid's pretty tough and can hold his own.

Finn: You shouldn't worry about him too much.

Finn: Wait... WHY do you worry about him so much???

October 20, 1.33pm

Finn: COME BACK TO THE CLUB HOUSE ASAP

Finn: PRES HAS BEEN SHOT

"Goddamn it, I just fucking got here."

Knox slides his cell phone back into his pocket and then climbs on his bike, starting it up.

He puts his helmet on with trembling hands, his adrenaline soaring, and then he pauses.

He looks back at the yellow house.

For a split second, he contemplates walking back inside to be with... but the shame of acting against his club slaps him hard across the face.

The Fallen Angels, his brothers, come before everything and everyone.

That includes Everett Robinson.

Knox chants that to himself on the way back home, a code he swore to live by and forever uphold.

Even if it currently hurts like hell to do so.

[bahamutgames]

Afterthoughts: Legacy Collection

Game: Megaman Legacy Collection (August 25, 2015)

Console: Nintendo Switch

And here we go! My first game of 2023 was the Megaman Legacy Collection! Megaman 1-6 all done and done! That’s like, what, 46 Robot Masters? I don’t know I can’t do math and I’m too lazy to pull up the calculator! Same as before, I’ll just keep sharing my afterthoughts here until twitter fixes up its issue with threads (if it ever does ahaha... hah... ugh.)

Unlike the Cowabunga Collection (which was made by the some studio, btw!) I won’t be writing about each of these games on their own since, even though they’re all different, they don’t differ quite as much as the TMNT games which were genuinely almost completely different games depending on which console you played it on. Instead I’ll be just sharing my thoughts on the whole first half of classic megaman as a whole with little bits about each game as I go.

And as always, this is NOT a review! And should NOT be taken as such! For both the full package and each game in of itself, I am just throwing up my thoughts and feelings that I had while playing the game! Please don’t take anything I say as a knock towards or against playing it. If you’re interesting in any game I ever talk about, please check it out for yourself!

SPOILER WARNING FOR THE FIRST 6 MEGAMAN GAMES! IT’S MEGA MADNESS!!

Opening

So as I’m sure some of you all are aware. I’ve become a bit of a Megaman fan lately. Specifically for the X and Zero games. A few years back a friend of mine randomly bought me the X Legacy Collection 1 just as a random act of kindness and I became totally hooked! I played all 8 X games and jumped into the 4 Zero games (which is my favorite MM series of all time, Zero is one of the coolest edgy bad boys made in a lab EVER!)

And recently I watched an 8 hour video about Megaman Lore, and I’ll be honest it got me VERY interested in checking out the classic Megaman games! I’ve always had respect for them, but I never really sunk my teeth into any of them (except 7 which I played a bit as a kid). I’m glad I got to give them a shot cause they’re certainly very interesting!

Stuff I liked

As you can probably guess, as a fan of the X and Zero games. There’s a lot to like about classic Megaman. It’s got robots, a cute main character, fun character designs, great visuals, great music, and pretty good gameplay. Let’s start with the characters, I LOVE the characters in these games! Megaman and Roll obviously look amazing, but the enemies and robot masters all look fantastic! Well, some of the robot masters can be hit or miss but for the most part they’re GREAT looking! (Some favorites from each being Fire man, Quick Man, Needle/Snake Man, Skull/Toad Man, Napalm Man, Blizzard/Knight Man. In terms of their designs at least. The less said about Quick Man’s fight the better.) And the enemies are all super charming and silly like mets, and all the lovely robot bug designs like dragon flies and beetles! Obviously I prefer my characters to look edgier and more anime motifed, like X and Zero. But I’m a Mario guy originally so I can’t help but be absolutely in love with these cute and cartoony robots that these early games present. As of right now I think my favorite character from the classic games is Protoman, I haven’t met Bass yet but Protoman seems the most like my type.

Then the visuals. Man, those visuals. These games look GREAT especially for NES. The earlier ones don’t look as good as the later ones (obviously) but they still look pretty nice! But man, once you reach 4/5/6? They REALLY figured out how to make NES games look CRAZY good! I was seriously blown away by some of these games, I actually did not believe they were all NES games and had to double check. In my opinion they actually look like fan games that TRY to replicate the NES style but wildly overshoot what the NES was actually capable. But no, these were real NES games. For real. It’s nuts to me. And a lot of the menus and stuff look nicer and nicer with each game, cutscenes look better and better. Some of the cutscene art in MM6 genuinely looked like SNES stuff to me. That Capcom Logo? I swear to GOD that was an SNES game dude. What the hell. Music is pretty nice too but sadly I actually don’t have a lot of the stage or boss themes stuck in my head like I did with X or Zero. However, yeah, that Wily Stage theme from MM2 that’s stupid popular really is AMAZING for no reason. I’ll give it that.

Then the actual gameplay and levels themselves are pretty good! It’s standard Megaman stuff, so you know what’s up. Fight 8 bosses at the end of stages, get their powers, and use them to beat the rest of the bosses. Rinse and repeat. It’s a basic formula but it works REALLY well, even this early into the series. And by the time you reach Megaman 6 the gameplay becomes MASSIVELY improved. Sliding on the ground is GREAT, I LOVE fusing with Rush to get new forms (the way it’s handled in 6 where it’s weaker but you have infinite use of it is my favorite!), and of course Charge Shots! It’s very simple, but very fun! Again, not as good as X and Zero which REALLY perfect on it with wall jumping and such. But I wasn’t expecting it to be better. It’s still REALLY good! And a lot of the stages themselves are VERY cool and have really good gimmicks! I like when there’s low gravity and you can jump higher, I was surprised to see a vehicle section in MM6. I think my favorite stage gimmick was Gravity Man’s stage, with sections you’d have to do upside down. It’s pretty dang cool, especially for an NES game!

As for the Legacy Collection itself? Pretty good! Like Cowabunga Collection is has a lot of art and bonus content, and it adds save states, rewinding, and full button remapping to each game! Considering how cheap it gets (I got it for like $7) it’s a pretty damn good collection!

Stuff I didn’t like

Yeah, sadly, even though these games are clearly pushing the NES to its limits... They’re still NES games if you catch my drift. Thankfully the Legacy Collection comes with rewind, because straight up these games would probably be impossible without it. I know they’re not ACTUALLY impossible but. These games have some bullshit in them. Like, massive enemy spam, enemies with bizarrely small hitboxes that you CANNOT hit without insanely pinpoint accuracy, stuff like that. Basically, I think the Megaman series, and especially these classic games are filled to the BRIM with bullshit that would just not fly in any other series. And it kinda just gets a pass for being Megaman. Like the amount of times you have to make blind jumps, only to get instakilled for blind jumping in the wrong direction. How is that fair? Or good? It’s not. Again I played it with rewind so who am I to talk, but come on. Why?

Similarly, but less bad, I think these games have a bit of an issue with not knowing when to end. Of course these games need to have levels at the end after the robot masters, it’d be way too short and anti climactic if they didn’t... But DAMN do they ALL have to be headaches? Can they be fun? They’re all so long and especially towards the end you have to go through 2 different fortresses, made up of 4-5 levels each, managing your weapon ammo all the way through. It’s just so tiring. And they all have boss rushes where you refight the old bosses which thankfully goes by pretty quickly since you have all the weapons. But still this is SUCH a chore and something that wouldn’t fly in any other series. Oh well.

Lastly, and this one is a bit more of a nitpick. I know these games have a lot of plot in their manuals and 8 hour long deep dive videos about them. But I wish the game itself contained more story. I was pretty pleased with the in game cutscenes which games like 5 had, or the rather nicely drawn cutscene images in 6. But I feel like they should have more story in between the robot masters? I know it’s NES but Ninja Gaiden had LOTS of cutscenes on NES? But also Ninja Gaiden wasn’t one of the best looking NES games of all time so maybe that’s what stopped Megaman from going nuts with its cutscenes.

Final Thoughts

Which one of these does Zero show up in again?

No I’m just messing. Yeah, classic Megaman 1-6 hasn’t aged perfectly. And is filled with a LOT of bullshit that would NOT SLIDE in any other series. But despite shortcomings in some areas, these games do hold up pretty well. If nothing else, their presentation in sprites and music are AMAZING. Genuinely pushing the NES so much farther than I thought was possible. They had crazy visuals that seriously made me think I was playing an SNES game at some points.

I had the second half of the collection too, but I’ll be playing those later. Steaming through 6 Megaman games in a few days was already a lot to take in. But I am very interested to see where the next 4 go, and how I feel about Bass (the resident bad boy). I still absolutely prefer X and Zero (nothing will ever dethrone the Zero games) but I had a great time with these earlier Megaman titles. I guess I’m a full fledged Mega Man guy now... Did you notice how I kept writing Mega Man with no space this whole time? I didn’t realize until JUST now. Oops. I’m not fixing it.

Unrelated, but after playing these games I went back to play as Mega Man in Smash Bros (which I always do whenever I play a game that has content in Smash... Or Playstation Allstars.) and can I just say that making Mega Man’s moveset and color schemes must have been SO hard! There’s SO MUCH TO CHOOSE FROM! Must have been why he’s one of the only characters who had really good custom moves in Smash 4. My favorite alt is either the Red+White (rush) one or the Green+White ones. In case you were wondering.

===

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed listening to me ramble on about old as hell video games these past few days. The game I’m currently playing is a little newer and a little less arcadey. So look forward to hearing my thoughts on THAT... whenever the hell I beat it.

In the mean time, you can follow my twitter for more art and gaming wackiness! I’m always posting SOMETHING there because I’ve got a lot to say and talking about video games is the only thing that gets me through the hard days of cooking and cleaning and working.

That’s all from me for now. Thanks for always indulging me in my video game talks. Go out and play a popular game you’ve been interested in!

[mappinglasirena]

Resource for Picard Fanfic Writers

Season 2 of Star Trek: Picard is upon us, and I have barely had time to read any of the myriad of new fics that have arrived in the AO3 tag in the last couple of weeks. So many new stories! So many new names! I am so incredibly happy to see you all joining us on this wild ride 😁

It’s been a while since I’ve done some self-promo for this blog, so I thought now would be the right time.

Welcome to the Mapping La Sirena Project!

I started this little blog a couple of years ago, because I was writing fanfiction for Star Trek: Picard, and at the time, we didn’t have any floor plans or layouts of the main location the series takes place in: Captain Cris Rios's Kaplan F17 Speed Freighter La Sirena.

In the intervening years, the production team have been incredibly generous and have given us glimpses of official set plans, construction photos and all kinds of other resources you could use to answer questions like:

“If Rios is sitting on the bridge, can Agnes get his attention if she shouts loud enough from the mess hall?�� (Yes.)

“Where is a dark corner for Raffi and Seven to make out in, if they’re too... preoccupied to stumble all the way back into their quarters?” (Blind corridor behind the holodeck.)

“Is there a way to get to the back of the ship from the mess hall that doesn’t involve going up the stairs to the bridge, running along the entire length of the upper deck, and going down the stairs near the engine lights?” (It’s complicated. On the set? No. In universe? Probably, because there is enough space for corridors to go past the sides of sickbay, and not having at least one corridor there would be ridiculous.)

“Is it just me or is the ship bigger on the inside?” (🙈 I’m afraid so.)

And so, so much more.

I have made it my mission (or rather my hobby to an obsessive degree 😅) to collect this information and make posts exploring this little ship. Partially because I have absolutely fallen in love with her and want to know each of her bolts and fittings blind, but also because I want to create a resource for writers like me, who have questions about the location where their Picard fanfics are set.

If you have a question about La Sirena, be it about what we saw of her in season 1, what we’ve seen of her in season 2 so far, or what the beta canon has said about her, but you don’t want to trawl through hundreds of Trek Core photos or reddit threads or TrekBBS forum posts, you have come to the right place!

In my masterpost (pinned post on the blog, I’m not gonna link it here, because I want this post to show up in the Picard tags 🙈), there are links to most of the more involved posts I’ve written so far. I don’t have a masterlist of my tags yet, but my tagging system for this blog is pretty meticulous, so if you want to check if I have mentioned the mess hall in a post that’s not mentioned on the masterpost, just click on the tag under the deep dive and see what comes up.

And if you have a question that I haven’t covered (or you don’t currently have the time, energy, or spoons to go rooting around the archives), my ask box is always open! No question is “too silly” or “too small” or “too nitpicky”. And I’m happy to answer the same question over and over again, if it gives me a chance to talk about this ship!

A Quick Note on “Accuracy” in Fanfics

I don’t want anyone to use this blog as an excuse to police other people’s fic writing (or their own writing, for that matter). From what I’ve seen of the Picard fanfic writing community, all of you are incredibly lovely people and would probably never dream of something like this, but I feel it deserves to be said nonetheless.

If you couldn’t care less about the precise size and layout of La Sirena, that is perfectly fine! I, for one, will love reading your fic/headcanons/meta/what have you anyway, because you're brave and generous enough to share your passion for this world we all love. Who cares if you give the ship a few extra rooms she doesn’t have in canon? I’ve certainly done that before 😋

This project is not a callout or attempt at gatekeeping or a plea for people to care more about accuracy in their fics or whatever. It’s just a resource (or source of entertainment, if you’re into really nerdy, detail-obsessed starship observations) for those who think they might enjoy that.

So, I hope I’ll be able to help some of you in the future and share my joy about the absolute beauty that is La Sirena!

[mahou-furbies]

This is not magical girls, but regardless, gather around for a story time! Thing is, I really really like Hatsune Miku nendoroids. They are so cute! Every time I see one I get the need to get it for myself. However I don't particularly care for any single one, and it's more about wanting a whole bunch of them so they would look cute together as a set. And since I generally live pretty frugally, splurging on something like this every once a while wouldn't destroy my budget.

It's just... spending money on stuff like this just bothers me, like the figures are expensive, are they really worth it? Am I just excited for 10 minutes after the box arrives and then they'll just sit on the shelf collecting dust? Where will I even put them in the first place? I also don't like clutter. And I'm not a Miku fan, I have no relationship with Vocaloid and I've never even heard a single Miku song. So maybe it would just be better to save my money for something else and settle for looking at the pictures.

Then an unrelated issue. Everyone knows exercise is good for you, and also working from home for over two years has destroyed any sense of work ergonomics I may have had so not just sitting around all day even on my free time would be preferred. But I am not one of the people who enjoys any kind of sports or exercise so it's always a such a chore. I've tried to follow youtube workout videos, but that only lasts a few weeks at most, and after skipping one day for whatever reason it becomes very easy to skip more, and then it results in a months long break. I've thought about coming up with some kind of reward system like a video game daily login bonus, like seven workouts and I get to buy a snack! But I have no self control for that kind of purchases and would get my snack anyway so that would not work. The reward would have to be something I really want, but would never buy otherwise (by now you can see the plot threads of this post merging).

So! I made myself a little chart, and every workout gets me a sticker like some kind of children's "I shared my toys without fussing" behaviour chart, and once it's full I get to order a Miku figure. When I started the chart I wondered how many stickers I should set as a requirement for the goal in this battle between sloth and greed (too many is demoralising while too few is bad for the wallet), and I must say I underestimated greed. Approximately 95% of all the now documented exercises were something I would not have done otherwise, like it's getting kinda late and also it's too hot and overall I'm just not feeling up to it today, but practically every time I pushed through when I thought how it would get me one step closer to my Miku...

And today is finally the day when I've claimed the final sticker for my chart and have ordered my prize. It turns out Nendoroid Miku is an excellent subject for something such as this, like there's like 100 of these suckers and I'm not after any particular one, so when it's time to order there should be at least something cute available. Now only the wait for the pakige is left... And everyone can wait with bated breath for the reveal of which one I chose I guess.

[akingdomofswordsandstories]

Unrequited

azriel (acotar) x reader

Summary: takes place during acofas, you and Azriel are mates but he doesn’t know it yet, angst, fluff, and everything in between

*Also this is my first imagine ever so I'm sorry if it sucks lol! There will be a part 2 to this, but I am still working on it!!

word count: 3927

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

The winter solstice was in a few days and you weren’t sure what to get some of the inner circle. You walked briskly down the streets of the Rainbow, chilled to the bone due to the wind. You had made the dumb mistake of rushing out of the townhouse - to avoid any questions of where you were going - without taking your scarf. Your current outfit, which was a chunky knit blue sweater with leggings and boots, wasn’t enough to keep the chill away. But the cold wasn’t the most important thing on your mind. You had already bought presents for Rhys, Feyre, Amren, and Elain, but that left Cassian, Mor, and Azriel. Mor and Cass would be pretty easy to buy for, but you put it off knowing they would look through your room trying to find their solstice gift. But Azriel, that would be much harder.

Every waking hour, the shadowsinger haunted your thoughts. Something you had come to conclude was unrequited.

You had realized the mating bond between you two before he did.

It had clicked a few months ago while on a diplomatic mission. The aftermath of Hybern had left things chaotic, and if you were being honest, it still was. Rhys decided to send Cassian, Mor, Azriel, and you to travel to some of the other courts to bring back reports on the recovery after the war. However, traveling did have some dangers. While you were on your way back to Velaris from the Winter Court, your group was ambushed by a group of Hybern soldiers who had been hiding out in the mountains. Had it not been for Azriel’s wings shielding you from the initial arrows, you would’ve surely been dead, and that’s when it clicked for you. But like an idiot, you didn’t say anything.

You had thought if the bond had clicked for you, it would've clicked for Azriel too. You realized your mistake when Azriel hadn’t acknowledged any change between you two. You hoped that he would figure it out in the coming weeks, but he didn’t. You knew the same sort of situation happened with feyre and rhys so you still held out some hope. But as the months went by, and you realized the bond still hadn’t clicked for Azriel and it felt too late to tell him.

At least that was the excuse you made up. Truly, you were also afraid of the rejection that could have followed. You weren’t a fool, you knew him and Elain had some sort of connection, and that shattered your dreams even more. The possibility that he wouldn’t accept the mating bond to be with the fair skinned, doe eyed fae. Everytime Azriel was in the same room as Elain, she was the only thing he would pay attention to. During gatherings, you would plaster on a smile and act as if you were happy, but Cassian and Mor, your best friends, could sense your discomfort. They tried to ask you about it, but seeing as you would shut down anything they said, they decided not to pry too much. Amren ended up figuring out the source of your discomfort had to do with Azriel, but kept your secret until you would be ready to share it.

You came to the conclusion that distancing yourself from him would be the best option, so that's what you did.

You walked down the street till you got to one of the finest seamstresses is Velaris. Since you were an artist like Feyre, you decided to draw out a dress and have it made for Mor. The color was blood red, her signature. It was a silk slip dress that would come down to her mid-lower calf and it would be embroidered with a brilliant gold thread. You drew out a pattern of the sun, stars, and moon, which you hoped she would like. To go along with Mor’s dress, you got a jeweler to make a custom necklace and bracelet set to go with it. You designed more dainty jewelry that had gold stars with diamonds, since she was a dreamer.

You decided to design Cassian’s gift as well, creating a beautiful silver and black dagger with a moonstone on the hilt. It was a beautiful dagger, but you also made sure it was usable, because you would hate for it to go to waste. To add onto the combat theme, you also decided to buy him new fighting leathers with touches of red embroidery to match his siphons. Lastly, you bought Cassian a bottle of fae wine, which definitely wouldn't last long.

The last thing you got for all three of you was a friendship necklace. Although that sounds corny, the two of them had become such a positive force in your life and you couldn’t imagine life without them. Keeping with the celestial theme for the friendship necklaces, you bought a sun, a moon, and a star. The sun for Cassian, the moon for Mor, and the star for you. Although they are opposites in some ways, all three need each other, just like the three of you needed each other.

Now that you had gotten Mor’s and Cassian’s solstice gifts figured out, it was onto Azriel’s gift. You honestly had no clue what to get him. Due to distancing yourself, you weren’t sure if there was something that he wanted. You were positively stumped. Lucky for you though, you ended up spotting Mor in another shop a few stores down from where you were, most likely getting the rest of her solstice gifts. You decided to sneak up on her as a friendly prank. Grabbing her shoulders, you yelled in her ear, making her jump.

“Oh mother above, it’s just you, y/n! You scared the life out of me” Mor said.

“Doing some last minute shopping?” you asked. “I could ask you the same thing”. Giving her a playful smack on the arm, the corners of your mouth curled upward, even the simplest remark from her could make you smile.

The two of you were currently standing in front of a jewelry shop, looking at the collections of necklaces and earrings through the window. “Wow” you breathed out “These are all so beautiful”

“Indeed they are, although they’re quite pricey”

“How pricey is pricey?”

She whispered the amount in your ear and you stopped breathing for a second, “Holy Mother wow, that is quite the price tag. At least we can admire it from a far”, you laughed out. Even though you got a very generous salary from Rhys, you still felt guilty spending so much money on materialistic things.

After a moment you said, “Actually, since you’re here, I do need help finding a solstice gift for Azriel”, softening your voice at the end, “Any ideas?” you asked, drawing out the syllables.

“Well, I always get Azriel some cool towels, clothing, or a dagger!” Mor said. A small scoff came out of my mouth as I shook my head and raised my eyebrows. “Fine!” she exclaimed, “I may have overheard him needing a new leather sheath for Truth Teller.” grumbling towards the end. “Oh that sounds great, thank you for the help! Now let’s go off to the closest leather goods store and find a sheath!”.

“y/n! I still have shopping to do” a scowl appearing on her face. “Fine, I guess I’ll just call Cassian, cause his judgement might be better than yours, when it comes to knife related things of course” you said, baiting her.

“Ugh, I hate you y/n”

“I hate you too Mor”

“Fine, let's get going before I change my mind” she grumbled. Then we took off down the streets of the Rainbow to find a sheath.

The task was easier said than done, for you at least. Being indecisive and a major over thinker, you had looked through close to 100 sheaths, but none of them seemed good enough to hold the blade that Azriel never let anyone else touch. Except Elain.

While you were lost in your thoughts, you laid your y/c eyes on the perfect sheath. It had a bright cobalt blue stitching to match Az’s siphons. Along the tip and lining the top of the leather was a thin coat of silver plating with little sapphires embedded in the metal. You quickly snatched it up and paid a hefty price for it, but it was perfect.

“Thank god you finally picked one, it felt like we were in that store for centuries”. Mor sighed, probably a sigh of relief for getting out of the store, “But y/n, it’s perfect, I know Azriel will love it”

“Do you really think so? I just want it to be the perfect gift and I’m scared he won’t like it because what if it’s too simplistic and what if-”

“Hey! It's perfect! Don’t stress too much y/n. And for the record, I think that you’re an amazing gift giver - the amount of thought you put into gifts make it all the better.”

You could feel a blush creeping up your cheeks and mumbled a small thank you.

“Anyway while we’re here do you need to get anything to go with your solstice outfit?”

“Oh Actually, I was so stressed about getting everyone’s solstice gift that I forgot to buy my dress” your voice falling off at the end. You felt yourself being yanked to a harsh stop and the saw Mor’s face staring at yours, mouth gaping and eyes wide.

“Are you crazy?? Solstice is in 3 days and you still don’t have anything??? Oh honey, our shopping isn’t done yet.” And with that statement you found yourself being pulled into the nearest dress shop. After trying on nearly 20 dresses you finally found the perfect one, which Mor approved. It was a light blue silk dress that was more fitted at the top but flared down at your waist. It had a cowl neckline, a slit going up the side to the mid upper thigh, and accentuates your curves beautifully and has a slight shimmer to it. You looked ethereal in it

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

After your exhausting day of shopping, you couldn’t wait to get out of the cold. You swiftly walked back to the townhouse. Once inside you made your way to your room to set down the gifts, change your clothes, and grab your book. Then you quietly headed down to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea and sat on the couch to read. The house was quiet since all of the others decided to go to Rita’s tonight. You decided to stay home for some much needed relaxation. You opened your book and started reading. After a few hours, you felt your eyes drooping and eventually, sleep consumed you.

The loud noise of the front door caused you to stir and your eyes fluttered open. You were too exhausted to look so you just laid your head back down and tried to go to sleep. You could hear Mor whispering something and then felt yourself being lifted off the couch and being held close to a chest with your blanket still draped on you.

“Cass?” you whispered hoarsely along with a string of incoherent words

You heard a slight laugh “Not Cass but It’s ok, go back to sleep”. Then you felt yourself being gently placed on your bed and the sleep hit you before you could mutter a thank you.

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

The sun was setting towards the sea as you sat in the sitting room of the town house. You were in your blue silk dress with a glass of wine in your hand. Rhys and Feyre were by the mantel, quietly talking while Mor and Amren were across the room. Near the window I saw Elain, and from the corner of my eye I could see Azriel making his way towards her. My face fell but I quickly plastered on a smile, not wanting to concern anyone. Especially since today was also Feyre’s birthday and we had planned a surprise for her. Feyre thought she could slip her birthday past us, but we hadn’t forgotten. After a few minutes, Cassian made his way from the kitchen with the enormous cake.

You floated towards Feyre and gave her arm a light squeeze. “Happy Birthday, make a wish before the candles melt!”

She blew out the candles and then we ate cake before opening up the presents.

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

Rhys snapped his fingers and piles of brightly wrapped bags and boxes filled up the sitting room. Amren was the first to open her presents. Naturally, everyone got her something jewelry related. Amren opened mine and you saw a wide smile set across her face, she picked up the diamond necklace and nodded a ‘thank you’ your way. You returned the gesture back, a small smile forming on your face.

Next, Cassian handed Mor her present from him and she pulled out a-. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He bought her red lingerie. Your face turned slightly red, but the Mor said “Don’t let him fool you: he couldn’t think of a damn thing to get me, so he gave up and asked me outright. I gave him precise orders. For once in his life, he obeyed them.”

Then, you heard one sharp knock at the door.

Nesta.

You saw Cassian tense up a bit. Nesta walked in, linking arms with Elain. She got a glass of wine before heading to sit in a chair in the back of the room. The silence was deafening. Finally Varian started talking and the present opening resumed.

From Amren, you received a new calligraphy set. It was so beautiful and you loved it. From Rhys, you got some books. It was perfect since you loved to read, and they were ones that you had been wanting to read for a long time. From Feyre, you received a painting as well as a new paint brush kit.

Cassian made his way to you and set a gift down in your lap. You opened the dark blue box that Cassian had placed in your lap. He had gotten you a sky blue hardbound journal with a gold embossed star on it. You desperately needed a new one, and this was perfect. You walked over and gave him a hug, whispered “Thank you, I love it.��.

Next you opened Mor’s present. You nearly choked when you saw what she got you and your whole face heated up. She got you a matching navy blue lingerie set like the one Cassian bought her.

“Yeah, I wasn’t too sure what to get you so I thought we could twin”. You looked around the room and saw the others holding in their laughs. You could’ve sworn you saw a tinge of red on Azriel’s ears. You just smiled and mouthed a silent “I’m going to kill you, but thank you” at her.

There wasn’t anything from Azriel. Your heart twinged. Had you not been important enough? It was just a present you reminded yourself, fixing your composure before handing Cassian his present.

He ripped it open like an animal, squealing when he saw it. A promising reaction given the amount of thought you put into it.

“Did you design these? They look amazing!”

“Yeah, I’m glad you like it. It took a long time to figure out what to get for your dumb ass”

“You mean my cute ass”, you smacked his arm and then got up to give Mor her present.

You closely watched her reaction as she opened her dress and jewelry, a large smile spreading across her face.

“You really buy the perfect presents y/n, I love it”.

“Oh Cass, Mor. One more thing.” You pulled out the small boxes with the friendship necklaces and bracelets handing it to them. “This was just a little something extra I thought of, I hope you like it”. You knew you would have started stuttering and crying if you had said the meaning to them, so you just handed them notes instead. They read over them, eyes glossing over, and pulled you into a hug.

“This is the only time I’ll wear jewelry” Cass stated, causing you to chuckle

Then Mor said, “I am never taking this off” causing you to laugh again.

Finally, Azriel opened up his presents. He had opened up all the others. All that was left was yours and Elain’s gift to him. He found his way to your present first, opening it.

“A new sheath for Truth Teller. I heard you needed a new one” you quietly said.

He held your gaze and smiled, “Thank you, it's great”. Suddenly feeling exposed, you quickly gave him a nod.

Then he went to open Elain’s gift. “It’s a powder to mix in with any drink.” she said.

Silence.

Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”

Silence again.

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.

You hadn’t heard him laugh before, and mother above it was gorgeous. You had never heard a sound so deep and joyous, a sound which made your heart clench. A part of you wished you were the reason he was laughing. You forced on a smile and spent the rest of the night drinking away the slight pain in your chest.

You were exhausted by the end of the night, sitting on the couch with Cassian and Mor, Azriel and Rhys seated on the opposite side of you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement towards the door, and craned your head to see what was going on. It was Nesta making her way to the door. You felt the couch lift next to you.

Cassian. He had swiftly pushed past Feyre and went after Nesta. This wouldn’t end well.

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

Cassian had come back quiet and brooding, walking straight to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of liquor. You got up off the couch and followed him straight into the kitchen.

“Cass, let’s take a walk, yeah?”

“I just took a walk”

“It wasn’t a question”. You grabbed a white shawl and his hand and led him outside. “What happened?”

“What’s there to talk about? It was like all the other times. Why did I have to fall in love with someone who doesn't even love me back. Who looks at me like the Illyrian born bastard I am. Who hates the idea of being in the same room as me.”

You grabbed Cass’ hand, lightly squeezing it. “Don’t say that. Nesta, she,” your voice stopping for a second “She’s different. The way she handles pain and copes is different. Give her time. She just needs time. I know how much that may pain you, but you can’t rush healing”

You pulled him into a hug

“And for the record, I know the feeling more than you know” you quietly said “unrequited love”, head pointed at the ground.

Cassian tilted his head down to look at you, his face painted with confusion. You could tell he wanted to know more, but didn’t want to pry too much.

You hesitated before continuing, not sure if you wanted to reveal your closely guarded secret. “I-“ your voice faltering, “I found my mate”. The words seemed to have rushed out of your mouth and tears pricked your eyes as you said that. After months of hiding it, you had finally gotten it off your chest.

Cassian stood shocked, staring at you. “You found your mate? And you didn’t think to tell any of us? How long ago was this”

“I-, I found out who he was around the same time Rhys sent us on that diplomatic mission. And I didn’t tell anyone because he doesn’t even know yet.”

“That was almost 6 months ago, and you didn’t say anything?”.

The tears had started flowing at this point, “I thought he would figure it out. But by the time I realized he wasn’t going to figure it out, it was too late. He had already set his eyes on someone else. And I know I could never compete with Elain, even if I am his mate.” the last part slipped out without you realizing.

“Elain? What does she-“ his eyes widening “Does that mean Az is-“

You slowly nodded, tears welled up, threatening to spill out.

“Oh, mother…”, he pulled you into a tighter hug and that’s when the gates broke. You couldn’t hold back your tears as you sobbed into Cassian's chest, his hand stroking your back.

you must have been there for 15 minutes before you realized the other might start getting suspicious. Regaining your composure, you dried your tears and tried, to the best of your ability, to hide that you had been crying.

Looking back at Cassian, you gave him a slight smile before muttering, “Thank you. I’m sorry for dumping that on you, but please promise me you won’t tell anyone. Please.”

“Of course y/n, and don’t apologize, if it makes you feel better, it helped to take my mind off of Nesta and my own problems, which I desperately needed” he chuckled out.

With the smile still on your face, you linked arms with Cassian before saying, “Oh mother above it’s freezing, let’s get back inside before we turn into popsicles!”

He let out another laugh before the two of you made your way back into the house.

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

You walked into the house and your sliver of happiness was crushed as you saw Az and Elain sitting at the table smiling and laughing quietly to themselves. Elain had her sketchbook out, showing Az her plans for the garden.

Your distraught had been clear to anyone who saw your face, and you were too tired to realize you weren’t able to hide it fast enough. Not being able to view the scene anymore, you quickly got up, muttered happy solstice, and grabbed your coat and purse before heading out the door to your apartment.

While walking home, you were consumed by your thoughts. You hated the pangs of jealousy that coursed through you. You often found yourself jealous of her soft spokenness and kindness. You also found yourself jealous of her effortless beauty. It was something that kept you up at night. She was so likeable and easily approachable, something you wished you were.

You were so drowned in your own thoughts that you hadn’t noticed a male following you till it was too late. One of his hands clamped on your mouth while the other grabbed your waist and pushed you into the nearest alleyway.

The male pulled out a knife and your tears started to fall. You were terrified about what he would do to you. This could be the last time you would have seen your family. You were struggling and kicking against him but it was no use. Your senses were groggy from the alcohol and drowsiness.

You had been so stupid to walk home alone at 2 in the morning. No matter how angry you were, you should’ve just stayed at the town house.

Before you could realize what was happening, you felt a sharp pain shoot through your side.

The sound of a clatter.

Receding footsteps.

A crimson stain blooming.

Your body crumpled to the ground and your vision started blacked out. This was it. Nobody could hear you and nobody could save you.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Crimson Ties (Bela Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 3

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Typical Vampire shenanigans + mentions of animal death Genre: Hurt + comfort Summary: Time to meet the family! What exactly has Cassandra told her mother? Can Bela convince her family to calm the hell down? We'll find out! Spoiler: there's the start of a cute date afterwards Notes: Once more we visit Bela's private study, which I first described in a chapter of Serenade. Added a few more details this time. PS reader is probably low-key a theater nerd with a hint of a goth phase, just saying. Also this chap is a little short, sorry. Previous Chapters: 1: Stem the Flow, 2: Tangled Strands

3: Rumbling Thunder

Heart racing, you step into the dining room, just behind Bela. Both of you are nervous, but find comfort in each other. Still, what you see upon entering only makes you feel worse. At the head of a large table stands none other than Lady Alcina Dimitrescu. Besides her is her middle daughter, the one who confronted you earlier, who sends you a knowing smirk as you walk in. Lady Dimitrescu, on the other hand, is scowling. Her eyes are squinted in a clear display of disapproval. If not for Bela’s hand squeezing your own, it was likely that you would have fainted from fear.

“I see Cassandra has wasted no time in spreading rumors,” Bela said bitterly. You’re amazed by her ability to stand tall in the face of her family’s tension. Yet there was a part of you that wondered if you were worth the struggle, at least for your soulmate. Thankfully, you are not given much time to ponder the thought. No, you’re being pulled towards the closest side of the tabe, guided next to an ornate seat. Neither Bela nor yourself sit yet, however. “Please, mother, do not be hasty to make your judgement. I promise that-”

“Do not presume to tell me of my own business, daughter. The timing of my judgement is my prerogative, not yours,” Lady Dimitrescu interrupted, staring right at you. A shiver runs down your spine at the eye contact. What did Cassandra say to her? You wonder, struggling to breathe past the lump in your throat. Even Bela becomes visibly nervous at the interaction. “Now… are you certain, without a doubt, that this is your soulmate?” Did she really even have to ask? What were the chances that Bela would save you, one person out of at least a dozen in the cellar, for any other reason? Still, your soulmate straightens up at the attention, and replies as confidently as possible.

“Yes, of course, mother. I would not dare risk your anger for any lesser reason,” Bela assured. Then she gives your hand another soft squeeze, before pulling hers back a little, catching the thread that bound you together with her fingers. Lifting it, she tugs it somewhat absentmindedly. Out of habit you immediately return the action. Unfortunately, those around you would be unable to see the display. For all they knew, the two of you could be faking it, simply attempting to get out of the situation unscathed. Surprisingly though, you see Alcina hesitate. Her left hand twitches as if she was thinking of her own red string. Has she ever met her partner? Did she know the pure joy that her daughter had so recently felt?... Maybe she’d be more sympathetic to your situation if she had.

“We will see if your defiance pans out in time, Bela. For now… Why don’t we hear what your pet has to say about themselves, hmm?” Lady Dimitrescu suggested, giving a somewhat devious smile. Next to you, Bela grimaces, then sends you a pleading look. Alas, you cannot read her mind, and can only guess as to how you’re supposed to respond. Bowing is a sign of respect in virtually all cultures, you think, probably a good place to start.

“It is an immeasurable pleasure to formally make your acquaintance, Lady Dimitrescu,” you said, before giving your full name. Then you rise from your bow, once more making eye contact. Out of the corner of your vision you see Cassandra rolling her eyes. “I know that I am a mere human, and hardly the epitome of a prime specimen. But I am determined to prove my worth, for there is no prize on this earth more grand than being allowed to love Lady Bela. Every ounce of my willpower is prepared to devote myself to this task, entirely, so that I may give Lady Bela the courtship and happiness that she is deserving. It is both an obligation and an honor.” Hopefully your soulmate wouldn’t mind you using the same line twice, at least under these circumstances.

In the seconds that follow, several things happen: One, you see Cassandra frown a little, and refuse to look in your direction. Two, Lady Dimitrescu makes a surprised face, but quickly shifts into an expression of satisfaction. Thirdly, Bela’s hand finds your own again, giving it an incredibly soft squeeze. Last but not least… someone you haven’t seen before enters the room. She has red hair, a green pendant around her neck, and eyes that light up with curiosity when she sees you. If you had to guess, you’d assume that she was another one of Bela’s sisters. Here’s hoping she’s a tad bit friendlier, you think.

“Did I miss anything? Ooh, please tell me we’re having this lovely stranger for breakfast?” She asked, grinning maniacally. So much for being friendlier, you think, figuring that she was being literal. Based on the way Bela tenses up in response, you’re probably right. Before she can protest, however, Lady Dimitrescu clears her throat and speaks.

“Ah, Daniela… This stranger-” she says the word with far less venom than you anticipated, but it is venom nonetheless- “is your dear sister’s soulmate. We will not be draining them of blood. Again. Assuming that they behave themselves. Is that clear?” She asked, staring down at the newcomer. There’s a slight pause, tension still lingering in the air, followed by a sigh of relief from Bela. Much to your surprise, neither Cassandra nor Daniela seem particularly upset by this announcement. In fact, the latter simply shrugs and takes her seat at the table. Next thing you know everyone else is sitting as well, including Bela, who gestures for you to follow suit. “I’ll have one of the servants fetch you some more… appropriate food. Cynthia, my dear?” Soon enough a maiden, perhaps a decade or two older than yourself, hurriedly enters the room. With a bow, she addresses Alcina.

“Yes, Lady Dimitrescu?”

“Have Miss Bouregard make an extra plate of whatever it is you sort eat, and bring it here. We have an… unexpected guest,” Alcina explained. At that, Cynthia glances at you, her eyes briefly widening in surprise. Without another word she turns away, giving another bow before heading away to fulfill her task. Once more you’re the only human in the room. Oddly enough, you manage to feel quite at ease, as if surviving one round was enough to guarantee you’d win the overall game. Well, at the very least you now had a chance. Regardless of what was to come, you were glad for that, for this opportunity to be with your soulmate. At the end of the day… little else mattered to you.

———————————

Much to your relief, the rest of breakfast proceeded smoothly. Conversation was sparse, with most of it being hushed whispers from the other side of the table, but you hardly minded. Normally you would find it rude. Now, you were simply pleased that they weren’t being up front with their hostility. More so, it allowed you and Bela to have your own conversation, which mainly pertained to your plans for the day. Several times during your discussion, a glance elsewhere would show you that Alcina was paying attention. Exactly once you even saw her attempting to hide a smile. A sense of pride had swelled in your chest at the sight.

It has remained there, even until now, as you move into Bela’s private study. One quick survey of the room tells you a thousand things about your soulmate. For starters, it’s clear that she’s musically inclined. There’s a harp in one corner, adjacent to a folded music stand, as well as a small bookshelf dedicated entirely to sheet music. A couple medium sized instrument cases are nearby, but you don’t immediately recognize their shape. Further into the room is a rather old looking desk, slightly worn, yet clearly cared for. Possibly passed down the generations? Next to the desk is a massive window with a couple spare chairs. All across the walls were bookshelves and mementos, including several skulls (at least one of them human). Every book you looked over appeared to be well read, with many bookmarks inside, some held together by tape and prayers.

“This… this is sublime, my darling. I could rest here for a month and hardly finish cherishing half the space!” You said, grinning at your soulmate. She’s equally pleased, seeming a tad relieved as well. Perhaps she had worried you’d be thrown off by the skulls? Wanting to reassure her, you approach that particular shelf, examining them closely. However, you do not touch them, not wanting to risk damaging her collection. “Truly marvellous. Dare I ask where you got these specimens?” It’s a joke, but Bela stiffens nonetheless, making you quickly redact your statement. “My apologies, I meant it as a jest. Though you are welcome to tell me more about them if you so desire! I will listen with rapt attention, I promise.”

“Most of them are gifts from Cassandra. During the summers we hunt, her more so than Daniela or myself. I… dislike wasting anything, and there’s only so much to be done with most bones. They have quite a few ornamental uses, however. Useful for study, as well,” Bela mentioned, smiling softly. Then she moves to stand next to you, carefully reaching to grab one of the skulls. “This was from one of our hounds, actually. I raised her from puppy to adult, took her on every hunt, even let her sleep in my quarters on colder nights. When she got sick I…” A pause, mouth open but unmoving, eyes slipping shut. “I couldn’t bring myself to put her down. Even argued with my mother, night after night, begging for another choice. None came, of course, and in the end even I could not deny her the softest embrace of death… Still, you must think me strange, to keep such a thing as a reminder of her.”

“Not at all, my dear. We all remember, and grieve, in our own ways. I’ve often found myself intrigued by skulls, of all sorts,” you admitted, sheepishly rubbing the back of your neck with your hand. “All we are, our minds or mayhap our souls, contained in one hard shell. It’s incredible, and terrifying, all at the same time, to hold one in my hands, or even merely examine one. Oh, what stories these bones could tell, if only they could talk… Though I suppose there are entire fields of science devoted to such a thought…” With that said, you look back at Bela just in time to see her staring fondly at the canine skull. Then she places it back on its perch, dusting her hands off afterwards, taking one last moment to appreciate her collection.

“I’m glad you and I agree on this,” she said softly. Once more she’s looking at you, smiling wide. “Now let’s make memories of our own, to hold in our bones forevermore, yes?”

[sidespromptblog]

What to Do?: Chapter 2

One, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten

Summary: Logan realizing that his first mistake was seeing the other sides as anything other than coworkers. They weren't a family. They didn't even like each other. How had he not realized sooner?

Warnings: General anxiety, hurt/comfort, angst, and hurt feelings. 

Word Count:  1,803

Logan could feel the tug in his gut of the others clearly trying to summon him into the centerpiece of the mindspace. For a split second he felt a jab of fear racing through him as he pondered whether or not he should actually go to them, they wouldn’t be happy about the decision he had decided to make for himself. If anything they’d probably be most cross with him about it, or… or perhaps they’d laugh at him. Say that it was ridiculous that he was trying to appear so professional with all the things that they knew about each other. 

Yeah… they would most definitely try to laugh it off to clear the air, and to make him go back on his decision. To undermine his boundaries, and make him second guess himself when it came to this. 

But he wouldn’t… he couldn’t.

Not about this, and most certainly not now. He had already talked himself into doing this, and he wasn’t going to let his imagination run away with him about it either. 

He had made up his mind. 

“Logan…” He could hear Patton referring to him. 

“Logan.” He could hear Roman talking. 

“Logan..” He could hear Virgil mumbling. 

Logan’s fingers curled into his hands, and he could feel his temper flaring up before he even attempted to stamp it back down. “Shut up!” He snarled to himself, raising his hands to his ears as to block out the sounds of his name that came from inside his head. A part of him felt like sobbing, like curling up in a corner and just admitting defeat so that it would just make it all stop. But he couldn’t do that, and he knew that he couldn’t do that. There was too much work to be done… “Just stop!” 

Logan. Logan. Logan…

Logan!

This could not wait another day, no matter what Logan tried to tell himself it just couldn’t. He needed to set things straight, and get it down with the others so they at least understood where he was on the matter, no matter how much it hurt their feelings. In the end, it would at least make him feel better, and hopefully… hopefully things would at least change then and he’d be listened to. 

Even if it was only a little bit. 

Straightening his back, and forcing his hands back down to his sides Logan rose up in the living room biting his tongue the entire time. He would only have to endure his name in their mouths for just a little bit longer, they might not listen, but at least they would know. And that’s literally all that he needed from them, it didn’t matter if they got upset or refused. 

Because this was for him, not for them. 

“Logan!” Virgil’s head whipped away from Patton and Roman, and to where Logan was standing. “Are you okay?” The anxious side tried to ask it cooly, but everyone could see his hands fidgeting with the loose threading strands of his sleeves. The anxiety he had felt coming off of Logan in waves had all but vanished the moment that he had arrived, and it had done very little to lessen Virgil’s own anxieties about the subject. His gaze seemed to look everywhere but Logan for an instance, before he finally willed himself to look at the logical side.  “You seemed kind of anxious, and we were…” The words that were right on Virgil’s tongue died in an instant upon seeing the look on Logan’s face. 

None of them had exactly gotten a chance to talk to Logan after his whole run in with Remus, but right then and there… Virgil wished that he had been there from the very start. To help Logan, and to help the logical side come to terms with the fact that his schedule hadn’t exactly been followed. 

He wished… he wished that he had done something. 

Because…

Logan didn’t look cold, he didn’t even appear to be disinterested in them like he had in the past when it came to discussing Roman’s daydreams or plans. He just looked…

Well it was weird, but he looked oddly polite. 

Like a stranger waiting for someone to stop talking, so that he could speak his business. 

Virgil swallowed thickly, “Deceit?” He merely asked, looking Logan up and down as if trying to spot any inconsistencies of the other side’s attire. 

There was nothing.

And Logan slowly shook his head, his eyes remaining trained on Virgil steadily. He looked calm, the farthest thing from the side who used to scream falsehood at him and anyone who tried to lie to his face. His hair was a windswept mess, and his clothes even messier. With his tie loosened and the collar to his shirt unbuttoned by a single button. And it was that alone that sent alarm bells off in Virgil’s head, because despite all of that… Logan was here. He was calm, he was collected, and there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with him. 

He looked fine. 

But something was wrong, maybe it was just him but.. there had to be something wrong with Logan. He couldn’t be okay, not by any kind of standards. He knew Logan too well to know that the logical side would never show up to any kind of meeting with them dressed as he was. Logan was far too prideful for that, and he also knew that Roman would most certainly never let him live it down. So… something.. Something had to be wrong here. He couldn’t be okay.

Not after what happened. 

“Logan,” Patton inched forward, a look of clear worry on his face. “You okay bucko? Are you feeling oka-” 

“Logic.”

Patton blinked, hoping that he had misheard what Logan had just said to him. His voice chilly in the kind of way that made his back shiver, even if there wasn’t a single draft to be felt. “What?” He attempted a happy playful smile that wouldn’t betray how he was feeling, when the stoney look on Logan’s face didn’t even  budge for a second he felt it slip right off into a puzzled frown. He was acutely aware of Roman and Virgil watching their interaction with the eyes of a hawk, their eyes were burning the back of his head. He could feel something inside of him tremble with that one word that Logan had spoken to him, and he hoped with everything that he was… that he’d only misheard Logan. With Logan’s firm unbreaking stare,  and the obvious stares from the other two sides… he had to actively avoid squirming in place just from how uncomfortable he was starting to get from the change in atmosphere. 

All it had taken was one word… and it felt like everything had just turned on its head.

Logan crossed his arms smoothly over his chest, “Given the state of our relationship, it is Logic.. Not Logan.” There wasn’t a single hint of joking or exaggeration in his voice, there was just that air of polite honesty that somehow managed to rub Patton the wrong way. 

“What?” He asked again, his throat choking out the word. This time he was absolutely sure that he was about to cry, was this.. was this Logan ending their friendship? Was he really that tired of them and their jokes? Did he… 

Did he hate them? 

“What are you talking about?!” This time it was Roman who spoke up, the creative side had been lounging on the couch for a majority of the time. Only now rising once it was apparent how upset Patton was getting with Logan’s selective words, and to top it off… he was getting rather upset himself at it. Did this name change just go to Patton, or was it all of them combined? “Listen,” Roman tried to say patiently. “If you’re upset and angry about your schedule not being followed this is not the way to act about it, tell us and we’ll work something out. Don’t just pull this shit and expect us to not know what to do with it!”

Roman’s breath came out in hot angry puffs, he honestly hadn’t expected himself to get so worked up over this.

Logan’s eyes shifted over to him, clearly waiting a moment to see if Roman was done talking. “Creativity.” Roman’s lungs seized, and his breathing stopped right then and there with that one little word. Logan was… Logan was serious. “I am not angry.” He said patiently. “I understand that sometimes things come up that can get in the way of a preplanned schedule. It is okay, and I understand that nothing could be done that specific day.” Logan linked his fingers together. “However, I am merely stating that I wish to not be referred to so casually.” 

Their mouths gaped openly, a mixture of concern, fear, and puzzlement written over each of their faces. For a moment Roman had no idea what to say, after everything involving Patton and Janus this just felt like one more thing that he didn’t understand. He was fairly certain that none of them understood this though, judging by the looks on each of their faces. None of them knew why Logan was choosing to pursue this, and honestly… he was kind of scared to know exactly why. 

Because that meant in some kind of way… they had all fucked up. 

Roman hated himself for the words that came out of him next, “Are we not close? I thought that knowing your name, and using it meant that.. that you trusted us with it.”  

For a split second, Logan looked up to the ceiling and Roman fought the urge to bristle indignantly at the implications. The hurt in his heart steadily being replaced by a new feeling that he couldn’t yet put his finger on, but once he did…

“No,” Logan merely said, and didn’t elaborate. “I am going to go back to my room should you need to call on me again, I will be drafting up a new schedule that we can all hopefully agree upon, in the meantime... Have a good day.” 

There wasn’t the tiniest hint of resignation or resentment, throughout everything that he’d told them Logan had remained polite to the very end. Even when he ducked out, there weren’t any side eyes, or upset looks from him. Just an air of civil courtesy, that felt so.. so unlike him. Logan got excited about his projects, and he got upset when they didn’t play out to how he wanted them exactly to go. He should have been upset, he should have been spitting barbs and being salty about his failed schedule, he should have reassured Virgil’s anxieties, and he should have…

He should trust them…

Shouldn’t he? 

[iatethepomegranate]

For now, they had this

So Shadowgast has finally made me write fanfic again. I started this a few hours after the finale, and then woke up to find Twitter confirmation for my reading of their epilogue. So here’s 2k of soft wizards confirming for each other what they already knew, in their quiet way. I’m playing with the timeline ordering of things, so my interpretation is not necessarily the Canon interpretation of how things went between them.

Demisexual Essek is addressed here, without saying it explicitly. I tried. Massive spoilers for the finale, obviously.

____

For now, they had this

As much as Caleb trusted Essek to handle himself, he had to admit he was nervous about leaving him behind in Aeor. But the longer they spent together, the greater the weight of things unsaid, and Caleb had to take care of something first.

He had to go home. Blumenthal.

So he did. Found his parents’ resting place. Buried his letters to them. Grieved.

He didn’t go back to Aeor right away, the weight of the Sending stone Essek had foisted on him heavy in his pocket. Essek didn’t need it; he could Send without expending too much of his reserves. Essek hadn’t said anything, but Caleb was keenly aware this stone was solely for his benefit.

Caleb lingered close to Blumenthal for a time, feeling the finality wash over him. He could sometimes feel the phantom weight of the letters as if they still hung from his book holster. It would take time for him to get used to not carrying them around anymore. Just like he had carried the weight of what he had done for so long. And likely always would. But he was more at peace with that now. He had a mission to prevent this from ever happening again. There were things he had done about it, and things he would continue to do for as long as he lived. Fixing his home would be a lifelong mission, but he was finally ready to handle it.

Essek left him alone for a few days, until he must have grown anxious. Well, more anxious than usual. Essek, Caleb had learned, was an anxious person.

“Caleb,” Essek’s voice appeared in Caleb’s head. Soft, but concerned. “I apologise for the intrusion. Are you all right?” The barest pause. “I am safe up here, but… I am concerned. But no rush. Please.”

“I’m all right,” Caleb replied before the spell could decay, losing the thread of the dome ritual he had begun to cast moments ago. “I will return tomorrow. Stay safe. And thank you.”

Jester would be appalled that he didn’t use all his words, but Caleb was… wrung out. Catharsis was, by its nature, exhausting. His response must have satisfied Essek, who did not Send again.

Caleb began to cast the dome once more, blending the exterior with the greens and browns of the woods, but transparent inside so he could fall asleep under the stars of his childhood one last time.

***

Caleb risked the teleport directly into Aeor the following morning, grasping the paper from the records room firmly in his hand. He mercifully landed exactly where he had intended, breathing the dusty air. His ribs expanded more freely than they had in years.

Essek floated cross-legged just above the floor in the corner, looking up from the pages of a ledger in his hands. He watched silently for a second, as he usually did while waiting for a wild magic surge in this place. When none materialised, he gave Caleb a soft smile.

“Welcome back. Come. I am sure you will find this interesting.”

Essek rarely pushed Caleb to talk when he wasn’t ready; he was grateful, especially now. They sat together on the floor for a time, smudges of salt and soot on their fingers as they dug deeper into the records of Aeor. Stacks of books, long-hidden information, and Essek’s steady, quiet company. Caleb had needed this.

It was only when Caleb threw off his coat to more comfortably crawl among the books, collecting fragments of a damaged volume that had fallen apart at the spine, that Essek said anything unrelated to the work.

“Uh, Caleb?”

“Ja?”

“Your other book…”

Caleb followed Essek’s gaze to the empty side of his holster. “Ah.” He sat back, depositing the rescued fragments on the floor in front of him. “It was… time to let go.”

Essek watched him quietly, but did not press. But, mere weeks earlier, he had listened to Caleb lay out all his plans to save his parents. He had even offered to help him. And had been visibly relieved when Caleb instead destroyed the time travel device and all the notes that could have been used to replicate it. He knew enough to understand.

So Caleb explained. The letters he had written. His plans to give them to his mother and father after he had saved them. But he had to let go.

“So, I…” Caleb had to take a moment, the tears threatening to overtake him.

Essek silently looped an arm over his shoulders and pulled him in, tucking Caleb into the hollow of his throat. Caleb breathed him in, and remained there. 

“I teleported the book into the earth between their graves,” he murmured. “It's the closest I can… it’s with them now. Best I can manage.” Talking hurt too much, so he stopped.

“Caleb,” Essek said softly. “I’m proud of you.”

Caleb let himself cry.

***

Essek was always gentle with him, but even more so in the following days. Passing of materials gave rise to held hands, lingering touches, lingering stares. Slowly, Caleb began to feel better. As much as he believed he could, at least for now. It was better than he had felt in a long time. With time, perhaps, the wounds would ache less. Never perfect, but better.

Having disturbed an absorber of an evening, the resulting scuffle left Caleb too tired to summon the tower. He instead set to conjuring the dome while Essek kept watch. They were a little far to retreat to the records room, but they had managed to barricade an entranceway with damaged furniture despite their pitiful strength. Essek, of course, had demonstrated he was more than capable of surprising everyone, including himself, in moments of great duress. Fortunately, Caleb had not gotten himself trapped under a tower this time.

So, Essek hovered close to Caleb during the ritual, keeping an eye on the door they had barricaded. He was tense, but Caleb had to get this dome up before he could address it. There was also a gash on his forearm that would need dressing… but later. Focus.

The dome popped into existence. Caleb put his spellbook away, feeling his shoulder protest. He would need Essek’s help checking the damage.

Essek ducked into the dome, sighing. “Let us not repeat the events of today.”

Caleb produced a set of clean bandages, a cloth and a waterskin. “Agreed.” He grabbed Essek’s arm and dabbed the dampened cloth against the cut. Essek hissed in pain, but didn’t flinch. He hadn’t in a while. Caleb wasn’t sure if that was a sign Essek was getting hurt far too much, or a sign of trust. Both, perhaps. Caleb bandaged the wound, and held Essek’s arm for a moment longer. He was okay. The fight had been tiring, but they had both come out of it. A cut on the arm was nothing in the scheme of things.

Essek extricated his arm from Caleb’s grip, and pushed Caleb’s coat off his shoulders. “Let me see.”

Caleb hadn’t spoken of the pain, but he also hadn’t tried to hide it. Essek carefully loosened the book holsters--a research journal, for the moment, filled the spot once occupied by the letters--and set them aside. He then ran his fingers gently across the front laces of Caleb’s shirt, until Caleb nodded his consent.

Essek gently tugged the shirt loose until he could pull one side off the sore shoulder. He frowned; Caleb couldn’t see the cause. Essek prestidigitated the washcloth clean and wet it, carefully draping it across Caleb’s shoulder. Caleb closed his eyes as the cool sensation took the edge off the pain. He heard a soft mumble, and sensed movement akin to the somatic components of a basic evocation cantrip. The cloth grew colder.

Essek placed his hand over the cloth, squeezing gently. “I think you pulled something. I will continue to ice it tonight.”

“Thank you,” Caleb whispered.

“Rest.” Lips on his forehead. “I will keep watch.”

Caleb opened his eyes. Essek was kneeling at his side, not floating. Too tired, perhaps. But his eyes were sharp, trained on the barricaded doorway.

“Essek.”

“Yes?” Eyes still focused outward.

“Relax a moment. This has been a hard day for both of us.”

Essek let out a long breath, turning his gaze towards Caleb. “I apologise. I… have a hard time seeing you hurt.”

Caleb’s keen mind kindly conjured for him all the times Essek had seen him hurt much worse than this, but he held his tongue. Frequency did not make these things easier. Least of all for Essek, who had been alive for over a century but had only been genuinely close to a small number of people. Caring was hard. Worth it, but hard.

“I know,” Caleb said. “The very nature of caring for someone… witnessing their suffering… it hurts.”

Essek frowned at the floor, but then lifted his gaze to Caleb. “I worried while you were away.”

“I know. And thank you.” Caleb pulled Essek in with his good arm, laying his head on his shoulder. He felt, not for the first time, the urge to talk about this thing between them. But, as he had felt many times before, now was not the time.

Caleb and Essek were not the kind of people to blurt out complicated feelings in a moment of distress or exhaustion. So he closed his eyes and rested against Essek instead. They were what they were to each other, and Caleb was confident this would not disappear overnight. Putting that into words could wait a little longer.

***

The next day was quiet, spent examining record books rescued from the rampage of yesterday’s absorber. Caleb and Essek needed a quieter day, and the slower pace was welcome. They rarely spoke while in the throes of research, always keenly aware of each other, passing paper and writing implements back and forth, smudging soot and salt against each other’s skin as their touches lingered.

It was everything Caleb had ever wanted.

Taking a moment to stretch his back and roll his aching shoulder, his eyes were drawn to Essek’s form in the corner. So engrossed in his reading and note-taking, he had stopped floating about an hour ago. Hunched on the hard, warped floor of this broken city, eyes intense as he scribbled feverishly. He was running low on ink again.

Caleb chuckled softly and crawled closer, gently nudging another inkwell into Essek’s reach. Essek paused in his scribbles, a small smile softening his features. He reached out, eyes retracing the notes he had just written, but instead of taking the ink, he caught Caleb’s fingers and laced them with his own.

Caleb had figured out he was in love with Essek long ago, but in this moment, those feelings swelled until he thought he would burst into tears. He squeezed Essek’s hand. Essek squeezed back.

And the words finally found their way from Caleb’s heart, and out of his mouth. “I love you.”

Essek tore his eyes from the papers, softening as he met Caleb’s gaze. “I love you, too, Caleb.”

Of course, the curse of a mind as keen as Caleb’s was the ability to have too many thoughts at once. He loved Essek. Essek loved him (Caleb had already known that, but it was beautiful to hear out loud). Caleb was human. Essek was an elf. Caleb probably had sixty years left to live, if he was lucky. Essek would likely live another six hundred or more, if he was careful. Essek was on the run from the Dynasty. Caleb had to return home, at least periodically, to root out corruption and make it the place he had once believed it to be. So many factors. So many barriers.

He wanted what time he could have with Essek, but it would be cruel to entangle him when Caleb’s lifespan was barely a speck of dust in the winds of time, when there were so many things they would have to do apart even before Caleb would succumb to his mortality. Caleb had hurt the people he loved too much already.

Essek’s free hand slid up Caleb’s neck and into his hair, cradling the base of his skull. “Your eyes are sad again, my love.”

“This will hurt you,” Caleb said, “in the end.”

“I know.” And it was Essek who pressed their foreheads together this time. “I will cherish the time we have together, and whatever comes after that. It is… rare for me to feel this way about anyone. I will not give you up so easily, even if I know it will end. I am who I am today because of you, and I will carry you with me long after you are gone.”

Caleb had tried to keep people at arm’s-length before, just as Essek had. But he felt emotions deeply, especially love, and it went against his nature to deny the love he felt. And Essek was the love of his life. It would hurt in the end, but they still had time. Decades, if they were lucky.

Essek and Caleb knew a thing or two about pulling luck in their favour.

The moment stretched beyond words. Caleb reached up to kiss Essek’s forehead. They were both reserved people, not given to grand gestures. It was not necessary. Their love bled into everything they did together, in dressing each other’s wounds, in defending each other in battle, and in their quiet moments--the shared silences, the passing of research materials, the touch of soot-stained fingers.

They were what they were to each other, in the time they had together. The joy would one day turn to sorrow, but, for now, they had this.

[avengerscompound]

The Tower: Happily Ever After - 5

The Tower: Happily Ever After An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist | Character Refrence PREVIOUS //

Pairing:  Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1601

Warnings:  Pregnancy

Synopsis: Almost 40 years after Elise Cooper first crashed into Natasha Romanoff outside the library at Columbia University, she and the Avengers are adapting to a near-immortal life together with their large brood of children.  Yet things aren’t perfect.  Life is moving on without them and they’re starting to discover who isolating being immortal can be.When Angela comes and asks Thor to take the throne of Asgard once more, the group leaves Earth in the hopes that they will find their Happily Ever After there.

Chapter 5: Farewell to Our Old Life

It was kind of strange how little there was to organize for us regarding our move.  There was packing, but we couldn’t exactly hire a moving truck so it needed to fit in bags that we could carry or it had to stay behind.  That was difficult.  We had had a long time to collect a lot of things we considered precious to us.  The glass artwork that Thor and I had inadvertently made on our honeymoon was the thing I wished we could bring the most.  It would stay in the fountain in the entry and hopefully, we’d come back sometimes and see it.

Thankfully, most of our things were fairly portable.  We also wouldn’t need a lot of clothes because Asgard would provide things more fitting for the palace, and it’s not like we would need any furniture.  Mostly it was just personal effects and tech that Tony wanted to use there.

Other than that it was just letting the doctors know I was leaving, pulling Marya out of school, and organizing the party.

It was still leaning on the stressful side though - especially considering we were still waiting to hear what the rest of the kids were going to do.

Even though Rose and Paul had appeared closest to deciding to come, it was Billy and Teddy who came back to us first with a yes.  They had also said they wanted to do a bonding ceremony when we were there, which added another level of excitement and another level of stress.

Rose and Paul came next.  They said that they would try it out and see.  The concern about their children’s lifespan was a big issue for them, but Paul also said he’d be crazy to give up at least trying to live on Asgard as actual royalty.

As expected it was Eddie who took the longest to decide.  He really did love his job, and I think even with his talk about having children, he, Lyra, and Rory were still right into the rich, young party lifestyle.  He was worried about what they’d lose going to Asgard, rather than focusing on the things he might gain. 

No one pressured him though.  Any questions the three had were answered as honestly as we could and if we didn’t know we’d send word back to Asgard and Loki would come and give the answers they were looking for if at all possible.  Eventually, he decided that he’d give it six months for us to settle and make sure things with Stark Industries and the Avengers was transitioning smoothly given our sudden departure, and then he and his family would join us there to try it out.  He mentioned maybe doing six months on each planet or returning to Earth for a month or two every year, but we were all just glad he was willing to try it out, and his delayed departure from Earth was a good idea.  He even promised to come and visit when his new siblings were born.

When our goodbye party began, the whole family was excited for this new chapter in our lives and sad to say goodbye to the last.

Many of our friends were elderly or had passed on, so the party was going to be a mixture of different people.  Clarke was still around, though Jax had passed a few years ago.  We’d lost Rhodey and Fury, though Hill was still running the day-to-day operations of the Avengers, even in her old age, and Coulson had retired after years as successfully being director of SHIELD.  Vision was the same as ever, and people often came to him for direction when it came to the Avengers.  Carol also hadn’t changed though she still spent more time in space than on Earth.  A lot of the people we had met that had seemed so young when we met them, were all not officially middle-aged.  Even Peter Parker who was only fifteen when I met him was now pushing fifty and had a wife and daughter of his own.

They would all be at the party, including a lot of the new Avengers lineup.  Most of whom were much heavier hitters than any of us, even when we were wielding Mjolnir.  It was definitely going to be sad to say goodbye.

“It’s going to be okay, you know?”  Wanda said, snapping me out of my mini-trance as she ran a brush methodically through my hair.

“No, I know,” I said, tilting my head back.

“Then tell your brain that,” she teased.

I giggled and leaned up and pecked her lips.  “I’m sorry.  I would if I could.  Just hormones I guess.  Feeling stressed.”

“Well, stop it,” she scolded playfully.  “It’s bad for the babies.”

She began to braid my hair and I hummed as her fingertips grazed over my scalp.  “Imagine it though, Elly,” Wanda said.  “All the kids nearby - the new babies.”

“You’re a baby-oholic,” I said, laughing softly.

“It’s true,” she says.  “I am.”

She ran a hand around my side and pressed it on my stomach.  “I can’t wait to meet them,” she said.  “They already have such busy thoughts.”

I looked up at her and I’m not sure whether it was the look of pure and complete love in her eyes or the way the light caught in her hair, but I was struck by how beautiful she was and how much I loved her.  She smiled and pressed a kiss to my forehead.  “I love you too,” she said and picked up a strand of silver wire with black opal and threaded it into my hair.  “All done.”

I stood carefully and straightened out the skirts on my blue lace cocktail dress.  “How do I look?” I asked.

“Perfect as always,” she said.  “Let's go say goodbye to our friends.”

We made our way down to the party deck where the party was only just starting up.  Bruce, Steve, and Clint were all already there, but there was no sign of Tony, Natasha, Clint, Sam, Thor, or Bucky.

Some of our kids were there and their kids all played out in the garden atrium that was built on the protruding wing of the tower and the party deck opened out into.  I greeted everyone and as I made my way around the room more people arrived.

Clarke came over and tapped me on the shoulder.  I turned and smiled, hugging her tightly.  She had aged well, not as well as I had obviously, but while her face was lined and she was a little frailer looking, she had kept in good shape and she continued to color her hair.  It would be easy to think she was in her early fifties rather than her mid-seventies.  Her eyes were what gave it away.  What had once been vivid violet had faded to pale lavender and were slightly cloudy.  They were heavily lined at the corners, the years having carved deep crevices to mark each time she was happy or sad or angry or worried.  It was still my Clarke though and I was going to miss her.

“I can’t believe you’re not going to be here when these two are born,” she said, indicating to my stomach as we pulled apart.  She was one of the select group of people I would be totally fine with touching my stomach unasked - but she never assumed.  “Where am I going to get my baby kisses from?”

I laughed and shook my head.  “I guess you’ll have to visit me on Asgard.”

“You can do that?”  She asked.

“I mean… I’m the Queen.  I think I can pull some strings,” I teased.

She laughed.  “God, thinking of you as a Queen is such a trip.”

“Hey Auntie Clarke,” Billy said, appearing behind us.  “I haven’t seen you for a while.”

Clarke hugged him and looked around.  “It’s been too long.  Where are those kids of yours.”

“Come on, I’ll take you to them,” he looked over at me and narrowed his eyes.  “You go sit down, mom.  You know you’re supposed to be taking it easy.”

“I am taking it easy,” I argued, holding up my hands.  “I’m just standing here.”

“Go on,” he said.  “Don’t make me page Dad Tony.”

“Heaven forbid,” I laughed and he wrinkled his nose at me and led Clarke out to the atrium.  I got myself a little plate of appetizers and a glass of punch and went and took a seat.

It wasn’t long until the whole room was teeming with people.  The Avengers had gotten to be a rather large collection of people since the original six had been reluctantly dragged together all those years ago.  Having so many of the people who meant so much to all of us here at the same time couldn’t help but make me think about how I’d first joined this group that would one day be my family.

All those years ago I had been a traumatized woman in her mid-twenties, just trying to get by.  I didn’t have many good friends, because it took a lot for me to trust people.  It took a superhero to get through and with her, so many other people flooded in after.  I was so grateful to them, and so in love with each of them to this day.  It would be hard letting this life of ours go, but it was inevitable.  I still had my 9 chosen people though, and I always would.  I was glad to be taking this next step with them at my side.

// NEXT

[thetravelerwrites]

Courtship of the Headless King: Chapter One

Rating: General Audiences Fandoms: 忘却の首と姫 | Boukyaku no Shirushi to Hime | The Princess and The Forgotten Head Relationship: Female Human/Male Headless King Additional Tags: Slow Burn, Political Marriage, Power Dynamic, Headless King Words: 4366

This is not my original work!

This is a fan retelling of one of my favorite mangas, Boukyaki no Shirushi to Hime, whose original mangaka sadly passed away in 2014, leaving the series unfinished. I will start at the beginning of the manga and go through the entire story that has already been written. Once I reach chapter 20, which is the end of the published chapters, I will have to start extrapolating and imagining how the story may have played out. I hope I can do the original story justice and not disgrace the original author.

I will say that I will be fixing a few things that made me uncomfortable about the original manga, in that the female protagonist was 15, which I didn't like. Otherwise I will try to stick as close to the original story as possible, though I will be arranging it so that it's a bit more linear.

I hope you enjoy!

“Blessings to you, my lady,” The visitor said, bowing deeply in greeting. “My name is Aquamarine. I am a servant of the high king of Banfarie and a chosen attendant to the future queen.”

The summons wasn’t necessarily a shock, but it was definitely a surprise. Lilya, the third princess of the former kingdom of Tritsia, had come of age during a bloody war between kingdoms to either side, and her small, impoverished land had been caught in the crossfire. Tritsia had been absorbed by the victorious kingdom to the east, Couliea, and was now a vassal state. As such, the royal family of Tritsia were now hardly more than paupers in their own kingdom.

Lilya assumed that she would no longer be eligible for the marriage interviews that were famously, or perhaps infamously, conducted five times every month in the largest empire in the continent, Banfarie. The interviews had been happening since before she had even been born, but as of yet, no queen had been selected. Or rather, no woman had accepted.

The rules for who would be chosen for the interviews was standard for most monarchs looking for a queen: a woman of royal or noble blood with proof of lineage, at least eighteen years old but no older that twenty five, no previous marriages or engagements, no children, and… well… consent.

Lilya met most of the criteria… except for one thing: she wasn’t a high born woman anymore. Her family’s royal status had ended when the kingdom was absorbed into another. Besides, even when her father had been king, they had never exactly been what anyone would consider proper royalty. Her father worked in the fields with his people, doing the same back-breaking labor as his subjects. Back then, she could hardly be called princess, but now she was nothing more than a peasant farm girl, more suited to feeding chickens and mucking out stables than attending grand balls and high teas.

So there had been quite a stir when their unusual guest came to deliver the summons. She was a woman who appeared very young in age, no more than perhaps sixteen, though she spoke as if she were a far older creature. She had a short bob haircut and a thick fringe, but it wasn’t enough to hide her pointed ears, her sharp eyes, and her upswept eyebrows, belying a nature that wasn’t human.

Her cloak was plain, but well-made and of fine cloth, likely silk or satin. She had all the hallmarks of a servant of a wealthy, prosperous nation. She had been given entrance to the house by the only servant Lilya’s family employed, Sebastian, and was standing in the receiving room with Lilya’s mother and aunt.

“I come with greetings from my Lord King, to relay a question and to present a gift to you, beloved princess.”

Lilya tilted her head. “A gift? His Majesty didn’t need to send a gift.”

Aquamarine simply chuckled and bowed. “From his Majesty, with his kindest regards.” From her cloak, she produced a velveteen box and opened it, revealing a tiara of breathtaking beauty. Sizable diamonds and sapphires lined the circlet and rose up to create a lovely sloped and winding style like that of wind on water. It was a crown that would suit any head it rested upon.

“Oh!” Lilya breathed. “It’s breathtaking!” She rushed to her mother in delight. “This is the answer to the famine on the outskirts in the south! If we sell the tiara at the biggest market in the neighboring kingdom, we could feed the farmers for months, maybe a year!”

“Lilya!” Her aunt exclaimed in horror. “How could you suggest such a thing? This was a gift from a king, for goodness sake, you can’t just sell it!”

“But, Auntie, I can’t hoard something like this when people are starving!”

“You would not wear it?” Aquamarine asked, her face shrewdly assessing. “Is it not to your liking?”

“Oh, no, that’s not it at all!” Lilya insisted earnestly. “It’s lovely, more so than anything I’ve ever seen. I’ve never worn anything so extravagant. But… truly, for me to wear it would be like putting silk ribbons on a pig. It would be far less useful as a trinket in my wardrobe and better as a tool to feed the hungry. I’m afraid that Couliea doesn’t pay much attention to our struggles, so we have to fend for ourselves. This,” Lilya gently took the box from Aquamarine and turned it so that she could see the tiara properly. “This is indeed a kingly gift. This will save lives. There is no more noble a gift as that.” She bowed her head and handed the box back gingerly. “If his Majesty would not be pleased with my conduct, I understand, but I would hope he would see the sense in my actions.”

Aquamarine laughed a little. “I do not think his Majesty will be displeased. Quite the opposite. Even still,” Aquamarine set the box down on the table and carefully pried a dangling jewel from the very center, threading it through a silver chain she had worn around her own neck, and placed it on Lilya. “His Majesty will want confirmation that his gift was received. This will suffice.”

“Then I shall wear it to the marriage interview,” Lilya said, patting it fondly.

Aquamarine’s head cocked back in surprise. “I had not even had the chance to ask you, and yet you’re agreeing to go?”

“Well, yes,” Lilya said. “That’s why you’ve come to call on me, isn’t it?”

“Of course,” Aquamarine said with a smirk. “But usually it takes much more convincing on my part. I don’t believe I’ve ever met someone so… eager.”

“At the very least, I have to thank him for his generosity,” Lilya said. “Even if he decides I’m not a good match for him, I have to express my gratitude in person.”

“You’re not scared? I’m certain you’ve heard the rumors about my Lord King.”

“Well… yes,” Lilya admitted. “I won’t lie and say I’m not apprehensive, but kindness like this can’t go unacknowledged. It’s only right that I meet with him.”

Where Aquamarine’s smile had been playful and mischievous before, it was now wide and warm. “I will happily go now and inform his Majesty of your decision. My sisters and I will return in a fortnight to collect you for your interview. You may bring a guest with you, if you wish, though I assure you that you’ll be quite safe in our care.”

“I have no doubt that’s true,” Lilya said, bowing. “Would you like some refreshments to take with you on your trip back?”

“How kind of you, dear, but that won’t be necessary,” Aquamarine said, patting Lilya’s cheek. “We shall return in two weeks. You make sure you take care now. Our Lord King would be much distressed should something happen to you in the meantime.”

Aquamarine snapped her fingers, and there was a flash of light from which everyone in the room had to shield their eyes. When they blinked, the young woman was gone.

“Witch...” Sebastian said in horror. “My Lady, you can’t meet with this monster! What kind of king employs such demons?”

“Likely someone who understands that people like them also need to earn a living, I’d imagine,” Lilya said reasonably. “Besides, I’ve already agreed and accept his gift. I can’t go back on my word.”

“I can’t believe you’d actually sell such a treasure,” Your aunt said disapprovingly. “You’re so like your father.”

She didn’t mean that in a good way. Lilya’s mother’s sister, Kiya, had always disliked her father and resented him for being too weak a king, unable to protect his people during the war. She had also resented Lilya ever since she had been born. There was worry that Sophie would not be able to carry another child at her age, and that the royal line would end as there would be no male heir to Tritsia.

The birth of Lilya’s little brother shortly before her father’s death was not enough to warm Kiya to Lilya. In fact, it seemed to drive the wedge even further, as Sophie and her brother were both terribly weak afterward and there was concern they wouldn’t survive. Kiya had gone so far as to blame Lilya, telling her that it would have been her fault if they died. As a nine year old, she couldn’t imagine what she’d have done to cause such a terrible thing, but now she understood it was just her aunt lashing out.

Perhaps it was because Lilya resembled her father the most out of all her siblings, or because she was most like him in temperament, but she doubted Kiya would ever view her favorably. She was still family, though, and Lilya tried not to take her criticism to heart, though her aunt’s cutting eyes often wore into her painfully.

“I’m doing this for our country, even if it no longer exists,” Lilya said, determinedly putting the box away in a case so that Sebastian could take it to the neighboring kingdom for appraisal. “The king has called for me. The least I can do is answer.”

“Lilya’s right, Kiya,” Lilya’s mother, Sophie, said reluctantly. “It would be improper for us to take his gift and ignore him. Though I can’t say that I’m pleased with the idea of this.” Sophie sighed unhappily. “Lilya would have been expected to marry soon as it is. I supposed we couldn’t hope for better than a king.” Sophie took her daughter’s hands in her own. “Still, I’m very worried. I should come with you.”

“No, Mama, they need you here. You’ll have to be the one to make sure that the tiara gets a fair price and oversee the distribution of the food to the needy. I’ll be fine on my own, and besides, Aquamarine said that she and her sisters were part of the Queen’s guard, and I liked her very much. I couldn’t be any safer.”

Lilya’s mother grimaced. “That doesn’t make me feel better. You have many lovely qualities, my sweet child, but being a good judge of character is not among them. All anyone needs to do is tell you a sad story for you to want to take them under your wing, regardless of their true intentions.” She smiled fondly. “You’re much like your father in that respect.”

Lilya smiled in return. “Father was not a good king,” She said sadly. “But he was a good man.”

“With that, I cannot argue,” Sophie said, but she frowned in distress. “You’re elder sisters had married before they got the summons, so I’ve never met with the king. Your father met with him only once, during a conference of kings, but he never told us anything about him other than he found him to be… striking. I think he didn’t tell us more because he want to frighten us.”

“Have you heard much about him?” Lilya asked anxiously.

“Reports are varied and hard to believe; that the king is a headless monster, thousands of years old, ten feet tall, winged and hulking, who eats the women who refused him. I’m not sure I believed any of that, but the rumors are still enough to make me trepidatious.”

Sebastian grumbled, his mustache shuddering. “It is the rumors that could be true that make me uneasy.”

“How do you mean?”

“I am an old man now,” Sebastian said. “Well into my seventies, so I remember when the interviews began sixty years ago. In all that time, and no queen of Banfarie has been chosen. It concerns me. The king himself may now be an old man.”

“Is that why he’s being turned down?” Lilya asked.

“No, young madam,” He said. “You see, even before the interviews began, Banfarie had no queen in nearly one hundred years. In fact, since that time, no new kings had been crowned, either. The king from one hundred years ago was an elusive man who few had ever met, and those who did were terrified of him. If the current king is that man’s successor, it’s certainly distressing. But if he is the same man, then he is a creature of deeply evil magic, and Lady Lilya should stay far away from him.”

“Even if he were the same man, which should be impossible, his reputation is less than ideal,” Sophie said pensively. “The house of Banfarie is known historically for it’s cruelty and harsh punishments, even of neighboring kingdoms. It instituted a law that allowed Banfarie to make judgments on the conduct of royals, indict them criminally, and even sentence retribution against them, up to and including execution. The neighboring kingdoms pushed back against this, of course, but eventually they all fell in line and wrote it into their countries’ laws. I don’t trust any man who could wield that level of power over others.”

“But think of what that level of influence could do for Tritsia!” Kiya said. “A king with that kind of power could protect us and provide for us!”

Sophie shivered. “I don’t want to know what he would want in return for that protection.”

“Well, I would think that’s be obvious,” Kiya said, looking pointedly at Lilya.

Sophie, normally a mild, even-tempered woman, grew angry. “And you’re alright with that, are you? You’re willing to sell my youngest daughter to a monster if it benefits you?”

“Sophie, don’t be sentimental,” Kiya said, folding her arms. “Political marriages are common for royalty. If we had been a stronger country, this would be completely normal, even for a third daughter.”

“We’re not royalty anymore,” Sophie said firmly.

“But we could be, that’s the point!”

“Please, don’t fight,” Lilya said, getting between the two sisters. “I’ve already made the decision. Kiya is right; if I were to marry His Majesty of Banfarie, our kingdom would then be his responsibility rather than that of Couliea. However he treats that responsibility, it can’t be worse than the wanton destruction from the war or the indifferent cruelty of Couliea. If he accepts me, even if it is only a political marriage and nothing more, it would greatly benefit us both. He would at last gain the queen he’s been searching for and our country will be protected. I will meet him. Perhaps the rumors are wrong.”

“I can only hope,” Sophie remarked grimly. After throwing an angry look at her sister, she pulled Lilya away from Kiya and spoke in an undertone. “But… is this what you really want?”

“I want my family and people safe and well above all,” Lilya said. “If this king can offer that, then I can ask for nothing more.”

“If this is what you wish,” Her mother said slowly. “Then I will respect it. But… it is not what I would wish for you.”

“I know, Mama,” Lilia said. “We don’t always get what we truly wish for. But this is as close as I can get.”

“If the king accepts you,” Lilya’s mother remarked sadly. “We may never see you again.”

“That may not be true. I would hope that his Majesty wouldn’t prevent me from seeing my family once I settle in.”

“Just be careful, my love,” Her mother said, pulling her into a hug. “Be careful.”

As promised, Aquamarine returned in a fortnight to collect Lilya to take her to the capitol of Banfarie, Rukruf. A carriage had come with them for Lilya’s comfort.

“Couldn’t you transport me like you did the day you first came?”

“I’m afraid that’s a rather disorienting way to travel for humans, My Lady,” Aquamarine said, taking Lilya’s luggage. “It would require some degree of acclamation, and I don’t think his Majesty would want you to be sick during your interview.” She lifted Lilya’s bag up with one hand. “Is this all you’re bringing with you?”

“This is all I have,” Lilya replied simply. “You admit that you’re not human?”

“I was never attempting to hide it. I’m a spirit, specifically an stone spirit, as are my sisters. There they are now.”

She jerked her head toward the carriage. There were two more women identical to Aquamarine near the carriage, one in the driver’s box and another holding open the door to the carriage. All three women had short, pale lavender colored hair and large, glittering eyes. They wore identical uniforms similar to that of an attendant, but the skirts were rather short, stopping just below the knee, giving them a freer rang of movement. Each one had a dagger hanging from their hip.

Both new sisters bowed deeply as Lilya approached.

“My lady,” They said in unison.

“Garnet,” Aquamarine said, pointing to the driver,and then to the coach-woman. “And Peridot.”

“I don’t doubt the three of you are sisters; I can’t tell you apart,” Lilya said.

“Ah, but see?” Peridot said, pointing to a white bow on the right side of her hair in the shape of a butterfly. She then pointed to Garnet, who wore a black butterfly bow on her left side, and to Aquamarine, who wore no bow at all. “Even people who know us well have trouble distinguishing us from the other, so we’ve taken to wearing these. Only his Majesty can tell us apart without them.”

“Here, my Lady,” Peridot said, swinging a beautiful, fur-lined, snow-white cloak around Lilya’s shoulders. “We’ll be going through the mountains and it’s likely to get cold. His Majesty had this made for you.”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” Lilya said, petting the soft, veltvety collar that ruffed around her neck. “I’m starting to get anxious about meeting him.”

“In a good way or a bad way?” Peridot asked ash she helped Lilya up into the carriage.

“I can’t tell,” Lilya replied, laughing nervously.

“Don’t be nervous,” Peridot said as she came in and closed the door behind her, rapping sharply on the roof before settling. “His Majesty is only a threat to humans.”

Lilya looked at Peridot in alarm.

“It was a joke,” Peridot assured her, giggling. “…mostly.”

The carriage lurched forward and Aquamarine put a hand out to steady Lilya before she fell out of her seat.

“When will we arrive?”

“Around sunset tomorrow,” Aquamarine replied. “We’ll continue on through the night rather than stop at an inn. His Majesty is eager to meet you.”

“Won’t you be tired?” Lilya asked.

“Not to worry,” Aquamarine said. “Spirits like us don’t need much sleep, only a few hours a week. We’re all rested up.”

“That’s amazing. I wish I could do that.”

“Yes, it is awfully handy,” Peridot said rather smugly. “Are you hungry? We’ve brought things for you to eat.”

The two days passed pleasantly and Lilya spent the time having long, friendly conversations with all three sisters. Lilya had never had lady friends her age, and though the women were spirits and likely far older than she was, they seemed to enjoy her company and asked her many questions.

“Oh, Lady, come and see!” Garnet said, pointing out of the window. “You can see the capitol city from this vantage!”

Delighted, Lilya looked out of the window where Garnet was pointing. “It’s huge!” She exclaimed. “I can’t even see the end of it! It must be as large as my entire country!”

“Your country is larger by about fifty miles, in fact,” Aquamarine said. “It’s the smallest country on the continent.”

“Yes, that sounds right,” She sighed. “I mean, I didn’t know that for sure, but I’m not surprised.”

“Are you sad to be from such a small country?”

“No,” She replied. “My country is beautiful and my people are good. I just wish we were better able to defend ourselves.”

“Well, you may not have that problem anymore,” Aquamarine said. “We’re nearly there.”

“Will I meet his Majesty today?”

“No, you will be tired from the trip and will rest for tonight. He will conduct your interview tomorrow after you have your breakfast. His Majesty has instructed us to see to your every comfort.”

“That’s just going to make me more anxious,” Lilya said.

“The best things are worth waiting for,” Peridot said.

That evening, they arrived at the castle, which was every bit as colossal as described. Over it was a cloud of purple, blue, and pink particles, as if it were perpetual sunset over the castle.

“What is that?”

“It’s called the Aurora,” Garnet said. “It’s a magical field that has existed over the castle for hundreds of years and is the source of the royal family’s magical power. It ascends and descends over the castle, depending on how the king feels. It’s highly reactive to his emotional state.”

“Oh, goodness,” Lilya said. “It’s rather low right now. What does that mean?”

“Hmm…” Garnet said. “I believe he may be feeling rather withdrawn.”

“I wonder why that would be,” Lilya mused.

Standing at the front steps of the castle as they pulled up were two young men in uniform, one blond and one dark haired. The blond wore glasses and seemed to be the junior of the two. They bowed as Lilya exited the carriage.

“Miss Lilya, these are the King’s personal attendants, Larima,” She gestured at the dark haired one first, and then to the blond. “And Raba. They are meeting you in place of his Majesty today.”

“Does that mean his Majesty is watching?” Lilya asked, looking up at the windows.

“Whether he is or is not,” Larima said as he straightened. “We are pleased to meet you, My Lady. Please allow us to show you to your room.”

“Yes, thank you,” Lilya replied. Curiously, she noticed as they turned that there appeared to be leaves growing out of their hair.

The sisters were following behind her at a short distance. “Are they spirits, too?” Lilya asked them in an undertone.

“Yes,” Peridot said. “They’re tree spirits. All of the staff employed at his Majesty’s main castle are not human.”

“Why?”

“His Majesty distrusts humans,” Aquamarine replied.

“But isn’t his Majesty human?” Lilya asked in confusion.

“Yes,” Peridot responded.

“And no,” Garnet said.

Lilya made a noise of uncertainty under her breath.

“Don’t worry, my Lady,” Garnet said. “You’ll understand tomorrow.”

“This is all very ominous,” Lilya said uncertainly.

“Yes!” Peridot said. “Isn’t it exciting?”

Before she could answer, she was lead to an opulent guestroom, far larger than any of the rooms in her home, filled with luxurious furniture and carefully crafted decorations.

“This can’t be my room,” Lilya said with a laugh. “What would I do with all this space?”

Raba and Larima exchanged looks. “Do you dislike it? We have a number of other rooms. You’re free to choose any one of them.”

“Oh, it’s not like that,” Lilya said hastily. “It’s beautiful, I adore it. Please, it’s not that I’m ungrateful, I just feel like… I don’t know… isn’t it wasted on me?”

The triplets sighed sadly, having become used to Lilya’s unusual behavior, but the men continued to look confused.

“You do realize that if his Majesty chooses you and you accept, you’ll be queen?” Raba asked. “This,” He gestured at the room. “Is nothing compared to the queen’s suite.”

“Oh…” Lilya replied, a little disconcerted. “This will take some getting used to.”

“I understand,” Larima said. “You’re the princess from Tritsia, correct? The smallest, poorest kingdom on the continent, now a captured vassal state of Couliea. I suppose you must not be accustomed to living so resplendently.”

“Larima!” Aquamarine hissed. “Don’t be so tactless!”

Lilya laughed a little, relieved. “No, it’s alright. I’m not used to this at all, that’s true. Will that bother his Majesty?”

Larima smiled and shook his head. “No, I shouldn’t think so. Don’t worry so much about what’s appropriate and just enjoy your time here. Come.” He lead Lilya inside and showed her two cords right next to the bed, a small blue cord and a larger red cord. “The blue cord is attached to a bell in the queen’s attendants’ quarters. If you need for anything, just ring it and one of the triplets will be here in an instant. The red one is an alarm. If you pull it, bells will go off all throughout the castle. Ring it only if it’s an emergency.”

“I understand,” Lilya said. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

Raba and Larima bowed and left, and the triplets ushered Lilya into an adjacent dining room to have dinner.

After a restless night of sleep and a breakfast she barely touched, Lilya was dressed in a lovely blue gown that complimented her hair, which was pulled back with matching ribbons. The bodice was tight but comfortable, the cut of the dress was simple but elegant, and for the first time, Lilya felt like a proper grown woman.

A knock on the door revealed Raba.

“His Majesty is ready for you and is waiting in his office,” He said.

Lilya stood and clenched her hands to stop them from shaking and followed Raba out of her quarters with Garnet and Aquamarine following behind her.

“Don’t worry, my Lady,” Garnet said. “I think the king will like you very much.”

“You do?”

“Oh yes,” Aquamarine replied. “We’re more concerned whether or not you’ll like him.”

“Why wouldn’t I like him?” She asked.

“Well…” Garnet began regretfully, but then stopped.

“Here we are,” Raba said, gesturing to a set of large double doors. “One moment please.” Raba knocked on the door. “Your Majesty, I have retrieved Lady Lilya for her interview. Are you ready?”

There was silence, though Raba tilted his head as if he were listening.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” Raba opened one of the doors and stood aside. “You may enter.”

Gulping, checking that the pendant was in place, and taking a deep breath, Lilya stepped inside.

There, standing rail-straight behind a desk, was a tall, thin man wearing elaborate garments in keeping with his status as a king and emperor, as well as a sash and badges of his station. Almost immediately, one of the many rumors about the king was confirmed with Lilya’s own eyes.

His Imperial Majesty, the king of Banfarie, had no head.

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Thanks for reading!

My Masterlist

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[wistfulcynic]

The Thief of Time

HAPPY BIRTHDAY @optomisticgirl!! You are one of the loveliest and most supportive people in the fandom, a loving cat mom and brutal murderer who would die for a fictional plant and has the t-shirt to prove it. I am so, so honoured to have you as a friend ❤️❤️.

This fic came about because B sent me this post and I immediately said "Yep, Killian would be a wizard or an artificer." And B, unrepentant evildoer and witch!Emma's foremost fan, planted seeds in my head that would not stop growing. This is the result.

SUMMARY: Killian Jones, pirate-turned-artificer, has suffered blow after blow from life and all he wants is to go back to the past and make things right. If only he could get his bloody time machine to work.

Emma Swan, witch, has the ability to See through time and space and the responsibility to stand down any threats to either of them. When an artificer from 300 years ago in another realm devises a machine that could blow a hole straight through the multiverse, it’s her job to stop him.

What they find when they meet is an improbable connection, an understanding that bridges the distance between them. A distance that is in all practical ways insurmountable—by everything but love.

(And one very determined pirate-turned-artificer.)

-

Words: <9k Rating: T Tags: magic au, witch!Emma, artificer!Killian, angst, Killian Jones is a sad boi, a dash of hurt/comfort, time travel, realm travel, HEA

AO3

-

The Thief of Time:

Once upon a time there was an artificer.

He wasn’t much of an artificer, it must be said. Artificing, as everyone knows, requires patience, perseverance, and attention to detail, and while Killian Jones possessed a rock-solid stubbornness that stood in well for perseverance as well as a fine eye for detail, patience—at least when it came to tedious, laborious tasks—was not among his strengths.

This is perhaps why, on the particular bright morning when his life changed forever, Killian could be found in his workshop surrounded by shards of glass and a puddle of pale brown liquid oozing through his floorboards that until a moment before had been a bottle of rum. Until Killian, in a surge of frustration at yet another failure, had flung it furiously at the wall.

The rum bottle had been a more or less innocent bystander, a casualty of proximity, a stand-in for the machine that sat on a rickety table in the centre of the hut that served as Killian’s workshop—a machine that continued nonchalantly failing to function even after the rum bottle had met its tragic fate.

It was almost, thought Killian, as though the device didn’t care how many bottles came to an untimely end, it still had no intention of ever working.

He held out his hand with fingers curled like talons and let it hover menacingly over the machine before tightening it into a fist and shaking it. “I should bloody well smash you to bits,” he growled. “I should—”

He had no real idea of what he should do, beyond demolishing the bloody thing, heaving its carcass into the sea, and abandoning this foolhardy plan for good and all. It hardly mattered, though, as the machine made no reply—not so much as a tick of motion to indicate that it cared in the slightest about its own fate. Killian gritted his teeth and with effort reined in his temper. He reached for another rum bottle—there were always plenty standing by—and groped for a moment before he remembered he had the awl attachment connected to his brace and grabbed the bottle with his hand instead.

The bottle was stoppered with a tenuous scrap of cork; this Killian gripped between his teeth and dislodged with an expert twist of his neck, then spat it at the machine and watched as it struck the hammered copper facing with a satisfying thunk. He took the bottle to the porch of his hut—‘porch’ being the word with which he flattered the platform of weatherbeaten boards raised on hunks of driftwood—collapsed into the hammock strung across the corner of it and stared out to sea with the rum bottle cradled in his lap.

Tropical sun beat down on the shack and on the swaying palms that shaded it, and on the stretch of white beach that curved beyond it, and on the azure water glistening beneath the blazing sky. A tumbledown shack on a lonely atoll was not, so Killian had been given to understand, generally the sort of place in which most artificers chose to set up shop. They preferred tiny rooms atop winding staircases in tall university towers, so he was told, or for the more eccentric among them perhaps an derelict castle or even a dark forest hut. Somewhere close and damp and chill, where they could work by artful firelight draped in hooded cloaks and tuck the secrets of their craft safely away amongst the shadows.

Killian cared very little for such things, however, as he was not most artificers. He wasn’t, as has already been remarked, much of an artificer at all. A sailor by blood, a naval man by training, and a pirate by circumstance, this was Killian Jones. And now an artificer, by desperate last resort.

He took a long swig from his bottle and glared at the sea, at the ship that bobbed gently on the waves, anchored just to the left in the atoll’s curving bay. If he had any sense he’d end this foolishness, he thought with a bitter twist of his lip. He’d take his ship and find himself a crew, sail off and vent his frustrations on royal cargo vessels and navy frigates rather than haphazardly assembled collections of wood and scrap metal that would certainly never do more than than sit there smugly not working, taunting him, and—

Click.

Killian froze, with every muscle in his body. He waited. And waited. And—

Click.

Again. Killian exhaled slowly, cursing the faint vibrations of his breath in the air. He waited. And waited. And—

Click.

Click.

Click.

It was working.

—

A week later and Killian’s temper once again was hanging by the barest thread; the click of the device that had at first spurred him on now plucked at the frayed edges of his nerves and rattled inside his head each time he tried to focus. It was clicking, the mechanism was turning over, he had everything he’d thought he needed but still an element was missing, something vital that he couldn’t put his finger on, that hovered just at the edge of his perception like some fey spirit sent to taunt him.

Maybe you should just give up.

Killian spun around at the sound of the voice, a woman’s voice, with a wry tone and an unfamiliar accent. His eyes scanned the empty room. “Who’s there?” he called out, though it was plain to see no one was there. He was alone.

Quite alone.

He knew he was alone, of course, though the tingle between his shoulder blades did not concur, and remained even when he turned his attention back to his work. The sensation of being watched by unseen eyes is frequently a distracting one, but Killian stubbornly disregarded it and focused on his task. The sensation persisted.

He worked doggedly for several minutes, then set down his tools. “Lass,” he said to the room at large, “it’s bad form to stare.”

He swore he heard a chuckle.

“I do understand how it can be difficult for women to take their eyes off a devilishly handsome rapscallion such as myself,” Killian continued, “but I’m trying to work here so if you wouldn’t mind…”

He turned back to his workbench and as he did his elbow struck the edge of it, knocking over his latest rum bottle and sending a shooting pain up his arm. He squeezed his eyes shut and spat a stream of vicious curses and very nearly stabbed himself with the awl before recalling that he had no hand with which to cradle the afflicted elbow and rub away the pain. When it finally subsided and he opened his eyes once more, the sight that met them had him swearing a new and even bluer streak.

His device now sat bathed in a pool of rum, with sparks shooting from behind its copper face and very ominously not clicking. With a snarl Killian slammed his fist down on the table and ground it into the wood. He’d have to mop up the rum and wait at least a day or two to be certain whatever had seeped into the mechanism was completely dried before attempting to open it again to determine whether he could repair the damage. If he couldn’t he’d have to start over.

Or you could just give up.

“Are you responsible for this?” he demanded of the voice. “At long bloody last I was on the right track, and now—now—” He slammed his fist into his workbench again, sending rum droplets flying.

Look, don’t get cranky, mister. I’m just trying to stop you doing something stupid.

“Oh?” Killian snarled. “Is that what you’re doing? You’re a bit bloody late.”

What?

“I’ve done many a stupider thing than this, unhindered by any disembodied voices. You couldn’t have stopped me doing any of them?”

I—

“Where were you, for example, when I lost my brother in a cursed land, travelled back from that land, and then in a fit of rage burned the only method I had of returning there?” he demanded. “Where were you when I threw away my naval career, stole my brother’s ship, and led her crew into piracy? Where were you when I ravaged the land of my birth? Where were you when I fell in love with—” he broke off with a choking sound, then sat with his forearms resting on his knees, staring at his hand and at the leather brace where its twin should be. “I don’t know why I’m even saying this aloud,” he murmured, “you’re not truly here.” He ran his hand over his face then through his hair. “Perhaps I’m finally going mad. It’s an occupational hazard, or so I’ve been told.”

A breeze rustled through the shack, gentle and soothing. It whispered across his skin in what could only be called a caress. Despite himself, Killian felt comforted.

I’m sorry for what you’ve suffered. The voice’s compassion was undoubtedly genuine. But I couldn’t have prevented those things. They were not my business to See.

“And this is?” Killian demanded.

Yes.

He shook his head. “Who are you?”

There was no reply. The soothing breeze was gone, leaving the late afternoon air heavier and more still in its absence. His neck no longer tingled. He was alone. Again.

Always.

Killian pressed his fingers to his eyes and sighed, then grabbed a fresh bottle of rum—plus a second, upon further consideration—and headed out of the shack. Headed to the rowboat and the Jolly Roger, and, with any luck, a drunken stupor that would last until he could work on the device again.

“Hear this, lass,” he murmured as he paused in the doorway. “I will be back. I’m not giving up.”

We’ll see about that, whispered the voice, once he was gone.

—

Three days later and Killian’s hangover throbbed between his eyes, but his device was dry and in a less disastrous state than he’d feared. He tapped the magical stone that powered the mechanism until it sparked sharply in response, reconnected a few fine filaments of copper, snapped the gears back into place and held his breath.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Killian exhaled. It was still working.

Sort of.

He sat at his workbench and glared at the device, as though intensity alone could help him see what was missing in it. When it did not, he reached into his satchel with a long-suffering sigh, and withdrew a book.

He really should have gone to the books first. That’s what the other artificers had advised. Research before experimentation, a solid foundation of scholarship on which to build. In another life another Killian would have listened too, would have loved the prospect of hours, days, weeks spent in a library, absorbing the wondrous knowledge that it held. But that eager boy had long been lost, and the man who remained had spent too many years in wasted endeavours, hunting elusive magic beans and fairy wands, anything he heard of that he thought might aid his quest. When every lead he could scrounge all came to nothing he’d had no choice but to alter his course, and no bloody time to start from the beginning and do the thing properly. He’d already wasted so much time.

But perhaps, he conceded now, that had been a mistake.

The book had a weighty heft that testified its age, as did the brilliance of the jewelled ink on its vellum pages. Modern books with their rag-paper and plant inks were lighter, more fragile, less vibrant. Cheaper to produce of course, and more accessible, but the earnest, bespectacled scholar that still lived in Killian’s heart found them far more difficult to love. This book had been scribed centuries ago, by the hand of a monk whose name had long since vanished into time but whose skill was evident in the carefully crafted words and illustrations, the diagrams of fantastical devices that he had seen only with the eyes of his mind, never in reality.

Killian traced his finger over the lines of an engraving, squinting through his headache and the glaring sunshine to make out the tiny words that labelled it. With painstaking strokes he massaged his temples and let himself fall into the book, lost in study for the first time in many a year.

The hours sifted away like sand through his fingers, until a soft breeze ruffled through his hair and he became aware of that telltale tingle at the nape of his neck.

“Lass,” he said wryly, “has no one ever told you it’s rude to read over a person’s shoulder?”

It’s the only way I can find out what you’re up to.

“And just what prescisely makes that any of your concern?”

It just is. I can See it.

Though he could not have said how, Killian was certain she didn’t mean the sort of seeing one did with one’s eyes.

“So tell me then, what do you make of my choice of reading material?” he inquired.

Seems a bit dry.

He chuckled. “It is at that. But useful.”

You’re still planning to go ahead with it, then?

“I am. As I told you before, I don’t intend to give up.” A sharp smile flashed through his memory, the smell of sea salt on skin and in wind-whipped chestnut curls. His fist clenched. “I can’t.”

The breeze swirled up around him, wrapped itself about his shoulders in the gentlest embrace, and for a moment—just a moment—Killian let go. Let himself be comforted. Let himself relax. Tears prickled behind his eyes and his tired heart sighed. He swallowed hard.

You won’t find what you seek in this book, said the voice. Not what you really seek.

“Perhaps not. But it’s all I have left.”

Without warning the soft breeze stiffened, whipping up with force behind it and sending a half-full rum bottle teetering dangerously—but if Killian was prepared for anything these days it was betrayal. He caught the bottle before it could fall and set it safely aside, away from his device and his book and anything else that had the potential to be harmed by it.

“Nice try,” he sneered. The wind huffed a frustrated sigh.

This isn’t over.

“Why are you so determined to see me fail?” he demanded, but the words fell flat in the still and empty air—the absent prickle on the back of Killian’s neck informed him that she was gone again. “It’s not like I need any extra assistance in that area,” he grumbled. “I can fail perfectly well on my own, thank you very much.”

He bent to pick up the rum—a drink to soothe the ache in his heart—when his gaze caught on a diagram he hadn’t spotted before. He frowned and leaned closer, the rum forgotten, and began to read again. Soon he was absorbed once more, his eyes voracious as they scanned the pages. He made notes in the margins as he read, and tiny drawings and equations, and muttered half-formed thoughts to accompany the scratching of his pen. The clicks from his device soothed him now with their regular beat, and the tingle between his shoulder blades, when it returned, did not so much as register in his mind... though it lingered there as he worked, as the afternoon waned, until the sun began to sink below the horizon and Killian packed up his notes and his book and not his rum, and made his way back to his ship.

—

The next day found him in his workshop early, his mood uncharacteristically bright. He’d awoken that morning without a hangover for the first time in far longer than he cared to remember; the resulting clear head and sharp senses made the bright sunlight less oppressive in his perception, less like its exuberance was a judgement on his choices. Even his shack appeared cheerier than he recalled it, quaint rather than run-down, its slight slump to the left charming and not at all ominous. Killian was dangerously close to whistling a merry tune as he approached it, with his satchel slung over his shoulder and heavy with books.

He had brand new ideas to test.

His workshop itself consisted of the shack’s lone room and a single, long table that sat at the centre of it. On the table was his device, looking right at home there in the sense that it too was rickety, haphazardly constructed, and pitched to the left. Killian had told himself that the appearance of the thing didn’t matter so long as it functioned, but after it failed for so long to do even that he had begun to treat its exterior as a sort of whipping boy for his frustrations. The wooden casing bore deep gouges from his hook and other implements he’d attached to his brace; the copper facing was tarnished and dented. Hairline fractures criss-crossed the glass that covered the three small dials on the front and the long copper pole that was meant to be attached to the rear casing sat forlornly in a corner, looking as though it would dearly love the ability to rust, just as a way to express its feelings on the situation.

Looking at his device for the first time with clear eyes, Killian found that he felt rather bad. He really had made a dreadful hash of it. And although Killian Jones was frequently reckless, sometimes rash, and from time to time even a bit unhinged, he had never before been incompetent. Making a firm mental note to pick up some new materials the next time he made a supply run, he hefted the satchel onto his worktable, seated himself on the bench before it, and removed a book from the bag.

If he’d had two hands, he would have rubbed them together in glee.

Whatcha reading?

She appeared so suddenly that the prickle on his neck didn’t even have time to warn him. “I’m certain you can see the title for yourself, from wherever you are,” he replied.

Arithmetical Principles of the Mechanics of Time? Not very snappy.

“Never judge a book by its title, love.”

I thought that was by its cover.

“Title’s on the cover, isn’t it?”

So it is.

The voice sounded amused, and Killian chuckled to himself as he settled in to read. The tingle on the back of his neck remained as the unseen woman read along with him. He could feel her presence there, her eyes on him and on the book as he made his customary notes in the margins: quick diagrams and calculations and questions he would need to answer before he could proceed.

He was astonished to discover how engrossing the book was and how easy it was to lose himself in its pages, just as he had done the day before. How long had it been before then, since he’d allowed himself the luxury of a full day spent reading? Years, certainly. Time and tides, as the saying goes, wait for no man, and nor do rival pirate captains or deep-sea hellbeasts—they certainly do not wait for a man to finish his chapter before launching their attacks. Lazy days like this one took him back to his time in the naval academy, the long afternoons in the library there, the wonder he’d felt at all the knowledge contained in the books that surrounded him. An entire realm at his fingertips, just waiting for him to explore.

He had explored it in actuality years later on his ship, sailing her to the edge of the maps and beyond, but that first exposure to all the wonders the world held still shone as a jewel in his memory. For a young boy who until that moment had known only abandonment, drudgery, and abuse, the discovery that the world was far, far larger than he could ever have dreamt had been an invaluable treasure.

You love books.

Killian started; the voice sounded different now. It no longer echoed in his head, instead it seemed to come from somewhere to his right. He turned, and as he did perceived a shimmering in the hazy air, one that disappeared the moment he looked directly at it.

“I did,” he replied. “Once.” His mouth quirked in a wry smile. “Are you in my head, then, lass? Reading my thoughts?”

Of course not. It’s just obvious from your face.

“You’re familiar with the expression I’m wearing then, I take it? Perhaps because you’re inclined to wear it yourself?”

It was a shot in the dark, but it seemed to hit its mark. The shimmer grew more solid.

I—I’ve always loved to read. When I was a child it was all I had.

Something in the tone, a wistfulness perhaps, struck a chord in Killian. “You were alone, as child,” he said. “The books were your refuge.”

Yes.

Silence stretched for a moment, then he spoke again. “When I first arrived at the naval academy I could barely read,” he said slowly. “I was twelve years old. Where I come from literacy is a privilege of the wealthy, which my family was certainly not, but my mother’s father had been educated and he taught her to read and write. He was the younger son of a nobleman, disowned when he fell in love with a village girl. My mother in turn taught my father and also my elder brother. She had started to teach me as well but she grew ill and I was still so young, and then…” He trailed off, choked by the decades-old memory that still had the power to wound.

Then she died.

The voice was soft, so soft, and it settled around his shoulders like a blanket. He nodded. “Aye. She did.” He pressed his fingers to his eyes, just briefly, then continued. “After she passed, Liam, my brother, took over with my lessons, but there was never much time for such things. We were cabin boys on a large merchant ship by then, worked most days from dawn to dusk—but in what moments we had, we did try.” He shook his head. “Liam did the best he could, though our resources were so scarce his efforts produced little result. I was years behind the other lads my age at the academy at first, something they found highly entertaining.”

But you didn’t let that stop you.

“I did not,” he agreed. “Instead it spurred me on. In less than a year I had matched them, and in a year surpassed them. It was satisfying to make them eat their words, but in truth that was not my motivation.”

You wanted to know a world beyond the one you lived in.

“I wanted to know a world beyond the one I lived in.” He smiled at her, at the shimmering air in the corner of his eye that he almost fancied formed the shape of a woman. “As, I imagine, did you.”

Mmm.

Killian quirked an eyebrow at the shimmer. “Another orphan, I gather?” he pressed. “Alone in the world, unable to see a way out? Escaping into books for adventure, for a sense of the potential that lay beyond the narrow parameters of your life?”

You read me pretty well for someone who can’t even see me.

“You’re something of an open book, darling. If that metaphor isn’t too on the nose.” And perhaps, he thought, it wasn’t necessary to see someone to know them.

Faint laughter rang through the room. Open books read both ways, Killian Jones, her voice whispered, and then she was gone.

“Touché,” he muttered, as the tingle in his neck faded and a wave of magic pulsed in the air. A sharp snapping noise sounded from the device, followed by an echoing boingggg. Killian’s lips twitched. Softness followed by sabotage was becoming rather a thing with her.

He opened the casing and after a moment’s poking around in the mechanism identified the target of her attack—a small coupling in the box responsible for managing temporal currents. Killian felt himself grin. He was certain his unseen nemesis wouldn’t trouble herself to destroy anything that wasn’t crucial to the functioning of the device. He turned back to his book and flipped to the section on temporal flow.

“Thanks for the tip, love,” he murmured to the empty air.

—

Over the next month Killian worked doggedly on his research, leaving the device untouched and himself unhindered by tingles or voices or shimmery thickenings of the air. He read every book in his rather considerable collection, all the texts he’d… liberated from the universities and private collections of the realm’s best artificers then barely glanced into before he began constructing his device. He took a week off for a supply run, to collect the materials and bric-a-brac he’d need to construct the thing properly along with even more books, which he read eagerly at night on his ship, greedily absorbing the knowledge they contained as he lounged in his bunk.

Every day he thought about the voice, and about the very real woman he now felt certain was behind it. She wasn’t just a voice in his head, a symptom of madness or loneliness, or both. She existed, he had felt her, though he had never seen her face. He’d felt her presence and the connection between them—a peculiar sort of connection to be sure, but no less genuine for it.

The thought of speaking to her again helped spur him on.

Once he was back his workshop armed with resources in the form of both knowledge and supplies, he threw himself into a flurry of activity. He constructed shelves for his books, so he would not have to lug them to and from his ship every day. He built a sturdier workbench, with drawers to hold his tools, and a new, robust and polished casing and face for his device.

This was close work, requiring dexterity and concentration and the careful application of several magical items that had previously seemed to go out of their way to thwart him. As it turned out, Killian reflected wryly, he had simply been using them wrong. He still made mistakes, of course, and his lack of hand still proved a challenge. But gradually he found that he lost his temper less and less, that as he grew more knowledgeable and skilled he did not give in so easily or so frequently to despair.

He had almost entirely stopped drinking.

He spent a full week tweaking and refining the temporal current regulator in his device, until he was satisfied that not only near impervious to any further sabotage but also featured a clever adjustment of his own devising. Take that, Other Artificers.

He had done it. He knew he had. He had built his device and built it well. It would work now, and not because he threatened it or stumbled by happenstance upon the proper configuration. It would work because he knew what he was doing, and this time he’d done it right.

Killian Jones, artificer.

—

The stage was set.

The device was ready. More than ready. Its polished wood casing gleamed in the playful caress of the afternoon sunlight, which shimmered also off its copper facing and the smooth glass of its dials. The copper tube came up from where it was attached to the rear of the device and curved over the top of it, ending in a wide opening directly over Killian’s head. The rhythmic click of the mechanism was smooth and sonorous, each coupling attached and every gear well-oiled.

Click, went the device, tremulous and eager.

Click.

Click.

Click.

Every last thing was in readiness. Killian had only to flip the switch.

“You don’t want to do that.”

He paused with his finger poised above the small brass switch and smiled. “Back again, lass?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

The floorboards creaked, under boots that were not his. Leather rustled. Killian froze, then spun around. His jaw dropped.

“Bloody hell,” he gasped.

The woman stood in the centre of his workshop with her hands on her hips and lips curved in a wry smirk. Loose golden waves tumbled over her shoulders to frame an exquisite, fine-boned face and eyes that glinted green. She was dressed... well, she was dressed as no woman he’d ever seen before, in tall boots and tight-fitting trousers with no overskirt to cover them, and a leather jacket in the most outrageous shade of red. Killian blinked.

“You’re—I’m—what?” he choked.

“I said, you don’t want to do that,” she repeated. “If you do, you’ll blow a hole in the universe or—or something, I don’t exactly know. But it’s bad, and I can’t allow it to happen.”

Killian shook his head. He blinked again, harder this time, then rubbed his eyes. The woman was still there.

“What?” he shouted.

“Seriously?” snapped the woman. “You heard my voice in your head and didn’t even blink and I know you felt my presence. But now I’ve actually manifested and suddenly you’re at a loss for words? I thought at least I’d get some kind of smartass quip out of you. ‘At last a face to match the voice, lass’ or something.” She shrugged a single shoulder. “I don’t know. Something.”

“That’s—” Killian’s voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat and tried again. “That’s your idea of a clever quip?”

She scowled. “Look, I said I don’t know. You’re the smartass.”

“Well you might at least give a man a minute to adjust his premises before you start demanding cleverness from him, when you appear from out of nowhere in his workshop,” retorted Killian. “There is in fact a world of difference between voices in the head and full fledged hallucinations, you know.”

“I’m not a hallucination,” she huffed.

Killian knew that of course, but he still felt on rather shaky ground, metaphysically speaking. “Well what are you then?” he demanded.

“I’m a manifestation,” she replied, as though it were obvious.

“Oh yes of course,” he shot back. “A manifestation, how foolish of me not to have known that.”

She rolled her eyes. He smirked.

“A manifestation of whom, precisely, if I might enquire?” he drawled.

“Emma Swan,” she proclaimed, in a tone one might use to announce the arrival of a queen. “Witch.”

Killian regarded her with his smirk firmly in place, to which he now added a raised eyebrow. “A witch, you say?”

“Yep.”

“Indeed.”

She sauntered over to his workbench, hips swaying in a manner that Killian told himself firmly he did not find enticing, and leaned over, peering at the device. “This looks a lot better than the last time I saw it,” she remarked.

“Yes, well, I’ve been working hard since then.”

“I can tell.” She flashed him a look that had his muscles tensing. “Too bad it’s all for nothing.”

“What the bloody hell is that supposed—”

“Why do you want to travel in time anyway?” she interrupted, turning to face him and crossing her arms over her chest. “It’s a risky business, you know. Loads of people have tried and it never ends well for any of them.”

“That’s rather a bold statement from you, love, considering you are clearly not from this time,” he retorted.

“What makes you say that?”

Killian let his gaze sweep over her. “Red leather jackets aren’t exactly in vogue here,” he said loftily. “I’d be very surprised if they even exist. How did you get it to be that colour?”

“How the hell should I know, I didn’t make it!”

“Fair enough. Still stands out like a sore thumb, though.”

“Well it’s a good thing I’m not staying then.”

“Aren’t you?” Killian felt a twist in his gut at that; he was so enjoying sparring with her. “Shame. I suppose you ought to run along then, and let me get back to my work.”

“Ah, no. That I can’t do.”

“And might I enquire why not?”

Her expression, which had been sparking with the same joy of snarky battle that Killian felt himself, grew solemn. “If you’re successful then the repercussions of your work will echo all the way into my realm, in my time,” she said. “And I can’t allow that to happen.”

“Indeed?” he taunted, before he could prevent himself. “And just how do you propose to stop it?”

Her eyes flashed. “Oh you are so going to regret asking that.”

She raised her hand and twisted it, the merest flick of her wrist that sent a powerful pulse of energy through the room. He felt it throb through his body and he was rocked by its wave. What followed was silence.

Silence. No clicks. Not a one.

Killian spun round in fury and glowered down at Emma Swan, witch, who did not so much as flinch away from him. On the contrary, she appeared quite pleased with herself, and thoroughly unfazed by his very finest pirate snarl.

“I’ve never managed that so successfully cross-realms before,” she remarked.

Killian’s temper snapped. “What the bloody buggering fuck do you think you’re doing?” he roared. Her nonchalance was infuriating.

“I told you,” she reminded him coolly. “I can’t allow you to succeed.”

“I wasn’t succeeding, though, was I?” he hissed. “I’ve been not succeeding for the best part of a year now.”

“I know.” Her smug expression softened into an empathy that set his teeth on edge. “But that was about to change.”

“Oh was it?”

“Yep.”

He knew it was. But she... “And how the bloody hell could you possibly know that?”

“I told you, I’m a witch.”

He scoffed. “Is that supposed to impress me?”

“Well... yeah, I guess it kind of is.” She frowned. “You know what a witch is, right?”

“Of course I do. A witch is a person, most commonly a female, who is possessed of magical or supernatural powers, typically focused on medicine, the body, nature, and the spirit,” Killian recited.

Emma blinked. “That’s… very precise.”

“I’m well versed in defining the various types and levels of magical practitioner,” he informed her. His surge of anger was draining away and he found he lacked both the energy and will to hold on to it. “The Guild is most insistent that registration be precise.”

“Guild?” Her frown deepened. “Registration?”

“Aye. To both.”

“You had to register? With a guild?”

“I did.”

“Register as what?”

“As an artificer, of course. Despite my lack of skill in the discipline, the Guild insisted. Firmly. Fists were involved.”

“I—see.” Her lips twitched. “That seems unethical.”

He barked a laugh. “Welcome to the Enchanted Forest, love.”

Emma’s eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. “Is that where this is?”

“Aye. Though strictly speaking this”—he gestured at the space around them—“is on an atoll in the Far Southern Sea. But the Artificers’ Guild is in the Enchanted Forest, and they care very little for such things as venue or jurisdiction.” He looked at her curiously. “Didn’t you know?”

“Nope.” She shook her head. “I’m not really here, you see.”

Killian had been so caught up first in wonder then in fury that he hadn’t truly looked at her, at least not beyond what was required to note her striking beauty and odd attire. A manifestation, she had called herself, and once he knew what to look for it was plain to see—the faint translucence and hazy outline of her form. Cautiously, he reached out his hand. It went right through her shoulder, with no more resistance than water in a bathtub.

“Huh,” he said. “Curious. So where exactly are you then, Emma Swan, witch, if you’re not here?”

“I’m…” Emma’s brow furrowed and her nose wrinkled. Killian told himself sternly that it was unwise to find a nose adorable when it sat on the face of the corporeal manifestation of a witch from an unspecified realm. “Well, I don’t really know how to describe it,” she said. “I’m on Earth. About three hundred years in your future. Though I suppose this must be Earth too, really.”

“Is it?”

“Yeah. I think so? What do you call it? This… place. Bigger than the Enchanted Forest. You… you know there’s a place bigger, right? Beyond the, um, the forest?”

His lip quirked. Her stumbling attempts to explain were also not adorable. “That I do, lass,” he replied. “I spent years sailing the seas of this realm and have travelled to many a land.”

“You’ve travelled the Earth, then,” said Emma. “Or your equivalent of it. What would you call it?”

“Terra, I believe is what you mean.”

“Yes!” She snapped her fingers then pointed the index one at him. “That’s got to be it!”

“So if I understand you, you’re saying you come from Terra as well, but a different version of it, which you call Earth?”

She gave an eager nod. “Yeah, basically. My Earth was called Terra once too, by people who lived in my past, in a different country. But in my language and my time and my country we say Earth.”

“I... see,” said Killian.

“Yeah.” Emma looked a bit sheepish and waved her hand in a vague arc. “It’s a whole thing with multiverses I don’t really understand, if I’m honest. I’m not a wizard, you see.”

“No indeed. Nor I.”

“Well, I mean, you’re not even much of an artificer. Or at least not until recently.”

She was attempting to tease, he could tell. To keep the mood light between them. But all he could hear was the death knell of his last resort, the only hope he had left of honouring his vow. Without warning, the weight of everything he’d been through, a lifetime of struggle and defeat culminating in his attempt to build a time machine that would apparently destroy multiple realms were it allowed to succeed, settled on his shoulders. It was all he could do not to collapse beneath it. He sank down onto the bench and ran his hand down his face.

“No. That I certainly am not.”

He sensed rather than felt Emma sit down beside him—there was barely more than a shift in the air to mark her movement.

“I’m not an artificer, not even now,” he told her, staring at his hand and brace. “All I am is a desperate man looking to right a terrible wrong.”

“A wrong you need to go back in time to fix?” she asked gently.

“Aye.”

“What happened?”

Killian clenched his jaw. He did not wish to discuss Milah. He never actually had, though others besides Emma had tried to make him, insisting he would feel better if he spoke of it. If he gave vent to his anger and his grief. But he could not—the words caught in his throat each time he tried, stopped by the anger that sat hard and curdled in his chest.

“There was… a woman,” he ground out, faintly astonished to hear the words fall from his lips. “I loved her and she me, but she was married to another. A cringing coward of a man who valued his own comfort and meagre security above her happiness and her health.” He breathed slowly through the anger that still rose up at the thought of it. “She tried her best with him, for years she tried, but ultimately she came to realise that he would never change. She saw the remainder of her life stretched out before her, a grim slog through a grey world of misery, and she knew she had to do something, whatever was necessary to change it. For the sake of her own survival.” He risked a glance at Emma. “But she was a woman, thus her options were limited.”

“So she ran away with you,” said Emma. He searched her face for judgment, but there was none.

He nodded. “She ran away with me.”

“You saved her life,” she said harshly. “But you shouldn’t have had to.”

He blinked, startled at her tone, and watched as her face grew tight with anger. “In my land and my time, women have choices,” she hissed. “We have to fight for them every day, but we have them. We can leave marriages and we can have jobs and we can own our own houses and have our own lives. We don’t rely on men unless we choose to.” She looked up to meet his eyes. “I’m guessing that’s not the case here?”

“You guess correctly.” Killian’s voice was choked, his chest drawn tight by the depth of her compassion. Compassion for a woman she’d never met, who had died long before her time. He cleared his throat. “Milah had nowhere to go and no means to go there. I offered her an escape. It was all I could do.”

A moment passed before Emma spoke again.

“What went wrong?” she asked.

His lip curled. “I expect you can guess.”

He could sense the catch in her breath, though it made no sound in the quiet room. “Her husband found you?”

“Aye. Rather a predictable storyline, isn’t it? But there's an unpleasant twist to this tale, I fear.”

“What twist?” she demanded.

Killian swallowed. “Have you heard of the Dark One?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Well, yes. I’ve read the lore of course, but… are you saying the Dark One is real?”

“Very much so.”

He watched as comprehension dawned in her eyes. “And he—your—Milah’s husband—”

“Had become the Dark One, aye. At the cost of his soul, of course, but for some men that's a small price to pay to punish an errant wife.”

“Wow. I mean—wow.”

“I’m not familiar with that particular expression but it certainly seems to suit the case,” said Killian drily. “Wow indeed.”

“He murdered her, didn’t he?” Emma said, in a voice like the lash of a whip. It was not a question.

“On the deck of my ship,” Killian replied, “as I watched, helpless to prevent it. He tore her heart from her chest and he crushed it to dust.” He held up his brace, catching the sunlight on the curve of his hook. “And then he took my hand.”

Emma exhaled, long and slow. “So that’s why you want to go back. To stop her murder.”

This was also not a question, but he answered it nonetheless. “Aye. I promised to protect her and I failed. I have to make it right.”

“You know you can’t do that, Killian.”

The empathy in her voice, the understanding, the way she said his name… Killian’s anger rose again and he snapped at her. “Well not now that you’ve destroyed my bloody time machine!”

“You couldn’t have anyway.”

“And just how the devil—”

“Look, I told you, I’m not a wizard,” said Emma insistently. She shifted on the bench until she was facing him fully, one leg tucked beneath the other. “I don’t know all the ins and outs of how the universe works, or like, the multiverse or whatever. All I know is that if you turn on that machine it will blow a hole in all of it. Every realm and at every time would be destroyed. It would end the world.”

Killian scowled as his mind sought frantically for a loophole, a counterpoint, a way. His fist was tightly clenched and pressed hard against his thigh, his breathing shallow. “The books said—”

“The books don’t know,” she interrupted in that same insistent tone. “No one’s ever done this before. No one’s ever even come close.”

“And here I thought I wasn’t much of an artificer,” he sneered.

“Like I said before. You weren’t.”

Killian thought of all the reading he’d done, the careful cross-referencing of books that likely had never before been seen by the same pair of eyes. He thought of his temporal current regulator, the refinements he’d made to it. How certain he was that it would work.

He looked over at Emma to find her watching him, with gentle sympathy and not a hint of pity. “You can’t go back, Killian,” she said softly. “The past has already happened. All you can do is go forward.”

“So what you’re telling me is I need to move on,” he snarled. How he loathed that expression.

She nodded. “In more ways than one.”

Cautiously she reached out and placed her hand over his clenched fist, and though he could not feel her touch he felt it, the warmth of her compassion and her strength and her magic, drawn from another realm in another time. He let his hand relax and held it, palm up, beneath hers. He drew a deep, unsteady breath and then released it. Then he drew another.

They sat in silence for some time.

“I can’t recall the last time I considered what Milah would think if she could see what I was doing,” said Killian, finally, in a low voice. “I thought about her all the time, at first. But then… it got to the point where every time thoughts of her came into my head I would drink them straight out of it.”

“Because you knew that if she could see you she wouldn’t like what she saw.”

“Because I knew that if she could see me she wouldn’t like what she saw,” he echoed. “She wouldn’t have wanted me to lose myself in this—obsession. But then I have always been prone to obsession and she knew that better than anyone.”

“Obsession is just another word for intense dedication,” declared Emma, “once you add a bit of healthy perspective to it. It’s sincere devotion to what you value. Maybe all you need is just to shift your focus a bit. Find something new to work on, and another motivation to drive you.”

“Something new,” he repeated, then gave a hoarse, choking laugh. “I confess I’ve no idea what that could be.”

“You’ll find something.” The look in her eyes as she watched him was amused, wry, soft, and sad all at once. An odd sensation twisted in his chest. “I wish—” she began, then broke off with a shake of her head.

Killian realised their hands were still clasped. He wished he could close his fingers around hers, truly feel the touch of them against his skin. “What do you wish, love?” he pressed.

She shook her head again. “It’s just—after today I won’t be able to See you anymore. Once you’re no longer a threat you’ll stop appearing in my visions. I just wish I could watch what you do next, that’s all." She flashed him a grin. "I have a feeling it’ll be something epic.”

He laughed and after a moment she joined him, with a tinkling, joyous sound that made his heart feel lighter than perhaps it ever had. Maybe she was right, he thought. Maybe he could do something different. Something not driven by loss or anger or greed. “I don’t know if I can promise epic,” he told her. “But I do promise I'll do something. Something important to me. I promise you, Emma Swan.”

She smiled, gorgeous and heartbreaking. “Good.”

Killian could swear he felt her hand tightening on his, felt it in the echoing squeeze in his chest. He heard her next words before she spoke them.

“I have to go.”

He forced himself to nod. “I know.”

She reached up with her free hand and traced her fingertips across his cheek. “Goodbye, Killian Jones,” she whispered… and then she was gone.

Killian sat alone in his workshop with an empty hand and a silent machine, and a brand new ache in his heart. And for the very first time in a life full of loss, he allowed himself to grieve.

—

Killian didn’t drink.

He wanted to. The rum called to him, a siren’s song of numb oblivion, but that was a pit into which he no longer wished to fall. He had things to do now, crucial things, and they required a clear head.

He took the Jolly Roger and he sailed away, far across the seas to a place he'd sworn he’d never go again. The small port village where Milah had lived, and where she’d died. Whose harbour he’d put at his bow for less than an hour before he’d tipped her body into the depths of the sea.

It was the nearest thing he had to a gravestone.

He stood on the deck with his hand on the railing, staring down into the choppy waves below. His throat ached and his chest felt tight.

“I’m so sorry, Milah,” he whispered. “Sorry that I failed in my promise to protect you. Sorry that when I lost you I lost myself as well. I let myself fall so deeply into despair that I lost sight of who I was—and in doing so I sacrificed the man you loved. I’m sorry I became something you’d have hated me to be.” His throat closed up and he swallowed through it, forced the next words out. “When you died I swore to avenge you, but my love, I think—” he exhaled slowly “—I think I have to let you go.”

A brisk wind swept in off the water and ruffled through his hair as Milah’s fingers used to do. It stroked his cheek with the touch of her lips and whispered with her voice in his ear.

I love you, it said. Go.

Killian let his eyes fall shut as he breathed in the scent of her skin, closed his fist in her curls one final time. When he opened them again he was alone.

Alone, but for the first time in many a year, hopeful.

The past is done, he thought, and can’t be changed. All you can do is move forward.

Somewhere, some time, there was a green-eyed witch with golden curls and a sharp tongue and the softest heart he’d ever known. One who could read him like a book and understand the story it told. And he was an artificer who knew how to build a bloody time machine.

It was time to move on.

—

The afternoon was warm and hazy as it often is in August on the coast of Maine. The air was heavy and humid and buzzing with the hum of bees and midges as they swarmed and bumbled their way through late-summer flowers. Flowers that bloomed in full riotous colour in the remarkable garden of a thoroughly unremarkable grey clapboard house.

A figure approached the garden gate, tall and oddly dressed for this realm. He wore a long and sweeping leather coat over an ornately embroidered waistcoat, tall leather boots and a matching heavy satchel slung across his back. He paused, and regarded the gate with a raised eyebrow and all the deference he could muster.

Killian Jones knew magic when he sensed it.

“May I come in, lass?” he inquired of the air and the gate and the bumblebees, and whomever else might happen to be listening.

The gate swung open.

Killian favoured it with a small bow then sauntered through it, through the bright and fragrant garden and up to the porch steps and the door atop them. It opened as he approached to reveal a woman with long curling hair, a tight white tank top and very short shorts. She placed a hand on her hip and smirked.

“Took you long enough,” she said.

Killian climbed the porch steps and dropped his satchel, hooked a thumb beneath his belt buckle and treated her to his flirtiest grin. “Time is relative, I think you’ll find,” he replied. “Also an illusion. And there are some philosophers who claim that—”

His words were cut off by Emma’s lips, her fingers tight on the lapels of his coat as she pulled him in close. She was solid and real against his chest, her mouth hot and her skin so soft. Killian groaned as he sank his fingers into her hair, as he kissed her back with everything he’d held in his heart since he saw her last.

The kiss was short but rich with feeling, with potential, with hope. When it ended they paused for a moment, foreheads pressed together, breathing each other’s breath.

Emma spoke first. “You came forward,” she said. “You actually did it.” She laughed, and thumped her fist lightly against his chest. “I can’t believe you actually did it.”

“Aye, well, as it turns out, I’m a hell of an artificer,” he replied, and she laughed again. He pulled her against him, wrapped his arms tight around her and sighed as she tucked her head beneath his chin.

“And the rest of it?” she inquired softly. “Milah, and the Dark One—”

He took a moment to consider how to answer. There were many things he could say, so much he wanted to tell her. But it would wait. They had time. In the end he said simply, “I’ve made my peace. It’s done.”

“Good.” She looked up at him with that glorious smile and his heart sang with happiness. “That’s good.”

—

@ohmightydevviepuu @thisonesatellite @katie-dub @kmomof4 @mariakov81 @stahlop @spartanguard @killianjones-twopointoh @captain-emmajones

-

[animeweebslut]

Aromatherapy

Summary: You have an aromatherapy quirk and nothing seems to phase you until one day Dabi comes in and looks like he’s been through hell and back.

Warnings: a little angsty, suggestive themes but minute, FLUFF, comforting Dabi.

You have tough skin and somehow always stay calm in the most stressful situations. It’s a benefit of your quirk, Aromatherapy. You’re able to secrete calming scents from the pores in your skin to calm others down. It’s extremely beneficial to have when you work with the LoV. The atmosphere was pure anxiety and stress when you first joined, you changed that immediately. As the months went by you started to get closer and closer to a colleague of yours, Dabi. Once you got to know him he’s an interesting person to talk to. You two eventually decide to become an item. Though your own anxiety started to heighten when Dabi went on missions, not knowing if he will come back or not but Dabi is always quick to ensure that he will always come back to you.

Dabi fell in love with you for your calm nature and he found it absolutely fascinating that you can stay so collected in times of extreme stress. You always ensure that the team is calm and that they feel safe. You were the rock to this team. Without you the team would have been absolute chaos. You were always there to offer a helping hand and to tend to anyone who needs it. If Toga had injuries, you were there to clean and bandage them. If Shigaraki needed some help to strategize you try your best to help. When Twice is having a hard day you’re there to calm him down and talk to him to distract him from the voices in his head. And lastly, when Dabi needs anything, you’re there in an instant, comforting, bandaging, cleaning him up. Anything and you’re there. He loves how selfless you are and your calm composure. He was sure that nothing can get to you until one time.

“When are they going to come back?” You ask Toga. Your gut was telling you that something doesn’t feel right.

“They should be back soon, it’s a big mission.” Toga replies, not taking her attention off her knife in her hands. You nod, trying to convince yourself that everything’s okay. This is Dabi after all, he’s strong and powerful.

Not long after the doors to the hideout blast open, you jump out of your seat to see Shigaraki and Dabi. Your face paled at the sight of them. Shigaraki has Dabi’s arm around his shoulders, trying to support a batter and bruised Dabi. He’s covered in blood and you don’t know if it’s his or someone else's. The staples on his face have been torn off and the wounds are streaming blood that drips onto the floor. His eyes are black and blue and are half open, clinging onto conciseness. His hand is clutching his side which is also seeping blood.

“Take him, he needs help.” Shigaraki says to you. You’re quick to walk towards them.

“Oh my god. What the hell happened?” You exclaim in panic. Taking the position Shigaraki was in, slowly walking to the couch. You have never felt this panicked before in your life.

“This guy thought he could take on more people he clearly couldn’t handle. Wanted to be a tough guy.” Shigaraki explains, his tone annoyed.

You place Dabi on the couch, you reach under the couch where you keep your first aid kit. Your thoughts are racing and you’re trying to secrete your calming aroma. You couldn’t begin to comprehend what pain Dabi is feeling. You need to calm him down but you can’t seem to get the scent right, it smells.. off. Dabi can see your obvious struggle and gets your attention.

“Hey doll face, don’t worry, I’m fine.” He rasps out. Your head snaps up to look at him.

“You’re not fine Dabi, your severely injured and looking at you like this, i-“ You need to get a grip. You have to be strong for him.

You put the first aid kit on the couch next to him, you look over at his injuries. The amount of blood seeping out of his body is what scared you the most. He’s trying to stay awake but it’s clear that he’s losing blood and way to fast for your liking.

“Toga, get me a damp cloth quickly.” You exclaim, not taking your attention away from Dabi.

You unzip the first aid kit and pull out a pair of scissors. You shakily take Dabi’s shirt in your hands and try to cut the fabric in the middle so you can see what you’re dealing with. You thought that his injuries couldn’t get worse but you were wrong. You body freezes at the sight before you. Blood. Everywhere. His blood. You couldn’t see where his staples begin and where they end. There’s a large gash on the side of him, he’s going to need stitches.

You’re shaken out of your thoughts by Toga dropping a damp cloth in your lap. You take it, your hands shaking violently and try to clean the blood off of him so you can see the gash more clearly. Dabi takes your shaking hand in his hand presses a light kiss to the back of it.

“I will be okay, baby. I have the best medical person here.” Dabi says playfully. He’s trying to calm you down when it should be you calming him down. You need to be strong for him. He’s losing blood fast and you need to act. You take a deep breath and set your mind only on fixing his injuries.

You take to cleaning up the blood. You can see his injury more clearly now. You don’t waste time to disinfect and suture the large gash. You move to his face, you find a spot on the towel that isn’t covered in blood and gently wipe his face. The atmosphere has changed from panicked to tension between the two of you. You wipe the last of the blood on his face when you suddenly feel hands underneath your thighs and you’re settled on his lap. Your legs straddling his hips and his hand resting on your ass.

“How am I doing, doc?” Dabi asks with a smirk on his lips. You let out a soft chuckle. He seems to be doing a bit better.

“You’re going to be okay.” You respond softly, your eyes locking with his. Your hands come up to cup his face gently, your thumbs gently caressing his cheek. He leans into your touch.

“I have to suture your cheek because I don’t have extra staples, i’ll go tomorrow morning to get some.” You explain while getting the needle and thread ready to close up his cheek.

“Do what you gotta do, doc.” Dabi says before leaning forward with a groan to press a kiss your your lips. You revelled in kissing his lips because with the state that he was brought in you thought you were never going to feel your lips against his again. You pull away to finish doing what you need to do.

“Let me stitch you up, warning, this will hurt.” You warn before leaning forward and piercing his skin with the needle. You feel his body stiffen and his hands squeeze your ass in pain, his eyebrows furrowed at the discomfort. You secrete your calming aroma with a higher potency so it can calm down him down a bit more. You feel his body relax a bit after smelling the sweet lavender from your body.

“You’re doing so well, baby. Almost done.” You say, finishing up the last few stitches.

You finish the last stitch and cut the excess thread. You wipe some disinfectant over the stitches to ensure it’s clean. You move off his lap to Dabi’s disagreement.

“Come, let’s go and shower so you can change clothes and clean up” You say. You take his hands in yours and gently lift him up off the couch, walking to you two’s shared bedroom.

You lead him to the bathroom and sit him on the toilet, you turn on the water so it can warm up. You peel off his shirt and throw it in the trash. You pull off his boots and socks. You then go to unbuckle his belt.

“Hey, at least buy me dinner first.” Dabi jokes. You chuckle in response.

“Very funny.”

You unzip his pants and pull it down his legs. You tell him to lift up his hips so you can take off his underwear, once he does you take it off and put it in the laundry heap.

“Do you do this with all your patients, doc.” Dabi smirks. You roll your eyes playfully. It’s impressive how much he can joke around when a few minutes ago he was losing so much blood.

“Yeah, Shigaraki’s my favourite.” You rebuttal, a smirk on your face which soon turns into a full on grin at the shocked expression on Dabi’s face. Though his shock soon turns into a smirk.

“Is that so? Maybe we can ask him to joi-“

“Just get in the shower.” You interrupt, not wanting to hear the end of his sentence. You help him up and enter the shower.

“Just shout if you need anything.” You say before leaving the bathroom and closing the door behind you.

You flop on the bed, the reality of what just happened hitting you like a truck. He could of died. What if he didn’t make it? What if he died out there? What if Shigaraki wasn’t fast enough in bringing him here and died in his arms? All of the could have beens are swirling through your head making your eyes teary.

“Y/N!” Dabi shouts for you, shaking you out of your thoughts.

You get up from the bed and enter the bathroom at your boyfriends call.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, peeling back the shower curtain so you can see his face.

“It hurts to lift my arms and I need to wash my hair.” Dabi explains.

“I’ll come and help you, give me a second” you say before stripping off your clothes and walking into the shower with him. The warm droplets hitting your face and body.

Dabi turns around to face you. His arms wrap around your waist and pulls you against his body. His hair flat against his face. You pick up the shampoo and squirt some into your hands. You go on your tiptoe to reach his head, Dabi tilts his head down and rests it on your shoulder to help you reach. You start working the shampoo into his hair, massaging his scalp. Soft hums come out of your mouth to sooth him. You lift his head so he can rinse it under the water.

“Thank you.” You hear him whisper.

“Of course, baby. Just please don’t be so reckless next time. You really scared me today.” You whisper back, your hands resting on his shoulders.

“I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Thank you.”

After you two are done cleaning yourselves you help dry Dabi’s body and then your own. You two dress in comfy clothes and move to the bed and get underneath the covers. You lay on your side and Dabi wraps his arms around your waist, laying on the uninjured side. His head tucked under your chin and resting on your chest. Your hands in his damp hair, massaging his scalp. You let out some of your calming aroma to nudge him to sleep. I didn’t take long until you heard a soft “I love you” fall from his lips until he was out like a light.

“I love you too.” You whisper softly before falling into a deep sleep knowing your love is okay and in your arms.