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dnd-drunks-n-debauchery · 4 years ago

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Recap/Highlight reel of Friday Night's session

Brought to you by @nevergonnarollagain AKA Cookie

Before we started the action, Locke asked me whether or not I wanted him to be a nice DM or a meaner one. I chose for him to be meaner because I thought it would be funny.

We join the action as our party approaches the gates of the city on our way out. In front of the gates stands an Aaracroakra wearing an apron and regular clothes. Jayfice recognises this Aaracroakra as Klilic; the pair had been dating at one point, which is how they know him. Klilic's appearance seems fairly normal apart from a greatsword on his back. (This is important for later on.)

Both Jayfice and Klilic are confused at first, with Jayfice believing that this is some sort of illusion created by their mother (who, spoiler alert, is kind of an asshole). Klilic holds out his hand for Jayfice to examine, and upon determining that Klilic is not an illusion, Jayfice grabs him into a hug which seems to make him a little uncomfortable although he does reciprocate.

Jayfice eventually pulls away and asks Klilic to come with us out of the city, but Klilic counters with staying in the city instead. Klilic has lived here all of his life and runs a bakery here, which would probably explain why he's so reluctant to leave. When Jayfice tries to explain that the city isn't safe due to their parent's plans, Klilic simply responds "Then make it safe."

As Jayfice continues to try and persuade Klilic to come with us, Klilic turns and looks up at the top of the gate. Jayfice's father walks out, speedwalking slightly before slowing down to do a slow-mo walk in an attempt to look cool. It didn't work.

Jayfice's father tells Jayfice that their mother is very upset, and that whatever argument that they've had can be sorted by coming back to the castle and having a diplomatic discussion. Jayfice tells him that they've got no room on their schedule, but their father counters with the fact that Jayfice doesn't have any bookings listed in their diary.

Jayfice's father attempts to persuade Jayfice to come back to the castle, also talking to their brother and trying to persuade him to convince Jayfice to go back to the castle. When Jayfice declines he tells them he won't stop us leaving, and as a show of good faith he opens the gates and offers to answer any questions Jayfice has about the plans.

Jayfice decides to take the opportunity to ask about the full details of the plan, and their father explains; the plan is basically to conquer the whole of Arrack. They've enlisted the help of the Brokensky (a well-known gang of criminals who coincidentally want to capture/kill Jayfice) and plan to act through the Brokensky to attack other cities and drive a divide between them to make it easier to take them all over.

Since Jayfice's father is aware of the Brokensky hunting Jayfice, he offers to help resolve the situation if Jayfice goes with him to the castle. Jayfice shows a split-second of interest, and their father notices this.

He extends his offer to answer questions to the whole group and Rosania speaks up, grumbling that anyone who works alongside the Brokensky is bad news. Jayfice's father admits that he felt the same way at first, but that things have run surprisingly smoothly with them, aside from a few contract issues which he blames on his wife making comments in the meetings.

Jayfice thanks their father for his time and sends the rest of the group ahead, staying back to talk to Klilic and try one last time to convince him to come with us. Klilic really doesn't want Jayfice to leave, and draws his sword in an attempt to persuade him to stay. The pair have an intense conversation about Jayfice not trying to keep in contact during their exile, then Klilic casts fireball at the rest of the group, knocking out Ned.

Javier attempts to zap Klilic but only succeeds in giving him a light static shock, which unusually doesn't ruffle his feathers. (Literally. His feathers don't react at all to the shock.)

Rosania reacts next, preparing to cast Dancing Lights in an attempt to distract Klilic from the fight. However, her wand seems to tell her that that isn't going to work, so thinking fast she instead runs closer and casts Thorn Whip, and the magical whip drags Klilic closer to her.

Harmony follows Javier's example, zapping the fuck out of Klilic. Again, much like what happened with Javier's static shock, Klilic's feathers are not affected by the energy from the shock.

Klilic yeets another fireball at us all and Harmony gets knocked out, breaking her arm as she falls backwards.

Javier gets pissed off when he sees Harmony's arm break and fireballs himself, knocking out Rosania and killing Ned. When he realises that Ned is dead he spins back round to face Klilic and starts glowing like fuck. It doesn't take a genius to work out that Klilic is doomed unless Javier is calmed down.

Jayfice is conflicted. They don't want to hurt Klilic but he literally just killed one of their friends. They eventually make the decision to Eldritch Blast him, much to the amusement of their mother, who briefly appears as a hologram and taunts them for this decision.

Klilic is upset at Jayfice for attacking him, and they shout at each other for a moment before he starts to attack them, slashing their chest twice and prompting Jayfice to use their Hellish Rebuke. (They're a cambion who keeps the form of an Aaracroakra, that's why they can do that.) Despite Klilic being burnt by the Hellish Rebuke, his feathers, once again, show no real traces of it.

Remember how I said that Javier was pissed that Ned is dead? Yeah. He shoots some kind of lightning out of his chest that temporarily blinds Klilic. Then he charges at Klilic and attacks him with his fire sword as Jayfice shoots Klilic with another two Eldrich Blasts.

Jayfice asks the others to help snap Javier out of his rage, and they respond by fucking shooting him. Harmony, who has been healed and is back up on her feet, sends a death glare to Jayfice before attacking Klilic as well.

Badly injured, Klilic attempts to fly away and escape, but Harmony casts a Void of Tentacles spell and grabs him in it before smashing him into the ground, killing him.

And while all of this is happening Rosania quietly fucking dies in the background.

As Harmony dispels the tentacle spell, Jayfice approaches Klilic and casts Spare the Dying to ask why the hell he attacked them all like that.

But it turns out that this wasn't actually Klilic at all.

The creature we had been fighting was actually a Grey Slaad (a shapeshifting creature from another plane), and he has a mind-control gem in his brain. He explains that the gem told him what to do and that he'd likely be made to attack again if he was released, and Jayfice stabs him to prevent that from happening. While Jayfice and the Grey Slaad are talking, Inora revives Rosania and Ned, getting them back on their feet with 1 HP each.

Jayfice's mother appears as a hologram again and mockingly congratulates Jayfice for slaying an innocent creature, then flies up above the city and announces that Jayfice made a deal with a devil and attacked the city, ruined their crops, and declares that there is a reward for whoever can kill them and bring them back. Then she turns to Jayfice and declares "Let the games...begin." (Like I said, she's an asshole.)

A whole bunch of people start charging to attack Jayfice and our party, and Rosania (who, bearing in mind, just died and got brought back to life so will be feeling rather disorientated at best) goes into a full-on panic and turns into a fucking Allosaurus. Jayfice attempts to take advantage of this situation, yelling at the mob to stay back lest they send their "Uh, uh...creature" to fight them. They also threaten them with a boomstick and pleads with their father to close the gate, but the mob gets through the gate because their father hesitated. Jayfice asks the "big creature person" (Rosania) if she can help them, and Rosania turns and runs away.

Jayfice attempts to intimidate the mob again by changing to their cambodian form and yelling at them, but it just makes the mob angrier. With no ideas left Jayfice asks the rest of the group to help and dives behind them.

And the group gives the mob the same treatment they gave Javier.

Which is to fucking shoot them.

The entire fucking mob dies much to the horror of Jayfice, who casts Spare the Dying before turning and running away. The rest of the party follows them, and Locke comments that the Spare the Dying that Jayfice cast saved like one person in the mob.

Rosania leads the sprint from the city, noticing up ahead that there's a group dressed up in black and blue, led by someone out in front dressed in green. She finally calms down enough to stop running and turn back into herself, and decides not to tell the rest of the party about the group approaching. Jayfice announces that they'll need to find somewhere to shelter for the night and Rosania takes charge, silently leading the group to look for shelter.

Rosania leads them towards a group of trees, and while it would be a satisfactory place to shelter for the night a little voice in the back of her mind tells her to go just a little bit further. Trusting this voice, she leads them past the trees and we eventually arrive at a small, abandoned town. All of the buildings seem to have taken damage, but most of the buildings would be safe to shelter in. While there does appear to be smoke further in the distance, the party collectively decide to settle in at the abandoned town for the night.

We all head inside the tavern, noticing a rotten carrot and some rotted tatters that may once have been from some extravagant clothing in the corner. Upstairs there seem to be a lot of yuletide decorations, and one room in particular seems to be decked out in yuletide fancies.

During the night, Jayfice wakes up with a weird feeling that something's wrong. They can hear the crunch of snow outside, and sneak over to the window to see what's out there. They see a man standing next to the tavern looking shocked to have seen/heard activity in the town, and as they watch the man begins to cast some kind of spell.

Jayfice sneaks outside to talk to the man, and he explains that he's a potion-seller who lives in the potion-shop across the street. Jayfice offers the man some crackers, and as soon as they hold out the cracker box all the crackers are eaten.

Jayfice spots a fiendish woman and an elvish woman walking around talking, and lures the man inside before spying on the women. They seem to be talking about taking people's souls, and mention "the exiled one", before going their separate ways. Jayfice attempts to follow the elvish woman, but loses track of her in the dark. They go back to the inn and fall asleep again.

Jayfice wakes up again a short time later, hearing what sounds like hooves on the floor somewhere upstairs. They go to check it out and find the fiendish woman from earlier, who demands to know what makes them special enough that the assassin would spare them and change an agreement she made with her. Jayfice admits that they don't know, but that if she wants their soul she can take it. She decides to spare them for now and leaves, and an uneasy Jayfice stays awake watching in case she returns.

As they look out of the window, Jayfice sees someone walking around watching their window, occasionally stopping to flip a coin. Then off in the distance they spot the group Rosania saw before; a group of people dressed up in black and blue, led by someone out in front dressed in green.

This is where we ended the session, although Locke revealed during a conversation afterwards that when I chose for him to be meaner at the start of the session, I was determining the Grey Slaad's AC and how many fireballs he had, essentially making him a tougher opponent. In response to that revelation, I announced "Guess I'll be choosing route B more often!"

#dnd #d&d #recap #Cookie

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adie-dee · 5 years ago

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Week 3: Choice

[Introduction] [Becoming]

For @yourocsbackstory‘s antagonist event.

Prompt: The moment they ended up on said path, that leads them against the protagonist (or maybe society as a whole). A decision of some sort, a point of no return.

It is three days before my coronation, a fact I will learn within the hour.

Afterwards they will say I began planning it before I knew for sure. Except I did not. She did.

She has summoned me to see her. It has been months since we last met, but her order. She has been too focused on gaining power in her new location to be concerned with seeing me. A situation that has suited me. She has nothing left to teach me, and I no longer agree with her ways.

A maid blocks the doorway to her study. The maid is not dead, not yet, though from the way her intestines are spread on the carpet suggests she soon will be. A second body lays next to my mother's arm chair, a body that looks to be her latest lover, though I cannot tell for sure. Not without his head, which is nowhere to be seen.

“Please, sit,” she says, indicating to the chair opposite hers. She looks younger now, similar to the age I have chosen, to the point where those who do not know us would mistake us for siblings. I can see her true age though, visible through her weariness, and I wonder why. She has never shown this kind of weakness before. I do not know if it is new, or if she can no longer be bothered hiding it.

Taking care not to stain my shoes with blood I step over the maid, then settle into the chair. I do not ask about the bodies - if she wishes to explain, she will.

Sticking with convention she offers me tea and biscuits, setting them out even after I decline.

Finally, with pleasantries over, she sits also, delicately sipping her tea. “I suppose you’re wondering why you’re here,” she says, resting the cup back on the saucer.

“I do have questions.”

She gives a small nod. “I wish to die.”

For a moment all noise leaves the room. I do not know how to react. Nor do I believe I heard correctly, but when she repeats herself I know I have. I swallow, hard, trying to force my heart out of my throat.

“It seems you missed your chance,” I say, my attention returning to the body beside her. There is a dagger near his hand, the sight of which almost made me laugh. Had he truly believed he would have succeeded with that?

She glances down also. “Not to him,” she admonishes. “He was a fool. A pretty one, but a fool nonetheless. Sovereign would have been driven to ruin if he were to lead.”

“And the maid?” She was dead now, her eyes blankly looking our way.

“His niece.” A smile creeps onto her face. “She thought she could poison me to help him succeed.”

I smile also, amused by the thought they believed such mundane methods would work.

“The attacks have increased since we came here,” she says, returning to her tea. “And I have lost the support of our people, which I suspect is due to the displeasure over our move.”

“Do you blame them?” I ask before I can stop myself, continuing when she indicates I should. “You made us shift to this gods forsaken colony even though no one wanted to. The seasons are the wrong way around. The winters are warm, the summers unbearable. Plus we no longer have the political pull we once had. You have made everyone start from scratch.”

Anger briefly crosses her face. “Though it may not seem it, everything I have done is for the benefit of Sovereign. Everything. I do not do it for me.”

Finally I spot the missing head, which has been placed neatly on a shelf on her bookcase, like some sort of grotesque trophy. She may claim not to do this for herself, but she definitely enjoys doing so.

“There is a war coming,” she tells me. “One between us and the Order of Humanity. One I feared we would lose had we stayed in England. They have too much influence there. Coming here gives us time.”

“We are strong enough--”

She holds up a finger. “We are not strong enough to destroy the Order. Our very nature prohibits it.”

I do not understand. We are far more powerful than the few unfortunates the Order have captured. We would decimate them if we tried.

“Tell me what you know of the mage wars,” she states.

I pause. I was not expecting an exam. “A battle, many centuries ago, between a powerful group of mages and a half-mad group of enslaved mages. It lasted years. There were few survivors.”

She nods once more. “Which side do you believe Sovereign were?”

I go to answer, instead cutting myself off. The answer should be obvious, but if that were true, we would be taught that. No one has ever mentioned Sovereign’s participation in the wars.

“We were the enslaved,” she said, confirming my worst thoughts. “By the Order. And I, as Monarch, am all that stands in the way of that happening once again.”

“The bond,” I whisper, feeling it pulling inside, calling me to the pools. “It made them mad.”

“Very good.”

“And you…” I trail off, unable to ask.

She confirms my darkest thoughts. “If the Order kills me, as Monarch, they regain control of the bond.”

I feel sick inside. Our whole existence is a lie. We join thinking Sovereign will give us power and protect us from the Order, instead we unknowingly enslave ourselves.

“It is a hard truth to swallow,” she says. “Our line has kept this secret for generations, and it must stay a secret. There is no way for us to win should the truth be revealed.”

I am not sure I believe her. Surely it would be better for everyone to know.

“So you can see why we need to succeed,’ she continues. “One day there will be a way for us to end it once and for all. Except with the current lack of faith in my leadership, it cannot be me.”

I now understand what she is telling me. What she is asking of me.

“Name me Regent, then,” I insist, almost begging. I am not ready. “I will lead in your name. You do not need to die!”

She gives a sad smile. “Those against me will not stop with their attacks. It must be you, my child. I trust no one else.”

“And if I choose not to?”

“Then you have disappointed me and I will not allow you to leave this room.”

I go quiet. She is making me choose between her life and mine, and it is a choice I never thought I would have to make. Even contemplating it makes me uneasy, which I did not expect. Murder is merely a tool for us to get what we need. It should not bring on feelings.

While I am thinking I miss her creating a fireball, one which pulls me back to reality when it hits me in the shoulder. Her poor aim and weak spell suggest it is a warning shot, and I can feel her pulling together another spell, one likely to leave me in a similar situation to the maid.

Casting faster than her I attack, latching my magic to hers.. I do not wish to die, but the desire to live is stronger, and I will do what needs to be done.

She sighs, settling back in her chair and closing her eyes asher magic siphons into me. It is the kindest death I can give her, the least painful, and I fight to stop the tears that threaten to fall. I have not shown that level of emotion in decades. It is pointless to do so now.

Her skin looks dry now, flaking away like ash, and I can feel the bond fading away. In a few moments everyone will know what I’ve done, and what I have become. My beloved will have questions too: they know my ambition, as well as my belief I am not ready. I do not usually keep secrets from them. I have no choice but to now.

“Thank you, my child,” my mother whispers as she fades away. “I am so proud of you.”

#yourocsbackstory #Lies in the Lilies #my writing #the monarch

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mmx-code-crimpphire · 5 years ago

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More headcanon time!! This time about X and Zero’s fondness of their favorite flowers of the AU!! YAY <3

Since I haven’t shared any headcanons in a WHILE

might as well share one I thought of last summer that’s definitely going into the audio dramas in the beginnings of x and zero

it definitely revolves around their flowers and why they favor the ones they do. X favoring forget-me-nots and Zero favoring pink tea roses. This goes in depth of that. Some of you already know of this fact and would probably want to know why- well you’re gonna find out~

and it’s a long one so be prepared for tl;dr rofl

When they met, Zero wanted to meet up with X more often and befriend him further. He just- didn’t know how to at first. X wanted to as well, but felt shy about getting to know him more. Eventually, after some thinking, both of them go to find each other and the literally bump into one another. Awkward silence happens and X friendly converses with Zero. Despite the fact the wily bot didn’t honestly know how to respond to X’s ramblings. But he somehow didn’t mind. It felt comforting to talk to someone after being somehow feared with the power and combat skills he has. Well- not to mention the fact he doesn’t trust anyone other than Dr Cain and now X at this point.

He expresses this and X feels similarly to being casted out just because he’s too pacifistic and could be a liability to the Hunters. Even the higher ups like Boomer Kawanger, Storm Eagle and especially Vile verbally talk about that fact many times, so by extension, X didn’t have anyone to train with. Zero offers to do so, awkwardly of course, but X complies and thanks him.

X then takes him to the garden to show him the vast flora it has gained. It was mostly Dr Cain’s garden, but he loved going there and talking to him on occasion. And since he can’t really do that much anymore, with time being consumed as a Hunter, he doesn’t have time with Dr Cain much anymore. Zero thought he’d be that companion if he was willing to accept that. X automatically does, and he goes to the forget-me-nots, looks at them fondly, but frowns.

Zero grows concerned and asks if he’s okay, and the Neo Blue Bomber replies with him missing his family, and the forget-me-nots remind him he made a promise never to forget them. Zero was saddened by this and expresses he doesn’t know who his family is, if he had any. X felt terrible, but is willing to be a sort of family to him once they get to know each other and bond. Of course, the war-bot agrees to this. Little do they know, their bond would meld together much nicer than they expect.

As time passes, they talk more in the garden when they both have time to themselves, especially after Zero trains X. The other Hunters notice but don’t think much of it. Vile takes his time to try and torment X about it, since he has this one sided rivalry with him, but Zero defends him and they just go on their merry way. Along the time passing, however, Zero grows a fondness for the pink tea rose, liking its color and wondering if it means anything.

X gives him the explanation that pink roses generally mean beauty, and gentle emotions such as admiration, joy, and gratitude. Tea rose types, of course, hold the additional meaning of “I will remember always”. Zero definitely felt the general gentle emotions Dr Cain explained to him after asking for advice about the emotions he doesn’t understand prior to this. Especially when giving X certain compliments or teasing him out of nowhere so naturally, he didn’t understand why he was doing it. Dr Cain, of course, felt it was something developing in Zero he’s never felt before, but keeps that to himself and just tells the war-bot to go with the flow of his and X’s growing friendship. By this time, Zero takes an interest in Cain’s guitar and he lets him take it and a beginner’s guide to playing the instrument. Since he doesn’t have the pass time to play it anymore as an Archaeologist.

Zero takes some time to play some songs he’s heard- some Coldplay- and learns VERY quickly, playing some guitar and singing in the garden while waiting for X, and the other takes a fondness for his voice and guitar playing. But that’s another in depth headcanon post for another day.

After the events of X2, their bond is unbreakable as best friends and their fondness continues to grow. They converse everyday in the garden and sometimes star gaze and Zero plays his guitar at times. Though, while they share a sort of special moment, something comes at them from the sky, and it’s not a star. Zero quickly takes him and X out of the Garden since it’s about to hit them. It turns out to be a fireball from an out of control Mechanaloid they had to take care of, leaving X no time to be devastated over the destroyed and flambeed garden. Once they defeat the Mechanaloid, X sees the garden still burning and sees the one place he and Zero made memories together destroyed. Plus it being Dr Cain’s garden in the first place, he finally has time to cry over the sentimental value the garden had for him and Zero being lost, and how bad he feels the his discoverer’s hard work to grow all that flora was wasted.

Dr Cain tells him that it’s okay. That these things happen all the time, especially with Mavericks and out of control Mechanaloids growing in activity for the past year or so (it’s X3 by this event)

Sometime post X3, Zero is also devastated that X’s favorite flowers were destroyed. They meant so much to him as he remembered them with his family fondly. He talks to Cain, asks if he has anymore forget-me-not seeds and he does. He wonders if Zero would want any pink tea rose seeds, and he politely declines. Wanting this to only be for X. Cain then starts to see how Zero is caring for the Blue Bomber. He complies and gives Zero the seeds, and wonders if he needs help planting them. Zero shakes his head, wanting to do this himself. He puts them in a small pot, and waits for them to grow, albeit he’s not good at it, it took him weeks to a month. And when they grow enough, he gives it to X as a present a month later before the events of X4 start, the event where they realize their feelings for one another with Iris’ help.

Once they get together, post X4, X thinks of giving Zero a pink tea rose in return for his present of a small pot of forget-me-nots months prior. And asks Cain for tea rose seeds. Cain remembers this from before with Zero months prior as well, and asks why he needs them. X explains how he and Zero gotten together and wants to return the favor from the present he received. Cain complies with a smile and gives him the seeds. He plants them himself, since Cain actually taught him how before he became a Hunter. And some time passes and a rose bush is made with pink tea roses. And since it was planted in the ground and not in a pot- since X doesn’t like that much when he plants flora for some reason, he takes Zero to it and shows him. Zero is touched by the gesture and thanks X for it.

After X5 with Zero’s death, however, X decides to take the rose bush and put it in a pot and take it to his room he shared with Zero. Having both flowers in the same room, and even after Zero comes back, the flowers have stayed close, just like them, ever since. And they realize those flowers have more semblance of meaning to them ever since they met. <3

WHEW THAT WAS A LONG ONE MY FINGERS ARE STEAMING hope y’all enjoyed it!!

#vincent rambles #code crimpphire headcanons #xzero #zerox #the headcanon of their flowers #might make a separate fic of this who knows #I'm getting fueled again

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zeetasposts · 5 years ago

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Yey, this is my first time requesting a match-up! So, I was shy at first, but when I get to know a person, I was like a bundle of infinite energy. I like pranking my friends, and laughing like there's no tomorrow. I love eating anything sweets, napping by the sun, and stargazing at night. I will suddenly distant myself if someone worries me. And I prefer crying alone. Thank you, and please be well 😘😘😘

Hehe, I think I went waaay overboard with this. It tuned out being super long (oops). Thanx so much for the request love! I hope you enjoy it! And I hope you have been staying safe and well! <3

So I match you with...................... Nobunaga

Gosh, the first time Nobunaga sees you all he thinks is, how can so much boundless energy be packed into one person. You continuously jump from one task to the next, even the maids can’t keep up with your fast-paced cleaning and enthusiasm. Needless to say, this definitely caught Nobunaga’s attention. You are a bundle of endless energy, a true fireball. It’s strange how someone so shy can burn so bright. You have definitely earned your name fireball among the caste and its people. Nobunaga is genuinely convinced that you are the reincarnation of a fireball, cause not only are you a boundless source of energy but your face burns up whenever the slightest tease was flung your way.

Nobunaga definitely invites you to his room at night, for games of Go and just so he has an excuse to talk to you and tease you. You had long ago turned down his offer to warm his bed. So now here you were, chatting and laughing about the most random things. You had come to discovered Nobunaga has this boyish charm about him, and the two of you shared the common interest of pulling pranks on people. You have also come to realize he had a crazy funny sense of humor. You can’t help but laugh like there is no tomorrow around him. You’ve spent enough nights playing Go and chatting with him to drop you guard and be yourself. On one night, you were feeling a bit down. He couldn’t stand to see his friend so down in the dumps. When he commanded you to tell him what was wrong and the answer shook him. “It’s been 2 weeks without candy, and I’m dying over here,” you had gone so long without your precious sugar that you started to feel the withdrawal symptoms. Carmine eyes narrowed to look at you, and he gave you the heartiest laugh you had ever heard. You turned to look at him thinking he was going to tease you or pester you with questions about what candy even was. But instead, he walked to his desk draw reached over to the back panel and pulled out a silk bag. He sat in front of you and revealed his own precious treasure to you. Your eyes went wide in disbelief; its CANDY! “if you would like some konpeito from my secret stash fireball, you will have to beat me at a game of GO’. You had never concentrated so hard in your entire life, but the fruits of your labor paid off. It’s true what they say diamonds are made under pressure, and you had finally won your first match against the devil king himself. “Well, then, a deal is a deal.” Nobunaga couldn’t help but give his lucky charm one of his signature smirks. And so, the two of you spent the rest of the evening munching happily on the sugar candies.

Once Nobu had told you that Hideyoshi always hid his precious candies, the two of you made a pact to start pranking him to get even. It was always innocent little pranks like putting honey on the handles of the cupboard where Hideyoshi usually hid the candies. Or putting the empty jar back with a note saying that he should find a better place to hide the candy next time. But the pranks weren’t only limited to Hideyoshi. Oh no, the two of you would prank everyone in the castle. For example, during banquets, the two of you could always be found sitting next to each other, giggling at the results of your newest prank. Unfortunately, Masamune was the unlucky one being pranked as the two of you had swapped out his water for sake! The two of you also had a tendency to give Hideyoshi masses amount of sake just so you could ask him the most random questions to hear is unfiltered most honest opinions. Although the two of you would never prank the ultimate pranking master, you shivered just thinking about how your hair will never feel the same after the kitsune got you back for pranking him, by swapping out your shampoo for honey. Needless to say, it was a sticky mess. Man, when you and Nobunaga were together, it was always a good time filled with laughs and jokes. Obviously, at this point, the two of you stared wanting more than just a friendship

True to any true fireball, you burn bright with a big burst of light and energy, only to burn out and feel incredibly sleepy and tired. You would often remind Nobunaga of a cat. Having tons of energy, playing, and running around but then also being a creature of comfort not being able to resist warm, comfortable naps. On one sunny summer day, you were feeling a little sleepy while cleaning the war council room. It had a big window that streamed in the glorious warm light from the outside. The rays of sunlight seemed to warm the very ground it landed on, and it was all too enticing for you to deny. You curled yourself up on the warm sunny spot in front of the window on the ground and fell into a deep sleep. Nobunaga went to the room to retrieve some documents he had forgotten there when he saw you curled up on the floor. You looked so warm and comfy, and he just couldn’t help himself. He got down on one knee and moved a strand of hair out of your eyes and tucked it behind your ear. He then proceeded to curl himself up next to you, laying his head on your stomach, you join you in a quick power nap. You woke up when the sun had already set, and the ground beneath you was now icy cold. You opened your eyes and couldn’t help but smile at how cute, and unguarded Nobunaga looked. You decided to leave him to sleep while you stroked his hair absentmindedly. When he woke up, he felt so well-rested, in fact, he couldn’t remember sleeping so well in his whole life, even as a child. He was honestly so in love with you, and the fact that he could get such restful sleep next to you just proved to him that you are someone whom he can trust. He sat up and while giving you his signature smile and pulled you into a kiss. And so, your relationship started.

This boy loved you more than any treasure in the whole world. He would do anything to see your beautiful smile grace your face. Especially when you are feeling sad. One day you were feeling super upset, you were having a horrible day, everything was going wrong, and the tears started to prick at the corners of your eyes, you made a break for your room. Halfway there, Nobunaga finally finished counsel and saw you. You brushed passed him before he could say anything. He was so confused, you were clearly upset, the poor boy thought you were upset by him. He came into your room only to see his beloved fireball crying. He demanded you tell him who had caused your tears, cause anyone who even thought about hurting his lucky charm would have to answer to him. You had told him everything about your horrible day. You also told him how you preferred crying alone, and that’s why you avoided him. He kissed away a tear and said,” fireball, I am your boyfriend, am I not, let me comfort my precious fireball when she is sad. It is a boyfriend’s duty after all”. He would then proceed to wrap you in a big warm hug and let you cry and talk it all out. He would kiss all the tears away. And then when you are done, he would start making some jokes just so he can see that beautiful smile back on your face.

Your all-time favorite dates with Nobunaga involved star gazing and drink sake together. You especially loved it when Nobunaga would take you to a vast open flower field so you can view the stars in peace, surrounded by the sweet scent of flowers. He would make sure to have Masa pack the two of you a small picnic basket just so you could have some midnight sweets while stargazing.

Other potential Matches......................... Shingen

I hope you enjoyed it, love!

#nobunaga oda #ikemen sengoku nobunaga #ikesen nobunaga #oda nobunaga #ikesen matchup #ikemen matchup #ikemen sengoku matchup #matchups #nobunaga matchup

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welllpthisishappening · 6 years ago

Text

All Was Golden in the Sky (11/27)

Magic is dying.

Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away.

To New York City.

And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

—

Rating: Mature AN: I’ve been advertising some stuff happening and I’m finally going to make good on that promise. The stuff, it happens. Hopefully everything makes a bit more sense after that stuff. As always thanks for reading and thanks to @resident-of-storybrooke @distant-rose and @bmbbcs4evr for being absolutely wonderful human beings.

|| Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam ||

“Regina, you can’t keep throwing fireballs around, something is going to, you know..actually catch on fire,” Mary Margaret says reasonably. She’s perched on the arm of a throne, David slumped in the actual seat, and they’re back in that goddamn room.

Regina keeps throwing balls of fire everywhere.

And Emma isn’t exactly sure she’s managed to wrap her head around everything that’s happened in the last few minutes – a vaguely manic David and a quick exit from a ship full of very confused pirates, most of whom cast curious glances her direction when she appeared in the doorway of the captain’s quarters wearing, mostly, their captain’s clothes, and Killian has resolutely refused to sheath his sword.

George is dead. That much, at least, is obvious. There’s a body and a conveniently absent August and Ruby is convinced the word has already spread through the entire town, a few jokes about fire that made Regina glower and David click his tongue and Emma is very worried for the future of the curtains on the far side of the room.

“I don’t think she heard you,” Ruby mumbles, sitting cross legged at Emma’s feet. They hadn’t moved very far into the room itself, far too aware of Regina’s magical escapades and obvious frustration, and Emma isn’t sure Killian would actually let her take another step forward.

The tension in his jaw can’t possibly be good for him.

Regina spins, glaring metaphorical daggers at Ruby. Who smiles in response. “I heard her,” Regina sneers, “I just didn’t care about any of the material things in this room.” “That’s a metaphor for our childhood, I think.” “You’re taking this rather calmly, aren’t you?” David asks, and Emma can see his fingers tapping on the side of his thigh. His sword is resting on his knee.

“Incorrect. I’m taking this terribly, I’m just masking it better than all of you. Also, if Killian breathes any louder, I’m fairly certain the Dark One will come and attack us immediately because he’ll know exactly where we are.” “That was convoluted,” Emma mumbles. “Also, can we focus on that part?” “Which part? The breathing?” “We should all be breathing as consistently as possible,” Mary Margaret says. She does not appear to be taking her own advice.

Regina throws a fireball at the curtains.

“Well, there goes that,” Killian mutters, slinging an arm around Emma’s shoulders. It’s not particularly comfortable, but she curls herself against his side and none of this makes any sense. It never really has.

“The Dark One shouldn’t care about George,” Emma says slowly, as if dragging out the syllables will make them easier to understand. “That--ok, can we backtrack for a second?” Regina blinks. “To where, exactly?”

“The start. Or, well, at least close to the start. Because we may know something.” “About?” “How to defeat the darkness.”

Regina looks like she wants to set Emma on fire. She snarls, teeth bared, and David curses loudly, even Mary Margaret jumping up to gape at Emma. Killian’s arm tightens, and his knuckles have gone white around the hilt of his sword.

Ruby doesn’t move.

“Ok, ok, so George was collecting us for the Dark One, yes?” Emma asks, lifting her hands in mock surrender. No one answers her. “That was rhetorical. He was. But then...he decided to flip sides, the Dark One didn’t like that, but he didn’t kill Killian. He attacked and he--well, he’s the reason for those rumors in town, I know it.” “Where are you going with this, Emma?” Ruby asks.

“I think the Dark One is trying to turn people against us. And I...have no idea why.” “Well, that’s helpful,” Regina hisses. “Was that your brand-new information? Because I don’t think that will help us find him now and does lead us to my point.” David drops his sword. “You have a point?” “There was definitely a better way to phrase that,” Killian mutters, a quick twist of his eyebrows when David glares at him.

“I am not interested in any conversation with you after what I saw before and--” “--Right?” Ruby crows, laughing so hard she nearly falls backwards. Emma briefly wonders if her magic is strong enough to sink through the floor. And she knows they’re wasting time, debating things that don’t require discussion because the one goddamn thing that can defeat darkness is gripped tightly in Killian’s right hand.

They just need to find the Dark One.

Easy. If the people in town weren’t rising up in revolt, questioning the intentions of the royal family and their ability to protect them, rumors swirling about the princess being seen with that infamous pirate and Emma never should have taken the spell off.

“I really don’t know that this is the time or place for that,” Mary Margaret says. She’s still standing, arms crossed lightly across a gown that is also a little out of place and she keeps wearing her crown.

As if that will make people trust her more.

“Emma,” she continues, “what do you think you know about defeating the Dark One?” “We found the witch.” Regina’s snarl turns into a growl and a burst of magic, flames flaring at her fingertips. “And this is the first time you thought to mention that?” “I didn’t think that George would be dead,” Emma reasons. “We don’t--ok, listen to me, we found the witch and she wasn’t...she wasn’t a witch.” “Or human,” Killian adds, Regina’s eyebrows moving so quickly Emma wonders if they’ve actually burned off.

“And what did this otherworldly being tell you?” Regina asks.

“That my sword could destroy the darkness.” “The Dark One?” “No,” Emma says. “The darkness. As in the spark of darkness. That it would cut ties.” “Wouldn’t that just be the Dark One?” David argues, and Emma can dimly hear people shouting from the other end of the hall. “Also, can we figure out why that same Dark One would wait until now to kill George? Seems awfully arbitrary doesn’t it?”

“Maybe he was just having some fun,” Ruby shrugs.

Emma shakes her head so hard her neck aches. “No,” she whispers, glancing up at Killian. He smiles. “That’s--I think it all adds up doesn’t it?” “It’s your equation, love.” “Well, you’re no help at all.” “We don’t have time for this,” Regina growls. She’s staring out the window, a small pile of ashes falling towards her feet and Emma can just make out the crowd growing in front of the walls. They’re under attack.

And the Dark One planned this.

“He was waiting,” Emma says, realization striking her like lightning. And magic. Her own magic. “The Dark One, I mean. Ok, ok, keep up with this--” Regina glares at her, but Killian brushes a kiss against her temple and Emma’s going to focus on the second thing. “The Dark One wanted us, all of us. Because of the prophecy and what he thinks I can do, but the woman--the not-witch, I guess. She said that the only way I could defeat the darkness was because of--” “--Love,” Mary Margaret finishes, a whisper and a breath of hope and there are unshed tears in her eyes. “That’s it, isn’t it?” Emma nods. “Exactly. That our...well our True Love changed the sword, made it possible so that it could destroy darkness and I think the Dark One knows that. So he’s waited, bided his time and stirred rumors here. He’s tried to turn people against us, make it as hard as possible to find him and as soon as the not-witch showed up in Misthaven, he made his move. George was always going to die, it was just a matter of when.” Ruby lets out a low whistle, leaning back on her palms. “Well, that’s absolutely terrible, isn’t it?”

“It’s not the best thing in the world, no.” “So what do we do now?”

“Find the Dark One,” Emma answers. “He can’t have gotten far and, well...if he’s putting the plan in action now, he won’t want to be far. He wants me. He wants my magic and what I can do and--” “--The power of your True Love,” Regina cuts in sharply. “So, you’re not going.” David needs to stop dropping his sword. It’s not very intimidating. Or inspiring. Ruby nearly falls over again. “Wait, what?” she sputters. “Wasn’t that...isn’t that the whole point of everything?” “It’s not happening,” Regina says, sounding as if she’s issuing several royal decrees.

Emma’s laugh lacks a distinct bit of humor, and she doesn’t try to move away from Killian. She clicks her teeth though, not quite a threat, but possibly a challenge and the magic simmering in the back of her mind makes her feel undeniably powerful.

“Em,” Ruby says slowly, nodding at pants she had to knot at the waist to keep up, “you’re glowing a little bit.”

She glances down, startling at the sight in front of her. And Ruby is right. She’s not entirely phosphorescent, and it’s different than the not-witch had been, but there’s definitely an obvious shine there, as if her magic is pulsing and vibrating under her. The warmth of it makes Emma’s breath hitch, although it’s not entirely overwhelming.

It’s a bit like--

“Standing in front of a fire,” Killian whispers, and Emma turns against him, chin tilted up and smile a little cautious and he matches her expression with something that feels a lot like unspoken and unwavering dedication.

“Like home.”

He nods. “Exactly like that.”

“I don’t care if you turn into some kind of actual star, you’re still not going,” Regina says, widening her eyes when Emma twists back around. “I believe what you’re saying about the Dark One. And I agree with you, but--” “--Why does it always have to be a but there?” Ruby mumbles.

Regina ignores her. “The Dark One is powerful, Emma. He’s gotten an entire kingdom to bend to his will without so much as showing his face to any of us and we don’t have a lot of time to track him down before we have to protect ourselves from that same kingdom.” “He can’t have gone far, Regina,” Emma argues. “You know that. You know he wants me. He thinks--” “--He thinks he can use your power to control everything, I know. I heard all the plans. I know all the plots. I know all the tricks. And that’s why I’m telling you, some woman who may or may not have been human telling you that the captain’s sword could possibly destroy the Dark One is not enough for me to change my plan.” The room goes silent. Mostly. The growing crowd outside the walls is rather loud. It sounds like they have battering rams.

“And what, exactly, your highness, is your plan?” Killian asks softly. His fingers tighten around the curve of Emma’s shoulder, flipping his wrist and she can see it for the challenge it is – sword in hand and blade pointed directly at Regina.

She blinks. “The Dark One once spoke of a curse. A spell that could transport everyone and everything out of this realm. It’s...well, it’s not easy to cast, but--” Her inhale is sharp and nervous, teeth tugging on her lower lip with an emotion Emma has never seen before. Regina is scared. It’s off-putting. “Is there such a thing? Another realm?” David asks, a quick nod from Regina.

“More than you can imagine.”

Emma narrows her eyes, the soft flutter at the back of her consciousness more than enough to make it clear that they’re not being told the whole story. “What else, Regina?” “I’m not sure what you’re asking me.” “For the truth. Where would this curse send us? And what do you need to cast it?” She doesn’t pale, not entirely, but her cheeks go splotchy and her tongue flashes between her lips, shaky shoulders and uneven breathing. Killian scoffs. “It’s not particularly good magic is it, your highness?” “No,” Regina says. “It’s...well, the curse that the Dark One found would send us to a land without magic. Where magic would...it would wither away, eventually. There’s nothing there to support it or help it grow.” “And how do you cast it?” “You have to crush the heart of the thing you love the most.” There is no silence that time. There are loud objections and even louder curses, Ruby’s mumbled oh that’s all reverberating between Emma’s ears. She has no idea what noise she makes, but it’s not particularly pleasant and the churning in her gut feels as if her stomach is trying to rise up in revolt.

“Why would we do that, Regina?” Emma asks. “That’s not--that’s not how the prophecy was supposed to work.” Regina rolls her shoulders, standing up to her full height and it’s almost menacing – fire in her hand and her gaze and Emma doesn’t blink. She lifts her eyebrows. “Aren’t you tired of following a prophecy, Emma?” Regina whispers. “This great plan for a life you weren’t ever particularly interested in? You’ve been twisted and turned and used by everything and everyone. I’m offering you a way out of that. A place where magic would disappear eventually. Where the Dark One wouldn’t be able to follow.” “And you can guarantee that?” David challenges, eyes darting between Emma and Killian’s sword and the fire in Regina’s hand keeps changing color. “The Dark One wouldn’t be able to get there? Ever?” “Seems rather absolute,” Ruby murmurs.

Regina ignores her again. “Yes,” she says. “We could bring the entire kingdom. Keep the Dark One and darkness and any threat here and we’d be safe. It’d--” “--And what heart do you propose to crush to get us there?” Emma cuts in, fury rising in the back of her throat and her magic makes it feel as if her hand is about to explode.

Killian lowers his sword, turning towards her with wide eyes and understanding etched into every corner of his face. “It’s ok, love, just breathe.” “I’m doing that already.” “Aye, well, maybe just do it a bit better, ok?” Ruby laughs, a poor time for humor, but Regina still looks thunderous and David looks incredulous and it must be impossible for Mary Margaret to see through all those tears in her eyes. Her crown is slightly crooked now. “I haven’t gotten that far yet,” Regina admits softly, Killian scoffing at the words.

“And you said we didn’t have time to follow the goddess’ instructions.” Emma’s magic jumps. “You think it was a goddess?” “It’s a hunch.” “And I’m not all that inclined to follow the pirate’s hunches,” Regina says, seemingly recovering from her shock in just enough time to dispatch pointed insults.

Killian’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “It’s a pleasure as always, your highness.”

The crowd outside is really more like a mob now – torches and what may actually be real, genuine pitchforks, cries on their lips and a hatred that feels almost palpable. David picks his sword up off the ground.

“We need to do something about this,” he says, nodding towards the window. “Let’s forgo casting curses until we deal with the people we’ve been trying to protect. And, Emma,” David adds, glancing towards her and the bit of light clinging to sleeves of a shirt that’s also far too big, “we’ll find the Dark One soon.”

Emma doesn’t answer. She’s too busy coming up with a plan.

Mary Margaret’s already muttering under her breath, a soft noise that Emma quickly realizes is the flutter of bird wings, and Ruby stands up, fingers curling around the amulet hanging from her neck. She bobs on the balls of her feet as her spine stretches, hair falling across the back of her neck and nails widening quickly.

Regina shakes her head, disappointment obvious in the movement, but she doesn’t object either and the first spell she casts is powerful enough that the walls of the room shake.

“C’mon,” Emma mumbles, lacing her fingers through Killian’s. He doesn’t object, just follows her lead and she’s fairly certain Ruby notices them. She doesn’t say anything.

Eventually Emma will have to thank her for that.

As it is, she’s focused on keeping her steps even and her eyes up, the magic rushing through her making it difficult to stay upright. She’s definitely sweating. “Where are you, where are you, where are you,” she mumbles, kicking at the stone wall they’ve stopped in front of.

“Is this the part where I start to worry if the magic has gone to your brain, Swan?” “Yeah, you're hysterical.” “What is it we’re looking for?” “When I was a kid,” Emma starts, pressing her fingers into a loose stone. It moves. “And I was trying to figure out ways to get out of the castle...I started finding all these different passageways and this one--” She pushes again, a soft whoop of triumph when she nudges the stone enough and the entire wall moves, a slim opening that she all but yanks Killian through. “--leads out to the gardens and another small hole in another wall that George never knew about.” “George really was the worst king in the world, wasn’t he?” “Are you not impressed by my tactical knowledge of this castle?”

Killian chuckles, crowding into Emma’s space and his breath is warm when he presses a kiss to the edge of her jaw. “Aye, love,” he promises. “You’d make a very good pirate, you know that?”

“That’s the plan, at least.”

He kisses her once more, thumb dragging across the skin of her wrist and Emma knows he can feel her pulse hammering just underneath his touch. She likes to imagine he smiles, fluttering her fingers until the small ball of light in her palm illuminates his face and she was right.

That’s enough to almost make her confident this will work.

“You want to go destroy all of darkness?” Emma asks, misplaced levity in a dusty hallway no one else has ever used.

Killian nods. “Absolutely.”

It takes them more time than Emma would like to get out of the castle. There are people everywhere – shouts and cries, tears and curses and she was right about the pitchforks, which is a little disappointing considering the current quest she’s staging, but she supposes defeating the darkness will help fix that problem.

It’s just a matter of finding it.

She and Killian are standing in the middle of town, his thumb still moving over his wrist like he can’t stop himself, and there’s no sign of anything remotely magical. Except her. Emma’s magic thrums through her, a beat to it that feels like a metronome and sounds like her pulse, steady and determined and-- “--Oh, we are idiots,” Emma sighs, rolling her whole head back when she realizes.

“That’s not doing a lot to inspire much confidence in the success of this plan, Swan.” “Why did we ever leave that field?” “Because the Dark One was inciting rumors and George’s underling had offered a considerable amount of gold for my head.” “That’s where he is.” “August the underling?” “The Dark One,” Emma sighs, jumping slightly like that will help work out some of the excess magic and emotion running through her. Killian arches an eyebrow. “That’s--if that was a goddess, then she picked that place for a reason. A place she said we would be comfortable because we’d--”

“--Fallen in love there,” Killian breathes, and Emma refuses to be held accountable for whatever her magic does at those words in that specific order.

“Exactly. And the Dark One would know that too. That was...a goddess would be powerful magic. She said she was breaking the rules. That would leave a mark.”

Killian considers that for a moment, gaze flitting across Emma’s face and she’s not entirely sure what he’s looking for, but she’s fairly certain he finds it when one side of his mouth tugs up. He holds his hand out towards her. “Let’s go, love.” “What?” “Blink and get us there. If you’re right--and I’m sure you’re right--” “--It’s a hunch.”

Killian clicks his tongue when she keeps interrupting him, but there’s a sudden and rather jarring weight in Emma’s stomach and it takes her a moment to realize what it is. Dread. As if something is about to go horribly, terribly wrong. “Do you know when I realized I loved you?” Killian asks, and Emma lets out a shaky breath.

“What?” “You’re repeating yourself, darling.” “You’re not making any sense.” “I am,” he promises. “Because if I’m following the train of thought you haven’t actually voiced yet, you think that field is a bit more powerful because it’s also holding on to a bit of True Love. Like the sword.” Emma blinks. And opens her mouth. Only to close it. Killian chuckles, a quick twist of eyebrows that probably shouldn’t be nearly that attractive, but they’ve gotten very good at flirting during the least opportune moments and Emma can’t ever really think coherently when his fingers find their way under her shirt.

His shirt.

She’s wearing all his clothes.

“You didn’t answer my question, Swan,” Killian continues. “Although I do very much enjoy when you get that specific look.” “Which is?” “Like you’re rather stunned by me. Does wonders to my ego.” She scoffs, but she can’t actually argue with him and-- “It was years ago,” he says, voice going low and gruff and there’s an emotion there that Emma isn’t sure actually has a name. “And I’d been spending most of my time at the docks and it was getting more and more difficult to get away. I don’t think I’d seen you in weeks and I was going crazy. Liam was--oh, he was furious. I kept talking about you and he was worried we were going to draw attention and George was going to realize and--” “--I remember that,” Emma whispers, another interruption, but her heart feels like it’s growing and she has to keep licking her lips. She’s breathing out of her mouth. “That one captain--what was his name?”

“Teach. Edward Teach.” “Gods, he was the worst.” Killian hums, lips still quirked up. “And you were...you sent that message and, oh Mary Margaret will be mad I don’t remember the name of the bird. But, um...you said you didn’t think you’d be able to get away and it was your birthday and--” “--No one remembered, but you. Liam was stationed on the other side of the city and he’d been there for days, couldn’t get back home. And you showed up, magic falling off you in waves I swore I could see, moved your hand and told Edward Teach to go to the deepest circle of hell.”

“I don’t think that’s how I phrased it, exactly.” Killian shakes his head, fingertips ghosting over Emma’s cheek the jut of her lower lip. She’s not doing a very good job of breathing anymore. “That’s exactly what you said,” he mutters. “Froze him and cursed him up and down, told him what a worthless sot he was and how little he deserved, then flicked your fingers so he wouldn’t remember a thing about it. It was the most incredible thing I’d ever seen. We got that melted chocolate after. And you put cinnamon in it.” “I think you’re giving me far too much credit.” “I’m not, love. I’m--David’s made jokes, but that...it was if something flipped or switched or--” He swallows, the muscles in his throat shifting and his lips part slightly when he rests his forehead against Emma’s. “I know my brother loved me. I know he did the best he could to protect me, but you...Emma. Nothing’s ever been like that. I don’t think it ever will.” Emma’s eyes close, and it’s not on purpose. She wishes she kept them open, if only to make sure she remembers the moment perfectly because the moment feels a little perfect and the pull of her magic is different than it’s ever been.

It’s not scalding heat, but a low simmer, a pattern to it that inches through her limbs and climbs up her muscles, settles into every open space and dark corner. Her hands shift, moving to rest flat on Killian’s chest, as if she’s trying to feel the very rhythm of his heart. She kisses exactly where her lips land, finding a bit of skin under a shirt that’s cut far too deep and the ends of Killian’s jacket flutter when the air shifts.

It’s not wind.

It’s magic.

“I love you,” she whispers, Killian’s hand moving to the curve of her hip and the small of her back and she fully expects an answer.

She doesn’t get it.

The dread she’d almost forgotten about grows, rushing up the back of her throat until it becomes impossible to say anything else and Emma’s eyes squeeze tight against the push of power wrapping around her. She has to glance down to make sure she hasn’t been thrown in icy waters, a chill spreading through her, and her clothes are still dry, but she’s not standing on dirty streets anymore.

There’s dead grass under her boots, a field that looks as if its been deprived of sunlight for years and Emma’s gasp isn’t quite that. It’s disappointment and terror and the sudden realization that everything she believed in that place has been twisted and turned and the laughter she hears grates on her ears.

Killian’s sword looks dim in the shadows they’ve suddenly found themselves in.

“I’m sorry to break up that whole….thing,” the Dark One says, sitting cross-legged on a tree stump that wasn’t there the day before, “but I was getting a little impatient. And you did make it very easy to find you.” Emma tilts her head, fingers twitching at her side. The ball of light bounces there, not quite as strong as usual and that’s very likely a problem, but she’s also doing a fairly a god awful job of not staring at the person in front of her.

Person might not be the right word.

He doesn’t look human either and it’s different than the not-witch, goddess, whatever. He’s exactly what Killian described, skin that glistens, even in the darkness, as if it’s only capable of reflecting that, hair that hangs limply on the side of his head and Emma’s fairly certain the nails on his fingers are black.

His smile stretches across his face slowly, every one of his teeth bared and Emma resists the feeling that she’s some kind of magical prey. She inhales sharply, straightening her shoulders and lifting her hand.

The Dark One’s eyebrows jump. “What are you going to do to me, dearie? I’m afraid I’ve got control of the situation here.” “That’s not true,” Emma argues, but the words feel a little empty and they were supposed to get to the field on their own. They weren’t supposed to get yanked there. “How did you find us?” “I told you that already.” “Once more with feeling, then.” He lets out a peal of laughter and everything is so different, she’s certain they must have fallen into one of those other realms Regina had been talking about. “No, no, no,” the Dark One says. “You don’t get to issue commands here, your highness. I am the one in control and I’m the one who’s going to take your magic. You’re smart, I know you realize this has to happen.”

“That’s not what the prophecy said.”

“Eh, prophecy is always up for debate. And things have already been broken, haven’t they? Covert meetings with those who weren’t supposed to interject.” He tuts under his breath, a quick wave of his finger. “That’s not particularly good work there, Savior.” “But you knew. About the sword. That’s why you didn’t kill Killian.”

The Dark One freezes. And Killian tenses slightly, the word tasting bitter on Emma’s tongue as soon as she closes her mouth. She reaches behind her, fingers brushing over his and, for maybe the first time, it’s almost difficult to catch his hand in hers.

“Smart princess,” the Dark One muses, hopping off the stump with an alarming amount of grace. Killian lifts his sword higher, but that only earns them a scornful sound and pointed glare and the laugh is starting to sound a little manic now. “It’s true, I did have some concern regarding your pirate’s sword. And I will admit that blade does make me a little nervous, but I’d like to get a few things out of the way first.” “Such as?” He smiles. It makes Emma shiver. “The current state of upheaval in your kingdom. Not particularly pleasant, is it?” “How do you do that?” Emma asks, eyes flitting around like she’ll be able to find an exit or another weapon and the Dark One won’t stop smiling at her.

“The power of suggestion is very strong against the weak-minded, your highness, and you, unfortunately are the ruler of a kingdom of exceptionally weak minds. Add in a little bit of magic to spread the rumors quickly and, well, it was almost too easy to suggest that you lot had caused George to lock himself in his rooms, primed to take over a kingdom based solely on the strength of your magic.” “So you cursed them?”

He clicks his tongue, a quick shrug and one eye squeezed close. “That’s a matter of debate, I suppose.” “Sounds like a yes,” Killian sneers, and the Dark One actually jumps with something that Emma hopes isn’t actually joy. His fingers press together, as if he’s praying to someone or, possibly, just his own magic and his entire expression goes greedy when he looks at Killian.

“Oh, well, you’re a delight aren’t you? Very protective. Very determined. Almost ready to put his life on the line for his magical Savior, yes?” “You’re not winning,” Emma says, not quite an objection, more an announcement that she’s only a little hopeful is based on fact. Killian’s arm must be aching. “We--I’m here, we’ve got a weapon, we’ve got my magic. You can’t possibly do anything.”

He doesn’t laugh. And that’s the worst it’s been. It’s deafening silence, heavy and meaningful and every step the Dark One takes forward leaves a trail of dead grass and colorless flowers in his wake, as if the life force of every single thing around him wilts in his very presence.

Emma swallows.

“And yet, dearie,” the Dark One says, leaning into Emma’s space with breath that makes her gag, “here I am. A plan decades in the making coming to perfect fruition. You’ve set it all up for me, an instruction manual if you will. I want your True Love, yes. I crave it even, know what I can do with it and the power I can contain. Because I can contain it. You...your highness, you’re far too weak. Overwhelmed by emotions and devotions--” He chuckles again, a low jump and rattle of his head. “Ah, I made a rhyme. You can’t control yourself, your highness. You needed someone else to help you and that will be your undoing. You’re powerful because you care and because you care I can defeat you.”

“That’s not true,” Emma hisses. Her magic roars, defiant and powerful and she can hear the crunch of Killian’s boots when he moves next to her. “Love’s not weakness. It’s strength and you’re all alone aren’t you? Nothing and no one and just your power. Has it been worth it?”

The smile flickers.

Emma laughs softly. “You thought you could take me,” she says, “threaten this kingdom and the people we’ve all been trying to save. Was that really your plan? It’s lacking a bit of bite isn’t it?”

She glances at Killian, a glint of something that might be pride on the edge of his gaze. He presses the tip of his tongue into the corner of his mouth, nodding quickly and Emma doesn’t think she imagines the way the shadows at their feet recede slightly.

“You do bring up a very interesting point, love,” Killian mutters. “Although it does beg one rather large question.” “Which is?” “Why did he wait? The shadows grow again. And the Dark One tilts his head, more appraising than threatening, as if he’s surprised Killian could show such curiosity in the face of ultimate evil and far-too-long discussions. “Because I’m greedy, Captain,” the Dark One replies. “And it drove you to distraction. Wondering, waiting, bated breath for when I’d, finally, arrive. I want your True Love and I want the Savior’s magic. I want to take it and use it. I want this kingdom and every kingdom. I want what is rightfully mine. And I was willing to wait for it, if that meant that her power grew. True Love, it’s the strongest magic in the world, even George, idiot that he was, knew that.” “But you didn’t kill me.” “Yes, I was waiting for the opportune moment.” “What?” Emma shouts, terror coloring every letter and the light in her hand flares brighter than it’s ever been.

“You have two choices, Savior. You acquiesce to me, you help me, and we use your magic together. Or, I take your magic by force, including the spark of your True Love, and lay waste to your kingdom and every single thing you’ve ever held dear. Because, as you were so quick to point out, for that little orphan no one ever wanted, you’ve certainly managed to collect quite a lot of love in your life, haven’t you? And it all centers around him.”

Killian tries to step in front of Emma. She rolls her eyes. “No,” she sneers. “I’m--I’m going to defeat you and the darkness and we’re going to take back our kingdom and--” “--Well,” the Dark One cuts in with a shrug, “your choice. You probably should have been the one holding the weapon, Savior.”

She genuinely has no idea what happens next.

It’s awful, that’s all she knows. Because one moment Emma is leaning back, trying to get away from the foul stench wafting off the Dark One and the next there’s a cry piercing the air and her heart in equal measure, a flash of light and surge of magic that makes every blade of grass on that hill bend, Killian crashing to his knees with his left arm clutched to his chest and it takes Emma a moment to realize the color seeping onto his shirt is red.

Blood.

He’s bleeding.

And the Dark One is holding his sword.

The sound of triumph that echoes around her makes Emma’s lungs feel as if they’re collapsing, the noise bouncing off her brain and every single molecule that she’s made of. The Dark One shakes the blade slightly, drops of blood flicking off it and more than a few land on Killian’s cheek. There’s blood everywhere.

He rests his weight on the sword, the tip of it pressed into dead grass and Emma hasn’t moved. She hasn’t started breathing again. It hurts.

“Emma,” Killian breathes, face going pale and the sound of her name breaks her out of her reverie. “Emma.” She gulps down a few breaths of air, dropping to her knees as well and it takes a moment to pull his arm towards her. “Oh,” she says, tears staining her vision and blood staining her shirt. The warmth of it seems counterproductive and a little unfair, all things considered, but the Dark One is still laughing gleefully and Emma doesn’t understand what’s just happened. “It’s ok,” she continues, “it’s ok, you’re going to be ok.”

The Dark One stops laughing. “I’m not sure that’s true there, dearie. In fact, I’m fairly certain our good pirate captain is well on his way to dying.”

Emma shakes her head. She can’t come up with anything else to do because part of her refuses to accept the possibility of that and part of her knows it’s not a possibility and Killian’s face keeps getting paler.

“Look at me, look at me,” she pleads, “You’re ok, you’re going to be ok.” Killian makes a noise - not quite a scoff and barely more than a shaky exhale. “You’re a Gods awful liar, you know that?”

“Shut up.” “That’s the princess I know.” “It’s ok,” Emma says, as if repeating positive words will make sure it’s exactly that. Her shirt is drenched though, blood seeping through the fabric and it’s warm against her own skin, which may be the single worst thing she’s ever experienced. Her fingers move over the blunt end of Killian’s arm, trying to focus her magic and she’d done this before.

She’d healed him before.

It hadn’t been this hard before.

It’s as if there’s an invisible barricade between them, magic bouncing back and shocking her, a current that makes Emma grit her teeth and she can’t stop shaking.

“Walked right into it,” the Dark One mutters, back on his tree stump with legs kicking out. Emma doesn’t respond, trying to work Killian onto his back so he’ll stop swaying like that and she’s never felt this kind of emptiness before. Her magic has always been at the very center of everything, a steady power she felt she could depend on, even when everything else was going to complete and consistent shit, but she suddenly feels as if her tether to the Earth has been yanked out from her, like she’s floating and impossibly heavy, all at the same time.

Killian’s eyes flutter.

“No, no, no,” Emma stammers, voice cracking and tears streaming down her face. Her hands move without much pattern, brushing over his jaw and the stubble there, pushing strands of hair away from his brows and he’s already far too cold. “I’m going to fix this. I am--” “--You can’t, Savior, that’s the point,” the Dark One says. There’s a rhythm to his words that makes her whole body clench, the joy obvious when he speaks. Because he’s won. And they both know it.

Emma snaps her head around, trying to find a bit of shirt that isn’t already blood-stained to wrap around Killian’s arm. “What did you do?”

“Is that not obvious?” The trees around her shake with the force of her anger, darkness creeping into the edge of her vision and the Dark One almost looks impressed. He laughs, at least. “What did you do?” Emma repeats, and a crack runs up the stump.

“That sword of yours,” the Dark One nods at the discarded blade between them, “very impressive, very magical, entirely capable of destroying me. And your rather magicless pirate. Who, it seems, is no longer that intent on maintaining his mortal ties.” Emma’s brows furrow, confusion turning to horrific understanding. “Cut ties,” she mumbles, memories of the words they’d heard in same field the day before. The Dark One nods.

“Yes, yes, exactly that. It would very easily destroy me, which, again--rather foolish not to hold a weapon like that yourself, don’t you think, Savior?” He shrugs, a click of his tongue and another soft chuckle. Emma turns away from him. “Anyway,” he adds, “you made it almost too easy. As soon as you objected to my incredibly generous deal, I simply had to get the sword from your pirate, who presented a rather small challenge, then get rid of...part of him and now his life force isn’t much longer for this Earthly plane. I do hope he’ll enjoy the Underworld, though.” Emma exhales, head feeling too heavy for her neck. It falls forward, the ends of her hair grazing over Killian’s chest, and she doesn’t realize he’s trying to move at first. He’s mumbling under his breath, fingers flexing at his side and the tiny bit of light that lingers around them reflects off the stone in her ring.

“It’s ok,” she says again, angry that she can’t come up with anything else to say.

“Emma--”

“--No, listen to me, this is--I can fix this and--” “--Swan,” Killian interrupts, voice barely audible over the ragged sound of her own breathing and she’s far too close to sobbing to be entirely coherent. “It was my fault, love. I should have…” His voice trails off, and the blood has to stop eventually. She glances around again, looking for something, anything, that will help, but there’s no goddess and no more magic, just a victorious Dark One.

“You should have come with me from the start, Savior,” the Dark One says. “You would have spared your pirate this rather horrible death. As it is, nothing you are capable of will be able to save him. That’s dark magic.”

“But--that was...we made it.”

“Yes, yes, I know the specifics of it and it’s very impressive, really, a wonderful act of True Love. But think for a moment, Savior. You’re smart, I’m sure you’ll get there.”

“He twisted it,” Killian breathes, and he hasn’t opened his eyes yet. Emma’s not sure he actually can. “When he used it. That’s--”

“--You’d only be able to fix it with the same dark magic,” Emma finishes.

She shakes her head, another question hanging in the air around her, but the Dark One nods before she can ask. “Ah, you’re wondering about the True Love I wanted, what I was waiting for and all that. Yes, yes, I did consider that and, well--” He lifts both hands in the air. “True Love makes us do incredible things, doesn’t it? It created that blade, after all. And I can save your pirate, Savior. All you have to do is give me a little spark. Let’s see what you can do, shall we?” Eventually, Emma will be cognizant enough to know that it’s that one, single moment, those few words and strings of sentences that change everything, because the Dark One doesn’t understand anything, but as it is, her magic is too strong and her emotions are too unchecked and she thrusts her hand behind her without much thought to why she can suddenly do what she’s about to.

The hilt of the sword is cool in her grip, blood still clinging to the blade and Emma rests her free hand on Killian’s chest. She can hardly feel anything under her, but his pulse is still there and he’s so impossibly stubborn. “I love you,” she whispers, and it’s enough to refocus everything, to control the power blazing through her and the Dark One stops laughing as soon as he feels the first tug.

She chances another glance over her shoulder, the man’s hands scrambling for purchase across his chest, as if he’s trying to stop the magic from being pulled out of him, and Emma’s smile feels wrong.

She doesn’t stop.

She closes her eyes, breathing slowly and deeply, a control to her magic she’s never had – that lets her control all the other magic around her. And it only takes a few moments, the Dark One cursing her to every hell he can seemingly think of, but Emma doesn’t stop. She mumbles quiet promises under her breath, guarantees she’s only half hopeful she can make, counting every shift in Killian’s breathing.

And then it’s over.

The screech the Dark One lets out ricochets around him, sending birds from trees as he falls down, fingers clawing at the dirt and the back of his hair. “Give it back,” he screams, eyes going crazed as soon as he looks at Emma. “Give it back!” She shakes her head slowly, the sword in her hand noticeably heavier with the weight of the Dark One’s magic contained in its blade.

“Now,” he continues, stamping his foot and he looks almost human again. The shimmer in his skin has disappeared, a grey pallor clinging to him, as if he hasn’t slept in eons and that scent still hangs around him. “Do it, now!” “No,” Emma whispers. She turns her gaze back to Killian, smile softening and her magic hasn’t calmed at all. It roars and shifts, stronger than that tide Emma had been so content to listen to the night before, a decision she knows she shouldn’t make, but one she’s certain will work. “Killian,” she continues, “Look at me, please.”

It’s more begging, words not befit of a Savior, but Emma doesn’t feel like that now and she genuinely does not care. Magic can disappear. The kingdom can tear itself apart. The world can tumble around her. It feels that way already anyway.

“I’m going to save you,” she says, another promise and Killian’s eyes snap open. He can’t actually shake his head. He tries anyway.

And the bleeding has almost stopped.

Emma tries not to think about all the reasons for that.

Killian’s eyes flicker towards the sword in her hand, her arm shaking as she tries to hold it up. “No, no, Swan, don’t, that’s--” He hisses in pain, the feel of it obvious on every inch of his face. “You have to let me go, love. The darkness...you’ve got to get rid of it.” She shakes her head again, petulant and defiant and her magic rebels against it. She’s not actually saying anything, so she knows she’s not still begging, but it feels like her magic is speaking to her, quiet and imploring and everything that happens next is wrong.

Emma is wrong.

“Killian--” “--I don’t want it, Emma,” he mumbles, lips barely moving to let the sound out. His eyes keep losing focus. “Not for us. I don’t want to become that.”

“You won’t. You won’t! I--I won’t let it happen. I’ll...we’ll figure something else out. There’s got to be something else. Together, right? That’s--” Her voice catches, as if her throat is shrinking, but that may just be her heart and Emma’s fingers shake when they move back to Killian’s cheek. “It’s always been that, right?” “Aye, love. And that’s meant everything, but this is--I’m not strong enough for that, Emma. I won’t be able to do it. I’m not...I never had magic.”

She licks her lips, trying to touch as much as of him as she can, as if she’s taking stock or already making up for lost time and his hand finds hers as soon as she moves towards his fingers. His grip is barely that. “But our future,” she says. “That’s--you promised, you were going to ask.” The blood has stopped gushing, but there’s a definite darkness to the end of his arm now, as if the skin itself is rejecting the magic there and Emma is certain she’s never heard a sound quite as horrible as the cry Killian lets out then. His face distorts in agony, head lolling to the side and his eyes close again.

“You can’t, Swan. That’s...you’ll have a future, love. That’s all that matters.”

“No, no, no,” Emma mumbles, hand flying back to his cheek and the skin there has gone clammy. “That’s not enough for me!”

He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t move. And Emma doesn’t hold her breath because she’s frozen entirely – like time has stopped and the world has stopped and she has no idea where the Dark One has gone. He’s not really the Dark One anymore.

And she’s already decided, so Emma can’t say it’s much of a choice, but her resolve shudders for a moment and it’s difficult to hold the sword. She lets her thumb drift across Killian’s cheeks, fingers lingering there for a moment and she isn’t entirely sure what to do.

She holds the sword up, both hands wrapped around the hilt as she focuses on separating the light from the dark, tendrils of magic working their way up the blade and reaching out towards Killian. The tears keep falling on Emma’s cheeks, giving into selfish want and ignoring prophecy and it doesn’t take long, but it feels like it lasts forever and there’s a flash of light and burst of cold air and she only realizes her eyes were closed when she opens them to find Killian gone.

She sits there. And waits. For hours, days, maybe. It doesn’t matter.

Emma sits in that field with its dead grass and colorless flowers, shrubs with brown leaves and the lingering scent of death hanging above her head, and nothing happens. No one comes.

He doesn’t come back.

Emma doesn’t count the days. It’s definitely been days, though. There’s been at least two sunrises that she’s aware of and it takes her a moment to realize there’s someone else standing in the field.

It’s not Killian.

It’s a woman. And she’s not old, but she’s not young either, a feel to her that makes Emma certain time doesn’t have much of an impact. She moves forward with sure steps, made all the more impressive by the band around her eyes.

She’s blind.

And Emma knows who she is without asking.

The Seeress. The prophecy. And everything Emma did wrong, come to lay claim on her.

“Savior,” the seeress says, and Emma hears the title for the disappointment it holds. She tilts her head, letting her cheek rest on her bent knees and she can’t remember the last time she stood up. “You have to call him back here.” “Who?” “The Dark One.” “The Dark One ran away,” Emma says. “I pulled his magic from him and--” “--Created another Dark One,” the Seeress snaps, an edge to the words that makes the hair on the back of Emma’s neck stand up. Her magic reacts for the first time in days. She hasn’t let go of the sword. “You created another Dark One and failed to fulfill the prophecy you were born to serve. That must not happen.” Emma scoffs, derision and her own particular brand of disappointment because-- “Fuck the prophecy,” she hisses. “And fuck every one of those expectations. I’m not--I couldn’t let him die.”

“Wouldn’t,” the Seeress amends. “There’s a stark difference, Savior.” “God, stop using that.” “You need to call the Dark One here. Now.”

She nods at the sword and for something Emma hasn’t let go of in days, she’s incredibly unobservant. It’s probably the lack of food. Mary Margaret would be disappointed. In several things. The blade itself had always been carved, an intricacy to it that didn’t befall a Lieutenant, but that’s never mattered and-- “Why is his name on here?” Emma demands, jerking her head up towards a sullen looking Seeress.

Her hands are covering her eyes now.

“It’s his,” she answers simply. “And you can call him with it.”

Emma opens her mouth to object, but something in the back of her brain stops her from actually voicing those words. “Killian,” she calls. “Killian, I--if you’re there, I--” “--No, Savior,” the Seeress interrupts, and they’re apparently back to that particular tone of voice. “You need to call him. Not what you want. What you have to destroy.”

Emma’s spine snaps, as if she’s been called to attention. Her head shakes, but part of her knows it’s right and she’s wrong. Gods, she’s crying again. “Dark One,” she says. “I...summon thee. Here, now.”

It’s not immediate. And the waiting is the worst, that flicker of silence and hope that maybe, maybe, everything hasn’t dissolved into chaos, but then Emma can feel a push and a pulse and she wonders if that’s what Killian’s felt all these years.

Her mouth goes dry.

He’s him and he’s not – the jacket looking heavier and the sword belt at his waist strangely empty. He tilts his head when he looks at her, as if he’s surprised to see her, and the color of his eyes is all wrong, a steel that doesn’t make the stutter of Emma’s pulse turn steady. It jumps in her veins and thuds against her rib cage, a nervousness she’s never had because she can feel the rush of magic around them.

And it isn’t hers.

“Killian,” she breathes, rocking forward and he doesn’t take a step back. He arches an eyebrow, barely visible over the hair falling across his forehead. “It worked.” “Oh, aye, it worked,” he snarls. “After begging you not to do this, desperate not to become the one thing you’re supposed to destroy--here I am, ready to do your bidding.”

Emma gasps, not surprised by the words. They hurt all the same, cutting across her and leaving her wondering if she’s adding to the blood stains on the shirt she’s never bothered to change out of. “That was the only way,” she whispers. “My magic, it wouldn’t--” “--Oh, yes, I know all the reasons, Emma! Trust me, I’ve heard them on loop for the past several days. But tell me something, darling, where is my tether, hmmm?”

She licks her lips, standing up slowly, with the sword held in one hand. Her knees crack. “I don't want it,” she says. “It’s yours...I--that future we talked about, the one you wanted...we can still have that.”

“You think I didn’t want that?” “I don’t--” “--Gods, Emma, that’s all I wanted,” Killian shouts. “For--since the very start. More than anything.” He takes a step towards her, fingers tapping out an incoherent rhythm at his side, and Emma lets out a shuddering breath as soon as he’s in her space.

The color of his eyes is all wrong.

“We can do this,” she promises, reach up to rest her hand on his cheek. He turns from her touch, glancing over his shoulder at something that isn’t there. The seeress hasn’t moved. Or spoken. “Killian,” Emma continues, “We can--” “--No, Savior,” the seeress says, a finality in her voice and Emma’s magic flares. Killian’s eyes widen, a sneer on his lips.

The magic around him is cold. As if it’s not alive. As if it’s stuck in a shadow, away from the sun.

“No,” the seeress repeats, “you can’t do this. The darkness must be destroyed. Otherwise everything will turned to disaster and magic itself will be destroyed. You have to use the sword. It will cut the ties of darkness. It will rid the world of it forever.” Emma shakes her head, more defiance and the absolute refusal to do what the world expects of her. Not when it will cost her this. Not when it will cost her Killian.

“I love you,” she says, doing her best to press the words past the magic she can feel fighting against her. “Killian. I--every single time, right?”

He blinks, expression shifting between confusion and anger and back to something that’s achingly familiar, memories Emma needs him to remember and cling to. “I want the sword, Emma,” he says, voice turning again and she lets out a breath her lungs likely needed.

“Ok,” she nods. “Here.” Killian’s fingers curl around the hilt, brushing against hers, but there’s no feeling there, no spark, just a stretch of emptiness that feels impossibly vast and even darker than that, disappointment and anger and she’s wrong. He nods once, another flicker of something that makes her hope and want, but then there’s magic swirling at her feet and the seeress has fallen to the ground and Killian is gone.

With the sword.

“You’ve made a mistake, Emma,” the seeress says, the words shaking with the force of the tears falling from unseeing eyes.

And Emma barely has time to process that, before she hears it – a wave of magic that’s moving towards her, cresting over the line of the town and pushing over everything in its path. It doesn’t slow. It doesn’t stop. It keeps rolling, lightning crackling in the cloud it creates and Emma wishes, eventually, she’ll stop simply realizing thing.

It’s a curse.

“Ah, Gods--” she groans, gritting her teeth when the cloud passes over her and it’s the last thing she remembers.

She knocks on the door in front of her, tugging lightly on the red leather jacket and the walkie-talkie at her waist makes a noise that can’t possibly be right. Emma sighs, knocking once more, but there’s no response and she didn’t really think there would be.

The walkie talkie does something again.

“What, David?” she asks, pulling the thing up to her mouth and she’s only a little nervous it’s going to short-circuit in her hand.

“You get anything out there?” “You know, this would go easier if you weren’t interrupting me every two seconds.” “Ah, c’mon, I’m worried about you,” he reasons. “It’s weird on the edge of town and you know how everyone’s magic has been acting lately.” Emma hums into the speaker, well aware of the inconsistencies in her own magic, as if it’s struggling to respond to anything she wants it to do. As if she’s running out of it. “I know, I know,” she grumbles. “I’ll be careful out here, I promise. It’s a quick in and out, just dealing with that complaint about noise at the house.” “Regina wants it taken care of quickly.” “Yeah, well, you can tell madam mayor that it’ll take as long as--”

“--Who’s out there?” a voice calls from behind the door, and Emma sighs when David actually has the gall to laugh.

“Mr. Smee, it’s Emma,” she answers, but that only gets her a slightly drunken noise and she’s starting to wonder if she’ll be able to magic the door away. “You know who I am, Mr. Smee, I know you do. Sheriff Swan? C’mon, we’ve got to come to some kind of agreement about how loudly you’ve been singing when you’ve been drinking.” The whole thing is relatively easy – she only has to use some magic, which is only slightly exhausting, but David stops interrupting her eventually and Emma’s fairly confident she can get through the paperwork quickly enough, driving back into the center of town with enough ease that she doesn’t notice the first flicker of magic that’s wrapped itself around the Welcome to Storybrooke sign she’s just passed.

She notices later. When the man walks across the line, hands resting on his cane and the demand he keeps repeating over and over. “I want the Savior!”

#cs ff #captain swan #cs fic #captain swan ff #cs #all was golden in the sky #that stupid witch fic #i felt real human emotions writing this

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mordenheim · 6 years ago

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Dr. Mordenheim’s Travels, Book 1, chapter 6: Nightmare Night

Luna let out a soft groan as the alarm she had set went off with a headache-inducing clamor. She grabbed her silvery silk and down pillow and plopped it over her head as her dark, starry mane flowed out from beneath it. She was just about to try to go back to sleep when her heavy eyelids snapped open. Her alarm hadn’t been early, this was the day!

She quickly rolled out of bed, her silken sheets tangling about her long legs for a moment. She rushed about her royal chambers, trying to be as quiet as possible as she got herself cleaned and dressed. She threw open the room darkening curtains and squinted at the noon sunlight. She poked her head out of the window and trotted out onto the balcony. She saw no sign of the usual guards in the courtyard far below or on the ivy covered castle walls on this side. Her dear sister had kept her promise. She clapped her silver slipper clad forehooves with glee as she crept out onto the edge of the balcony and took wing.

A few moments later, her hooves clattered down onto the smooth, sandy stone of the ledge outside the lair of one Grumpeter Goat. She tapped her hoof lightly on the heavily reinforced iron door. She smiled as it opened to reveal a floating goat skull with an ever-burning candle situated between the horns. She glanced all about to ensure that she had not been followed and slipped into the cave.

After a few moments, she emerged from the cave, seeming no different from when she entered. Accompanied by the floating skull and a tall, slender alicorn skeleton she stretched her wings a bit as she prepared herself for the flight down to Ponyville.

“I trust we’ll be seeing you at Caramel Treat’s this evening?” The caprine necromancer smiled, in spite of the fact that a skull should not be able to do so.

“Of course, I would not dream of missing it! Will you be coming as well, Litch King?”

The skeleton nodded, his head bobbed up and down on his long, bony neck, “I have a few appointments set for later on, but nothing that should keep me from joining the festivities tonight.”

The princess practically squealed with glee as she lifted off from the ledge, her great wings stirred up a bit of dust and swirled dry leaves that had blown up onto the ledge. “Tonight then, dear Grumpeter and Litch King! I have a few more things to pick up for the festivities!”

Grumpy goat simply chuckled quietly to himself as she flitted off, then watched as a tall, slender zebra in a lab coat made his way up the path. Yes, anyone who tried to interfere in this night’s festivities would get a few nasty surprises.

A few hours later and the Nightmare Night celebration at Caramel Treat’s was in full swing! As the weather had been unseasonably warm, she had decided to move the celebration outdoors this year. Corn, carrots and hay-burgers sizzled on a huge grill while buns toasted alongside clover-top scrambles on a griddle. Princess Luna, now dressed in a heavily-stitched faux-leather version of her Nightmare Moon armor used her magic to swirl a delicious red-candy coating on a few bright green apples.

Caramel Treat and Fangrin in their huge Everfree Ridgeback wolf forms watched over their famous foal bowl as the children waiting in line were entertained by what looked like a huge, gangling horror of a scarecrow horse. Tall as a Rom, it stumped around loudly on the four clunky wooden boards that made up its legs. A straw-stuffed blanket made up the body of the thing, a small, scorched broom for a tail. The head, however was perhaps the most unsettling. It was a huge, white straw-stuffed burlap sack. Eyes and lines for a harness had been crudely painted on the rough cloth, but where the mouth would be the fabric was brownish red as though stained with old blood. It raced back and forth and clumped along after the children to herd them into an orderly line! Every now and then it would rear WAY up on its spindly hind legs until it fell onto its rump. Then it would cock its head quizzically at the children and topple over on its side like a small tree before almost magically rising back to its legs.

The foals, dressed as ghosts and goblins, princesses and adventurers laughed and giggled at the gangling thing as it spun and danced. They then grabbed huge hoof-fulls of sweet treats from the huge foal bowl before scattering quickly off into the night. Caramel and Fangrin laughed and smiled, glad to make so many foals happy, and adults for that matter! They let out a howl of joy for the mares and stallions who were lined up almost around the block to purchase the delicious smelling food.

The festivities were soon interrupted, however, by two armed royal guards pushing their way through the crowd. They shouted at the ponies to get out of their way as they rudely bullied their way towards the happily smiling princess. She was switching from the shining red candy to smooth, butter-scented caramel to coat her apples.

“Your Highness! What are you doing here, we were told you were sick in bed?!”

Luna, who had been completely absorbed in making the delicious sweets let out a yelp and dropped her freshly-coated apple in the dirt! “Wh... What are you.... Wait...” She stammered a moment, then regained her composure. She smiled merrily over at Grumpy who was having a bit of fun as he thumped a spiky club on the ground and pretended to chase the foals around. “You were right, Grumpy! This glamour makes me look just like her!”

The two guards blinked in surprise and looked at each other a moment, completely unamused. “What nonsense are you speaking of? If you’re not sick you need to come with us at once, you have royal obligations to fulfill!”

The princess’ voice seemed to change slightly, softening and adopting a bit of southern drawl, “Grumpy, dear? Do us a favor and drop this glamour from me, won’tcha? These boys ain’t gonna leave until we show ‘em and I can always just put on another costume.”

As Grumpeter trotted over, his skull grinned evilly as he leered at the guards. He was flanked by the huge skeletal form of the Litch King, which made the guards grip their long spears a little more tightly. “Of course, Daisy. Don’t worry about another costume, though. I’ll re-apply the galmour after these two have finished making fools of themselves and leave..”

The pegasus guards bristled at the comment, their wings flared out wide in agitation as Grumpeter went about his non-equine magical business. He made a great show as he chanted archaic-sounding nonsense and made grand gestures with the club clasped in his invisible hooves. He traced a few demonic looking symbols in the dirt before he produced a contract seemingly from thin air. He touched it to the glowing flame of the ever-burning candle atop his skull and it FLASHED into a great green fireball. The guards were blinded for a moment, then blinked in amazement at what they saw.

There where the princess had stood was a tall, slender white unicorn mare. She was dressed in a cheap-looking copy of Nightmare Moon’s armor and the image of a string of daisies adorned her flank. Her mane was a deep midnight blue and her eyes were the grayish green of a stormy sea.

She raised a delicate hoof in greeting as she bowed to the guards. “Mah name is Daisy Chain. Are y’all satisfied now?”

Both of the guards stood dumbfounded for a long moment. One of them had his wings stuck straight up in the air as he let his eyes travel over the attractive form of the lovely mare. His partner elbowed him sharply in the ribs with a foreleg which caused his armor to clatter loudly before he doffed his helmet. His mane was cut so close to his head and neck you could not tell what color it was supposed to be.

“Our apologies. We should have checked more carefully before we barged in.”

“Y.. Yeah! Yes, um.. so... so sorry...” The other guard stammered. A red blush had crept into his cheeks and he seemed unable to take his eyes off of Daisy.

The first guard rolled his eyes, grabbed his partner by the wing and slowly started to drag him away.

As soon as the guards were out of sight, Grumpy repeated his arcane “ritual” and sent up another mystical contract in a flash of bright green flame! The unicorn mare, Daisy Chain was truly gone, and their nightmare princess stood proudly in her pace, decked out in her full armor.

“Huzzah! Now we should have a fun night without interruption!”

If only that had been the case. They did indeed have a few more hours of uninterrupted merriment before trouble approached once more.

“BLASPHEMY!”

The two huge werewolves and Peanut Brittle, who had been disguised as a classic Canterlot gargoyle all rolled their eyes in unison. Hortimer, proud leader of the infamous Celestian Church had stormed onto the scene in all of his “glory”. With a gang of about five or six unicorns in tow behind him there was sure to be trouble. They approached the gay festivities quickly, bellowed their false scripture and attempted to chase off the poor foals and hungry customers who were attending the party. The ragged scarecrow pony went stock-still nearby as Luna just continued to cook. She had moved over to a swiftly bubbling fryer and had just started a batch of fresh funnel cakes when the unwelcome guests had arrived. She tried desperately tried to make sure they would not burn. She kept herself as quiet as she was able and carefully listened to what was happening. She sincerely hoped that she would not have to break her ruse and use her station as princess to stop the gathered mob of overblown unicorn supremacists.

“You should all be ashamed of yourselves, cavorting around, dressed as foul, demonic beasts and glorifying the evil night mare!”

Grumpeter was just about to mumble the word “Blooper!" to cast his favorite non-lethal spell, Friday the 13th, on the unruly unicorns when the towering Litch King laid a cold, bony hoof on his shoulder and pointed slowly off to the side. The horrific looking scarecrow pony had started to wiggle its way closer to the group. A larger unicorn stallion with olive drab fur and a bright, if greasy, royal blue mane and tail had picked up a large rock and hurled it into the crowd. It had narrowly missed a young filly before she dashed out of the way. Turning his likely drunken gaze towards the decorations, he noticed the huge, gangling scarecrow nearby. He turned his back to the straw-horse, reared up and delivered a powerful kick which knocked it onto its side with a loud clattering of wood. Snorting at what he thought was just a decoration, he resumed his raucous shouts.

Soon, their yells and jeers were joined by a great clattering and cracking of splintering wood. The sound of a heavy saddle blanket being torn asunder filled the air along with a series of sharp snaps as heavy leather straps burst apart. Slowly, what had once been a scarecrow rose up on all fours, towering over the Celestian congregation. An ancient-looking timberwolf, its body shot through with thorny vines, rot and fungus glared down at them as demonic magic seemed to flow freely from its sunken, glowing green eyes. The horrid beast was easily the size of a pony-drawn carriage and a foul ichor drooled from its wooden-stake fangs. It let out a deafening roar that all in attendance would later remark sounded like a hurricane tearing a forest to shreds. Before any of them could react, the huge beast leapt high into the air with frightening ease, landed in the center of the gaggle of unicorns with a crash and scattered them in all directions!

Hortimer was the first cowardly pony out of there as he quickly scrambled off. He did his best to keep himself low to the ground, clutched at his holy symbol and prayed he would not be seen by the ravening monster. The rest of the motley crew rapidly scrambled off into the relative safety of the night in random directions save one. The huge timberwolf pursued the shrieking olive drab pony off into the brush of the Everfree. The bleached bone skull of the Litch King gave Grumpeter a knowing grin as he swiftly vanished from sight. After a few moments there was a loud cry in the distance. Had it been a scream, or some kind of bird call? None at the party could tell. All they knew was that the skeletal alicorn returned a few moments later, a horribly satisfied grin spread across his skull.

About an hour later, the party was back in full swing. The happy foals had begun to sing and play as the adults enjoyed the wonderful food and games. Luna let out a slight sneeze as her muzzle was suddenly covered with suddenly cinnamon sugar! The top of her shaker had flown off while she tried to finish off another batch of warm funnel cakes. Caramel enjoyed making a nice profit as well!

Eventually, the ragged scarecrow pony slowly stumped its way out of the forest on its thin stick legs as good as new. Perhaps even a bit better as the body looked a bit more thoroughly stuffed than it had earlier in the night and the stains on the muzzle of the burlap head looked to be a much brighter red hue and fresh almost to the point of dripping.

As it clattered its way past Grumpy the sly goat whispered, “Enjoy your meal, Doctor?”

The bulbous burlap head wrinkled and shifted slowly into a sly wink and a wicked grin before the creature went back to its job of herding the foals.

#MLP #text #story #mordenheim #pony #Halloween #Nightmare Night

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darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts · 6 years ago

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Plots and Pleasing Smiles

@umbralaperture I accepted this “abuse” of my prompt system because it’s a special occasion. I’m only joking of course. Not only did this sound like a challenge, how could I possibly refuse a request for your birthday? I kinda hope this works… Please excuse the shameless self-insert in this one I couldn’t not be there for your special day. x

**The rest of the prompts received for my Thank You Plan will be written and posted starting in August. This is an early reveal of one so I do not miss a birthday.**

ALL THE WARLORDS / Modern / Song #23 / Fluff

#23: Sonne – Rammstien

WARNING: Strong Language

---

Plots and Pleasing Smiles

Work had been hectic and that was putting it mildly. Everyone seemed to want something doing and it all had to have been done yesterday. She sighed at her desk looking again at the clock on the wall taunting her with the reminder of the low passage of time.

She thought back on the past week that had seen the rest of the household acting unusual. Hushed voices, whispered secrets and late-night trysts that she had been left out of. She had naturally received constant reassurance that none of it was anything to worry about but how could she not when all the men in her life seemed intent to keep things from her?

*Sigh*

“You know that is you up to 8 sighs per minute? Gonna have to start charging you on excessive exhaling soon.” A mirthful voice came from next to her and it was only then that she noticed the other woman standing next to her.

“Is it? Damn sorry I guess I’m just a little tired.” A thin smile pulled at the edges of her mouth as she looked up at the teasing blue eyes of her friend.

“No wonder.” How many jobs did you get stuck with today? This has to be enough work for 6 people right here.” Aerion reached out and absently flipped the corners on the document files stacked high on the desktop. Her voice had a joking tone but the wince she failed to hide in her expression told a different story. She’s worried about me.

“Probably but it's ok I can do it.” She straightened in her chair again, a new resolve emerging with her attempt to reassure her friend.

“Just because you can do it Naiya doesn’t mean you should.” Aerion declared whilst swooping in to swipe half a stack of the files.

“Hey!” Naiya made a grab for the stolen workload only to have it effortlessly removed from her reach.

“A job halved is one less job for you to do at the end of the day. I’ve nearly finished mine I can do at least this much.” Aerion smiled knowing her friend was in no fit state to really put up a fight.

“Did I ever tell you how much I love you?”

“Not since I brought you coffee earlier. Besides you really want to be throwing around dangerous proclamations like who you love when you have a harem at home?” The smile on her face was as vulpine as someone else’s Naiya knew all too well.

“Haha, must you call them that?” Feeling a blush heating up her face Naiya laughed wryly.

“What else would you like me to call them? Anyway, none of that matters as long as you’re all happy and no one is getting hurt.” Aerion shrugged and thankfully dropped her teasing.

“How supportive.”

“Meh. It’s who I am. Oh shit, that’s my phone!” Scuttling back to her desk to grab the call. Naiya let out a bark of laughter when Aerion had to juggle the files in her arm and the receiver to prevent dropping them. Earning her a small pout from her friend as they stuck their tongue out at her whilst talking in her official business voice.

---

The commute home was cursed. The weather that had been forecast as sun all day had turned into a downpour of rain from nowhere, and it naturally just had to wait to do that at the exact moment she was getting off the train for her short walk home. Dropping her bag on the chair in the hallway she peeled her coat off discovering it had done nothing to prevent her from getting soaked.

“Great.” She grimaced and pulled a little at the fabric sticking to her skin.

“Princess you’re home!” The delighted voice didn’t give her a chance to prepare herself for the hug attack. A pair of deceptively strong arms wrapped around her from behind, the smell of peaches tickling her nose.

“That looks like fun. May I join?” He was a little more reserved than Ranmaru but it was clear Mitsunari was no less happy to welcome her home.”

“Sure. Hi Honey.” She freed her arms from the embrace she was already in to hold them out for the second man to come to her. An invitation he happily accepted. She giggled suddenly remembering Ieyasu’s comment about it like being greeted by a couple of puppies.

“We’ve all been waiting for you. You’re soaked!” Ranmaru pulled away from her suddenly realising the state she was in and began giving her a concerned look from the top of her head to her toes.

“Well, it did rain.”

“Come inside quickly I’ll go grab a towel. Ranmaru would you?” Mitsunari slipped away leaving her arms and she shivered at the loss of warmth.

“On it.” Ranmaru stooped down to scoop her up into a princess style carry and began walking as if she weighed no more than a throw pillow.

“I can walk you know?”

“Yes, but this way I get to hug you and get you warm all at once. You not want me to Princess?” He constructed his face into one that looked like a wounded puppy. He knew she couldn’t say anything against those eyes.

“That look should be illegal how do you expect me to say no?”

“Ran, put her down over here.” Kennyo called out from the sofa looking up from a book he had rested on the arm. Depositing her gently next to the calming influence in the house Ranmaru vanished into the kitchen where what sounded like a small army was fighting.

“Now then Angel drink this.” A large hand and honeyed voice supplied a steaming cup of cocoa. She relaxed even more finally feeling like she was officially home and took a sip.

“God that’s sweet.”

“I tried to stop him putting in so much sugar but he insisted it was not sweet enough.” Yuki grumbled his complaint from his position by Sasuke. It looked like the pair were engrossed in watching something on the latter’s laptop. Another project for work, I guess?

“Sweets are good for reviving the soul Yuki.” Shingen’s serious reply earned him an eye roll from the younger man.

“And rotting your teeth.” Hideyoshi gave his own opinion to no one, in particular, making her giggle at the familiar warmth in the room.

“If he had no teeth would he stop with the stomach-turning pillow talk?” Kenshin enquired swirling his glass of wine.

“Come on Kenshin we all said we’d give it a rest for the night.” Yoshimoto shrugged in a non-committal display of preferring not to get involved in anything that could develop into a war in the living room. His reclined pose by the window made him look like a finely sculpted work of art.

“You all did that? What exactly is going on?”

“Nothing for you to worry about, little mouse.” She had no idea where he had sprung from but Mitsuhide gave her nose a small tap with his finger startling her. A soft white towel fell over her head, turning her world dark for a few moments until she put down her empty cup and moved it enough to give a small judging glare to the smirking kitsune.

“Mitsuhide you have all been saying that for a week. I know I was busy with work but if something is going on, I want to know about it.” Naiya pouted, suppressing the sigh she knew was there.

“Fireball.” Nobunaga entered the room handing a large plain box off to Hideyoshi before grabbing a glass of whiskey and taking a seat. What is going on tonight? Hideyoshi vanished into the kitchen, her eyes followed him before tracking back to Nobunaga. “Do you not trust us?” Nobu had that unreadable expression fixed on his face as he looked at her. The same one he used in a boardroom when listening to someone give a report.

“You know I do. I just don’t like being left out the loop.” She busied herself with the towel drying off her hair only to find it plucked from her hands by Hideyoshi who had taken over the task without asking.

“It’s true even at work she has to know everything.” Mitsuhide cast out his playful comment as he watched Hideyoshi take over his usual mothering role.

“Well, how do you expect me to do my job if I didn’t?”

“Fair point.”

“What smells so good anyway?” Naiya tried to turn her head to get a better view of the kitchen. Every time one of the others went in or out the door served as a kind of fan to waft the smell of gastric temptation around. The only issue was from the angle she was in, and the speed with which they were all moving she couldn’t even get a glimpse.

“Dinner. Masa is doing it. It was supposed to be a BBQ but then the heaven’s opened and quashed that plan.” Shingen filled her in with as much detail as he was willing to divulge. Hideyoshi had retreated after smoothing down her hair attempting to stop Nobu from eating whatever contraband he suddenly noticed he had. Mitsuhide was stifling a laugh that probably gave away the fact that he was the source of whatever breach of the “no candy before dinner” rule.

“Are you warm enough?” Kennyo asked after softly closing his book and putting an arm around her shoulders, giving her a small squeeze.

“Yes, thank you Kennyo dear.”

“Dinner is about to come out. Are you all gonna get your butts into the dining room?” Masa bounced out the kitchen a tea towel draped over one shoulder bashing a ladle against a pot lid to gain everyone’s attention.

“Eloquent as ever Masa.” Yoshimoto cracked a joke that had everyone laughing before rising from his seat.

“Hey man, my food speaks for itself.”

“It’s true and it has much better manners.” Ieyasu grumbled from by Masa’s elbow as they had both been in the kitchen.

“HEY! Just for that Yasu I’m putting one less strawberry on your desert.” Masa tried to make a grab for the fluffy-haired blonde and missed.

“See if I care.”

---

“Oh my god! What is all this?” She couldn’t quite get over it. When they all made it to the dining room nothing was as it was normally. The furniture was still there but it was now covered in finely crafted paper decorations and things that looked like glitter gems. Fairy lights and strings of lanterns had been draped around the space too.

“It was supposed to be a surprise BBQ dinner but when it rained, we had to set everything up in here instead.” Ieyasu explained.

“We wanted to have dinner under the moon with our brightest star.” Shingen took her hand placing a kiss on the back of it.

“More poetic claptrap.” Kenshin said brushing past into the room making for the drinks set up on the sideboard.

“You guys did all this?”

“Yes. Ranmaru and Mitsunari were in charge of helping Yoshimoto with the paper decorations. Kennyo went out with Hideyoshi and Shingen to gather the rest of the decorations. Masa dragged Ieyasu around the market for the food.” Sasuke began his break down of the day's events as if he was reciting something from one of his science reports.

“It was hell” Ieyasu muttered his ears turning a little red for some reason.

“Kenshin and Mitsuhide arranged all the drinks. And Yukimura and I were in charge of all the setting up. And the dismantling…”

“And the setting up... again.” Yuki added putting an arm around Sasuke’s shoulders a proud smile on his face.

“Haha, that all sounds like a hell of a lot of work. Was this what you were all being so secretive about?” Naiya looked around the room the many smiling faces of the people she loved and who loved her in return. “It’s wonderful but don’t you think it’s a little overly elaborate for dinner?”

“What do you mean?” The smiles from before were replaced by ones of varying confusion.

“Oh, dear it seems the Princess has forgotten.” Mitsunari gave a kind look as he empathised with her. What? What have I forgotten?

“I think you could be right.”

“Foods here come and get it!” Masa came in carrying the last of the large platters of food, the roast beef and chicken carved up beautifully in a mouth-watering display.

“Great I’m starving.” The last man to join in the gathering stood in the doorway making an over-exaggerated display out of stretching, his shirt untucking itself from his pants revealing just a hint of bare skin at his hips

“Hey, Motonari where did you just spring from?” Ranmaru gave a judgemental glare. In all the break down of things done today, it didn’t appear that the guy with a reputation as most hard to pin down when chores were being done had actually done anything to help today.

“Nowhere. I was sleeping. Ooo chicken!” With carefree abandon and completely ignoring anyone else’s opinions on the matter, Motonari grabbed a chicken leg from the platter as it was being set down and brought it up to his mouth taring a piece off it like a caveman.

“Hey don’t go taking it like that! Bloody Pirate.”

“Snooze you lose.”

“What is it I’m supposed to have forgotten?” Her words drew 13.5 sets of eyes back to her as she was guided into her seat at the table. Seriously what is so important?

“What tomorrow is Fireball.” Nobu took a cake from a different table carrying it over to put in front of her. The beautiful mirror glaze looked like a galaxy.

“Nobu is that?”

“I went into town myself on an errand and got this from your favourite bakery.”

“Oh my…” Her eyes fell on the scripture picked out in flowing fondant on the top.

You are our Sun in the daytime and Brightest Star in our night

The room was silent for a moment waiting for her blissfully happy smile to settle on her face before it was broken by a chorus of voices. How could I have forgotten this?

“1, 2, 3… Happy Birthday, Princess!”

---

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shy-magpie · 6 years ago

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RQG Discord

So hi, I was mentioning something about the discord in my live blog of RQG 99, and it occurred to me that I should probably mention that I am now on there. I want to be the kind of person that makes civilized post with great insight about Discord Vs Tumblr, but mostly I want to yell that I love everyone in this bar. I have never used a discord before and (makes vague hand gestures at things like I just wrote the live blog for episode 99 the current episode is 131 but am posting this after my live blog of episode 77) you've seen what I'm like; so it's going to be a while before I quit lurking and post. I started at the beginning of the the RQG specific discord and am working my way towards the present. Why yes, that is a lot of scrolling every time I open the page, but the pins help. Thanks to everyone who encouraged me to join, even if I'm not posting it's good to hang around the fandom. Honestly between the show and the fandom my standards are so raised. I keep being surprised by things like how many people put their pronouns in their handle, and how no one makes a fuss about not using standard combos, then realizing that making room for people like me isn't too big of an ask. BTW I want to hug everyone of you using a name that "matches" your pronouns and still puts them in your handle. Especially since no one has put Name(gender) instead of Name(pronouns), the way you kids get name doesn’t equal gender doesn't equal pronouns, is giving me life. But on a lighter note, no one is being mean to the mods or throwing a fit when someone suggests that they should take a conversation to another board. No one is being a jerk to the cast or flipping out if someone criticizes their fav/defends their anti fav. We even have a Bertie or two fan who are up to date and the worst it's gotten is like "but... " "I know but we aren't going to change eachother's minds". Seeing this in action isn't why I love this forum, there are so many reasons to love this forum, but it is why I won't be going back to some of the hostile places I used to chalk up to "what the internet is like". Also I love every single one of this fandom, including you, lurker who is reading this without having posted a word anywhere. We have fan artists, authors, someone is making a Sasha Barbie, I am pretty sure a couple of you invented new ways to be creative with RQG, and they are all rightly celebrated without anyone trying to compare them or tear someone down for not getting things exactly according to canon. I also love how the transcripts and closed captions started so organically with people stepping up to work together and people aren't getting snitty about what isn't done yet (you have no idea how tired I am of people volunteering their own time to do something for the fandom only to be effectively driven out by people demanding they produce perfectly at a rate you wouldn't get from a hired team). We have someone going through to mark every time they sleep and instead of hassle about that being an unusual way to relisten people are being grateful and combine it with an independent effort to figure out the timeline. I love everyone of you who linked to songs from Galavant or shared a D&D meme or made your own meme. I love those of you who share anything about setting yourself on fire or blowing yourself up with #Hamid, even though I'm not there yet. I love Bryn for giving his character a long name because whenever someone posts a fireball fail joke I can mutter "Hamid Saleh Haroun al Tahan, what did you do!?!" and it is so satisfying (even if I am pretty sure I know exactly what he is going to do). I love the people who ask about how obscure bits of history work in this verse, I love the people who ask for context to understand the question, and I especially love everyone who cheerfully explains and simplifies history so no one feels left out or embarrassed. I love everyone who is coming in late like me, and posts to say that they just met Azu and would die for her. I love everyone who is up to date, and instead of telling them to binge faster, simply replies by embracing their new fan friend and assuring them that we would all die for Azu, except we think it might make her sad. I love how gracious Helen is every time we post about Azu, even when she has to repeat herself, like on Azu coming from a town so small they don't have last names. I love Anil and all the mods, and the fandom for getting that without mods the discord wouldn't stay the wonderful place it is. I have a post somewhere about loving Bryn and Lydia so much it makes me kinder to myself so I trust you'll forgive me for not going on about how great they are on the discord as well. I don't just respect Alex's craft in the game, I love how we can post about him by name and he never gets insulted by us calling him evil, but still cheerfully swings by to answer questions. I love Ben, how he gets into Grizzop's thoughts and both the watsonian and doyalist reasons for what he does. (I am also looking forward to reading his posts during the time the episode with Zolf's return is recorded but in the buffer so fans won't know for weeks. My current bet is I won't be able to tell when the buffer starts because Ben is a healthier version of Zolf in terms of playing things so close to his chest you can forget he is playing). In short, I love everyone in the discord, (probably everyone in the fandom) and thank you all with especial gratitude for those of you who encouraged me to join the discord. I hope you can forgive me for tossing this at my queue and running without too much editing; I am working on my shyness but you all need to know how great you are, so this was a compromise.

#Rusty Quill Gaming #discord #on fandom #long post

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firebirdsdaughter · 6 years ago

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Random Writing Tidbit Hmmm...

... ‘Easier to write for Geiz’ I say.

SO WHY IS THIS LONGER?

Actually, this was pretty hard to write. I went back through and edited a couple times, so if there’s weird phrasing, I may have deleted something and then not quite corrected it.

Also... Well, the other one came out before episode 16, and this one is after, so there’s... Slight differences in tone, I guess would be the best way to say it. I suppose you’ll see if you read it.

Well, I’ll just throw it down here, then. It’s not that great, either. But if I went and wrote it might as well put it where people can read it if they like.

Alternatively known as Part Sougo.

For a moment—probably less, actually—everything was frozen.

Sougo’s movements were jerky and slow as he tried to get his bearings after hitting the ground, spinning around to look for who had pushed him, even though he already knew.

Even when it was calling out a word as foreign to it as his name, he knew that voice. He knew before he even finished turning who it was, the panic rising in his chest—far faster than anything else was moving—bursting fourth in a terrified cry;

“Geiz!”

Geiz didn’t move; because it was barely a second, however long it seemed to Sougo. The other Rider’s head was cocked slightly to the side, like he, too, was genuinely surprised by what he had just done—which made sense. Though their relationship had drastically changed, lost the majority of its hostility, Sougo had never even dreamed Geiz would ever go this far for him—though perhaps that was because this situation would have fit better into nightmares than dreams.

One of his arms drags itself up through the thickness of his slowed perception, even the fingertips stretching out. If he could just grab onto Geiz’s arm, his hand, something, pull him down, too, then maybe…

Maybe he could save his friend.

And maybe he was imagining it, but in that slow, elongated moment, he’d swear that Geiz’s arm twitched upwards, reaching back towards him, without hesitation.

And then in a roar of heat and flame, the blast struck. And time returned to normal.

Sparks and smoke filled Sougo’s vision, debris forcing him to duck and cover his head. He heard a thud of something—someone—slamming hard into cement to his left, a sound not that unusual that was somehow horrible when he knew what it was.

He came back up as quickly as he could, casting about. He found Geiz on the ground several paces away, deHenshined, sprawled on his side, far too still for comfort. It was enough to bring his aching legs back to life, to heave himself up and stumble over, dropping onto the ground beside the other Rider like something had let the air out of him, dropping his own transformation. His hands scrambled on Geiz’ shoulders, trying to pull him protectively close and check the damage at the same time.

There was a massive crater in the wall, the force with which Geiz had been thrown into it having destroyed part of the cement, which wasn’t a good sign. There was some comfort—he could feel the other boy’s shallow breathing in his arms, even though it was haphazard, weak, and pained, and he didn’t think anything was broken. But it also felt like Geiz was trembling—even shivering—against him. There was blood in his mouth, and smearing from numerous other gashes and grazes—from when he’d hit the wall and ground, Sougo assumed—and masses of nasty burns from where the fire had made contact. When he lay a hand against the back of Geiz’s head while cradling it to his shoulder, the palm came away wet and red, blood clotting in the other Rider’s hair. He must have slammed his head into the wall when he was knocked out of his transformation. This was even worse.

It was wrong, too. Geiz felt small and fragile in his arms, shaking even while unconscious, breathing laboured. Not only was he taller than Sougo, but his steadfast personality always rejected and masked anything that might even possibly be construed as weakness. Ordinarily, he would never consent to being cradled wounded in anyone’s arms, especially Sougo’s—but now his eyes gave no sign of opening, and the only change in his expression were faint, unconscious winces.

But that was why he’d known he could trust Geiz right from the start. Not necessarily to be nice to him or not take a swing at him, but to be honest with him. Lying or deceiving were things Geiz was completely incapable of—Sougo was pretty sure he didn’t even know the meaning of the words. He could not and would not pretend to be other than what he was; true, honourable, earnest. Good. Too good to kill a person in cold blood when he actually thought about it, why most of his attempts never seemed to go through, or even have the same murderous intent as their original meeting.

Despite repetitive threats, the more time they’d spent together, the less enmity had been behind them. Though the other boy’s difficult life had made him uncertain and even afraid of showing any sentiment whatsoever, Sougo had even begun to suspect that Geiz actually liked him—liked him enough to risk forgoing the most direct route to save the future, probably the only even remotely selfish thing Geiz had ever done.

When he’d found out he was right, in a way, it was just as exciting as reaffirming him dreams—maybe even more so, though if he ever said that to Geiz he knew the other boy would immediately panic and flee the room—because he was very clear on how faithful a friend he’d finally made. Woz had once claimed that Tsukuyomi and Geiz weren’t on his side—he supposed that had been true when Woz actually said it, but now… Now he was reasonably Tsukuyomi and Geiz were the only ones who were actually on his side. On Tokiwa Sougo’s side. Not Ouma Zi-O’s—like Woz himself, or Kisshan. On the side of the person he was now, of the king he wanted to be, not a twisted version already decided for him. And he knew he could rely on them. Sure, Geiz’s trust had been a battle to gain, but once won, his loyalty ran deep.

… Deep enough to throw himself between a fireball and someone he’d originally intended to kill. Perhaps he should have this day coming.

Something moved behind him, and he remembered their opponents were still there. Under usual circumstances, he supposed he could have handled them alone, thought it would have been painful. But Geiz being out of commission—and possibly concussed, bleeding internally, or worse, noted a voice in his head that really loved to make things even better—made him a target, and Sougo didn’t think he could fight that hard and protect his friend at the same time. So instead, he fumbled for his Bike Watch, activating it as quickly as possible. Trying to leverage Geiz as gently as he could, he heaved the wounded Rider up and loaded him onto the back of the bike, scrambling on himself and hitting the gas. He didn’t know were they were going or how long he could drive, but it was the only option without the Time Majins on hand, especially as he heard other engines rev behind them.

So he drove, shifting slightly so that he could feel Geiz’s heartbeat, ailing and small, but still just barely noticeable, through his back.

And prayed that Tsukuyomi would find them first.

Yeah. Not great. But here it is.

Kinda wonder if the first fifteen-sixteen eps were loosely about the trio figuring themselves and their relationship out and establishing their position. They’re a unit now, and I feel like they all better understand how they feel about each other. Like, ‘yeah, okay, maybe we actually do care about each other.’ Kinda wondering if they’re gonna have a sort of ‘us against the world’ mentality? Like, Woz (well, original Woz) we know is on Puma Zi-O’s side, the Time Jackets are on their own side... I feel like the Zi-Ot3 is gonna establish their own side? Like the ‘create your own future’ message seems to have been rather strong?

I mean, we seem to be starting some kind of ‘Woz Arc’ next ep, so we’ll see where that goes. Actually this thought I had was that if New Woz comes from an alternate timeline where Sougo is a ‘good king’ (still not sure ‘king’ is gonna end up actually meaning ‘king who rules stuff’), and the upcoming arc is how those two timelines are gonna clash? But I think in the end we’re gonna end up w/ a third, sort of merged timeline, or something.

Did... Did any of that make any sense?

#Kamen Rider Zi-O #Random Writing Tidbit #Random Writing Tidbits #Zi-Ot3 #i love them okay #i really like this trio they make me smile #i like to smile #^^#however creepy i look doing it #i'm sorry this is so bad though #but #have I mentioned I love Geiz?#(well yeah bc i grievously wound him here)#actually i had another idea for a Zi-O fit that's longer #and also probably even MORE depressing #YAY! <3 #XD #anyway #Timey Wimey Rider

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walviemort · 7 years ago

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paternal instincts, part 2

Emma’s fear of pregnancy leads Killian to find—and use—a spell that allows him to carry their child instead. A canon-divergent CS pregnancy fic, just with the roles flipped a bit. (mpreg; rated T for implied sexy times) | AO3

A/N: dedicated to @sherlockianwhovian and @cocohook38 for their inspiration

Part 1

Chapter 2—Let’s Make A Baby

Summary: The spell is cast—but how long will they have to wait to find out if it worked?

“Ugh, I’m supposed to drink that?” Emma’s nose crinkled in disgust as she sniffed the potion brewing in Regina’s vault. “That smells terrible and looks worse.”

A few days after making the decision to give male pregnancy a go, they got together with Regina to get started on the spell. Truly, the number of foreign objects it required did make Killian give it a sidelong glance, and the egg it contained smelled as though it was long past its prime. But they trusted Regina.

“The most effective potions are usually the most disgusting, but the last ingredient should help,” the queen assured them.

“What’s left?” Emma asked, and Regina answered by plucking a hair off Emma’s head, drawing a yelp. (Killian was consequently more prepared when Regina grabbed a few of his.)

After twisting the hairs together, Regina dropped them into the brew and conjured a fireball, which she then used to ignite the burner below the cauldron. The gray, sludgy draught began to glow as Regina stirred it, until it illuminated the entire room with white light. Killian shielded his eyes from it, but a few moments later, it stopped, leaving behind a much more pleasant-looking purple liquid.

“That’s it?” Emma asked, peering in. “Where did all the gross go?”

“It’s saving itself for when your future child spits up on you,” Regina quipped with a smirk.

“I’m suddenly remembering all the crap that goes along with birth, too,” Emma added. She cast an apologetic glance toward Killian. “Sorry in advance.”

He had to chuckle a bit. “I was a pirate for well over a century, love; I’ve seen more than my fair share of gore.” He waved his hook for emphasis. “I’m sure I can handle whatever’s to come.”

“I’m gonna remind you of that,” she teased back, smiling.

Regina made quick work of bottling the potion, making sure the right amount got into the vial, and handing it to Emma. “Well, there you go. Do you want to drink it now, or later?”

Emma took it gingerly, holding it in her fingers like it might break. For a moment, she studied it intently, but then turned to Killian. “Do you have your flask?”

He reached into his inner coat pocket to pull it out. “Of course.”

“Cheers?” she offered, a bit uncertainly, and held up the vial towards him.

With his thumb, he flicked the cork off his flask, suddenly aware that this would be one of the last times he could do so for a while, assuming all went well. “Cheers, love,” he replied, lightly tapping her drink with his.

Simultaneously, they brought their phials to their lips; he only took a small sip of his as he watched Emma drain the small bottle. It seemed to go down without issue, and she actually licked her lips when she was done. “That was actually...kind of sweet,” she observed, setting the empty glass on the table.

He stepped forward and took one of her hands. “How do you feel, love?” His worst fear was that it would somehow go on to hurt her.

“Fine,” she said right away, but then pressed her free hand low on her abdomen. “It tingles a little, but it’s not uncomfortable. What about you?”

“Nothing.”

“And he probably won’t for a while,” Regina added, reading over the spell. “Just like normal conception, once it happens, you probably won’t notice for a bit.”

They nodded at her, and then stared at each other. A slight heaviness hung over them, realizing what might come next. But he knew a good way to diffuse the tension.

He gave Emma and wink and said, “So, love, what say we get started?”

She stepped a bit closer to him with a flirtatious smirk. ��Sounds good to me.”

“Not in my vault, you won’t!” Regina exclaimed. “You have a room; go use it.”

“Okay, bye, Regina,” Emma said, not unlike a teenager might. “And thank you,” she added, more genuine.

The queen gave them a soft smile. “Good luck.”

The gray smoke of Emma’s magic then surrounded them, and they were back home, in their bedroom.

“You ready for this?” Emma was looking up at him with a tiny smile, slightly trepidatious, but he could also see the excitement in her eyes.

“Aye, love. With you, always.”

The next few weeks were some of the more pleasurable in Killian’s memory. How could he complain at the chance to make love to his amazing wife almost every night? Unless they had to work a late shift or were sick, they came together as often as possible in hopes of conceiving.

One night after their first couple attempts, falling sated into their bed after a rather pleasurable shower, Killian held Emma close to him with his hand over her midsection, as if he was trying to sense a change.

“Do you feel any different, love?” he asked quietly as her hand joined his.

“I mean, I’ve been pretty sore all over with how much we’ve been going at it, but I don’t feel any different than I normally do after sex.” She squeezed his hand. “It’ll happen when it happens.”

“Aye,” he agreed, but he was finding he was more impatient than he thought he’d be.

About three weeks after taking the potion, Killian awoke one morning with a queasy stomach. Remembering that as being one of the early signs of pregnancy, he got excited, even if all he could manage for breakfast was some dry toast. But Emma’s complaints of cramps and menses later on put those thoughts to rest for a bit, and his stomach bug disappeared after a day.

After that, he tried to tamp down his own expectations, reminding himself what Emma said—it would happen when it was meant to. They certainly enjoyed their continued copulation as they tried, and managed not scar Henry in the process, which was an added bonus.

It was some weeks later when Emma joined Killian in the kitchen for breakfast, placed her awful tart pastries in the toaster, then leaned against the counter to look at him while he ate his cereal (a marvelous invention, really). “Hey, Killian,” she started.

“Yes, my love?” He looked up from his bowl at her. Her hands were crossed over her chest and she was studying him with a warm gaze. “What is it?”

“I think you might be pregnant.”

He swallowed; he truly didn’t want to get his hopes up again. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, for starters, my boobs kind of hurt, and it has nothing to do with what we did last night.” He involuntarily licked his lips at the memory, making her chuckle. “And second...I’m late.”

“How late?”

“A couple weeks.”

He hazarded a glance down at his stomach. Could there really be a new life growing in there, and he hadn’t noticed? He had been a bit more fatigued as of late, but he figured that was more to do with their evening activities than anything. And he was glad he hadn’t overindulged on alcohol anytime recently. Glancing back up, he asked, “How do we know for sure?”

“Well, I guess we should take a test.”

He’d seen the bits of plastic here that could tell a woman if she was with child, though he still wasn’t sure how they worked; it seemed to be time he found out. “Alright then. Shall you or I take it?”

Emma’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Oh. I don’t know. Maybe we both should, to be safe?”

They swung through the pharmacy on the way to work that morning, unable to wait any longer. And, over the course of the morning, they both took one (though he was quite shocked that his urine held the answer).

And both came up positive.

For a good, long moment, Killian just stared at the little plus sign on his, letting it wash over him: they were going to be parents. Unconsciously, his hand settled on his stomach where the product of their love now resided. There was still a long journey ahead of them, but knowing that they’d finally started it was an incredible feeling.

Blessedly, Leroy did not show up to the station unannounced as they celebrated the news in the back room.

To make sure, they scheduled an appointment with Dr. Whale, who confirmed it via a blood test: Killian was indeed pregnant. A further scan of his abdomen showed the image of a tiny, bean-shaped being deep inside him, and the doctor said the child was approximately 6 weeks along and would be due in late October, around Emma’s birthday.

As Killian cleaned the weird, cool gel off his stomach, he did have to ask, “Whale, how do you not find this odd?” Not once had the doctor questioned the fact that Killian was expecting rather than Emma.

Whale just shrugged. “Anything is possible with magic. I learned ages ago not to question it.”

Given the long list of odd things he’d born witness to as well, Killian accepted his answer. “Fair enough.”

The doctor printed off images of their child for them to take home and vowed not to say a word until they made it public knowledge. (The threat of Killian’s hook probably helped.)

Back home that night, they lay in bed as the sweat cooled on their bare skin, and Emma’s hand drifted down to rest just above his belly button. “I still can’t believe it worked,” she murmured in awe.

He placed his hand over hers. “Did you truly doubt it would?”

“Honestly, I’d kind of started to lose hope; and when I was late, I did panic for a second that the bean was in me.”

“Oh, love,” he said, pulling her tight with his blunted arm. He wished she’d told him her fears sooner. Though—hold on—“Did you say ‘the bean’?”

She smiled up at him sheepishly. “Yeah; I mean, we don’t know if the kid is a he or a she, and the picture looked a lot like a magic bean; so, given our history with those…”

He couldn’t help the grin that split his face at her explanation, though the tears that started brimming at his eyes were likely due to hormones. Memories of their trip up and down the beanstalk, and so many adventures in between, flooded his mind; it was honestly kind of amazing that they’d come this far from all of that.

“It’s perfect, Emma.” He squeezed her hand. “We’re having our very own magic bean,” he added, voice thick with emotion.

She placed a kiss on his shoulder. “And this one is going to take us on the greatest adventure of all.”

thanks for reading!

#cs ff #cs baby #mpreg

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slave2writing · 7 years ago

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World in Flames (3/?)

Part One

Full Chapters posted at Fanfiction.net and ArchiveofOurOwn

The sun began to set behind the bridge, casting the ocean in a brilliant hue of gold, the color spilling across shadows of skyscrapers looming above the city.

In preparation for the festival, police officers were being dispatched on the corner of every city block where the parade would soon be passing through. The floats were primed and ready, resting in Avatar Korra Park. Banners were strung up and held suspended above the concrete streets, some featuring the Fire Nation insignia, others depicting the solemn faces of popular Fire Lords or grinning Avatars. Families were camped out on rooftops, warming their hands around fire pits, roasting meat and laughing over stories, droplets of alcohol spraying over the sides of residential buildings.

Asami shoved her fists inside her coat pockets, skin prickling in discomfort as she kept bumping into people while trying to make her way back to the apartment, the city streets thickening with activity and tense anticipation.

While Fire Nation immigrants and descendants had never been explicitly forbidden from celebrating their ethnic heritage, their cultural center had previously always passed on the opportunity to publicly celebrate the beloved Fire Days Festival out of fear that any show of pride would come across as insensitive in the wake of the Hundred Year War.

It was a bit disconcerting for some pedestrians traversing the downtown area to see it taken over by street performers juggling fireballs, a chorus of school children being led in a traditional Fire Nation hymn, boisterous athletes racing around with spirit masks, grown men howling in pain while their friends and families keeled over laughing at the sight of them attempting to win a flaming fire flakes contest.

Ducking a bobbing lantern, the beginnings of a parade march about to take place, Asami neared her apartment building and raised her hand in greeting towards the doorman whose eyes always crinkled up when he smiled.

“Hey, Miss Sato!” He seemed excited about something, straightening his uniform with two quick tugs on the ends of his jacket.

“Bao.” She greeted him politely, passing through the door he quickly pushed open for her, taking out her mailbox key and reached in for the stacks of magazines she subscribed to. It was a healthy mix of scientific breakthroughs and revolutionary fashion. Gathering them up in her arms, she was mildly surprised when the doorman abandoned his post to follow her inside, beaming as he got the elevator for her, dragging the gate open and making to step inside with her.

Asami granted him a confused smile. “Ah…?”

“Oh,” Bao paused mid-step, still brimming with some excitement. “I thought you might need someone to help you into your apartment. Open the door?”

“I’m fine, thanks.” Asami arched a dark brow and waited for the doorman to sheepishly step back, closing the gate and the door to the elevator. She shook her head in bemusement, unsure if that was his weird and out of the blue attempt to hit on her, and punched in the penthouse button.

When the elevator rose to the tenth floor of the skyscraper, the light flooded through the windows carved into the box, the top half of the building providing Asami with a view as she continued to rise. Though she still had the mansion on the outskirts of the city, she found the massive estate far too quiet. She preferred her solitude to be accompanied by the hustle and bustle of the sleepless metropolis. She pressed her forehead against the small oval window, the light of a dying sun combing through her raven hair, she could almost feel the heat seeping across her scalp.

The elevator came to a halt, its passenger gently swaying before her body steadied. Balancing the stack of magazines in one arm, Asami drew open the gate and pushed open the elevator door which opened immediately into the penthouse foyer. Her low heels clicked on the small marble steps, and the main door creaked open, more of the dying sunlight spilling into the open suite than the young woman’s eyes could briefly handle. There were spots of shadow though, where her gaze jumped to for relief; the tall bonsai trees placed in almost every corner of the apartment, a human figure partially hidden beneath the shade of a large leaf.

Asami didn’t think to scream, or run away, or even contemplate fear. There was a spark of indignation, and then a full blown avalanche of rage propelling her forward, the stack of magazines slipping from her arms, each page slapping the floor.

The figure turned, startled by the war cry, and Asami barely had time to register the familiar shade of bright blue eyes before a gust of wind was skirting around her body, and she was lurching forward into nothing but solid wall, the bump of her nose brushing against it when suddenly there was a rock hard arm wrapped around her waistline, and heated breath on the nape of her neck.

“Sami, it’s me.”

Her body went to war; muscles loosening, going lax in the Avatar’s arms, while her heart pounded violently against her chest, breath quickening. When the Avatar seemed to trust she wasn’t about to attack, the arms around her waist relented, and Asami turned around.

“Korra.”

A blindingly white grin shone on the heiress’ glittering black gaze, like moonlight scraping the night sky. “Hey.”

There was a brief pause, the air between them still. And then they were both colliding in a hug, the shorter Avatar burrowing her face in jasmine scented tresses, inhaling her best friend’s comforting fragrance. Asami’s arms tightened around Korra’s broad shoulders, heart rate accelerating, thudding between her ears and at the base of her throat, she could not imagine Korra would be unable to hear it.

“You’re a lot softer than your statue…” Asami mumbled into her friend’s neck, cheeks immediately tinting pink when her brain registered the admission.

“Huh?”

“Nothing!” Asami pulled away, clearing her throat and plastering on a rather watery smile. “It’s so good to see you, I thought we were meeting at Narook’s though.”

Korra followed the young CEO into the kitchen, smiling when Asami gently stepped out of her heels and began to fix them both cups of tea, the height difference between them no longer quite as stark. “Bolin tried to reach you and then asked me to just fly over here, we’re postponing until tomorrow.”

Occupying herself with the kettle, Asami worked to find legitimate excuses around the kitchen to avoid her friend’s eyes. “How disappointing. There’s nothing wrong, I hope.”

“Just official duties got in the way.” Korra waved her hand. “Nothing to worry about.”

“Official like… royal?”

Korra hesitated, leaning against the kitchen archway, watching the tall brunette ruminate on which tea bags they ought to indulge. “Yes.”

The confirmation was deafening. For a moment, Asami was horrified to feel there were tears on her cheeks… only to exhale in relief when she realized it was just steam from the boiling water. “Well,” She said. “That makes sense. I certainly can’t blame you for wanting to spend the festival with a princess of all things.”

Korra released a breath tinged with laughter. “Sami, you’re one of the richest people in the world, and I’m the freakin’ Avatar. Royal titles don’t impress me much.”

“A pretty face does.” Asami muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.” The kettle shook, carved into the shape of a dragon, steam shooting out through the nostrils. Asami bent down and blew out the flames.

They relocated deeper into the apartment, where the large windows looked out onto the darkening skyline of Republic City. Each room in the suite was separated by fusuma, the wooden doors sliding open to allow the air to flow. Asami and Korra sat opposite one another on the floor pillows, their side profiles illuminated by the dying sun bleeding into the room.

They fell quiet for a few moments, save for the gentle drill of Asami’s nails against the side of her teacup. She watched the Avatar sip from her own, always averting her gaze when Korra looked up over the rim.

An exaggerated mmmmm-hmmmmm finally broke the silence, Korra draining her tea much too quickly, cheeks puffing out as she filled her face with it. A decidedly unladylike snort exited Asami’s nostrils.

“Whuh?” Korra’s voice was a little muffled, literally trying to talk around the liquid sloshing around her tongue. “S’good!”

“I see that.” Asami hadn’t realized her shoulders were raised so high, until they were relaxing, slumping down to a natural level.

“You make really good tea. I’ve always thought so.”

“I don’t think anyone else appreciates my brew quite as much as you. Consequently, no one is in as much danger of choking.”

“I am not going to choke.” Korra stubbornly took a larger gulp of the slightly bitter concoction.

“What will the gossip rags say when they hear the Avatar found comatose in my apartment, brought down by a lungful of tea. Oh, come here.” Asami set her cup down and crawled forward, green eyes the same shade as the tea leaf clinging to the bottom of her friend’s pouty bottom lip.

Korra’s bright blue eyes caught her own just as Asami’s thumb brushed against the parted mouth, gently wiping the leaf from her friend’s sweet stained lip. “The headlines would read Miss Sato is a hero.”

A tiny shiver ran down Asami’s back at the use of her surname. She’d never been quite sure if Korra understood what hearing that did to her. She thought she hid her reactions quite well. “For having you collapse on my floor?”

“For bringing me back.” Korra’s eye contact was steadfast, like the roll of an ocean wave steadily crawling towards the beach. “You do know how to resuscitate, don’t you?”

It felt like the room was collectively holding its breath. Asami’s lashes fluttered as the Avatar leaned in closer, their noses gently bumping against one another. In the distance, musicians hired for the festival were starting their preliminary notes. Plucked strings and trilling songstresses stretching syllables that haunted the air, lingering in the dying light. It felt like a spell had been cast. Webbed traps binding the city in magic; silk chains wrapped them in music. It spilled into the apartment suite, it splashed against their dark hair and burning bright eyes.

Korra leaned forward, crossed legs unfurling, and made to close that last inch of distance between them. But the weight of small hands gave her pause, Asami pressing against her shoulders and leaning away from her in the space of a silent note.

“What would your princess think?” The heiress cracked a smile, trying to appear playful, but the words were as slightly bitter as the taste of her tea.

Korra fell back on her bottom, the spell broken. “She’s not my - ”

“The festival is almost starting. You ought not be late.” Asami rose from the floor, cheeks tinted pink, like the blush of a rose. “She doesn’t seem like a girl that likes to be kept waiting.”

The Avatar rose with her, raising a hand to try and touch the taller woman’s shoulder. “Asami, she and I - ”

“Korra, it’s fine!” There was a whip of lengthy, ink black locks as the inventor strode towards the balcony, inhaling the air, scented now with the fried delicacies wafting up from the food carts rolling through the darkening streets. Floating lanterns had been set loose throughout the districts, and were bobbing in the air. One of them was rising the length of her apartment building, slowly gliding towards the sky, its amber luminescence catching them in the act.

Asami turned its back to it, biting her lip as she looked upon her friend, blue eyes stricken with a mixture of emotions she couldn’t unpack. “You don’t owe me an explanation.”

Pausing, Korra deliberated on that as she entered the balcony as well, chewing on her own lip. “You’re right,” Her agreement was slow, chin pointing upwards. “You’re the one who ended things, after all.”

“Yes, I did.” Asami’s hands curled around the balcony edge behind her.

Korra sucked in her breath, chest puffing up beneath her tribal garments. “Is that why you’re so bothered? Can’t believe a princess would want to slum around with the likes of me?”

“You know I don’t think that.” She watched Korra grab for her staff which was leaning against the wall.

“Whatever, I have to go.” With a snap of her wrist, the blue wings of her gliding staff were erect. Korra hopped up onto the ledge. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Korra, wait - ” Asami’s fingers brushed against the heavy skin of the tribal trousers, but the Avatar was already diving off the balcony, the elements sweeping her up and pushing her forward. A deep, long dive into the darkness and narrow gaps of the glittering metropolis. A dark silhouette illuminated by flashes of amber lighting, the bobbing lanterns catching her in mid-flight, the roar of the crowd merging into the streets rising and falling depending on where they caught sight of the soaring guardian.

Asami was left alone on the balcony, her fingers still warm from where she’d made contact.

#world in flames #korrasami #legend of korra #fanfic #fanfiction #archive of our own #Korra #Asami

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spirituallyyours · 7 years ago

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Lucid Dreaming

The Following Post Is Written From My Personal Studies And Experiences

What Is Lucid Dreaming?

”A lucid dream is a dream during which the dreamer is aware that they are dreaming. During lucid dreaming, the dreamer may be able to have some control over the dream characters, narrative, and environment.” -Wikipedia's entry on Lucid Dreaming.

Lucid Dreaming is a fascinating phenomenon. When you sleep, your brain is still working out problems and thoughts and trying to process things. It's reflected in our dreams with symbolism. Like, the most common dream theme I run into is bathrooms without stall doors or with doors that are way too high. When you are aware you are dreaming, you get some control of your thoughts. You are able to change things around, will yourself to have or perform skills or abilities.

Below, if you are curious, are my thoughts and experiences with Lucid Dream.

How To Have A Lucid Dream?

The only book I ever read on Lucid Dreaming was 'The Art of Dreaming' by Carlos Castaneda. In it, he has many methods that he had to use to reach that state. My own are... a bit different. A friend is borrowing that book right now to read it for themselves so I cannot use that as a reference for this next portion of the post. I only have my personal tips to share.

I find that to Lucid Dream, you have to have a few things:

Confidence

Determination

A Questioning Manner

The Ability to Reach REM Sleep

Your mind will react to confidence when you are asleep. If you are confident without a doubt that something will happen, then it will cause your mind shares that confidence. If you do something, unsure of it working, then that doubt will make it weaker and harder for your brain to follow. In example, I tried to make someone catch on fire in my dream, but I couldn't do the spell cause I was raised that magic was against God. This ended up with me yelling at the guy like a kid playing pretend on a playground that he was on fire and had to play dead. That worked, but the fireball itself did not.

Having determination in Lucid Dreaming is key as it will take a few tries. There will be times where you'll realize you are dreaming much too late. Other times, you won't be confident enough in your ability to control what you are dreaming, that nothing seems to work. The key is to keep trying, and practicing until you have a strong hold on it.

If you are constantly questioning something, be it if you are awake or asleep, if that makes sense or not, or how you got to where you are then that will help you realize that you are dreaming much faster. The first step to Lucid Dreaming is to realize that you are, in fact, dreaming. You can't come to that realization if you don't question things instead of simply accepting them as fact.

You have your strongest and most vivid dreams in REM sleep. Sure you, you can dream in the other stages but this is the strongest point of dreaming. I have sleep apnea so I don't have these dreams as often as I did when I was little... and also, stress, depression, medication, and insomnia from life events but... nuance. If you can reach this stage, you are more likely to remember your dreams, thus to be able to interact with them.

Why Have A Lucid Dream?

That's a great question: what does it matter? Well I mean aside from having the coolest dreaming experiences, giving yourself direct control to think about and address a problem that may be bothering you in your waking hours, or the ability to live life as you have always wanted to while safely being able to do so: MAGIC!

I have spent a lot of time when I do have a chance to lucid dream with all my mental barriers, trying to cast magic from my mind. In that time, it is the purest connection I feel to being spiritual. I can summon the tools I need or the scenery that I want. I once took myself from a strange dream about work into an A-Frame house attic room to cast a spell to find a job. I got a job shortly after at a liquor store. Granted, I ended up quitting cause of personal comfort problems but it had worked for what I wanted: a job for the time being.

I have attempted other spells that I would like to count on the successful side. Some were wild and outlandish and didn't work cause I was in the hype of the dream, riding that feeling that I had unlimited power (and trust me, it gets to the point where it feels like you can't be stopped). Call for your spirit guide or spirit animal, try to manifest images from your past life, or even just call to the spirits of love ones you miss. Or, go full nerd like I did and try to make the ultimate roller coaster ride cause you are too broke to actually go to a theme park.

Or don't try to manifest anything at all. Meditate, and be one with the feeling that you are connected beyond any other level of consciousness to the world. When I do this, I feel light, dizzy almost with energy. My body buzzes as if I have light pulses of electricity passing through my body. My senses feel stronger though I cannot pinpoint what it is that I am hearing, seeing, tasting, or smelling—mostly I feel the other senses as tangible things. When I am Lucid Dreaming, I feel the most magical and the most powerful I have ever been in my life. That feeling alone, and a desire to share it, is why I suggest you try Lucid Dreaming.

My Experiences?

I use to have horrible nightmares. Like, ones that have left scars on my psyche level of horrible for a kid. Some included playing with a small ball, the size fitting of a barbie, only to look up and find a sphere so large that the sky hid the top. This sphere would crush me in my dreams, waking a poor four year old me from a dead sleep screaming. Now... I have a irrational fear of miniatures and items that are WAY bigger than their normal state (oddly, the less realistic these are, the better I handle them). Another was of a hurricane or tornado striking the house I lived in when we were living in Florida. This tornado would pull the window so strongly that it shattered and began to pull our house apart. My mother would grab my hand and my brother, while my father grabbed my mother and brother. This dream was so vivid that I didn't learn that it didn't happen until just a few months ago. For those counting at home, that means 23 years of having a phobia of storms (more so loud storms).

The dream that triggered my start of lucid dreaming was another nightmare. My parents were on their way to a divorce so the fights were carrying over into my dreams. In this dream, I was with my uncle, one of the few adults that I knew would help me and save me if I was in trouble, and we were enjoying a museum. A bone was out of place on a dog's skeleton so I fixed it and we continued to leave. The beast came to life and charged us. My uncle managed to take me out of harms way and put me in a tree before I had to watch him be torn apart by this skeleton that would normally be loyalty and friendship. I woke up screaming and my mother took me downstairs to drink a glass of milk and talk about the dream. I was so upset, I was shaking visibly and sobbing into my small plastic cup.

“You know,” my mother started, “you never go anywhere unarmed.” She says and I thought it was cause my parents were in the military and in the movies, they have guns. So I stared at her and she pats her hip. “You have a magical sword on her hip everywhere you go. This sword will be anything you need. Of course, a sword first and foremost, but it can turn into a whip or a rope. It will be your shield and give you wings when you need them.” As a child, I believed this without batting an eye. I was luck to have a mother that at the time, I looked up to and thought that she could do no wrong.

The next nightmare came, I was in a pit, watching these beasts coming at me. I could see low stone walls that were still too high for me to climb. I could hear people shouting but I couldn't understand them. A lion or perhaps a some other beast that I didn't recognize was stalking towards me. I backed into the wall in fear and I remembered my 'sword'. I reached down and drew it, pulling this blade from nothing. It shifted, shimmering in my idea of what magic must look like as a child. The blade became giant, but light as a feather. I struck the beast down and turned my attention to the wall. The blade turned into a hammer and I shattered the stone to free myself. I escaped down a spiraling staircase and when I woke the next morning, I ran screaming for my mother. She fear another nightmare, but the tears on my face were from relief. I had nothing to fear when I was asleep for I had that magical sword. This technique also worked for my brother, when his nightmares started and it's become a story that my family tells one another.

I'm not sure if my mother was inspired by something or heard it from another, but when asked about it, she says she was making it up on the spot. Wanting to plant something that my mind would believe at such a young age in hopes of everyone getting some sleep. What she didn't expect is that it would turn what few dreams I could remember into a strive and desire to control my dreams, and never to let myself be a victim of my own mind again—at least when I'm asleep.

It was enough to try and manipulate myself, to give myself items and logical sense. It was a different nightmare that made me work on changing the dreams entirely. I was being hunted by men without faces in a ghost town. We had crashed the car, and my mother and I had divided to find help. I realized when I was being chased that I was dreaming so I tried to fly away but I was grabbed by a net. I cut the net and tried to run, willing myself to be the fastest thing but the ground turned to mud. I continued to scream for myself to wake up, demanding that this dream be over. Finally, as I stood by our car in the middle of the lake, the shadows of men creeping towards me, I screamed. I screamed as loud as I could. I screamed and willed myself to scream until I woke. As expected, I woke up screaming.

I began to work on controlling my dreams regardless if they were nightmares. I made a test, inspired by Starwars. I use it still to this day when I have disassociation issues. If I ever feel that this might be a dream, or that something just doesn't make sense or I don't remember how I got somewhere, I try to use the force to bring something to me. Now, I don't mean I try to subtly pull something to me like you do when you're little and trying to use telekinesis, no... I mean I would hold my hand out and with strong conviction, mentally demand that that item come to me, without hesitation, without fail, and without doubt.

Clearly, in the real world, this doesn't work, but in my dream, that level of belief and strength would work. And I would know that I was dreaming. From there, I would summon people to my dream, I would change the scenery, and I would feel that I was unstoppable. When it comes to nightmares now, they only last a short while and I am no longer afraid of what is in my dream, only of them coming true.

When I discovered it was called Lucid Dreaming, I had already been doing it for quite some time. I think that I was after I graduated high school in 2009. I am, by no means, a master, but it was something I felt very confident in and wanted to learn more. My resources at the time were limited and my mental state was declining as I tried to make it through life without help or treatment. Eventually, I was able to go to a new age shop where an amazing shop keeper named Frank told me a number of great books. One book came when I was telling him about my most recent lucid dreaming experience and he suggested a book called 'The Art of Dreaming' by Carlos Castaneda. It was a trip to read this man's journey into the realm of Lucid Dreaming, and finally put a solid seal on what I was doing when I slept.

Art: By Me!

Sources: Personal Experience (90% of this), Wikipedia (for Lucid Dreaming definition), Google (Double Checking REM Sleep)

#Lucid Dreaming #SpirituallyyoursNotes #Pagan #witch #I just really like lucid dreaming

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darkmindsthinktwistedthoughts · 6 years ago

Text

Devil’s Temptation pt12

Warnings: Mob Styling warlords, strong language, violent

Masterlist

---

Chapter 12 – Desperate Measures

Avoiding going to the main office building was not something that could continue to happen. His continued absence was likely to spark new rumours, and adding more fuel to the fire was not going to be helpful right now.

It was almost impressive how quickly everything seemed to escalate, he hadn’t managed to shift the idea that this was the job of a pro. According to the early morning reports, there is no other exit to that tunnel. The service access was located within the whole structure of the tunnel as well so that ruled out her slipping out in some way that couldn’t be covered by those cameras. Could she have done this? No, how would she? She has been under protection and guards this whole damn time. She had her mobile but she hasn’t touched it and no one has even tried to contact her. Actually, I think it’s still in her room in the loft. Dammit, I can’t even ask for a trace on that.

Everything was exactly as he had been told. She kept herself to herself and it was her low profile that had saved her all this time from being found. There was no doubt she had been smart but it was only a matter of time before this cat and mouse game turned to the inevitable. You were good [Name] but I was better.

No this was organised. It was a total set up. He could feel his blood flash hot at the idea that someone had dared cross him in such a way. Did they know about the agreement? Its details? What would happen if it didn’t happen? His mind wandered over the possibilities jumping from idea to idea like stones skipping across water. He reread the same section of the email he had received again, unable to take it in. This is no good I can’t focus on the “legitimate” work.

– Buzz –

The sound of the intercom on his desk broke the spell of the struggle he was having.

“Yes, what is it?”

“Mr Yasui. There is a gentleman here to see you. I explained that as he didn’t have an appointment you might not be able to see him but he is insisting that you are already expecting him.” The timid voice of his secretary spoke clearly to him from the small speaker.

“Send him in and take an early lunch. On your way inform Mr Tanaka that I wish to see him.” Takahiro issued his order through clenched teeth as he bit back the desire to curse aloud.

“Yes, Sir.”

– Click –

Fuck! Ok this was coming I knew that but it’s too early. I need more time I need to find her I need… While in a rattled panic Takahiro started opening up draws on his desk and rummaging through papers there. It was a vain hope that something there would be enough to explain away [Name]’s absence. Away working with an interior designer to come up with ideas for our new home? No, no good he’d ask for an address. Spa retreat? No, he’d want the number to phone and check… His hand fell on the cold steel of a gun barrel.

It was an old weapon, small something close to what you might imagine a female spy to carry concealed on her somewhere in a movie except this one, well this one had a history. It was his history, his gun, the one he turned on his own brother during a family dinner after that little stunt was pulled at the lake house where someone tried to kill him. One problem with being in this world was it was dog eat dog. The points of view of the older and respected members of the families were deeply rooted in a ridged system of patriarchy.

The children pitted together in an invisible ring and made to fight it out to the end. Whoever won was the new head and whoever lost was either used to form ties and bonds somewhere else or cast out. Takahiro often thought that being cast out was kinder. But then there was the issue with lack of ability to lead a normal life. You grow up in the dark underbelly of society it is very difficult to then start living in the blinding sun on the surface world. It was even more difficult when you were still seen as taboo.

It was hardly the era of the past. People tended to be much more accepting these days and yet there was still that stigma. You had certain expectations and those governed your life. He needed this. He needed [Name]. She was the ticket to freedom he wanted. I told you this was more than just a union of family, this was our ticket to be able to lead a life without speculation. A life without judgement. No one looks further than the wife in a relationship. Rumours spin no matter if the marriage is happy or not. People always look for those hints of hidden lovers. But this would give those rumours a lot less weight within the families. Yes, this would keep those old relics happy.

The door to his office opened allowing just one-person entrance.

“Where is my daughter?” [Name]’s father bellowed as he strode into the space, his short greying brown hair shaking as if to visualize the man’s anger and concern more.

“I don’t know.” Takahiro could have lied but he was exhausted. Although a lie would just result in the man before him being even more enraged so there was really no point.

“What?”

“I’ve been searching since she vanished four days ago. No one has seen her, there is no trace.” At Takahiro’s words the father sunk into one of the chairs on the other side of the desk. His face was white as a sheet. His eyes swimming as he processed everything. His child was gone again.

“If you cannot look after her then our agreement is void.” Those monotone words might have been spoken out of a mixture of shock and grief but they were also the ones that Takahiro didn’t want to hear. I suppose it is a good thing you came alone. Good for me that is.

“It truly saddens me to hear you say that. But… I should also thank you.”

“Thank me?” Picking up on the shift in Takahiro, [Name]’s dad suddenly looked up from his seat. Realisation dawning on him that this was not something that was going to be in his favour at all. He had been too trusting, too complacent. He had walked willingly, and alone, into the lion’s den at feeding time. The almost black eyes of Takahiro were practically smouldering as they remained focused on him his arm rising from his side, the chrome barrel of a small pistol nestled firmly in his hand. He had no time to react.

– BANG! –

The smell of a freshly fired gun mingled with the smell of fresh blood. Takahiro calmly put the weapon back in the drawer and locked it before standing up and moving around the desk to look at the body of the old man in the chair. His eyes were growing darker with each strangled breath. How easy it would be to let you die, but you still have a use even in your sorry state.

“Because of you, I shall be able to recover what is mine… Thank you.”

---

Nobunaga could take a lot of things and he tolerated them with ease most of the time. But this development was not something he was willing to overlook. Disruption in his home and business. He was King of this castle and he would see it remain a peaceful oasis during times when wars were raging outside. No this had to be dealt with.

– Knock, Knock –

“[Name]” He waited for a reply. She is in there I know. “[Name] I am not in the habit of repeating myself. Open the door.”

The door clicked open and she stood to the side staring at him through the narrow gap. She was pale, faint marks remained on her face that showed the trails that tears had taken over her cheeks. Her eyes were red and puffy too. It seems I was probably right to come after all.

“Nobunaga? What do you want?” She asked in a small tired voice.

“I think we need to talk.”

“Talk? You never once concerned yourself with what I had to say before, so why now?” It had only taken a second. Blink and you would have missed it but the steel in her spine seemed to solidify once more and she was back to fighting mode. You really are a Fireball. Nobunaga had to suppress the desire to laugh at the sight. You really are an entertaining woman [Name]. Who knows in another time things might have been different.

“Before you weren’t something to concern me now…” I have one of my best men rattled so badly to his core it threatens to make him useless to me. He didn’t say the last part to that statement. That bit was none of her concern. Right now, he had one man down and he knew there was no way that they were going to meet an understanding in any way unless one of the stubborn duo listened to reason. Mitsuhide was lost in his own self-loathing that left one option. You are the key to this [Name].

[Name] backed away from the door leaving it open and returned to the seating in the living room. Nobunaga followed closing the door behind him.

“So, you are here because?” She inquired as she sat on the couch.

“I realise what happened was less than ideal.” Nobu said as he took a seat without being offered one.

“Less than ideal? That is the understatement of the century. Are you actually here to try to make things a bit easier to understand or were you planning on just mocking me?” She was fizzing. It wasn’t exactly an explosion waiting to happen, but she was certainly throwing off sparks.

“Emica.” Nobu threw out the name without any emotion in his voice. She has nothing to do with this situation and yet everything to do with it all at the same time. I haven’t seen Mitsuhide so near the edge of the void since that day and I don’t think ignoring it as he seems to want to do is going to help.

“Who?” [Name] was clearly confused.

“That is where it started.”

“And what or who is Emica?” She reiterated her first response. I see he really did tell you nothing. Was it out of shame, guilt or a desire to save you from himself though I wonder?

“She was someone special to Mitsuhide once. She still is in a way as he never moved on. Emica was the daughter of a small family in our circles. She was young, full of energy and always smiling.” Nobu watched as [Name] watched him intently taking in every word he was saying. “It was decided that Mitsuhide would be in charge of her.”

“Were they engaged?” Her quick-fire question almost made Nobu question if she had heard of similar things happening around her. Perhaps it was the plot for a popular television programme or something.

“Not officially. She was the sister of one of his friends, to start with they were all close like siblings. After she left school, she was offered as a bride. Mitsuhide was to be her intended. I don’t think he ever felt romantic love for the girl but he did love her none the less.” Nobu remained observant. The small woman in front of him had a strong front on at the moment. It faltered only when Mitsuhide was mentioned directly. In those brief fleeting seconds, she looked just as frail as she did on the day of the funeral. She still loves him. Good, that means I wasn’t wrong. You can still be useful.

“I see… But I still don’t see how Emica is the issue.”

“On the way to the engagement part,y there was an ambush. She was shot.” [Name]’s eyes shot open at that. A very real look of shock, horror and heart break played out in her big blue eyes. Nobu continued aware of her emotions but convinced that this was something she needed to hear. “Mitsuhide found out later that he was the intended target. He never forgave himself.”

“So, he is… because… what is he exactly?”

“One of the best men I have at getting jobs that need doing done. If I gave him just one title it would be an insult to him and his talent.” Nobu was being honest. Mitsuhide was a master at his craft, and that craft spread out over many different fields in sometimes undetectable ways. “He turned down a path that day seeking his own answers and his own justice for what happened. For all his faults in how he handled the situation between you both. He did what he did believing it was the only way to protect you.” Mitsuhide you owe me for this, I hope you realise that?

“I… I would love to say I understand but…” She lowered her eyes. Colour had returned a little to her skin and her voice was less weak but it was clear she was overwhelmed. If there was another way. I would choose that. But there is no time.

“It’s a lot to take in and process.”

“Exactly. Even telling me all this I’m still not sure I can just forgive, forget and move on.”

“No.” Nobu’s strong deep voice cut her off before she could continue. His change in volume and tone made her whole-body jolt. Her conclusion to what he had told her was all wrong. It was not why he had told her any of this. Had he wished to help? Of course, he had. He wanted Mitsuhide to stop flitting around like an empty shell. He wanted his business to continue as it had. Hell, he wanted that jumped up little jerk Yasui to disappear. But he not once was asking her to forgive and forget.

“What?”

“I did not tell you this so you could do that. Experiences in life are things that shape us in ways that make us who we are in the here and now. Without those experiences, we would not have knowledge, understanding or the ability to cope with future things that would threaten to topple us from where we stand.” Nobu explained calmly. If nothing else he could guide her a little from his own personal experience. I messed up, but even I know it pays to have people you trust around you during that time. That is what I learned.

“So, you told me this just so that I knew some facts that might help me process the current situation easier than stumbling around in the dark?” She tilted her head and her expression seemed to soften a little as she looked at him in a new light.

“Correct.” Nobu nodded once and smiled. “He was right about you.”

“He was?” Now she appeared to have been thrown right back into the land of confusion. She really is full of interesting expressions. I can see the appeal. What must it be like to tease this woman?

“You are bright and intelligent. You grasp concepts quickly, and you are strong.”

“He called me strong?” She scoffed.

“He actually called you stubborn.” Nobu’s flat reply made her pause for a second before laughing. At least you smiled. Good. After regaining her composure, she continued.

“I’m still failing to see why he would go that far for someone he just pulled off the street during a gun fight.”

Did she truly not see it? Did she think that whatever they shared was a series of long one-night stands meant only something to one of them? If you knew him as I do you would know that he is not the type of man that can do such a thing. He is a lot of things but Mitsuhide has never been that.

“Fear can make you do stupid things… as can love.” Nobu reached out to touch her hand that was clenched next to her leg. Easing it open with his hand so as to relax it before she could do damage to herself.

“Love?”

---

Burning. It was the only thing he felt now and even that was becoming a numb sensation. The more he drank in the hope to drown out the voices in his own head the more he felt the weight of the words they spoke.

“Idiot… Fool… Heartless… Inconsiderate… Moron… You did all that and you still hurt her.”

I don’t deserve to ask her to try to understand or for forgiveness. What I did was beyond something I could expect to be forgiven for. Sighing he drained yet another bottle of strong sake tossing it into the recycling to join its other empty comrades. I should probably eat something. He has skipped lunch, unwilling to sit in a room surrounded by the guys and feeling so completely alone once more. Those eyes watching him out of concern also seemed to scream judgement. It was exhausting pretending it didn’t affect. I’ll just grab a sandwich or something that will be enough.

Thinking this Mitsuhide left his room opening his door and felt a soft thump as something landed right into his chest. What was that?

---

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