#oh hide your children I might corrupt them because I exist being a loving caring adoring spouse to my wife

[arrowpunk]

You know it kind of sucks to see discourse about whether or not me and people like me should exist. Like just the fact that it's even a question in the first place sucks.

[aethelflaedladyofmercia]

Time - Good Omens Fic

Goal was to write three fics for this weeks @bingokisses prompts. Well, I got two! The first is “Time” a Night At Crowley’s Flat/Pre-Body-Swap/Wing Grooming fic. It’s for the prompt “Wrist kisses” which I had twice on my card, the first paired with “Wing Grooming.” I’m going to do edits before I move this to AO3, so let me know if anything sounds off!

“So that’s it.” Crowley lounged against the wall, arms crossed. Not looking at Aziraphale. Not looking at anything.

“Yes. I pretend to be you, you pretend to be me. Hellfire. Holy water. We survive.”

It wasn’t easy, keeping his voice steady. Aziraphale mostly managed it by not looking at Crowley, not thinking to hard about it, acting as though the entire problem were simply some clever logic problem. Most certainly by not imagining what would happen if they failed.

“Don’t like it.”

“Come now,” he tried to smile. “Let’s not start over again. We’ve considered every angle. The plan works, and it’s our – our best chance.”

Crowley grunted as if regretting his promise already. “Not going to argue. Just. Don’t like it.” He’d been belligerent since the moment Aziraphale had suggested the swap, inspired by his own recent experience with discorporation. He’d expected Crowley to dislike the idea, but the demon had fought against it, tooth and nail, every step of the planning process.

Not that Aziraphale didn’t have his own doubts. He’d struggled to keep them at bay since stepping off the bus. Now he pressed his hands together, ordering them not to tremble, as the fear started to grow in his gut, building, pushing out into his limbs and his heart.

Choose your faces wisely – that was clear enough. But playing with Fyre could mean many things, only one of which Crowley was immune to. What if he’d missed something? What if there was more to it?

What if the prophecy wasn’t intended to save both of them?

He imagined Michael’s sword, blade aflame, swinging towards Crowley while he was bound to a chair—

It wasn’t a noise, just a sharp intake of breath as he pulled himself back to reality, but it was as loud as a scream in the silent room. Crowley’s head snapped around, eyes pinning the angel through his dark glasses. “What’s wrong?” he demanded.

“Nothing.” Oh, his voice didn’t sound certain at all, his eyes still burned in the imagined light of Heavenly swords. Aziraphale cleared his throat and tried again, but no words at all came out this time, just a strained squeak.

Heaven would see this coming, surely. They would suspect as soon as Crowley stepped into the flames. He needed to outsmart them, needed to think of the next step, and the next, a hundred moves ahead, but he didn’t have time…

“Angel.” Crowley’s voice was sharp, a whip crack cutting through the silent room, and Aziraphale cringed, huddling into himself instinctively. “Bless it, Aziraphale, if you’re having doubts too, we need to rethink this. There’s still time, we can – can take off, be out past the Oort Cloud before either side notices. I know plenty of stars they’d never think to look.”

“Crowley, no. We’ve been over this already.” His voice didn’t sound calm but at least it wasn’t breaking anymore. “We can’t hide forever, they’ll – they’ll find us eventually.”

“I’d rather they chase us across the galaxy than – than stand around waiting for them to grab us. At least we’d have a chance. At least we’d have time.”

Aziraphale wanted that. Time. More than anything, he wanted time to think, to plan, to prepare. To stand beside Crowley and not be afraid.

But that was the problem, wasn’t it? There was no future if they ran, no earth, no them, just this one terrifying moment, stretched on and on for eternity, poised forever at the last moment before the attack. Always waiting. Always afraid. He couldn’t take a life of this, he couldn’t even take one night of this.

He was so lost in his own thoughts – torn between wanting time and wanting it to be over – that he didn’t even notice Crowley’s approach until the hand landed on his shoulder. It wasn’t rough – it was the gentlest touch, barely felt through his jacket – but the suddenness of it startled Aziraphale, making him stumble away.

“Crowley! There’s no need – I’m – please—”

“You aren’t fine, don’t try to tell me you’re fine,” he spat. Then, in a lower voice, “Talk to me.”

It was too much. Already he’d nearly given in to the fear, but this – this moment of concern – it tugged at him, threatening to break his last thread of dignity, of control, and that was the only thing keeping him going right now.

“There’s nothing more to discuss.” He tugged at his waistcoat, trying to school his expression. “And if – if you’re just going to argue, I’d rather you left me in peace.”

“Aziraphale…” A warning.

“I mean it, Crowley.” He interrupted, fighting to keep his mind from shattering. “That’s enough. Go!”

Crowley spun away, with a noise halfway between a snort and a snarl, and stalked through the enormous revolving door, disappearing into the next room.

Leaving Aziraphale alone with his thoughts.

--

Crowley glared at his trembling plants, burying his fingers in leaves, tugging at them for any sign of weakness, of spots or yellowing, any imperfections. But he didn’t really see them.

His mind kept shifting, jumping between a bookshop in flames, a voice in a bar, and the sudden appearance of Aziraphale at the airbase. A hurricane of worry and relief and fear and longing with nothing remotely like calm at its center.

He wanted to run to Aziraphale. Override all his objections, drag him away. Haul him off this world, to the stars, to Andromeda, to the farthest corner of the universe, far from the beings that wanted to hurt them, had hurt them again and again for thousands of years.

It wasn’t the first time. He’d wanted to at the airbase, run up, grab Aziraphale by the lapels. Make sure he was unharmed, shout at him to stop taking foolish risks. The same at the church in 1941, the Bastille in 1793, again and again, across centuries of companionship –

Wanted to reach out, pull him close, promise that everything would work out.

But he didn’t. Couldn’t. Never could. Maybe never would.

He’d always blamed it on their sides, needing to stay apart to stay safe. But he didn’t have that excuse anymore, did he? And that’s all it was. An excuse.

It was Crowley’s nature to be cold and distant. Aloof. Project coolness and confidence so that no one could see what lay underneath, the shattered worthless wreck of demon. Keep them all at arm’s length, even the being he least wanted to push away, and where did that leave him?

Alone in his solarium, shredding the weakest leaves off a fig tree, on what could be the last night of his personal eternity.

Had he always been this way?

Crowley didn’t think so. There had been a time when he’d been open, inquisitive, carefree. Long ago, before the Fall, before six thousand years in Hell and on Earth, before he learned…everything.

He could never go back to that. You couldn’t unlearn the truth of the world, once you’d learned it.

One glance over his shoulder, back at the door. He could go back. Apologize. Open himself up to the one being he knew would never hurt him. Say the words that had sat on his tongue for countless centuries.

He could, but he wouldn’t. Not tonight. He needed time. Time to get his head on straight, to learn to be honest with himself, to know what it was he even wanted.

And time was the one thing he didn’t have.

--

Aziraphale rested his hand on the door frame, wishing he had the courage to step through.

It was his own fault, of course. He’d pushed Crowley away. As he always did. It was easier.

He didn’t belong here, among humans, beside a demon. Simple fact: he was an angel, and he belonged in Heaven. There was no place else an angel could exist and feel whole and happy.

That, he’d always told himself, was why he had this aching emptiness inside – because he was far from his home, corrupted by earthly influences. A degraded angel.

Heaven talked a great deal about love. Angels love Creation, they love the humans, they love God most of all; they love each other, and they love him. In spite of all his flaws, he was constantly reminded, they loved him.

And he believed it. For a long time, he believed, because not believing was dangerous, and painful, and terrifyingly. And because, well…because that’s what he believed love was. How was he supposed to think otherwise? It was the only thing he ever knew.

But six thousand years on Earth slowly eroded his ignorance. He saw humans develop friendships, saw them fall in love, saw them care for their children, their parents. Saw some become cruel, or manipulative, or negligent; saw others be loyal, and warm, and welcoming even to strangers.

He learned all the ways that love could be expressed. All the things that masqueraded as it. What it could look like. What it should look like.

And even then, he could keep pretending that he found that in the cold, distant praise of Heaven, but only so long as he could pretend he didn’t find it anywhere else. That he didn’t have a being in his life who always supported him, always stood by him, never made him feel flawed or broken, never abandoned him.

Even now, when it might mean destruction for both of them, still at his side.

In the face of that, how could he ever believe that Heaven loved him?

He pushed the thought away, back into the dark recesses of his mind, where he’d carefully hidden it from himself for longer than the lifetime of civilizations. It was still a dangerous thought, a dangerous word. A distraction.

It wasn’t the time for such things.

He had to put their survival before everything else. It meant staying here and facing their former sides head-on, not running away and waiting to be caught. It meant deceiving Heaven and Hell, not angering them from some foolish desire to fight or take revenge. And it meant facing the challenge with cool logical minds not clouded by any newly acknowledged emotions. It made sense.

The best thing he could do for himself, for Crowley, was to keep his distance tonight.

--

I need a new plant mister.

For ten minutes, Crowley had managed to keep himself focused on pruning the trees, silently clearing out some leaves or stems to make room for new growth. The emotions raged somewhere deep inside, but the surface was as calm as ever. But then he noticed the echeveria was a little dry, went to give it a bit of water, and realized the bottle was gone.

Hastur had destroyed his plant mister, and he needed a new one.

He could simply manifest one, he supposed, as easily as he’d created the pruning shears. But the ones at the corner shop were so cheap, it was easier to just grab one on the way to Aziraphale’s bookshop, and take a few moments to see what new sprouts had arrived, then stop over at the bakery for some coffee and one of those crispy pastries.

Except.

Except there wasn’t a bookshop anymore, was there?

Which meant he wouldn’t be heading over tomorrow, or the next day, or ever again.

No more surprise breakfasts before the first customers of the day. No more late nights sharing a dozen bottles of wine and arguing about philosophy. No more perusing the poetry section when Aziraphale wasn’t looking, or thumbing through the latest illustrated guides to botany or astronomy that always found their way onto the shelf beside his sofa.

No more secretive walks in the park to share secrets and feed ducks. No more shoddy pretenses for a weekend drive. No more weaving the Bentley through four lanes of traffic.

The world had ended, but only for him and Aziraphale.

It wasn’t fair.

After everything they’d done, everything they’d suffered to save the world, they still lost everything and it wasn’t fair!

The knot of emotions he’d been holding back broke free in a flash, flooding him faster than he could control it. With a shout he hurled the little plant at the wall, cracking the pot, spilling soil everywhere. Then he grabbed the aloe vera, the orchids, the antherium. One after the other, thrown against the wall, the floor, the window.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” He screamed, pulling over the umbrella tree, shredding all its leaves. “All of you! You worthless pieces of shit!” He kicked over a dragon tree. “You had your fucking chance! No more excuses, no more second chances.” A glass bowl full of air plants; he snatched it up and smashed it hard against the table, shards spinning off in every direction. “Make your fucking peace with the soil, because every one of you is—”

“Crowley!”

He spun around to find Aziraphale watching, wide-eyed, from the doorway.

Fuck.

Well. That’s the end of that, he supposed. After that sort of display, Aziraphale wouldn’t want anything to do with him ever again.

He clenched his fist, turning away, but that sent a sharp pain through his hand. Hissing, Crowley looked down to find a shard of glass, stuck in the side of his hand. Of course. Exactly what this day needed.

“Are you hurt?”

He shot a glare at the angel, suddenly beside him.

“Just a scratch. Leave me alone.”

Aziraphale’s hand landed lightly on his wrist, pulling the hand over for closer inspection. “You need to be more careful, Crowley.” He ran his thumb lightly up the side of Crowley’s palm and the little triangle of glass fell free.

“I’m not going to – to die from a little cut, Aziraphale.”

He’d meant it as a joke, of a sort, but Aziraphale’s hand tightened around his. “Don’t.” The angel’s thumb brushed across the cut, making it disappear in a small burst of healing. “You need to be more careful.”

“It’s a bit late for careful.”  He tried to pull his hand away, but Aziraphale ignored it, bending over as if to inspect his palm for damage. “Look, Angel…”

“What a mess!” Aziraphale tutted. “An absolute disgrace.” But he hadn’t so much as glanced at the graveyard of ruined plants all over the floor. Instead, he was inspecting Crowley’s nails. “And you expect me to go out wearing these tomorrow?”

“You’re one to talk. I saw the state of your wings earlier. Have you groomed them this millennium?”

“Even if I hadn’t, it still wouldn’t compare to this – this—” He held up Crowley’s hand, nails caked with dirt, cracked, uneven. “I thought you took pride in your appearance.”

“I’ve been a bit busy.” Crowley snatched his hand back and tried to walk away.

“I don’t want an argument tonight.”

“Then stop trying to start one!” He took a deep breath. “If it bothers you that much, I’ll go take a shower. You wait in the kitchen, or wherever you want.” He glanced around at the mess he’d made. “Don’t bother cleaning. No point, is there?”

“Crowley, stop!”

“It was ‘go’ before, now you want me to stop? Make up your blasted mind.” But Crowley stood still, glaring at him. “What is it? What do you want?”

“I want to take care of those nails.”

“You what?” But Aziraphale’s face was dead serious, set in his most stubborn frown. “Look, you fussy bastard, this isn’t – we don’t have time for this!”

“You have somewhere else to be tonight?” But when his hands reached for Aziraphale’s again, the touch was strangely gentle. “Let me take care of these. Please.”

The demon groaned, but what was he supposed to do? Not say yes? “Fine. If you insist.”

--

Crowley stared at Aziraphale, sitting cross-legged on his bed. Between them was a bowl of warm water, an array of tiny torture implements, and a towel, which Aziraphalehad used to briskly brush the dirt from Crowley’s fingers. Now he held the demon’s right hand, turning it this way and that to inspect each nail in the light of his halo.

“That’s a little better,” Aziraphale murmured, picking up the clippers and starting to trim.

“You know, I can do this myself.”

“Can you? Really?” It was strange, having his hand held this way. Entirely in Aziraphale’s power, unable to move, yet it was only the lightest pressure, really. Firm, but gentle. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you chewed them.”

“Only when they break.”

“That isn’t funny. Look at this.” He lowered Crowley’s right hand and picked up the left, pinching the thumb between his fingers. “Just look!”

“Looks like a thumb.”

Another tsk, and Aziraphale set to clipping again, not trimming each nail as low as he could (as Crowley usually did), but instead quickly removing the sharp edges or cracked portions, leaving a few millimeters on each. When he was satisfied, he picked up an emery board. Crowley expected him to start scrubbing roughly, sandpapering his nails smooth. Instead, with a few quick delicate motions, he reshaped each nail into a perfect oval. Now and then, he paused to scrape underneath with the point of a nail file.

“What is this, anyway?” He held up the tip of the file, covered in hard flakes of black residue. “I thought it was soil, but it isn’t the right consistency.”

Crowley gulped. He remembered charging into a burning shop. Driving for almost an hour in a flaming car. Falling to the ground at the airbase more than once—

“Dunno,” he said weakly. “Could be – lots of things…”

Aziraphale’s hands hesitated over Crowley’s smallest finger, and he could see how the emery board trembled. Yeah, you’re cleaning the last of your bookshop out of my nails. How does that feel? Crowley wished he had something comforting to say, but he just felt hollow. The day had left him without anything to offer.

With a deep breath, Aziraphale steadied his grip and got back to work.

“Why?” Cowley found himself saying, as the angel moved back to his right hand. “Why are you wasting your time on this?” On me?

“Don’t be foolish. Time spent with you is never wasted.” Blue eyes flickered up again to catch his gaze before focusing on the nails once more. “Although I do wish you’d put a little effort into basic maintenance without my needing to nag you.”

“But—” He bit his words off, not knowing what to say. “Why?”

“Why? Why? You spend an hour every day on that ridiculous hair, not to mention weeks spent putting together your – your ‘new look’ every few years. I would think you’d agree that personal grooming is its own reward.”

“No, I…” He watched the long, thin board move back and forth. His fingers were curved slightly in Aziraphale’s grip, pinned in place by his thumb. “I just thought you’d want to be alone.”

Silence for the length of two fingers. “Why on Earth would you think that?”

His stomach was hard as a rock, twisting with emotions he couldn’t name. “I…I’ve been awful,” Crowley confessed. “All night long, since we got back, I argued, I snapped at you. Threw a tantrum. The other day, I shoved you against a wall. And…and this morning I called you stupid…I’d think you’d want to be as far from me as possible.”

“As I recall, you were the one who wanted to abandon me for the stars.”

“No…” But he had said that, hadn’t he? “I didn’t…I wouldn’t really…”

“Oh, hush.” Aziraphale frowned and moved to the last nail. “I’ve known you for six thousand years, Crowley, I’m well aware you have a temper. I have never held against you the things you said, or did, when you were angry.”

I have plenty of other people to ‘fraternize’ with. I don’t need you.

“Never?”

“Never.” Aziraphale put down the file and pressed Crowley’s hands between both of his. “I’m sorry I didn’t make that clear.”

He lowered Crowley’s hands into the bowl of warm water. Aziraphale had added some sort of soap, and it clung thickly to his fingers in a pleasant way.

“Still…I don’t like you to…to see me like that…”

“You’ve seen me at my worst,” Aziraphale reminded him. “Do you think less of me?”

His worst? Crowley couldn’t even imagine what that would mean. The embarrassing smile as he showed off his latest magic act or shouted encouragement at the actors in a play? The possessive gleam when he saw a priceless first edition, whether one of his own or one he was about to acquire? His incorruptible desire to see the good in absolutely everyone, even Gabriel, even Crowley?

“No,” he whispered as his heart surged anew. “No, I never have.”

Aziraphale nodded, watching Crowley’s hands as they soaked in the water. “It’s good, you know, to-to have a simple ritual in a time of stress. Something you can walk through, step by step. Unhindered by, ah, by emotions. Very calming.”

“I do feel a little better,” Crowley admitted.

“I expect you do. But…I meant for myself.” He lifted Crowley’s hands free of the water and gently patted them with the towel. “I’m…I’m…well, I’m rather convinced I’m going to let you down tomorrow. Not play my part well, or…or lose my nerve…or overlook some vital clue…”

Crowley felt the tremors in Aziraphale’s hands before he suddenly pulled away, fingers twisting in the towel, pressing it against his mouth. But he couldn’t hide the wave of emotion that overtook him before Crowley’s eyes.

“Angel!” Crowley grabbed his shoulders, newly manicured fingers feeling more sensitive against the fabric of his shirt. “Aziraphale look at me.” Slowly, the blue eyes came back into focus. “We don’t have to do this.”

“We do. Crowley, it’s the only way.” The towel crumpled further as he crushed it in his grip. “I – I – I won’t – I’ll find a way, I just need to – to buck up…”

“Are you scared?”

“What? No, I – I—”

“Because I am.” Crowley let go with one hand to pull his glasses free, toss them aside, then reached up to brush the back of Aziraphale’s hand. “Have been for…longer than I can remember, but then I lost you. Last night, and this morning, and then…the fire…” He swallowed. “And you know what? Each time it felt more real and more painful than before, and I don’t…I can’t…”

His gut heaved. The hollowness he’d felt after the fire opened again, threatening to devour him, permanently this time. “Aziraphale. I am more terrified right now than I’ve ever been in my life, and I don’t know how to stop it. So. If you’re scared…that’s fine.”

The towel fell, and Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand in both of his again, but this time clinging to it, clutching it, pressing Crowley’s fingers against his lips where the towel had been a moment before. Crowley reached with his free hand and…what? Touch his face? His hair? What was he supposed to do?

Before he could decide, Aziraphale seemed to blink his eyes clear and look again at Crowley’s nails. “Just a few hangnails to trim, and then we’re done.”

“Nh. Yeah.” He settled more comfortably. “Whatever you want.”

--

Aziraphale held Crowley’s hand, carefully massaging moisturizer across his palm, between his fingers, and into his nail beds. Memorizing the shape of them, the knobby knuckles, the veins on the back of his hands.

He’d wanted to do this once before, when the thoughts that needed to be hidden, even from himself, had threatened to overwhelm him. 1941. He’d longed to sit Crowley down and wash his feet, check them for burns and injury after his walk across hallowed ground. Let the activity distract his mind from the thoughts and emotions he couldn’t afford to acknowledge, and just be there, in the moment, caring for Crowley. Appreciating him. Holding him.

It was just as well he hadn’t attempted it back then; evidence tonight suggested it didn’t work.

He ran his thumbs across Crowley’s palm one last time, smoothing in the moisturizer, feeling the skin plump up, taking note of the calluses here and there just below the fingers. He didn’t want to let go.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley said, when his fingers had lingered perhaps a bit too long. He looked up to meet the demon’s golden eyes. They were soft tonight, and vulnerable, and filled with pain that tugged at his heart. But that pain seemed to be fading, replaced by…by one of the things Aziraphale was not supposed to be naming. What with the thunderous pounding of his heart in his chest and the blood in his ears, Aziraphale almost missed Crowley’s next words: “Thank you.”

Very suddenly, his heart went absolutely still.

“You…you’ve never…said thank you.”

“Grave oversight.” Crowley turned his hands over, running his thumb across his newly manicured nails. “This is…yeah, this is nice.”

“Ah. Well.” Aziraphale waved a hand, neatly teleporting his supplies into a different room. It was his usual method of cleaning up – eventually, things would wind up where they were supposed to be – but he realized alarmingly late that this now meant he and Crowley were simply sitting on a bed together. “I…I suppose I should thank you. For, ah, for indulging me—”

“Should I…return the favor?”

“Ah!” He snatched his hands against his chest, as if afraid Crowley would steal them entirely. Well. That wasn’t quite what he was afraid of. “Return? How – how would you – Crowley, my nails are – are already in tip-top shape, and you wouldn’t—”

“Your wings. Like I said,” Crowley went on, familiar sharp edge slipping into his tone, “absolute mess. You’re one to talk about grooming, carrying around two disasters like that.”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale was about to snap something else, but his eyes accidentally met the demon’s, and there was nothing mocking about them at all. Anxious, shy, almost waiting to be hurt. Did he always hide that expression behind his glasses?

“I, ah…I’ve never…how do we do this?”

Crowley’s eyes went wide. “Ngk. Unh. I mean. Sit there or…or maybe…lay down? On your stomach?”

“Ah, yes, I wouldn’t want to – to get tired, holding them up.” Aziraphale stretched out across the top of the duvet, resting his cheek on one of the pitch-black pillows, and extended his wings.

He could have sworn he heard a heavy breath – maybe a gasp, maybe a sigh. “Just as I thought. Look at this utter disgrace. When was the last time you preened?”

“Well, as I never walk around with them out—” Aziraphale was cut off by an impossibly gentle touch, two fingers brushing lightly across the leading edge of his wing. It felt…good, an electric shiver that ran down his wing and up his spine.

“Oh! S-sorry.” Crowley sounded embarrassed, which was something Aziraphale had never heard before. “I shouldn’t have…is this alright?”

“Yes. It’s…it’s very much alright.” He wrapped his arms around the pillow, feeling the need to brace himself, and stretched his left wing slightly. “Please, continue.”

The touch of Crowley’s palms against his wings was electrifying, yes, but also gentle, soothing. He carefully explored down the length of them, not stirring any feathers yet, just learning the ways they lay against each other, where they grew thick, where the flight feathers emerged. Aziraphale could feel the feathers that were out of place now – they snagged and tugged against Crowley’s hands, bunching in the wrong spots. Uncomfortable, the way sitting in a chair too long could be uncomfortable without even noticing.

“You’re lucky you didn’t need to fly,” Crowley remarked, scolding, as if it was an everyday risk, instead of something that hadn’t come up in five thousand years. His fingers now flicked around the shortest patch of Aziraphale’s coverts, just shy of the leading edge, finding one of the culprits. Manicured fingertips burrowed deep into white feathers, hot against the skin and muscle beneath, and with a few quick but gentle scratches twitched it back into position. “Does this hurt?”

“No…That feels…” Crowley traced the feather from base to tip, pushing the barbs back into the correct alignment. A few more strokes ensured it lay, flat and neat, alongside the rest.

“One down, dozens more to go. And that’s just this side. Hope you’re comfortable.”

He was, though. Aziraphale closed his eyes, sinking into the gentle rhythm as Crowley moved – feather by feather – across his wing, setting each to rights. He felt as though a burden were being lifted, the worry in his stomach slowly unknotting, bit by imperceptible bit, as if the world were fading away, leaving nothing but that touch.

By the time Crowley reached Aziraphale’s alula feathers, the pain in his gut was gone. As he worked his way back across the primary coverts towards the scapulars, Aziraphale began to forget what he’d been worried about. Then the warm fingers ran down the first of his flight feathers, and time stopped entirely.

--

Crowley had never imagined Aziraphale’s feathers could feel so different from his own, but they did, so soft and delicate he would have believed they were pieces of clouds if not for the warmth that emanated through them.

Was it because angel feathers were somehow more pure? Or was it simply a matter of familiarity – that his fingers had stopped even noticing the texture of his own wings?

He was nearly finished. Really, he was done already, but his hands still glided across coverts and primaries, feeling for anything out of place, any excuse to delay longer.

“Right there, please.” Aziraphale suddenly interrupted. “Just…just a little itch. Could you…?”

“Got it.” Crowley let his fingers sink in again, scratching gently at the base of a feather. “Here?”

Aziraphale just murmured in relief, a little sigh. Crowley had knelt beside him to better reach the wing, but now Aziraphale shifted, pressing their hips together. “This feels simply marvelous.”

“Y-yeah,” Crowley said, clearing his throat. “S’why you’re supposed to do it regularly.”

“I should have asked you to, years ago.”

Crowley smoothed the feathers back into place. He was finished. It was time. Time to switch and part ways, possibly forever.

He didn’t lift his fingers from the edge of Aziraphale’s wing.

“Would you have?” Crowley wondered, surprising himself to hear the words out loud. “Would you have let me, if I’d asked?”

Stirring, Aziraphale tucked his wings away, all that glorious heat vanishing to another plane. He rolled over and considered Crowley, but didn’t sit up yet. “I’m not sure. I…I would have wanted to. But…well…”

“And if I’d – I’d asked for other things?”

“I don’t know. Would you have asked? If I’d indicated my interest?”

Somewhere, the sun was rising. Somewhere, the day was starting. Time, never any time.

“I don’t know,” Crowley confessed, the words ripped from his soul. And then, not letting himself think, he fell forward, onto the pillows.

Aziraphale caught him, pulled him into an embrace. “I want to find out, Crowley. What we are. What we can be. I wish…I wish…”

Long fingers reached up to cradle Aziraphale’s cheek. “I know, Angel. I know. We’ll get our chance.”

Aziraphale nodded, though the tears in his eyes said he didn’t believe it. A brush of fingers on the back of Crowley’s hand, and Aziraphale turned to kiss his palm, his wrist. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I wasted our time. And now…”

“No, you didn’t waste anything.” He pulled Aziraphale roughly against his chest. “You hear me? Nothing. I’m…I’m glad for every moment we had.”

The angel didn’t respond, just sobbed, once, face pressed into Crowley’s shirt.

“Shhh. We’ll survive this. I swear it. And then we’ll have eternity to figure this out. Alright? You and me. And…and things will be different this time. I’ll be different.”

“Don’t you dare,” Aziraphale said, his arms locking behind Crowley, strong enough to break his spine. “Don’t you change a thing, Crowley. I don’t want anything to be different.”

“Really? You’re happy with how things were?”

“Oh, yes.” Aziraphale pushed back, just enough to meet Crowley’s gaze, eyes wide and wet and earnest. “So…so very happy, when we were together.”

“Well, then.” Crowley bent forward, resting his lips on the top of Aziraphale’s head. “That’s what we’ll do, yeah? Be together. Forever.”

[courtorderedcake]

Hallow ch XI - For CSSNS 2019

“The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent.

Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King’s will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time.”

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Read on AO3 here.

Rated E for explicit themes, Mature situations, and Fae fuckery.

Written for @cssns​ Ch 11 / ?? - In which a monster hides in plain sight

The library had several Kitsune in it when Killian arrived, but as he climbed to the upper level, his immediate concern became the Dragon in the corner. Haku was furiously scribbling down information from a stack of books, throwing them aside in frustration. Killian made the pointed note to stay far away from him and whatever had caused his anger. 

The latest ledgers of the island census were missing as far back as five years, and many of the cultural or study of heritage scrolls were also missing as Killian searched for them amongst the rows. He found a few scrolls of painted art that showed depictions of what the rite aimed to do, though; a Fox spirit in full splendor attacking the barrier and breaking free, it's teeth and many tails shining on display. The actual rites were a mystery as he found those books missing too. 

On a sneaking suspicion, he glanced over at the piles of books Haku had stacked at the desk where he worked, still frantically taking down notes on whatever he was studying. Seeing the same bindings that matched the books in the series, Killian sighed. Of course the Dragon was using them. Resolving to wait, Killian read instead the long history recorded by what once were the Dragon elders, long gone now from the world.

In the beginning, there was fire, ice, air, and earth. We came from all four, the blending of these elements making way to the subtler magics, but leaving us perfect in primordial effortlessness. From the blending of the four came the Old Gods, the Elementals, and then magic itself. After that, time, then light and dark, followed as the Gods and Elementals made this world, and all the vast realities between. We found no use for time, for light, or darkness. Only magic, and only the elements were as wild as we. At one time we too could traverse the planes of existences, but that gift has been long lost to us. 

From magic and the elements came the old creatures, many lost to new as they burned too bright, stars bursting into a supernova, creating, changing and destroying the others. Kitsune, Draugr, Kraken, Gorgons, Sphinx, Harpies - they all come from the old magics, brought to life by their own will until there was either nothing left or just enough for permanence. 

Fire and ice made water, which made seas; earth and fire made jewels and metals, it forced rock from the seas that cooled into land. Air, earth, and water made forests that towered above the hungry ground while ice and air made snow, and water, fire, and air created storms. The Old Gods created their own beings from the many new elements that were created; starlight and moonbeams graced Elves as sunbeams and breezes molded the first Fae, born with wings. Dirt and jewels made Hob-Goblins sparkle like quartz, Anisapi the first to stand guard of places of power. Merfolk and the sea dwellers came together as foam that topped great waves and salt, the Gods loving their children as long as they could before their ends befell them. By war, sickness, age, or simply choice, they left the world to who they hoped would treasure it. 

The Old Gods did not teach their children enough, however. They did not teach their children to share, or warn them of the dangers they had kept hidden away. Trying to be like their creators, and with the last few Deities hanging on, an unknown coalition created mortals. While weak and without vitality, they were vicious, bred quickly in their short lives, and became impossible to eradicate. Before long, they were the dominant species of the world created for us. They learned our weaknesses, they learned how to take down the last of the Gods. They cornered us until something was done. 

The first wars cut lands from mortal hands and placed them in our own, establishing the sacred places that mortals should not tread. Even amongst the non-believing, the superstitions and deadly reminders of trespass passed easily through their generations. 

After that, space was limited amongst the races. A peaceful mountain dwelling species of Fae came under attack for their resources and labor by Jeoff N'lan, who imprisoned them. It wasn't until rumors of an insurrection came under the rule of his son, Jeorg N'lan, that their population was decimated. We know them now as - 

"Reading something good?" Emma's voice made him jump, and he came back to himself with a jolt. She rested her chin on his shoulder, and he could practically taste the honey and sunshine smell that graced her. Coming out from behind him, she placed a picnic basket on the table as he closed the book and set it aside. "I didn't mean to make you jump, it must have been a good book -" 

"Interesting, but not necessarily good," Killian shrugged. He took in her appearance, as she had changed. She looked even better than she had previously, a red gown which had a square cut neckline, her body poured into it as he tried not to notice how lovely she looked. How did she not know the effect she had? He wondered it idly, trying to understand why he was even feeling the effect of her beauty. Sighing, she sat next to him, slumping with her head in her hands. He hesitated when he went to lay his hand on her shoulder, his eyes watching her chest rise, the sigh making her bosom press up, freezing him. 

"Killian, I am not sure how to say this," she began nervously, biting her lip. Under the light of the library, her eyes were sea glass in the sun, bright and sharp. Their appraisal snapped him out of his inappropriate trance, and he refocused quickly as he took in her words. "But I'm beginning to get a little bit scared. There's something off here, and after observing what they're proposing for this rite, I don't know -" 

A book slammed shut across from them, Haku looking at them with his steely eyed gaze. Emma rubbed her temples, body tensing. The Dragon strode over to them, leveling his glare at Emma from across the table. She looked away, and Killian immediately felt ready to spring, coiled in defense of her. 

"You know then, and you know that you could easily take her place?" Haku said quietly, his voice cold. Emma nodded, swallowing hard. 

"What is there to know? Your people chose the Maiden, Emma has nothing to do with -" Killian argued, but Haku let out a yell, his nails digging into the table. 

"You do not have any right to speak on this Dark One. If your grievances are absolved with this Royal, let mine be heard: Don't you feel any repentance for anything, or do you like the weight of your family's legacy on your shoulders?"

Emma closed her eyes, flinching when the Dragon brought his fist down on the table with a loud bang. 

"That's enough -" Killian hissed, but the Dragon shook his head. 

"It will never be enough. You were a hero to our people because you were the answer to the violence her family created, Dark One. We prayed for your return, your revenge on the Royal family, revenge on the Goblins - you were supposed to mete out justice. To think you were distracted by this, this silly girl!" Haku spat at Emma, and she yelped.

Killian ripped the Dragon across the table by his collar, blood pounding in his ears. Lifting his arms, he threw Haku, the Dragon stumbling into the bannister of the stairs down to the main level. 

"Get away from us," Killian hissed. 

"Gladly," Haku gritted out as he straightened, sending a pointed look at Emma.

Killian watched him walk away, Emma shaking in her seat. 

"What the bloody hell was that about?" he asked, before sitting next to her. She shook her head, seemingly trying to find words to explain. 

"These rites - Killian, I'm scared. I -" 

"There you are! Oh how quaint, a basket lunch. Who knew royals as far up in status as you knew how to prepare one," Maleficent purred, walking up the stairs. Lilly followed, her head bowed as she nervously fidgeted with her hands, Isaac trailing behind her. "You ran out so quickly Princess, we weren't done talking about coming to an agreement."

Emma looked up at Killian, pleading with her eyes. 

"The princess and I were talking about your rituals, actually, and thought we might have a moment alone -" 

"Yes of course, but later in the day. There's still so much to show her!" Maleficent purred, yanking Emma back, Lilly catching her as she stumbled. "Princess Emma still has things to see, but I'll leave Isaac here to help you with any questions. Lilly, make haste, come now girls."

Killian smiled apologetically, Emma's look of panic blocked by Isaac's body.  

"What do you want to know? I know almost everything in these books, and I'm the author of more than a few." The shorter man puffed up his chest proudly, and Killian inwardly screamed. Letting his jaw clench into something he hoped resembled a smile, he straightened. 

"I would like to know a bit about the workers I've seen around. The ones that wear the masks and the black outfits, are they a servant class or some leftover of the plague?" he asked, quickly moving to grab the books Haku had been using. Carrying them over, Isaac wrung his hands nervously. 

"Oh, the husks. The Dragons call them 'no faces' because of the masks and their woolen veils, but I think that's a tad tasteless," Isaac chuckled lightly. "They're those who have served us, starting back some sixty odd years. Those left live together with their attendants or with their families if their families so choose."

Killian narrowed his eyes. "Served you? They seem…" He trailed off, unable to find a way to make his meaning less blunt. 

"They seem 'gone'? Well yes, of course they do, and they should! They are fighting, their very essence of spirit attacking the barrier of this prison." Isaac grinned, spreading his palms upward. "That's what the rites are for, they create a trance like state that becomes greater every consecutive turn. This is the year we break free, I can feel it."

"And you want Emma to do this? What are the risks? Is there danger involved -"  

"Now now. The princess is surely capable of making her own choice or coming to you for counsel, yes?" Isaac asked, dropping his hands. His head quirked to the side, and he shrugged. "Besides - The only ones that fear are those who aren't faithful to our teachings. They believe that their loved ones are empty, faceless and lost, not that they are husks waiting for their successful return. The day comes that those still living will have a reunion of body and mind."

Killian thought about Haku's reaction, how vitriolic it was, and glanced at the stack of books. He returned Isaac's grin and nodded.

"Of course. Thank you for elucidating." 

Isaac bowed, backing away. "It was my pleasure to illuminate. I must be off to see to final preparations. Should Emma return, see that you remember our chat? It would certainly help win favor for an alliance."

"Of course, of course. We'll go through the process together if she wishes, and make a decision." Killian watched Isaac's smile falter marginally, confirming his suspicion. 

"Very good then. See that you do." Isaac turned, leaving the library, as Killian furiously began to dig through what Haku had left. The results were frustratingly vague answers about ‘glory to the Kitsune’, who in theory would break through the initial ward, but the magic didn't relate to any sort Killian understood or any ruminations that he was aware of. If anything, it seemed that someone with enough energy could potentially pierce the island's barrier, but any type of assault would need to be targeted, not blanketed as the current ritualistic attempts suggested. The ritual itself was vague, barely described besides a few mentions of a story being written that seemed to usher the chosen into some sort of astral state. 

There was nothing referencing any method in which a husk could be saved, Haku's notes in the margins seemingly indicating that he too had come to the same conclusion. A highlighted passage seemed to be confirmation of this, citing a tethered link being ripped away. Emma could not go through with whatever this was. The thought of her as a stumbling and soulless thing made him feel ill, the image in his mind of her eyes gone gray making him irrationally angry. The island's leaders had to know that this was wrong. A drawing Haku had made of a dome over what must be the island showed what looked like to be fractures, referencing another book on spellcraft, specifically breaking long lasting protection wards. There it showed a sketched illustration of an immortality enshrining spell being fractured while remaining unbroken, resulting in the shamaness inside not retaining her beauty as intended, aging as she should have whilst still remaining alive. Killian shuddered at the thought. 

A dog eared page caught his attention. Haku was a methodical researcher, his notes precise as he followed this ritual to its origins. The marked page was out of place in that regard - a sleeping draughts of great potency, one similar to the sleeping death he himself had given the Queen of the United Realm's, Emma's mother, under the Goblin King’s command. She was famous for overcoming it during the war and her kiss with the man she would later choose to rule by her side had led to his capture. This was not quite that curse, which had taken a great deal of dark magic to create, and ingredients Killian did not want to deal in again if at all possible. It was lesser in its extremity, seemingly focused on lucid dreaming or actively blending the dreams of others with one's own. Did the ritual require some sort of unwaking sleep? That thought was chilling as well, dreams and the magic behind their power were widely known for their unpredictable nature, and Emma’s dreams were beyond powerful and erratic. 

"It seems like you have had an easier day than me. Maybe I'll read, and you go play politics?" 

Emma's voice startled him, and he turned as he stood, almost knocking her over. She looked different than he had last seen her, her eyes kohled and lips red. If the red dress he had seen her in earlier had not attempted to kill him with impropriety, the outfit she wore now had every chance. 

The black dress was by all measure sinful in every facet of its design, and the exhale he gave was choked as she stepped in closer to place her hands on his arms. The pitch black velvet clung to every inch of her toned body, half corset tight but allowing the fullness of her curves, the neckline plunging, and the skirt slit on both sides. A red necklace hung heavy around her neck, the color a deep crimson that seemed to absorb the light. He’d been attracted to the princess before, she was beautiful as it were, but never had he wanted so much to act on it. Not only because of the dress, but because of the way her lips parted, the concerned way she looked at him through the dulled gray green of her eyes under the library lights, her red nails slightly digging into his sleeves - 

As she steadied herself, Killian felt himself falling, unable to catch himself in the sudden vertigo. 

"Emma," he breathed, and her eyes seemed to glint with mischief at how her name was practically wheezed out. He had to compose himself, had to get control - 

Emma leaned in, rising on her toes. 

"I've been waiting to get you alone all day," she whispered, smiling softly, as if she hadn't just made his brain explode. "About earlier -" 

He cleared his dry throat, suddenly far too hot. "Yes, ah, about earlier; you shouldn't go through with anything they try to pressure you into -" 

She laughed, looking at him with amusement. "Oh, no, I know that. What I meant is what I wanted to talk to you about earlier."

He blinked, and while one hand held her steady on his forearm, the fingers on her other hand played with the lacing of the collar of his shirt. Breathing seemed harder, requiring thought. 

"It wasn't about your fears involving the rites here, and the alliance?" Killian asked, and she shook her head. Looking down for a moment, chewing her lip as she let go of him, Emma eyes flitted up at him through her lashes. Taking his hand and squeezing it lightly, she smiled warmly. 

"So… Um. I was scared about talking to you, about finding the right things to say that would make sense. The thing is though… I'm not scared anymore. I feel like I know the answers to my fears just by being near you. You've been so different lately, and I feel like I know you so much better."

"I - I uh - Princess, what is it you're…?"

"You're blushing! Please I don't mean to - oh no -" 

"I'm just not sure what you're trying to convey here, love," he managed to get out, her own face heating in time with his ears. The dress was again another hurdle to his calm, the black velvet slipped tight over the farthest curve of her breasts where it could sit at without being indecent. The color in her face was settling there too, and he dragged his eyes upwards with force. 

Emma stepped forward, and he noticed that she had even streaked her hair jet black in a few places. His mouth went dry, and he licked his lips, trying to fight the wave of carnal thoughts that had suddenly bloomed in his mind. She was so lovely, would feel so right curling into him as he tasted her berry colored lips, finally chasing her properly. What was wrong with him?  Where did these indecent thoughts come from - they had been contained when the Darkness had seemed to be held at bay, and yet here on the isle among the festival goers, it roared to life. 

"Killian, you don't know? I've been thinking about what I want, what we mean to each other -" Killian snapped out of the fantasy with difficulty, as if it had tried to trap him or had used some sort of charm on him. Her words didn't seem real, and he rolled them over in his thoughts. 

"What we mean to each other?" he asked. "Wait, Emma, are you suggesting that you - you feel - you want -" 

"I'm not suggesting anything, Killian," she murmured, and he thanked the Gods for approximately six seconds, before her next words fried his brain. "I'm telling you that I think I want something more from you than friendship."

"I --- I -, er… I am -" 

"Aye to you, too. Come find me later, and I'll tell you what I decided. I think you'll be very pleased." Emma twisted her red necklace in her fingers, looking up shyly at him through her lashes. "I know I am."

Another wave of want hit him, stronger than before, his mind going fuzzy at the edges. Emma was too close to him, and yet she stepped closer; he could smell the smokiness of her, the pine woods, soot, chilies, and rice wine. Vaguely he wondered why she didn't smell of her usual honey, vanilla, cinnamon, and rose, but the thought vanished when she pressed her lips to his cheek. 

Quickly retreating as he cupped his cheek, she waved goodbye, leaving down the path from the library with confident steps. 

Killian felt the small ember he carefully stoked inside the most protected regions of his being turn into a flame, hope surging as he tried to focus on anything but his confirmed feelings for the princess. For Emma. The books he tried to read could not hold his attention; nothing could draw him from his racing thoughts. 

He found a note pinned on the outer side of the door as he was leaving, telling him to meet her on the high cliffs as soon as he could, which left him feeling elated, and he smiled at the thought of trying to figure things out with her. The Darkness had been under control, she was always nearby if it wasn't, and her magic was strong. She was smart, unfailing in her kindness, brave, and he had been denying his feelings for so long. Tonight he would deny her just for a few moments longer, all to court her properly. 

There was a flower vendor for the festival he had seen earlier when walking with Mushu, her cart filled with crowns of marigold, chrysanthemums, eucalyptus and carnations. He had also seen a sweet vendor that had marzipan sculptures, noticing the swan immediately. He had planned to get it for her before they left, but tonight was much more perfect. Both in hand as fast as possible, he hoped Emma wouldn't mind his late arrival. If anything, she would be too delighted by the gifts, and Killian could finally, finally do what he realized he wanted for so long - 

"Love, if you think helping the denizens of this isle is a worthy cause, who am I to ever argue with you?" 

Killian froze, turning to the sound that sent chills down his spine. Someone was talking in his voice, a scarily good imitation of it as well. 

"When have you been wrong, Swan? When have you not risen above your challenges?"

"You're right, Killian." 

Emma's voice. His stomach dropped. Moving closer to the conversation tucked into a small aisle behind tents, he saw Emma in her red dress, and himself. Or, a poor facsimile of himself; there were a few streaks of white in his hair, and his nails seemed pointer even in the dim light. The doppelganger seemed to notice, carding a hand through, covering the white with his palm and burying them there. The other hand went snugly into his pocket. 

"I know. I have no fear for you either, so take that as reassurance. After you succeed, it will be easy to take on the Darkness… and we could…" The fake slipped an arm around her waist, tipping her chin up and stroking her face. It was like a punch in the gut, the way she blushed and swooned so innocently, the reaction so sharply different than her earlier forwardness. Killian felt the growing suspicion that it wasn't Emma that had visited him but another, realizing with anger that his feelings had been twisted into vulnerability. 

"We can talk about something more, what comes next. A future," his double whispered, laying his forehead against Emma’s. 

"I'd like that," she replied as she smiled. 

Killian began walking towards them, his rage boiling over at this deceit and jealousy that flamed into a blaze. The manipulation that was in play to create the idea she actually - that she could possibly feel something like that for him and that they could make something work; the idea was ridiculous when laid out. The princess being courted by the war criminal. Jealousy wasn't what he was feeling; he couldn't be jealous when she had been tricked, or when he had been weak. Emma didn't want anything from him, truly. He moved through the tents, following Emma to make sure that she put distance between herself and his fake, watching her through the gaps. In the cage he held tightly closed, the Darkness rattled. It took in a gasp of air, straining in its bonds. 

No one could ever want you, stupid, weak, petulant man. 

No one.  

No one, and especially not her . 

Someone so good, you would break her, you would never work. 

Never . 

Imagine what scars you would give her, imagine how easily she would see how pathetic you are… 

He stumbled, felt the pressure of someone strong on his back as he struggled, albeit briefly. A cloth was pushed over his mouth and nose, a prick of some sort of dart hitting both sides of his neck one after the other. It took seconds for his eyes to go bleary, the world spinning as he fell. 

Haku looked down at him, frowning. 

"I'm sorry," Haku whispered. The words swam along with everything else in his vision, but Killian valiantly tried to crawl towards where Emma had been, following the sound of his voice, his voice used by another. 

"Hurry now love. Don't leave Isaac waiting; they'll need you as soon as possible."

Emma's voice was bright as she called over her shoulder with a wave, unaware of Killian’s groan as he reached for her, unseen behind the many tents as Haku dragged him away. 

"I'll be seeing you soon, Killian."

  *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

  The amount of interference and pressure the combined Dragon royals and the Kitsune leaders held all day on Emma was absolutely unbearable. At the beginning of the morning, Lilly had dragged her to a bathhouse, the beauty and ornateness of the place overshadowed by the obnoxiously rude company. Emma was given a robe like wrap made of thick damask, golden fish swimming on the blue fabric. Lilly helped her put it on, ignoring Emma's objections at her intrusion while she was partially nude. 

Chihiro wore a white gown, not making a sound even with bells tied in her long black hair. They glinted in the sunshine along with her braided ribbon as they all moved through the hallways, polished wood catching their many colored reflections. A paper screen door opened to reveal a large bath surrounded by rocks, a waterfall cascading into the steaming pool. One by one the women disrobed, dipping themselves, and Emma followed suit with a blush. The water felt heavenly, even if the conversation was not. 

"So, the women as a congregation join the Maiden in her cleansing, where we all purify ourselves and commune with our ancestors," Lilly sighed, kicking her toes out of the water. From across the steam, Emma could see the great plumes of green smoke coming from where Cruella sat. When the steam parted, Cruella's eyes were focused solely on her, giving Emma chills even in the heat. "After this, we go get massages, then we get facials, then tea. Then we take a processional walk through the sand gardens, after which we do a lantern ceremony in the turtle pond. Lastly, we head to the cathedral for the final rites."

"I have plans to lunch with Killian -" Emma said cautiously, biting  her lip. 

"Because of course you do," Lilly said with an eye roll. 

Emma smiled innocently. "Is there a way I can sneak away at some point?" She batted her eyes and Lilly snorted. 

"Yes, of course there is," Lilly sighed, annoyed. "But getting a chance to while fielding my Mother and Cruella is going to be tricky for you. After this, that is. Enjoy the reprieve while you have it."

"Oh no, really?" Emma let herself whine. While unbecoming, it worked effectively well for Lilly, and was fair turnabout. "Lilly, will you buy me some time? You owe me for last night."

Lilly's eyes became more cool, and calculated. She looked at Emma conspiratorially, pointing up a finger before wagging it in her direction. "Alright. One condition though." 

"Sure, I guess?" Emma said with a slight shrug. Realizing the current situation, she let herself float her toes up and down in the water in slow kicks, adding with a little edge of warning, 

"Just don't be weird" 

Lilly nodded, looking away. The Dragon collected herself, looking resolute as she began to speak in a slow and careful manner. "You've heard a lot about how much people want you to do this, but today you are going to hear some of the why. I want you to hear my reasons." Taking a deep breath, she continued while obviously trying to keep from speaking too fast. "I don't love Mushu. He's like a brother to me, a truly close friend, but I don't and have never loved him. I don't believe he feels anything for me either, but I don't care to know in fear of sympathy winning me over. We simply don't have any other options - the royal lineage either goes on, or dies with me. Unless we escape. Unless somewhere, pockets of dragons survived that did not follow the call of our elders - then I am like you, forced into a loveless marriage."

Emma had to bite off the urge she had to scoff. 

"I mean, not quite, but sure I guess. What other reasons are there?" 

"There's a lot, Emma. A whole lot. This barrier is killing us, and killing any chances of a future for the entire island." Lilly grimaced, closing her eyes. "I hate everything that the pressure from all sides under it has made us become; made me become. I hate what it's done to my family."

"I’m truly sorry, Lilly. I will try to consider this as I make my decision." Emma patted her hand, and Lilly smirked, pawing an eye. 

"Yeah," Lilly bit out, the teasing quality in her voice softer. "As I pressure you. Fiore, there's no end in sight. Come, let us at least get this tension lifted from our shoulders."

She rose along with a few others, stepping into beautiful thick silk robe like dresses held by attendants. Emma followed, letting herself be ushered into a small room with a table in the center, a paneled paper divider opening revealing a room beyond that with the same layout as the first. With the divider pushed in to halve the start of the room, Emma was led to the further table while Lilly was disrobed. Emma's attendant followed by taking her own robe, laying Emma down so she could only see Lilly's head and shoulders her own attendant was pouring oil over her upper back. Emma felt the liquid slip over her own, flinching, before practiced fingers pressed long held tension away. She tried not to moan loudly, her body coiled tight since before she had fallen into this world. 

Neither Lilly or the attendants were conversationalists, nor were there interruptions, leading Emma to daydream contently like she had done before falling through the portal into this world. After what felt like only a few minutes, Lilly's snoring joined the quiet sounds of hands working their bodies, and Emma let herself doze in and out, feeling safe for the first time in… 

A part of Emma struggled to give the answer, torn. It should have been before Nil, and before her life was thrown off its natural course, but the truth that had popped immediately into her mind confused her. As did the fact her daydreaming kept leading her to strange places, and thoughts that were untoward, childish, and ridiculous. The last time she felt safe was much more recently, to only the last night Killian laid next to her. She'd woken from the same recurring nightmare, Nil advancing just a bit further each time, but Killian had been there immediately with his arms around her tightly. 

He'd mumbled a mixture of soft, soothing things in a rough voice heavy with sleep, letting her face lay against his chest so she could hear his steady heartbeat, feel his breathing, bringing herself to calm as his nose buried in her hair. There was a sort of intense intimacy in that, and she had woken when he had begun to pull away gradually, slowly even. He began growing more fitful and Emma had struggled not to wonder if it was because he wasn't tired, but if instead… If whatever part of him that governed sleep, governed the way his innuendos had stopped, or governed the way he was when he was drunk enough to hold her close had wanted him to stay that way. Either way, she had felt cozy, and fiercely protected by him. 

Her daydreaming was not protected from him though, and had been wandering to the feel of his hands on her thigh, the way she knew his lips were soft, the secret way his fingers trailing from her curls to trace patterns on her shoulder when he comforted her, and what it might be like to have the silly idea that he felt even the slightest attraction to her be not so silly. Graham had once brought her flowers, before her father's intervention, but Emma wondered if he would court her in the modern ways of the world outside the barrier, the ways of the strict rules her parents might expect, or even the traditions here that were bits of both with their own unique twists. Killian would be a gentleman no matter how long the path the courtship was, and for that reason she felt even more longing for him. 

Maybe Lilly was right and they did both want each other? Emma drifted further into the pleasure of that idea, even as noise started in Lilly's room. The eventual heated tone and rising volume of an argument brought Emma back from her musings with quickness. 

"She should meet her, Father Isaac says to have faith and I have. I've been faithful since both sets of our parents were taken, and I've been faithful waiting for Aurora. This is a chance for her. It's like she isn't even there anymore. I can't even remember the blue of her eyes, her eyes used to be blue, almost violet. Now they're that wretched, empty, gray - "

"Phillip, be calm and be silent, I'm working on it. I don't want to pressure her and all of you are making it very difficult," Lilly hissed lowly. "Trust me, I want this as much as you, but we can't just tell them that this is a potential outcome when they don't understand."

" I don't understand. I don't understand why it feels like Aurora isn't even in there anymore. I miss her so much; we were trying to start a family and then this happened. When she gets back, if she gets back, how much time will be left?" The man's voice was growing more plaintive, and Emma tried to control her breathing to maintain the illusion she was sleeping. Her attendant hesitantly moved away, and Emma risked a glance at Lilly's room. 

The Dragon was in another of the heavy silken damask robe dresses speaking with an angry looking man, one who could only be Phillip. He was tall and broad, deep chestnut hair and a boyish face that was well tanned. Next to him stood a husk, its black cowl and mask still even as Phillip gesticulated. 

Emma had felt the strangeness of the husks pull before, attributing it to the island's own unique feeling of arcane forces. Everything on the island pulled at her, as if the ground was trying to absorb the very elements it was created from, starved of its own power. The husks were like this, but with the force of a cyclone, a gaping maw of a vacuum that demanded to be filled. This husk was no different, the stillness of it betrayed by how it gave off a dark and desperate feeling of need. 

"Please, you need to -" 

"I don't need to do anything, especially when you aren't even included in the lottery!" the man yelled. 

"Yes," Lilly drawled, sounding annoyed but dismissive. "Being on the door of extinction as a species is the epitome of an exit strategy. Bravo Phillip, you figured it out."

"Lilly, you know what I mean! I don't know how anyone else does it. She isn't Aurora anymore; she doesn't eat, doesn't sleep, doesn't talk or smile or sing - I miss her singing. I used to complain about her singing all the time and now, and now I -" 

"We need to talk somewhere else; the princess is going to wake up and I'm going to have to -" 

Emma's attendant closed the screen between their rooms, separating them once again, and leaving Emma alone as the voices carried out into the hall. The silence was not broken by any attendant, and Emma rose quietly to sit. A beautiful dress of her own sat out, in the same traditional style as Lilly's. It was a soft violet, patterned with swans, and cherry blossom blooms. Lilly had helped her tie the previous dress in the style they wore, a thick bow on the back accented with sparkling ropes that ended in beading or bells, but Emma found it was very difficult to do herself. With a few muttered curses, she managed to get it in some type of semblance just as she heard shuffling steps on the other side of the divider.

"Lilly is that you?" she called quietly. The answering noise of a soft keen came from the other room. Emma huffed out a breath as she tried to adjust the bow again. "Oh, good. Will you help me with this? I'm afraid I have it a bit askew."

The footsteps shuffled slowly to the sliding door, waiting there. Lilly let out a small moaning noise, and Emma rolled her eyes as she walked to the door herself, holding the dress in place the best she could with one hand. She attempted to push the sliding door, but it did not budge, Lilly's side holding fast. 

"Lilly, is your side stuck?" Emma asked, surprised at how quiet Lilly was being. As she thought about it, she wondered if the argument between Phillip had gone so poorly as to mollify her friend into contrition, a feeling of intense anger and upset pouring from the other side of the door. Emma swallowed hard, ready to hold knowing about the fight tightly to her chest until it could be used to her advantage. If Lilly was involved in any sort of trickery, it might be easier to coax it out with this information. The thought made her sad, but it wasn't as if it was unlikely. 

Lilly rasped something on the other side of the door, Emma's ears unable to make it out. Another soft moan followed, and a strange 'Ah' sound was heard as the divider door rattled. Emma pressed again, but the divider screen stuck firmly on its track, not sliding to open at all. Lilly was holding it shut. 

"Lilly, this isn't funny. What are you playing at?" Emma grunted, pushing harder, but the door did not give despite her best efforts. Lilly held fast on her side, her breathing heavy. Emma felt uneasy, letting go of the screen as a chorus of whispers and strange moans broke out in many voices behind the door where Lilly stood. 

The lights in Emma's room, a few simple paper lamps, went out suddenly all at once as the divider door began to rattle. From the brightness of the other room, shadows showed against the paper, people filling the space as they pressed against the divider wall, hands silently beating and clawing. Emma's hands covered her mouth as she backed up further, until she ran into the table she had been sitting on, the rattling of the door becoming louder. The voices converged, no longer whispering but now many chanting the same words against the paper.  

"Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry. Hungryyyy…!" 

The rattling stopped, the lamps in the other room going out. The divider stood dark in the pitch of the room, everything silent but Emma's thundering heart. As her eyes adjusted, she heard the door slowly slide open, her panic at what lie behind too much, too much, something was in that shadow waiting - 

The door slid open fully, revealing nothing on the other side. Emma let out a nervous laugh, her hands shaking as she lowered them. Taking deep breaths, she steadied herself, and began to put things together. 

This was obviously a Kitsune trick, Lilly most likely involved as well. It wasn't as if she shouldn't have expected it; Lilly had warned her enough times about their prankster ways and Emma's own distinct lack of popularity. 

Walking toward the door to leave, she was surprised to meet a solid black wall as she bounced back from it. The divider was blocked by a black surface, that when pressed was slightly opaque as it let her hand sink slightly. It reminded her of the Selkies flesh when they wore their pelts, the blubbery skin letting her hand sink a bit as she petted. This was not soft or furry like that however, but like that of a great mottled toad. Emma pulled her hand away and it came back wet, a black viscous slime sticking to her palm. She flicked it away, taking a step back and letting her other hand card over her face and into the crown of her hair. 

Wet and warm gunk fell on her hand and into her hair, her fingers pulling away in shock as she examined the sticky, clear, bubbled slime. It looked like some sort of saliva, strangely enough - Another glob hit her head, and she looked up. 

The husk mask was in the middle of the ceiling on a great thing , its mass huge and stretched. Black spider like arms pressed to the corners to hold its own bloated weight, its torso was stretched up through the divider, like some sort of slug. Under the mask, a dark mouth opened displaying broad, flat, teeth the size of dinner plates. A tongue lolled out slowly, dripping more thick dollops of drool. 

A single small 'Ah' came from its throat, causing Emma's eyes to go wide with terror. She felt rooted on the spot, unable to move; a glance down quickly confirming another set of arms had wrapped around her, a hand with two long fingers encircling her body. The thing smiled at her with its uneven teeth, lifting her as she tried to remember how to scream. 

"Hungry!" it roared, Emma finally shrieking in its grasp as its long tongue wrapped around her and she was plunged into its mouth. 

Images assaulted her, the smell of the creature acrid, musky, and cloying. 

An older woman sipping tea with deep wrinkles around her brown eyes. A dark haired man making smoke rings, his young son clapping at the shapes. A woman with a patient smile and raven curls tucking in the beds of children she has taken in to mother, afraid of nothing more than orphaning them again. A man with a beard and mustache the color of wetted stone, his eyes tired but posture proud. A beautiful maiden singing while gathering blueberries, her golden blonde hair catching on the sunlight as birds sung along. An older boy playing ball on the shore, shaggy hair in his eyes as he ran, his grin huge. A plump woman with reddish curls and a saucy smile, throwing tiles in some sort of game. A sullen young man with a shock of red hair, his tall height able to reach books in the library he needed. 

The voices grew louder still, her head pounding and ears ringing. 

"HUNGRY. HUNGRY!" 

A soft, melodious woman's voice sung through the noise, overcoming it. Emma recognized it as the tune she had heard in the strange vision of the woman picking blueberries. Her pretty words were hurried as if she was out of breath. 

  "Help us. Please, help us."

  The woman was swallowed by the noise again, the thing bellowing out its hunger as Emma felt its rage at being so hollow, desperate for anything to make it whole. It tore at itself as it screamed in fury, Emma's own screams lost under its cries. Hands clawed at her, shaking her as she struggled in the increasing pressure of the blackness; it would crush her surely, and soon she would be without air. 

A hard pinch on her side made her yelp, the noise fading as she opened her eyes to meet Lilly's look of annoyance. 

"What are you doing? Why are you down there freaking out like that?" she asked, pulling Emma up by her elbow. Shaking, Emma looked around the room, the husk standing in the corner with its face to the wall. Its mask lay on the floor between them, and Emma backed away as she pointed at it, unable to form words.

Lilly looked at the husk and shook her head. "Yeah, they do that sometimes. They like to be behind things, as if they find comfort in not seeing or not being seen. The masks help with that."

"No, no, that thing - it attacked me!" Emma blurted, and Lilly raised an eyebrow before laughing raucously. "Lilly, it tried to eat me or did, it was -" 

"Husks don't do anything unless you patiently, and I mean patiently, teach them. Even then, it can't be a complicated task or they'll wander off in search of some wall or cubby hole to stick their head in." Lilly shook her head as she giggled. "They don't eat or sleep, don't talk at all, so if you saw something it was most likely not her."

"But she - it did! It was a monster Lilly; it spoke to me and told me it was hungry. I don't know how I -" 

"If Aurora could speak, she would not have wasted her voice on you," a male voice said coldly. Phillip brushed past Lilly and into the room, sighing with frustration as he picked up the discarded mask. "If Aurora could speak, she'd talk to her husband who has been waiting for her to come back since she laid down in that cathedral and this took her place. She would answer when I ask her questions, where she went, if she's safe, and if she's coming back like she promised… she promised me… " His voice broke, and Emma looked down at her bare feet with shame. 

"Phillip, it was probably a Kit trick on her; she doesn't know about how difficult it is -" Lilly soothed, moving closer to Phillip. He instead turned, pulling the husk from the corner and facing it towards Emma. 

"Does this look like a monster to you?" he asked, his voice and body tense. 

The husk's face was visible in its habit, everything else swathed in black. She was pretty, her features familiar to Emma although it was difficult to place them or why the woman made her neck hair rise in nervousness. 

Emma shook her head indicating no, averting her eyes to once again look at her feet. 

"Kitsune wouldn't cross the line with this sort of prank. It could have gotten Aurora hurt, and she wouldn't be able to come back. No Kit would dare." He prodded a finger at Lilly, and she shifted uncomfortably. 

"If you're implying it was one of us -" Lilly began, her voice going steely. Phillip interrupted without pause. 

"I'm implying that I want no part in games, or politics any longer. This was a mistake." He held the husk a bit tighter, running a hand over the black fabric that covered her head. His voice softened. "I only want Aurora back." 

"I hope she comes back to you soon," Emma said lightly. "And I am sorry. I know what I saw, but never meant to -" 

"Keep the rest of your apology, princess. The beginning was enough," Phillip said coldly. He ushered the husk to the far door, its habit now askew revealing long golden blonde hair. Once placed back over her head, he placed the mask over where only her face was visible. Emma watched them go, now convinced that the woman with the blueberries who had sung and begged for help was none other than Aurora. 

Lilly interrupted her thinking. "So did you drink some special tea, or something? Or did you see smoke?" 

"Forget about it, Lilly," Emma whispered. "I… I think I'm ready to go have lunch with Killian. Can you help me steal away with a picnic basket?" 

"I can, but not for long. We slept through some of the minor traditions, so the next are really important. We have the communion with the spirits and the sacred tea ceremony before Chihiro drinks her own to traverse the veil." Lilly leaned against the table Emma had been massaged on, thinking hard. "My mother and Cruella surely have plans to grill you before that. You'll have to be quick, and leave as soon as we finish the bell ceremony in the cathedral."

"I can be. Also, not to be terribly rude, but…" Emma bit her lip and displayed her very askew and barely secured dress for Lilly's appraisal. "I would very much like to wear something that does not require so much tying and folding, please."

Lilly rolled her eyes, pursing her lips. Dragging Emma to a closet near the entrance of the bath house, she pulled out a few dresses before pushing them back in the overfilled space. Finally she found one that suited her discernment, giving it to Emma. 

"This will work. Red protects from bad spirits, and collects energy. It gives power. It suits you." Lilly helped Emma out of her dress (what Lilly called a Yukata, and Emma sighed in defeat at Lilly's, pristine and tied tight) and into the red dress. It was barely corseted, which seemed to be in favor here on the island, with a square neckline and a flare at the hips that led to a full skirt. The red was a deeply pigmented crimson, the sleeves and way the dress fit on her body as if it was made for her. 

Lilly walked with her to the cathedral, a picnic basket hidden between their skirts that they had pilfered from the kitchens in the bathhouse. 

"So we drink this tea, to commune with spirits, and Chihiro drinks a special blend of it?" Emma whispered as they walked along the path to another ornate building. Lilly nodded. "Why?" 

"The tea allows her to traverse the veil, gaining power and trust from the other spirits. She will undergo trials that allow her to command a targeted attack of the barrier, which can only be achieved by strengthening herself," Lilly intoned.  

Entering the cathedral was like being thrown into ice water. The power that lurked there and the energy made her feel queasy, the ever present feeling of wrongness heightened and magnified under the splendor of its roof. She ran to see Killian, but was cornered before she could explain anything, led back by Lilly and her mother. 

It was enough to send Emma into an uneasy conflict with herself and the power of her magic. The scope of how broken the barrier spell seemed to be, the chaotic anger of the spirits chipping away at it, how magic itself was decaying in swaths underneath it along with the population - the mounting pressure was enormous without the heavy handed encouragement of the involved parties. Later, she stumbled out of the cathedral without grace into the fresh air, her mind full of questions. A fair of sorts was being set up while the Maiden began her sleep, and Emma walked among the tents idly looking at the sugar sculptures, glass beads, dream catchers, and charms while trying to seek out Killian, finding him nowhere. 

She saw him turn the corner out of the corner her eye, spinning to look to where he had gone, but he seemed to round the opposite corner in the reflection cast by a gilded hand mirror in a booth. Emma felt herself getting lost even among the small amount of vendors, following phantoms that turned out to be mist with frustration. A hand caught her shoulder, and with relief she turned to find Killian smirking at her. 

"Looking for someone, pet?" he teased, and she sighed through a huff at his humor at her expense. In the light, his hair seemed to gleam silver, almost white, but she shook off the strange ideas that seemed to be whispered in the air surrounding them, surprised by the boldness of her imagination. It was not the time to think about how silky his uncut fringe would be between her fingers, or how soft he'd kiss below her neck if she was someone he wanted. 

"Princess?" Killian whispered salaciously, as if reading her thoughts. Emma's knees seemed to grow suddenly weaker, to her great concern, but that only made her resolve grow stronger. 

Straightening her shoulders, she spoke firmly as not to be tongue tied. "I felt unsettled, and I came to you. I have to ask of you to help me make a decision. Do you think I should take Chihiro's place and undergo this rite myself? Do you believe that it will help both sides?"

"It's the best thing we've got to get them allied to our cause. Give them everything you have. You have a reputation for being the Savior to live up to, after all." He was acting strangely, his usual nervous ear scratch replaced by scratching at his neck. His nails seemed sharper, but the light was poor as the sun fell. Emma laid a hand on his and he flinched away, bowing his head slightly. He buried a hand in his hair, looking bashful, before taking a deep breath to look at her with a sort of pride. 

"Love, if you think helping the denizens of this isle is a worthy endeavor, who am I to ever argue with you? When have you been wrong, Swan? When have you not risen above your challenges?" He searched her face, and for a moment she thought Lilly might be right about him feeling something. The idea made her stomach flutter with hope. 

Emma sighed. "You're right, Killian." 

He stepped closer, and her heart felt as if it might pound out of her chest. He'd been so forward here, but she never thought or would have even guessed that he had any interest in her, or intentions. Emma let him fill her space, the idea of him wanting to court her, or the thought of the thousands of ridiculous romances she was able to have Ruby sneak her into the castle and the scenarios therein, made her think longingly of what she possibly wanted. That is, possibly wanted with him . 

"I know. I have no fear for you either, so take that as reassurance. After you succeed, it will be easy to take on the Darkness… and we could…" Her heart skipped a beat, Killian slipping an arm around her waist, tipping her chin up and stroking her cheek. It was as if there wasn't enough air in her lungs. Blushing, she fell forward into him slightly because of dizziness. It was so warm, the night air not cooling her skin any longer, and indecent thoughts of everything he could do to her were like a spring garden's flowers, ready to be picked. 

Emma tried to speak, but couldn't find the words to do so. She settled for breathing his name out on a whisper, watching him smirk. As the wind blew gently, his eyes softened. 

"We can talk about something more, what comes next. A future." His whisper while laying his forehead against her own was so tender. 

"I'd like that." She smiled. 

"Hurry now love. Don't leave Isaac waiting, they'll need you as soon as possible."

"I'll be seeing you soon, Killian."

He gave her a wave, and she did not hear him whisper under his breath, his voice becoming a feminine purr. 

"Sweet dreams, princess."

  *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

  Emma was found wandering the beach in a silken gown, with no memories of how she had gotten there. The village on the island was abuzz with it; nothing like the strangeness that her arrival heralded happened in the Blackwater, excitement in short supply. Not only was she a wisp of a thing, but she could not be a day older than seven or eight to his eleven or Liam and Elsa's fourteen. Liam had taken him to the shore to watch alongside the others as Isaac held her hand, helping her off the small beach and up the cliff side. There, hidden in the trees where no one could see, Emma Swan looked at him for the first time, her green eyes like another forest he could lose himself in. His father and mother had chastised him over dinner - worrying about some peasant girl was not fitting for his social stance as a Blackwater lordling. 

The next time he saw her, she was dancing at a harvest ball, her hair braided with autumn leaves and ribbon. It had been several years, his interest in girls going slightly beyond love notes and hand holding if that. She still drew his eyes, spinning lazily in her embroidered gown, looking like a falling blossom. Even Liam had been caught by her spell, and Killian had secretly hated him for his boldness and smooth confidence as he walked toward her. 

She froze when Liam asked her for a dance, looking at him with such confusion, as if he was a ghost. Sir Isaac ushered her away, and Killian shrugged. Liam told him later that the petrified girl had told him that he wasn't real, and had asked for Killian by name. She hadn't used proper titleage or etiquette, just his name again and again more shrill in each utterance, until Isaac took her to rest at his home. 

No one could say what happened, other than she was ill. Some said that she mumbled madly about both the future and the past, events that would come to pass or secrets that she should not know. Tongues wagged in the Blackwater; finding the truth therein was like finding a needle in a haystack. 

The seasons changed, no questions answered, and Emma was rarely around to create enough intrigue for questioning. The questions stopped eventually as she became the village herbalist, sending her wares down the mountain from her cliffside cabin with her friend Lilly. His good friend and the Lady of the Baelfire side of the Isle, Milah, confessed she had never bought Emma's strange remedies - but she credited that to her renouncing witchcraft in all forms, her name safe from spells and mind safe from the sale of esoterics. 

Magic ran rampant through the Blackwater, as they were all Fae, but it was taboo to do more than simple charms or common place spellwork. Potions, incantations, divining the future, enchanting, and the many manners of magic Emma did easily made her an outcast - and Milah agreed with the townsfolk that Emma was in league with a Demon, making her a witch. Rumors swirled that the Demon had stolen her sanity as payment for her skills. On some nights if you looked to the cliffs, a strange glow in many different colors radiated from Emma's small cabin. That did little to quell rumors. 

Life in the village went on. Killian and Milah grew closer, and they fell in love in a whirlwind romance that seemed to take the entire Blackwater with it. Their marriage was expected, and easily approved. As soon as their small home was up near the library Killian dutifully cared for, his brother followed suit. Liam and Elsa married, much to his father’s, Ingrid's, and Nemo's delight. His mother was gone for several years now, but he thought she would be proud of her children. 

Unlike the intimate affair Killian had held, the entire village was present for Liam’s marital feast. 

Including Emma. 

Her hair was in a wild braid, her dress without corseture or boning, flowing in swaths of mossy green cotton. Her fingers were stained in different colors, ranging from ochre to blackberry, crimson to indigo. 

And her eyes. They were suddenly the brightest green Killian had ever seen. 

Milah begged him not to say hello to Emma, making a symbol with her thumb, index and smallest finger that likened the woman with having horns. Like the rest of the villagers, her belief that Emma was a Demon-led witch held strong, even as they bought her herbal remedies from Lilly. Killian obliged, as not to upset his wife. In the end it was wise. As his brother stood to give a toast with Elsa looking on in adoration, there was a struggle in the back of the room. Emma was wild eyed, pointing at Liam and Elsa. 

"This is - it's impossible, this doesn't - please I don't understand, this isn't real! Someone help, why is this being shown to me? I need to get out of here, these are ghosts, memories - They aren't real! You are dead! Dead!" 

Emma's cries brought gasps from the crowd, with Nemo, Lilly, and Isaac pulling her from the room. Milah shook her head and muttered a prayer; the herbalist herself confirming the rumors that she had bouts of madness. Sir Isaac and Lilly desperately tried to keep her as rooted in reality as possible, but it was clear that she could not handle this event for whatever reason. She was calmed with a jacket and gag Isaac had made, sitting in the back where the sight would not disturb anyone. Although Killian thought it was barbaric to tie someone into sitting quietly (even in a wheeled chair), he thought that Emma was lucky enough to find an adoptive family like Sir Isaac and Lady Cruella. 

A strange feeling of wrongness fell on him, the hair on the back of his neck prickling. They were Fae, they should be able to heal her, heal each other, even in matters of madness. The thought had barely crossed his mind when Milah pulled him into a dance. As they spun with the other guests, Emma's eyes met his, Milah and him both laughing at Ingrid's clumsy footwork as she danced nearby. To his surprise, Emma smiled at them with the saddest look he had ever seen before she was wheeled away, disappearing into the crowd. 

That night he dreamed of Emma, even as Milah slept next to him in their marital bed. 

"You have to. You have to, before she's gone." 

Killian felt his mouth go dry, looking down at Emma's sleeping form. "This was a bad deal Lilly. You were supposed to be her friend, why did you let her do this?" 

"I fucked up. Please. You have to save her before she turns her into a shell of what she was or worse; you have to get her out of there. There's a potion, a sleeping draught or something - I don't know. I tried it and was able to get to her; but it's dangerous. She can -"

"I don't care. We can't stand around here while she… While she… I can't believe you did this, and that she agreed. Of all the stupid ideas to follow through on -" 

"Killian, it's not like I had a choice!" Lilly snapped. Killian glared, his anger threatening to boil over. 

"Bullshit, Lilly. Whatever you have to tell yourself, right?"

"Just listen. I was going to get her out, but you don't understand. My mother, Cruella, Isaac - none of them have seen anything like this. You can lose yourself in there; it takes over everything, rewriting your entire existence." 

"Then I'll lose myself happily. She'd already be doing that for me if it were me." 

"And for me. I hope Emma never forgives me," Lilly sniffed. 

Killian felt his jaw clench, something in his head clawing at his thoughts as he pushed it away. "That would make two of us, but she will. Emma is too good for the likes of us."

He woke with a start, Milah slightly stirring as he tried to remember the fragmented bits of the dream that lingered. 

Years passed, and Emma interacted with the village in small, rare, interactions. She bought food sparingly, but more often than not, Lilly bought it for her. The village was quiet, and Emma was too unpredictable, too loud. Killian professed sympathy for her, and Milah agreed that the herbalist truly had a terrible fate. 

Then Milah fell ill. 

It was nothing like he'd ever seen, as if she was being erased, her body falling apart quickly and her vibrancy muted. She became a shell, her fatigue and pain without relief until Milah let him try Emma's wares. A salve gave Milah almost instant comfort, and Killian bought as much as he could. As Milah deteriorated, they required more and more until they were out both at home and at the small stall where Lilly peddled her wares. When he asked for more, Lilly raised an eyebrow. 

"You could ask Emma. She does make the rare house call for extreme cases," Lilly whispered behind a cupped hand. 

So, Killian climbed the mountainside, up to the cliff Emma's cabin stood on. He peered in, noting how sparsely furnished the space was. There was no one inside, so he made his way to the back, following soft singing. Wearing a paint splattered cotton gown that did nothing to hide her body's shape, Emma stood with a brush grasped lightly in her fingers. Her hair was long and thrown back into an unkempt tumble of curls with no bonnet in sight, no corseture around her waist, and her feet were bare in the warm evening as she sang. 

Killian watched her paint in small strokes, tongue poking out as she finished and wiped her palms together with a clap. Her song abruptly ended and she turned to face him. 

"You're here," she said quietly. 

Her eyes were still so very green. 

"I… Beg pardon?" Killian shook his head, confused by why she seemed to stun him. For the first time things felt real, the moss and rocky soil on his feet even more so. "I'm here for -" 

"For Milah's medicine, yes. It's on the table there." She nodded her head to a small clay jar. He opened it, looking at the strange paste inside. Who had told her he was in need of it? 

"How did you -" 

"Not important. What is important, Killian, is that this will only help her for a day or two." Killian looked at the jar in his hand, terrified. Yes, Milah was getting worse, but days left? There was no way. Emma looked unflappable, her face empathetic. 

"What's wrong with Milah?" 

"It's complicated. She's wasting away, and I can't, she's - all I can do is slow it down. I'm so sorry, I know you both are so happy, and if I could do more I would. I can see how much you dream of a long life with her, and how scared you are of losing her." Emma seemed upset by his inquiry, and began to fidget. "I could possibly extend things longer if I was there, but… This will make things more comfortable. Less nightmarish."

"I'll ask Isaac, I'll beg -" 

"Lilly is a better bet. She sneaks me out to the beach, or makes distractions, and covers for me. She could… cover for me to help you."

"I'll ask her to, and to watch out for Isaac for us, but you'll come, right? Please say -" Killian began. Emma hushed him quietly. 

"Of course. I can't imagine how much of a torture this is, and I'm sorry. I'm trying to make it better, I don't want this fear to hurt you. I just - I don't know how any of this is happening, but while it is, I don't want you to -" Emma stopped and closed her eyes, lip caught in her teeth, as if collecting her thoughts. "I don't want either of you to hurt. I never want you to hurt, and I try to stop it when I can, when I see them try to punish me or you. You're real aren't you? If I can keep you happy, it will be alright, and you'll be alright." 

"I don't - uh. I don't know what that means, Swan," he admitted, scratching behind his ear. Blinking out of her outburst, Emma sighed, kicking dirt with her bare toes. She nodded, looking downcast. 

"Have Lilly send for me as soon as she can."

The look of tired misery in eyes that matched the moss haunted him the entire way home, sitting on his shoulder and whispering strange thoughts into his brain. 

One whisper stood out from the others, and he wasn’t sure if it was true or imagined, though he’d swear it was truth : Emma’s canvas had been filled with one of his own, very blue, eyes. 

[fanficimagery]

Imagine being the one angel Lucifer has a soft spot for, but after being cast out he has no way to contact you. What he hadn't realized was that you were cast out too, but God hid you as punishment. Now the Winchesters have learned of your existence and plan to use you as leverage.

@jho-p-e said to fanficimagery: Hello! I just came across your tumblr a few days ago and I absolutely LOVE it! May I request an imagine where the reader is Lucifer's (supernatural) weakness or the only angel that he has a soft spot for because she rebelled with him against God. Instead of Michael putting her in the cage with Lucifer, God hides her in a coma-like state somewhere on Earth. The Winchesters find her and want to use her to their advantage but Lucifer finds out.

Gen Fic X Reader

Seeing Michael and Lucifer bicker had become something of the norm, but after being entrusted with the Mark to keep the Darkness imprisoned the bickering became rather more hostile. Then Father had to go and create new children, and then had the audacity to command all of Heaven to love his new children more than Himself. Lucifer had downright refused, but you'd given them a chance. And after watching over Father's new creations, you came to the conclusion that Lucifer was right- the humans were flawed and murderous, and there was no way you could love them more than Father.

Lucifer had always been one of your favorites, if not the favorite, so it was no surprise you immediately had his back when he challenged Father. The two of you refused to love Father's new children and even recruited other angels which kick started a small rebellion. But Father was not having any sort of power struggle in his home and commanded Michael to cast Lucifer out of Heaven.

"Father, stop this," you plead. "Don't cast him out. Don't take Lucifer from me."

Father smiles sadly, reaching out and cupping your cheek in hand. "I am sorry, my daughter, but it must be done. Lucifer is too proud to see reason. He seeks to corrupt-"

"He seeks to corrupt because of you! You gave him the Mark and you know it's the Mark which made him more bold in his actions," you cry. "Please, Father, I beg of you- don't send him away."

"It is done." The words are like a slap to the face, you flinching back at their utterance. "And had you not been Lucifer's shadow, I wouldn't have to send you away either."

Your grace seems to run cold at his words. "Father?"

"I must go away for a bit, daughter, and Michael seeks to eradicate any and all angels who were in league with Lucifer. I love you and I will not have Michael harm you. But to do so, you must be far from Heaven."

"Father, no." You take a cautious step back, putting a bit of space between you. "As much as I love Lucifer and would be glad to be with him, Heaven is my home."

"I see no other way. " Tears prick your eyes and Father chuckles quietly. "You emote just like my other children, yet you refuse to see it." He quickly closes the gap between you, wiping away your tears as he then cradles your face between the palms of his hands. "I wish you could live as my other children live, but Lucifer will only find you and I can't have that. Lucifer must be punished and if that means I must hide you, I will."

A sob rips free from your throat and Father calmly shushes you as he gathers you in his arms. "P-Please."

"Do not fret. You won't feel a thing."

And with a kiss to your forehead, everything goes dark.

Sitting around the bunker, Sam, Dean, and Jack are trying to come up with a way to finally get rid of Lucifer. The devil has been a thorn in their side for far too long and they've had enough of being accosted by his pet demons.

Castiel returns sporting a solemn expression and Dean sighs upon spotting it. "What'd you find out, Cas?"

"From the looks of it, Lucifer is no longer interested in kidnapping his son."

Sam perks up a bit in his seat. "That's good. Right?"

Castiel frowns. "Not necessarily. He intends to finally kill you and Dean, and myself, and leave Jack no other option but to go to him for guidance. Then take over the world by any means necessary." Dean scoffs as Jack sinks in his seat. "But-"

"But?" Sam perks up again. "But what?"

"I.. found out something that would be of great importance to Lucifer- something that could change everything. I.. I'm not even sure how to feel about this myself. Y/N was- is my sister and I thought-"

"Y/N?" Dean wonders. "Focus, Cas. What's so important about this Y/N chick?"

Cas' shoulders droop as he settles himself into a chair next to Jack who's watching him curiously. "Y/N was an angel in Lucifer's garrison. She quickly became his favorite and the two of them- they were inseparable," he says, remembering the angel fondly. "When Lucifer started his rebellion, it wasn't a shock to see Y/N at his side. What was a shock, however, was that she kept him in check as best as she could. He always listened to her, but the Mark he bore corrupted him too much and Y/N could only hang on for the ride."

"What happened to her?" Sam asks, his interest piqued.

"When Michael cast out Lucifer, Father went to Y/N. We were told she died fighting in Lucifer's name, but it's come to my attention that Y/N is alive and Earth-bound."

"What?" Dean's brow furrows. "How long has she been here?"

"Since the day Lucifer was cast out. According to my sources, Father cast out Y/N to keep Michael from killing her. He put her in a coma and cloaked her existence from Lucifer. It was part of his punishment to never be reunited with the one angel he loved above all else."

"Wait, but I thought angels didn't have.. relations," Sam says, suddenly uncomfortable. Dean coughs and pointedly stares at Jack, and Sam rolls his eyes. "I know Lucifer fathered Jack, but he procreated with a mission in mind. He didn't do it for love."

"Sam is correct," Castiel confesses. "The love between Lucifer and Y/N was not romantic, but rather on the platonic side of things. However, it's a love I've never seen before. You'd have to witness it to understand."

"What are you gettin' at, Cas?" Dean sighs. "Are you suggesting we find this comatose angel? Use her against Lucifer?"

Jack clears his throat. "But how would we find her? If she's cloaked from Lucifer, it's safe to say she's cloaked from everyone else as well."

"We could ask Rowena," Sam suggests. "If it's something to use against Lucifer, she'll help."

"Great. Just great," Dean scoffs. "We finally have something solid to use against Lucifer, but we need help from the Wicked Witch of the West. What's to say Rowena won't kill her the second she finds her? She hates Lucifer. She'll want to see him suffer."

"It won't come to that," Castiel says. "Though Y/N was on Team Lucifer, she is still my sister. We find her, wake her, and tell her what's going on. She might not be too fond of humans, but she doesn't want to see Earth completely razed to the ground. If Lucifer remains unchecked, then that's exactly what will happen."

"Awesome," Dean deadpans. "Not only do we have to work with a witch, but now we have to make a deal with the devil."

Sam shrugs. "If it means Earth is safe and Jack remains with us, then who cares? I'll go make that phone call and you.. you do something to keep yourself busy. We have an angel to find."

Sprawled across his throne, Lucifer watches as his demons mill about the room. Lately they've been tasked with luring the Winchesters out of their bunker and away from their little watch dogs that are Castiel and his son Jack, and so far not one demon has come up with a solid plan.

The doors open and a demon wearing a male meat suit in a crisp black suit enters. He walks up to Lucifer's throne before stopping short and bowing in greeting. "My liege, the Winchesters and their pet angel appear to be on the move."

"Oh? And pray tell what monster of the week has piqued their attention enough to get them to leave the safety of their dungeon?"

"It is not an monster, but an angel."

"Oh?" Lucifer sits up, interest now piqued. "Do tell."

"It's some angel that God has kept hidden for many years. The demons watching that witch of yours overheard a conversation in which they need her to uncloak the angel and wake her. They say her name is Y/N."

Instantly, Lucifer's smile vanishes. "What did you just say?"

The demon gulps. "That R-Rowena is needed-"

"No, I got that," Lucifer says. "I meant about the angel's name. What is her name?"

"Y/N."

Lucifer blinks, his expression going stony. "Get every demon available to tail the Winchesters. No one is lay a finger on that coma angel. Go. Now!"

The demon's eyes flicker black in his sudden fear. "Y-Yes, my liege." And with yet another quick bow, the demon flees as if the hounds of Hell were on his heels.

Pacing the dais, Lucifer inhales deeply and exhales slowly. Glancing skyward, he sneers. "Congrats, Dad, you really are a dick. She loved you as much as she loved me. What did Y/N ever do to be granted such a fate?" He's not expecting an answer, but it still frustrates him beyond measure and he screams his frustration at the ceiling. His demons startle, but he pays them no mind. "I will find her. And when I do, I will not stop her from wanting to hunt you down and giving you a piece of her mind.

Jolting awake, it takes a moment for your sight to focus and when it does you frown at the man leaning over you. Concentrating, you can feel the hum of grace surrounding the meat suit and subtly relax. "Castiel," you breathe, smiling.

"Hello, Y/N. How are you feeling?"

Slowly sitting up, you shrug before the last thing you remember pops up into the forefront of your mind. You tense and hop off the table you'd been on, you then twisting and turning and glancing at the startled appearances of the room's other occupants. "Where's Father? He said- He cast-"

"We know." Castiel interrupts, solemnly nodding. "Father hid you from everyone and told us you were killed in battle. His cloaking started to fail which is how some of our brothers and sisters found out about you. I'm here now. You're safe."

Your brow furrows. "His cloaking started to fail? Castiel, how long has it been?"

"Y/N, don't-"

"The year is now 2019," another voice supplies. "And your beloved Lucifer has gone off the rails. We need you to put him in check or-"

"Or what?" You sneer, glancing at male human who dared speak to you that way. The guy puffs up in indignation, but the taller male human with shaggy hair puts a hand on his shoulder. You let your gaze pass over them with a scoff, only then to settle on the youngest male of the group. He appears rather young, but the aura of grace radiating off of him is unsettling. "You," you say. "Who are you? You feel.. familiar, but I don't recall your name."

The kid gulps as he glances between everyone and you frown as Castiel steps in front of him as if shielding him from you. "This is Jack. He's.. Lucifer's son."

"W-What?" No one corrects Castiel and sensing the boy's power again, you flinch. "Nephilim."

"He's a good kid," the shaggy haired human says. "Lucifer's been trying to corrupt him, but Jack's mother left him in the care of Castiel. We- we're Hunters, but we've taken Jack under our wing as well. Lucifer won't stop until he has complete control of his son."

Your hands clench at your sides and you take a deep breath before releasing it slowly and relaxing as best as you can. "My grace is itching for a fight, but if Castiel says you're alright.. then okay." From behind Castiel, Jack flashes you a small grateful smile. Then glancing back towards the other two humans, you say, "I'm not too fond of your kind. If you want me to talk to Lucifer.. fine, but stay out of my way."

"Now listen here, you little-"

"Thank you," the shaggy haired individual cuts in, glaring at his friend. "My name is Sam and this," he says while gesturing to his obnoxious, outspoken friend, "is my brother Dean."

You nod. "Y/N. So what has Lucifer done now?"

Dean scoffs. "What hasn't he done? He's pretty much the creator of all things evil and-"

"That's not completely his fault," you defend him. "If you want someone to blame, blame your precious God." Dean huffs, muttering about how naive you are and you turn your attention to Sam. "Did Lucifer hate humans? Yes," you admit without an ounce of shame. "But his hatred for your kind was only amplified by that mark Father put on him. Had it not been for that, Lucifer and I would still be in Heaven snarking about you hairless apes."

Jack snorts and Dean turns his glare on him, Sam then nudging his brother to stop it. But before anything else can be said, the door to the room is being kicked open and people are crashing through the windows.

Sam, Dean, and Castiel shift into a fighting stance and you frown when the two humans are suddenly wielding angel blades. Angel blades were sacred objects and only angels were supposed to have them, so for these humans to have them means something must have happened to the angels assigned to them. And that- that doesn't sit well with you. Especially if the brothers had anything to do with whatever happened to your brothers and sisters for them to have blades.

Attention then brought back to the growing amount of strange individuals barging into the room, you shift towards the corner as you study them. Their auras are dark- twisted. Demons.

You sneer at the one who dares look at you and fight the urge to jump into the fray when both parties attack. Though you're capable of fighting, you've never fought without your blade and since you're not in possession of one your only option is to stand back. Sam, Dean, and Castiel slash and stab their way through the demons, but they just keep on coming. Even the nephilim helps out, he sending out his power in a wave to disintegrate the unlucky few closest to him.

One moment everyone's fighting and the next the demons are aborting the fight by fleeing their meat suits. Then just as everyone seems to let their guard down, Sam, Dean, Castiel, and Jack are sent flying back and being pinned to the walls by an unseen force. You stumble forward in surprise, eyeing the trapped individuals as a dark chuckle resonates around the room.

Whirling around, you come face to face with Lucifer. "Hello, Y/N. Long time no see."

"Lucifer," you reply on an exhale. The seconds tick by and you slowly smile, you then quickly closing the distance between the both of you. Arms wrapped tightly around his middle, you sigh in contentment as his wrap around your shoulders. "I'm so happy you're okay."

"Me too, little one." Lucifer murmurs. "When Michael cast me out, I was terrified of what might happen to you."

"So was Dad apparently. He's the one who cast me out of Heaven to keep Michael from getting his hands on me. But he still wanted to punish you, so he hid my presence on Earth."

"As touching as this chick flick moment is, we have to deal to make," Dean snarks.

One of Lucifer's arms leave you as he makes a motion with his hand and several objects clatter. When you pull free and turn around, all weapons from those pinned have fallen to the ground. "You're in no position to boss me around," Lucifer says. "If I were you, I'd keep quiet, Winchester."

Dean opens his mouth to retort, but quickly finds out he's been silence. Lucifer's taken his voice.

"Sister, please," Castiel pleads. "We can't continue on like this. You must-"

"I must?" You say, gritting your teeth. "I mustn't do anything, Castiel. I was just woken from a spelled coma your beloved Father put me in and I find myself with a rather large chip on my wing. You and your pet humans can rot for all I care."

"Y/N," Sam then says. "You said you'd talk to him. Please. Help us."

Rolling your eyes, you sigh and face Lucifer. "Your son- a son that you had with a human, which don't for one second think we won't be speaking about that later- seems like he's in capable hands." Lucifer frowns and you nudge him. "And the humans- they'll die out eventually and we can regrow Earth as it was meant to be. Until then, you and I have a lot to catch up on."

Lucifer makes a show of sighing loudly and pouting. "You take the fun out of everything, kid."

"Only when I have good reason to," you muse. "And you know I'm right. Whatever reason you have for tormenting this crew," you gesture to the ones stuck to the wall, "let it go. For now. Being separated from you felt like just yesterday, but I know it's been way longer for you. I want to know everything that's happened."

"Fine," he groans, drawling out the word. "Lets go home."

"Mhm. But wait!" Looking back around the room, you step forward until you can bend at the waist and scoop up the two angel blades beneath the Winchester's feet. Dean struggles against the force holding him and Sam grunts something unintelligible. Standing tall, you then meet both of their gazes- one furious and the other shining with reluctant acceptance for taking their weapons. "For a human to obtain an angel blade means you killed my brothers and sisters. You're very lucky I wasn't around when that happened."

"Y/N-"

"Don't, Castiel. Don't push your luck with me right now."

Lucifer chuckles and you make your way back towards him, he slinging one arm around your shoulders while mockingly waving at the everyone else with his free hand. "Adios, hermanos. Until next time."

And with a snap of his fingers, you suddenly find yourself in a room void of silly humans, the nephilim, and Castiel. Instead, you're now in a room with various demons milling about. When you grimace, Lucifer immediately sends them away and directs you to a couple of cozy looking sofa chairs. But instead of sitting in your own, you crawl into his lap and melt against him with a sigh.

"You always were really affectionate for an angel."

"You have no room to talk, Mr. I Had Intercourse with an Hairless Ape," you mumble back.

He chuckles softly and wraps his arms around you, setting his chin atop your head. "I missed you, kid. When I was told you were killed, I didn't handle it well. I did all sorts of things you would not have approved of."

"Well I'm here now. I don't know what's going on, but I don't like that Castiel was so comfortable with those two humans. What happened to him?"

Lucifer shrugs. "He's had his Grace ripped out one too many times, I assume." You shiver at that, your stomach turning at such an act. "And was forced to live as they do- to feel as they do. He went soft. And then all angels were cast out by something Metatron did-" You gasp, pulling back at staring at Lucifer with eyes full of horror, "-but they've managed to take Heaven back and get it all sorted out."

"But Metatron was only the Scribe of God. Where was Father throughout all of this?"

"Dear 'ol Dad left. Went missing. Took a vacation and never returned," Lucifer drawls. "Well, he did when the Winchesters released the Darkness," you groan, eyes rolling at their stupidity, "but then Dad grabbed his sister and left. Again."

"None of this would have happened had Father smited his beloved creations when we told him to."

"Preaching to the choir, sister." You frown at the phrase, but Lucifer merely shrugs it off. "But that's an issue for a later day. I just got you back and I have so much to tell you."

"Then you better get to talking, Luci. I have a feeling I'm going to have to get to work soon."

[transcendence-au]

The Manor of Alcor (10/10)

Also on ff.net and AO3

The police and ambulance came an hour later. After intensive questioning, they had to spend the remainder of the day and night at the hospital. Or at least Orrie and Mr. Goodman had to. Dipper (unsurprisingly, Orrie thought to himself with a tiny snort) didn’t have any injuries whatsoever to need a room, and Belle’s were mild enough that the doctors let her leave the same evening after thorough treatment. So it was just him and Mr. Goodman who would have to stay behind. For Orrie it was to heal his broken arm. He’d be continued to be looked after until his parents arrived the next morning. Mr. Goodman, on the other hand, was quite old, so the staff wanted to make certain he was fit enough before discharging him.

Orrie let out a tired sigh, staring at his arm. He was so glad magic technology was becoming more widely used in hospitals; injuries and broken bones could heal nearly twice as fast than they could normally. But the magitech cast had to be worn at all times, and so it was a bit difficult trying to fall asleep with it on and its constant low humming.

He leaned back, trying to get comfortable on the hospital bed. He stared out the window. The moon and stars were remarkably bright tonight; Orrie wondered if Belle and Dipper were looking at them now. He wondered how they were coping. Was this normal for them? Maybe– they did speak a lot about their earlier adventures before. But they had been just as scared as he was confronting the cultists, just as pained and outraged to see innocents die. Orrie choked momentarily thinking about Flynn. He…he never wanted to go through something like that ever again.

A knock on the door disturbed him from his darkening thoughts. “Do you need anything for the night?” the nurse asked with a smile. Orrie shook his head.

“No thank you. I’m good.”

“Alright. Will the cast make it hard for you to get some rest?”

“Um…yeah, actually.” She nodded understandingly, turning to the tablet in her hand.

“This should help. We understand these devices can be quite noisy, so they have built in therapeutic charms to ease with sleeping.” She drew some sort of design on the tablet, which activated the cast into glowing a soft green. Orrie could feel the calming effects immediately. “Better?” “Much.” She bade him goodnight, and Orrie soon after drifted into blissful slumber.

After a morning breakfast and one final check-up, Orrie found himself sitting in the front lobby. He felt self-conscious of the fact he was a boy with a broken arm sitting by himself in a surprisingly busy lobby. Correction: a teenager with a broken arm sitting by himself. Fortunately, most of the people passing were nurses and doctors coming in for their morning shift and not patients in dire need, but he could still feel their curious glances toward him. He kept his eyes averted, staring as best he could out the giant window panel.

The seat cushion sank a bit as someone sat beside him. Orrie looked up. “Mr. Goodman. How are you feeling?”

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” the old man answered, resting his arms in his lap. Orrie felt the edges of his lips twitch, but he couldn’t bring himself to give a genial smile. They sat in silence. “…And you?” Mr. Goodman asked eventually. Orrie jerked, caught off guard since he thought the conversation had stopped.

“Uh, fine. Just…just waiting for my parents.” He leaned back on one arm to make it look like he was totally indifferent about waiting for them, not at all like he was feeling awkward being around the man. Not that Mr. Goodman was a bad person—at least, Orrie was pretty sure about that; Terry had been holding him hostage as well—but…what do you say to the person who just lost his business in a single night? What do you say to the person who, through no ill intent whatsoever, nearly caused you to die and did get several others killed? What do you say to—

“I don’t think Neil ever intended one of his descendants to experience the horrors he had.” Orrie looked up.

“What?”

Mr. Goodman gave him a small, sad smile. “Neil Gogh. My ancestor. I don’t think he ever wanted this to happen.” He stared at his hands. “He realized too late after killing his dear friends what absolute power can do to the mind and soul. It corrupts you, twists you to the point that you might as well be a different person entirely. They were on the verge of capturing one of the most powerful entities in existence and make him bend to their will. In the end he gained no power, lost all his closest allies, and had to go into hiding just to remain free.”

Mr. Goodman exhaled deeply. “I think it was the news report that was the final nail on the coffin for him. To read in full detail the murders of his friends, killed by his own selfish doings. He settled down in a large city miles away. He adopted a new identity. He tried to live the rest of his life as a generous, law-abiding citizen. He used all the powers and knowledge he had to bring happiness instead of heartache to others. He wrote all of this down in his journal, a journal that’s been passed down as a dark heirloom for many generations. I suppose he was trying to atone for his sins.” Orrie let his gaze fall, staring at the floor. He could hear Mr. Goodman’s voice tighten as he continued. “He died believing himself wholly unrepentable. But his newfound desire to help others was passed on to his children, and his children’s children, and all the generations after. I too inherited that desire. So I wanted to reopen the manor to the public. Of course, the murder mystery would be the main draw, but I wished to hold other events and activities to enjoy. Soon the mansion that had housed tragedy and betrayal so long ago became a mansion full of fun and creating happy memories for people of all walks of life. And for years I was living in a dream come true.”

He brought his hands up, gingerly wiping the tears from his eyes before they could fall. “Susie…Ms. Wheatly…was a dear friend of mine. Sue and I met many years ago, and she supported me from the very beginning, back when opening the family home to the public was just an inkling of an idea. It was all her idea to use nursery rhymes as hints, you know. Made all of them herself.” Mr. Goodman sniffled. Before he realized what he was doing, Orrie patted the old man on the shoulder.

“I’m…I’m so sorry for your loss.” Mr. Goodman sniffed again.

“It’s okay, Orrie. I accept what has happened. And we’ll recover from it one day.” Orrie didn’t miss his use of the inclusive term. But he couldn’t speak of the matter for long; Orrie’s parents had arrived and hurried quickly to the receptionist’s desk. “Those are your folks?”

“Yes.” He stood. He paused. He looked back. “What about you? Do you have anyone to pick you up?”

“I’ll be fine,” Mr. Goodman said, smiling softly. “My business won’t, though. I’m shutting down the Manor of Alcor once I get home. Too much death has transpired inside it. Maybe I’ll sell it after I remove all the runes lacing it, or perhaps I’ll have it demolished. Maybe I’ll start another attraction elsewhere. Who knows what the future holds.” He stood up himself, patting Orrie gently on the shoulder. “Goodbye Orrie, and be safe. And tell your folks all the expenses were paid for and then some. Half a million some. It’s the least I can do.”

Orrie couldn’t reply right away. “Thank you, Mr. Goodman,” he at last said. “And good luck with everything. Take care.” The old man shook his hand briefly before heading out the front doors. Orrie watched him leave as his parents sprinted over to him and nearly crushed him in their tight, protective embraces.

Orrie stared at the blank plaster that was his bedroom ceiling. He’d been doing that a lot the last two weeks since he returned home from the hospital. Just lie on his bed and stare into space, contemplating. He hadn’t touched his sketchbook in ages. He didn’t want to. Not so much because of what it reminded him of (as if he could ever forget that anyway) but more so because he didn’t wish to upset his parents even further. For them to see their son still interested in the demon who caused all this, albeit inadvertently? They’d probably go into a panic thinking he was possessed or brainwashed or something.

They were being a bit too overprotective, though, he long since realized. Walking with him practically everywhere he went except to school, texting him every thirty minutes whenever he was away to see if he was fine, peeking into his room when they thought he wouldn’t notice. Orrie sighed. He loved his parents. But no matter how often he told them he was alright, they’d just nod their heads as if they understood and put on a fake smile that clearly said they weren’t listening. Perhaps once the cast was finally removed they’d see he was fine and give him his space.

Orrie inhaled then exhaled deeply before rolling onto his side. His eyes settled on the sketchbook resting on his dresser. He looked away, convincing himself that he didn’t need to worry about them. That they were alright. That they probably weren’t even thinking of him as often as he was of them. His gaze returned to the book. Yeah, he hadn’t been very good at lying to himself lately. Why shouldn’t he make sure everything was fine with the Sterlings? They were his friends now. His parents’ worry for him could wait.

Quietly, Orrie slipped off the bed and crept toward his bedroom door. It was very late at night; he could hear his father’s soft snores coming from down the hall. Still, to be safe, he locked his door so no one could intrude. He was sorely underprepared what with this being a last-minute idea, but maybe an exception could be made. And it wouldn’t be for long anyway. Orrie walked over to his sketchbook and tore out a blank page, placing it on the floor. Grabbing a marker, he expertly drew the summoning circle on the paper, referencing his notes multiple times to make certain nothing was amiss. He then went to his backpack and pulled out the sympathy chocolate bar one of his teachers at school gave him after his first day back from the hospital and placed it just outside the circle. Taking a shuddering breath to calm himself, he took out a tiny switchblade and cut thinly across his finger, letting a few bloody drops fall onto the circle.

He whispered the incantation quietly but clearly.

The lights in his room flickered before taking on an unearthly bright blue shade. Smoke unfurled from the center of the circle, expanding rapidly until it took the shape of a certain demon floating cross-legged above it, not even bothering to contain himself within its small circumference. His gaze was initially on the paper, disdain obvious as he leered at the crude method of summoning, lack of candles, and meager offering. But when he looked up and spotted who his summoner was, his contempt shifted quickly into mild disbelief.

“Orrie?” The boy, however, said nothing. Instead, he reactively backed away closer to his door, fear flashing in his eyes at the sight of the deceptively young adult human male. The demon blinked before realizing the problem. “Oh, right. How’s this?” In an instant, Alcor regressed in apparent age, being now the even younger and much more familiar Dipper Sterling…clothes and demonic features notwithstanding. Orrie relaxed a bit.

“Hey there, uh…” He probably should have figured out what to call him before summoning him. “Di…Alcor?”

“Is there anyone who can eavesdrop?” Alcor asked. Orrie shook his head. “Then call me Dipper.”

A small, internal sigh. “Hey Dipper. It’s been a while. I just, um, I just wanted to know how you and Belle were doing.” He played with his fingers nervously. Even if this was his friend, this was still his first time alone with a demon, particularly one known for being unpredictable. Without his sister to keep him in check, what was Dipper really like? Would he find this summons a complete waste of his time?

Dipper paused for a brief second. “That’s it? You just want to know how we’re doing?” He stared deeper at Orrie. “Is that really all?”

The boy shuddered slightly under the intense gaze, but he refused to look away from the golden irises. “Yes. I…” Dare he admit it? “I really do wonder how you’re both doing. Are you okay? Is Belle? She did get hurt even though the doctors let her go that same day. I know you’ve been through danger like that before, but you’re still kids. Well, Belle is, and you’re acting like one. Wait, don’t take that the wrong way! I just—” He took a deep breath. “I was worried about you guys. But since I didn’t hear anything from you I just assumed you were doing well. And had moved on. But I just needed to be sure, and so…” He gestured vaguely to the lame ritual preparations.

Dipper chuckled. “So you decided to summon me just to check up on us?” His eyes seemed to brighten as he looked around the room once more. “You do know it’s not a good idea to summon the most dangerous demon known on a whim, right?” Orrie smiled sheepishly, remembering.

“I’m sorry. I only wanted to make sure, even if you forgot about me.”

“Forgot?” Dipper was quick to question, much to Orrie’s surprise. “Why would we forget about you? You’re our friend, Orrie. At least I thought we were.”

“We are! I mean, we are, right? I want to be. You, me, Belle– I didn’t think everything we’d done would lead to nothing between us. But like I said, when I didn’t hear anything from you I thought you’d gotten over everything. And it’s not like I didn’t try to call you or contact you, but I couldn’t find your numbers or anything.” “Well, we don’t exactly put that information out in the open for just anyone to find,” smirked Dipper. “But I see how you came to this decision. I have no excuse for not being able to contact you; Belle wanted to check up on you right after we came home from the hospital, but I convinced her to give you your space. I figured sooner or later you’d come around to telling us you were fine.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The days passed, and you never did. I popped in every once in a while to see you myself. But when I saw you actively keeping your distance from your sketchbook, I assumed you wanted nothing more to do with us.”

Orrie’s eyes widened at the admission. “What? No, I was keeping my distance so I wouldn’t worry mom and dad. I didn’t think…oh wow, this has been a huge misunderstanding.” He laughed, careful to keep his volume controlled and not loud enough to wake his parents. He looked at Dipper, smile still plastered on his face. “I’m fine. My arm is healing well; I’ll get the cast off in about a week. And my parents have me going to counseling, which is going alright. I haven’t had nearly as many nightmares since starting at least. And we donated most of the prize money I got to charity; only a small bit we’re keeping for my college savings and the therapy.”

Dipper nodded. “That’s good. Belle and I are doing just fine, and she’ll be excited to hear you’re doing well too. We didn’t need the money either, so we gave it to some family friends of ours. Our lives have pretty much gotten back to normal, or what passes as normal for us. Despite how exciting as our lives can get, this isn’t exactly something that happens every other Tuesday. We really were worried about you.” To hear that from the demon in person made Orrie speechless for a moment.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, looking down. After a brief moment he looked back up, meeting Dipper’s gaze again, a spark of hope in his eyes. “So summer vacation is about to start, and I was wondering, if you and Belle had nothing better to do, we could…hang out? Catch up on things? Solve our own, less dangerous mysteries? Maybe even at Gravity Falls? My parents have kinda been planning a trip there for ages now. And it’d be cool if we had some people who knew the place well enough to give us a tour.” He gave the demon his best winning smile.

Dipper only laughed at the silent plea. “We’ll see. Then again, what better way is there to spend a summer holiday than with friends, right?”

[charlottedabookworm]

hamelin-born replied to your text post:

*snicker* I love that. The 'delicate sensibilities' of the Mystic - he makes Somnus sound like an offended elderly relative. 

@hamelin-born

:D

I mean, whether ardynson or somnusson, Somnus basically is. He’s old and dead and is very offended by Nyx’s very presence in his city and he is essentially that offended elderly relative that you roll you’re eyes at and ignore cos they’re a dick

Course, Nyx treating Somnus this way just pisses him off more

And I have to wonder - does the Rogue know just /who/ Nyx is? ...I think not, because Somnus - Somnus would /not/ have shared that tale, not even with his children - not then, not ever. 

Nope!

The Rogue has no idea exactly who Nyx is. She knows that he’s Lucis Caelum, knows that he’s Knight like she is Rogue, because his very soul sings of it in a way that is only visible to those unbound by the mortal coil.

But she has no idea whose son he is. 

Because Somnus never shared those tales, even if he believed himself right. Somnus Lucis Caelum wiped his brother from existence (and, in a Somnuson au, I feel like Hypnos Lucis Caelum who was Somnus’ martyr wouldn’t have gone down in history as the Knight so even that tells her nothing) and spoke nothing of him, not even to his own children, and so Crepera doesn’t know

What she does know, however, is that this kids very presence is enough to set the Mystic off on a rant and that? That is interesting.

So, she goes to check him out

And the entirely casual way Nyx interacts with one of the Lucii! It's gorgeous, and I love it so. He's more irritated at the attention this is sure to bring then at the Rogue actually showing up. 

Thanks! :)

Nyx is so chill because just. He doesn’t care. Ghosts of distant relatives showing up for a chat, cool, maybe nice to meet you if you aren’t a dick, otherwise fuck off i’m busy. 

And the Rogue is cool, definitely his favourite dead relative, but did she have to show up here?

Really?

People are going to ask questions and sigh. He doesn’t want to deal with that. Like, he was in hiding for a reason. (tho hearing that he pissed off Somnus by being here is actually very mood uplifting)

And if this *is* a Somnuson AU - well. Having Nyx bluntly introduce himself as 'Nyx Ardynson' will make Somnus all but /combust/. 

Oh, it would.

And Nyx would. He so would. Because Somnus isn’t his father, not anymore, not for a very long time, and he would make certain that the man knew that.

It might be petty, to rub it in like that. But Nyx deserved to be petty towards the man who he had trusted and who had put him to the cross. He’s petty but it’s been two thousand years and what Somnus did to him still haunts him and Nyx has a right to be fucking petty.

So he would totally introduce himself as Ardyn’s son.

In fact, he might introduce himself as the Sage’s son, just to rub it in a little further. 

Because Somnus tried to strip that title from Ardyn, tried to remove anything that wasn’t the Accursed, and here is the boy who was once his son calling himself the Sageson.

Nyx is stating that he stands by his beliefs, that Ardyn is not the ACcursed but the Sage, that Somnus was wrong to do what he did, and that he claimed that man that Somnus called corrupted (called monster) as his father in place of Somnus himself

It’s a move that is precisely calculated to hurt the man who had broken them, for all that the words are completely true, and Somnus all but combusts when he hears those words.

[l3monsoda]

OK Listen Up

ALL THE SPOILERS AHEAD FOR STEVEN UNIVERSE OK SO LIKE JUST SKIP IF YOU HAVE TO

Also very long post I got lots to say here

First of all Freaking Called it so freaking long ago!

I FINALLY found time to watch A Single Pale Rose and listen folks, all yall just about driving me up a wall with your constant screaming “OH Worst plot twist ever boo!” and “This totally makes Rose the villain. Wahhh” and “She totally was a manipulative mastermind who selfishly and single-handedly orchestrated the entire gem war resulting in the death of thousands and endless suffering for all of our heroes! That devious dastardly monster!!!” 

Ok guys chill out for a second and hear me out ok? I think everyone is missing some very important already established aspects of Rose, and now Pink Diamonds character. I’m going break this down slowly so bare with me ok because I’ve got about the whole shows worth of points and evidence to go through here because honestly crewniverse has been building up to this since like day one.

First thing I want to get out of the way is those of you who are talking about how after this there is no way to reconcile the initial image of Rose Quarts as a kind all loving compassionate leader who only did things for the greater good everyone around her. To those folks; I have to wonder if you have been paying attention? Because guys Steven literally went through a whole arc about this already, Rose was not the perfect amazing flawless gem that the original cast of the crystal gems always made her out to be. She’s not supposed to be viewed that way by us anymore. All kids grow up and find out there parents aren’t perfect, Steven included. Rose had secrets, she lied, she stamped out rebellion within her movement and quickly buried the evidence. and this is just the obvious stuff that is told to us.

If you really want to know the real Rose Quartz you need to be paying really close attention to episodes where we see her through the eyes of not the gems but Greg. That is when Rose’s true characterization comes out and we start to get some real insight into who she was. The Rose Greg knew was sweet and silly but also lacking in something that I think was previously attributed to her by sheer virtue of being “good” empathy. Rose is compassionate, she is kind, she genuinely finds value in the uniqueness and wonder of life on earth but she can’t empathize with it. Rose’s perspective of understanding is completely limited to her own point of view, she is incapable of seeing it another way. We see it in the way she handles her relationship with Greg, the frivolous nature she approaches humanity as a whole, the callousness she puts toward the care of a baby. She appreciates and values human life but in the way a scientist watches ants build a colony. 

She thinks humans are cool and fascinating, fun to watch and they do all these silly and funny things that are so much fun be a part of. To understand how Rose views humanity look no farther than Pink Diamonds human zoo. On the surface it is benevolent and on a practical level it is paradise where nothing bad happens ever, an actual ant colony for what was no doubt an early exploration by Pink Diamond into humanity. This displays again a form of compassion with out empathy. Rose loves humans but she doesn’t connect with them, for her there is a barrier that she can’t bridge and it stems from a complete inability to put herself in another’s shoes. I like to think Greg helps with this somewhat in a way that no other human companion had, his empathy abounds and his patience to explain things to Rose both the world and his feelings seem to have helped them make some sort of progress, but honestly I have always suspected the whole Steven experiment was just Rose’s way of finally bridging the last step she never could, Rose can only truly understand what she has experienced for herself and so Steven was her way of finally understanding humanity once and for all. 

Now at this point you might be thinking “See Rose is a villain!” but I’m here to tell you no. Rose is not evil, Rose is selfish. Contrary to what generations worth of Disney films have been telling you, that is not an inherently evil trait. A lot of very compassionate and giving people are selfish. See selfishness is often coupled with greediness and while the two can exist quite harmoniously within the same person they don’t have to. To be selfish or self centered just mean that everything is usually viewed first and foremost through the lens of you. Your needs, your wants, what benefits you. But this doesn’t mean you can’t do nice kind things and also I’m of the opinion that it doesn’t some how negate the positive impact of that kindness just because it was done in part to benefit the doer as well. All through out history you have astoundingly humanitarian and kind acts being pursed for selfish reasons. As long as the selfish motivation doesn’t impeded the good detrimentally, as long as good gets done should we really care why?

The other thing we need to take note of is this, Rose and especially as Pink Diamond, is childish. She literally refers to her relationship with Greg as “Play”. Every action we’ve ever seen rose take that was not seen through the lens of the adoration of the Crystal gems or through the almost fairy tale like narrative sometimes given to us be Garnet we see Rose take with a note of levity and lack of seriousness that has always caused me to call into question her leadership capabilities. Now when we saw this trait in Rose it manifested itself as charming and sweet (Most likely Greg’s influence since it’s in his memories that when we witness the most flawed versions of the woman but she was still the woman he loves and therefore very much a still biased viewpoint) but when we meet Pink Diamond we see it’s far less endearing implications. It’s important to note that by Rose’s own words, gems do not grow up and change, they come into being as they are. This means that Pink’s diminutive stature and two year old like tendency to throw a tantrum are not credited to her lack of experience but more who she is as a character. At the core of who Pink Diamond and therefore by extension Rose Quartz is is a child who has been made to lead. This isn’t something she was liable to outgrow especially since there is all the emphasis on not only the flawlessness but also the unchanging eternity that is a diamond. A Diamond is forever.

So when we add these well established and known parts of the character up what are we left with? Well for starters we are most certainly left with a huge heap of a mess of a war and hurt and grieving parties on all sides that could clearly be traced back directly is the defiantly questionable choices of Rose Quartz. Though the blame game is such a silly waste of time since you could also say that the fact that the other Diamonds gave the clearly incapable Pink Diamond a colony in the first place was in pretty poor judgment, also no one made the diamonds corrupt all the gems on earth including their own soldiers, they were clearly going to abandon earth anyway, they could have just left and let the cluster do it’s work and so on and so forth.

Any way I agree Rose has a huge part of the blame in the amazing tragedy that was the Gem war but this prevailing opinion that it was all a carefully plotted masterful manipulation meant to hurt everyone and just let her do whatever she wanted without consequences is honestly giving too much agency to a character that as far I can see from what we’ve been shown was regularly just keeping her head above water while busily preforming “Fake it til you make it”.

Pink Diamond’s Story looks to me to be this, A child who was desperate to grow up. She wants to prove she is capable and strong and at first it manifests in a desire to run her own colony, then she gets one and falls absolutely in love with her planet with a childlike wonder and reverence that can only be achieved by truly childish entities. She tries to defend this new found bauble she has gained but the wheels for colonization are in motion and she’s just a child in spirit and overwhelmed so she reaches out to those who have always fixed it for her. They are not in agreement they poo poo her so she takes matters into her own hands but hides under a disguise to evade punishment from her elders. Suddenly growing up isn’t about colonies or running things but being able to have her own say in how she lives and what she believes in. It becomes clear the other diamonds aren’t going to “Let her be a DJ.” so she does what every child does when they don’t get their way, she runs away. Albeit running away in her case involved faking her own death cruelly conscripting her pearl to silence and adding even more fodder to the fire of the thousands year long gem war but children rarely think too far beyond the consequences of their own perspective.

Her desire to live among humans, her abject praise of all things new, her obsession with growing things, her fascination with all things on earth’s ability to change, and her constant encouragement to other gems to go ahead and become something new, to recreate themselves outside of the diamonds expectations this all fits in perfectly with this narrative. Rose is obsessed with growth and development, because ultimately it’s exactly what she wants for herself. She struggles with it due to a lack of empathy, she tries her best to be good and do right but the truth her perspective is so limited that her action often end up tone def. 

What’s most interesting about this character to me is that she seems to be self aware of this problem with in her. That one line in ‘We Need To Talk’ literally haunted the moment it aired. Greg cries out her barely even knows her and Rose grimly and resolutely responds with “That’s a good thing.” Actually do me a favor and go back and watch the whole scene because honestly it perfectly illustrates my empathy point too. But Rose KNOWS she done messed everything up, you can see her trying to form an understanding to do and be better but she just lacks the tools.

See I’m not on here trying to defend the viewpoint that Rose is a wonderful perfect all benevolent leader because honestly, it a stance that doesn’t have a leg to stand on. I’m saying she is someone who wants to do good thinks she is doing good but just falls short of the mark and she knows it. She tries to fix it with things like working to cure the corrupted gems and taking the time to really understand humans but even she knows it’s not enough.

This brings me to Rose’s final crime, leaving all of the consequences of her past to Steven. See in Rose’s mind becoming Steven was no different than killing Pink Diamond to become Rose Quartz. It was a natural progression and the final answer on how to grow up, how to understand humanity, how to be better. Steven has what Rose lacks in spades, he is arguably too empathetic. Everyone tells Steven when he’s kind that he’s like his mom but actually he like what his mom was trying to be but wasn’t. It didn’t seem wrong unfair or even cruel in Rose’s mind to leave the mess of her past to Steven because she was going to BE Steven. Rose thinks that by becoming Steven, this half human gem hybrid she’s actually at last gaining the means to clean up her own mess. We know that’s not at all the case but again this comes not from a malicious intent but a lack of perspective on Rose’s part. 

Rose just like every other character in this show is not one thing, she’s nuanced. Honestly it shouldn’t be all that surprising in show that’s done nothing but take the time to show us that sometimes there are no villains just a lot of different viewpoints and misunderstandings.

Sorry for the long post if your still here my god you have my sympathy and respect.

[keepyourpantsongohan]

Ayesha Liveblogs Magi: Kingdom of Magic

It’s been like a minute and already this show has escalated so much more than it’s predecessor good lord

What kind of an ominous note to start this peppy intro song on

“Tonight we shall celebrate that triumph” Sinbad loves any excuse for a feast

Lmao @ Jafar just lurking around waiting to let Ka Kaboun have it

“Jafar, have I become devious?” said Sinbad, after doing a series of devious things all in succession 

Oh my god Alibaba gave Kogyoku a flower crown that’s adorable 

“I never thought anyone would make a move on a woman before me. Aladdin, you are a true Magi” SINBAD PLS 

Take a shot every time someone pauses to relive tragic memories

I don’t want to accuse Sinbad of doing this on purpose but I kinda think he exposed Dunya to the dark magic on purpose 

OH MY GOD THEY’RE HAVING A SLEEPOVER I LOVE IT

I deeply appreciate Alibaba’s sleepwear and that he removes his earrings

“My, what a charming sight you are” Kogyoku’s a little crazy but I dig it 

Poor Jafar he is very concerned about Sinbad and I share the concern tbh

Oh no is Dunya dying iS THAT WHAT DAY OF DEPARTURE MEANS

“I wanted you to know all about it, about my true feelings” is this tragic backstory exchange also a romantic confession?

“I really envy you,” said Morgiana, immediately after Hakuryu told her that his entire family had been murdered

I don’t care who gets together with whom but I want one of these youths to take advantage of these romantic sunsets and flowers and fall in love like give me something to hope for in this society of imminent sadness 

Oh shit they’re both royals of low birth I love it!!! Bond my peeps 

“You must become my friend forever” I LOVE KOGYOKU AND ALIBABA

Yamuraiha is Aladdin’s mom now sorry I don’t make the rules 

OH MY GOD HAKURYU’S GOT PINK RUKH CAUSE HE’S IN LOVE!!!

Lmao @ Aladdin outing Hakuryu’s crush to everyone around them 

“I pray that you’ll have a good and safe journey” “Who are you?” Poor Spartos getting called out for his lack of screen time

IS ALIBABA GOING TO STOW AWAY I BET HE’S A STOWAWAY

Update from 10 seconds later: I KNEW IT

Poor Alibaba he was so set for his dramatic reveal but he fucked up

“But now that I’ve known him for a long time, there are a few odd things that I’ve noticed about him” Lmao they know he’s listening 

Alibaba do you really think they can’t hear you shouting in the room beside them

I think Hakuyru and Alibaba are going to become romantic/battle rivals 

“Next time I’ll do my part!” “Can you handle it?” boys pls 

Who is this twelve year old magical pirate with a cyclops baby

Pretty unfair to refer to the people who own the ship as “intruders”

Guess these punk ass kids chose the wrong ship to attack

“I’m a mother to all of the miserable children in this world” I bet she’s eating them or smth

As soon as they mentioned the cliffs I knew Morgiana would be tossing her boys into the air khgdjhjkdhgk

I fucking love when Morgiana goes wild and destroys everything 

Hard for Hakuryu to relate to all these parental memories when he grew up without any

Ohm Madura’s magical power: inducing mommy issues 

“That means that though physically they’re children, mentally they’re actually mature” poverty, slavery and abandonment will do that

Omg does this mean that Hakuryu is actually the least mature of all of these children poor guy

Update from next episode: “That one seems to be the only one among them that’s still a child” oh Hakuryu

Well I guess that answers the question of whether Hakuryu can djinn equip

Judging purely on the theme song Hakuryu is not going to become a main character and that makes me sad because I’ve grown attached to him

MY GOD HAKURYU CHILL THE FUCK OUT YOU JUST MURDERED A WOMAN IN FRONT OF A BUNCH OF CHILDREN

“My mission is to kill my own mother” what a trope reversal instead of a Dead Mom he’s got a Murder Mom 

“There’s no reason to grieve... after all none of you were ever loved in the first place” damn Hakuryu quit taking your issues out on the children

I did not think this romantic confession was coming on so quickly oh my 

“That’s why I want to marry you” you’re like seventeen get it together

Lmao @ Morgiana and Hakuryu kissing with their eyes wide open 

Take a shot every time Alibaba cries for his enemies I love him so much it’s like his philosophy is ‘if the mood is vengeful burst into tears’

“You’re different than King Sinbad... in what way I’m not sure” why do they keep alluding to Evil!Sinbad I’m not about this 

“Isn’t there any way to put your vengeance behind you and finally be free?” Damn so he’s not just Arabian Zuko he’s also Arabian Sasuke 

I want for Hakuryu to be happy but I can only imagine Morgiana is going to end up with Alibaba which isn’t bad it’s just sad for him

“Stamina is your only redeeming quality” how rude, Alibaba 

Sfhkdjhgfkjghfdkhg these flashes showing that Hakuryu is loyal af and Alibaba is a hoe are hilarious

Alibaba has no idea how to coordinate jewelry lmao 

Why is everyone from the Kou empire so goddamn crazy good lord 

Take a shot every time someone under the age of 15 witnesses a murder 

“I want you to mess me up too” Kinkshame Kouha’s consorts 

Me @ Aladdin collapsing after a single pull-up: .... same

Sphinctus: Pay! Attention! To! Me! 

ALADDIN FELL ASLEEP DURING SOMEONE’S TRAGIC BACKSTORY... TWICE

“Thank you... Instructor’s Boobs” what on earth is this show honestly

“When you guys first got here, you were just a bunch of ignorant losers. But not anymore... Today, you guys are self-aware losers” ..... same

Alibaba just fucking ends up passed out in the streets when left to his own devices my darling disaster

This fight is lit I love my boy battling in the middle of a casino lmao 

Is this meant to imply that Cassim bestowed his magoi onto Alibaba as he died like what kind of loyalty does this boy inspire 10/10 world’s Best Boy

Why are all these people so messed up there’s a death chant like every few episodes

“Are you alright?” he said, after watching Alibaba almost die several times and not doing a damn thing

I can’t wait for Alibaba to take back Balbaad 

Morgianna should really have more questions about the mysterious all-knowing stranger in the cave willing to take her on a one-way trip across the void

So I take it that these past six months have not gone well for Hakuryu

“there can only be one ruler, not just for this country, but for the world” like a minute of screen time and Kouen’s already talking world domination

“From father to son just like that” this family circle is way too close these kids are siblings and also cousins now the mom seems to be hitting on her son it’s all very yikes

Is Hakuyru seriously supporting his mom’s bid for the throne just so he can depose her what a mess 

I’m loving all of Hakuryu’s dramatic actions being accompanied by lightning

This dude looks almost exactly like Sheherazade how many magi are at this school exactly

“[...] Will be granted the honour of second-class citizenship” oh Aladdin

“You and I are cut from the same cloth that’s a very special thing” okay Anime Malfoy I wonder how this exchange with the equality-minded protagonist is going to go 

“I thought for sure you were a girl under there” I’ll admit it, that’s not how I thought this exchange was going to go

Whoops I guess when you’re dependent on a thin piece of cloth to hide your biggest secret things might not go in your favour during battles

“One of the four magis who is not supposed to exist” wait what homie 

“The magi and I have reached an accord” Titus has known Aladdin’s secret for one (1) night and already he’s dropping it in casual conversation 

“Back home the engine that drives industry is the accepted use of forced labour” these call-outs are near constant 

Titus highkey adores cats and babies and I appreciate it 

Omg Titus just called his employer just to tell her about his amazing day meowing at cats I love him

Damn I should’ve known something like this would be going on I was sort of just expecting run of the mill corruption and abuse not using-people’s-lifeforce-to-power-their-lifestyles 

“Oh yes, yes it would” Titus has known this girl for five minutes and he’s already ready to adopt her

Titus decided to liberate 200,000 people from enslavement even though his mission is to study them bless him 

“You came here to study, not be a freedom fighter” but he wants 2 do both

Aladdin’s ready to fight at the slightest provocation and like same 

Your narrative of overthrowing oppression is really undermined by referring to the masses in the same way you claim that other nobility referred to you 

“The breed possessing sharper intelligence and higher reasoning should control those who don’t” so it’s not only a fascist state it’s also proposing eugenics we’ve reached full on wizard nazis 

“I’m so happy for you Titus” why does Mogamett ruin every happy moment by being gross 

How is Titus planning on continuing his studies while he raises a six-year-old full-time are there nannies in this school

“We will be together forever, I give you my promise” well now I’m worried that Marga’s gonna die 

I’m guessing Titus is some kind of copy of Sheherazade not meant to be permanent so that’s why he’s not meant to last 

“I don’t want my life to end yet” I’m guessing Titus is about to make a mistake

“No matter who he is, no human must ever be granted the powers of a king” now would be a good time to cut to Alibaba 

[Donald T/rump voice] Make the Empire Magic Again 

Call me crazy but I’m guessing the handsome one is the person they’re going to focus on as a potential king 

Things have escalated really quickly like four episodes ago they were having fun times in the market and now they’re at war 

I’m guessing the ominous prologue is about to come to fruition 

“Ours is not a society built on oppression,” he said, while literally standing on ground built above the bodies of indentured labourers 

Sheherazade is defeating her enemies through science what a plot twist 

Are these two just having an ongoing magical phone call while their armies attack each other

Don’t get me wrong I want to know where this plot goes but I also want to see Alibaba’s training montage and see what Morgiana decided 

“You’re an abomination that should never have been born in the first place” Mu is defeating Titus by blows to the self-esteem

Aladdin’s trying to stop a war single-handedly bless his heart

“I never thought about just asking them nicely” Aladdin <333333333

Why is Mu’s djinn equip the only one which changes the user’s ethnicity

“He’s my friend, my best friend” ALIBABA MY LOVE IS HERE AND MY BABIES ARE ACKNOWLEDGING THEIR BOND

What a weird tone for these armistice talks. On a boat during a beautiful sunset with a bunch of teenage boys 

Is Sheherazade the only Magi that can reproduce because she’s a lady

I LOVE THIS TROPE OF GIVING A HEAD BOP EVERY TIME SOMEONE TRIES TO STUBBORNLY TAKE ON ALL THEIR OWN BURDENS

“I acted as if you were a just a toy for me to play with, but I knew no other way to express my love for you” that’s no excuse for bad parenting Sheherazade 

Mogamett needs to chill the fuck out good lord 

“My fall into depravity is guaranteed” I mean same but calm down 

Alibaba during literally every battle: How can I make this about Cassim

“I’ve had my fill of heartbreakers” Slutshame metal vessel users 

Look at my fancy boy with his pants on fire good for Alibaba 

I think this is the first time Alibaba has referred to himself as a Prince of Balbaad since its fall 

“She is much more of an adult than I will ever be” TITUS DON’T DO IT

“Mr. Director, sir, you shall always have my respect,” said Titus, while speaking to a man who is operating a weapon of mass destruction against hundreds of thousands of people using human lives

OH NO TITUS WHY HE DOESN’T DESERVE THAT I DIDN’T EVEN REALIZE WHERE HE WAS UNTIL I SAW HIS EARRING

EVERYTHING HAPPENS SO MUCH HOW ARE THEY GOING TO RESOLVE ALL OF THIS IN ONE EPISODE 

“Just like Sinbad... I have a feeling he’s someone else that I shouldn’t be secrets to” has Sinbad really done anything yet other than give people the heebie jeebies 

“YOU GIVE ME BACK MY SON” ME TOO SHEHERAZADE

I fucking love this “Alibaba dear” my royal buddies Kogyoku and Alibaba

Sidenote: In Japanese she calls him “Alibaba-chan” which is for friends/babies/lovers and Alibaba is all three tbh

I deeply relate to Kouen’s lack of impulse control/regard for his own life

“Die you wastes of space”... maybe not 

“What he’s saying now is, ‘The way things are now, I’m unable to have my way with those wards. And so, as you also own a fire djinn, Lord Alibaba, I’d like you to please lend me a hand.’ Those are the exact words Lord Kouen just spoke to him.” HAKUEI PLEASE HE’S STOMPING ALIBABA INTO A VOLCANO

I already love Kouen and Alibaba’s relationship like combo attacks are my shit 

Kouen’s concerned about his djinn equip even though he’s clearly lost a few layers of flesh where are your priorities my dude

I love these crazy ass siblings dedicated to saving the world together

“Why isn’t Hakuryu here?” he’s probably doing something devious 

“I too was there, and served [King Solomon] as well”.... WHAT 

If she’s a being of only thought how did she have like ten kids 

Sinbad coming in with the cavalry ayyyyyyyyyyyy how’s it going my mysterious friend 

Morgiana comes to the rescue my gal and 

“However, if you’re an uninvited guest forcing yourself upon our world, we’ll eliminate you” Sinbad always says such honourable things it’s very confusing with all the devious coding he’s been getting

Sheherzade coming to perform some deus ex magica

There’s Hakuyru come to fuck up his life he’s got like half an an episode to make a mess let’s see how much he can accomplish in that time

“This man, he kidnapped me from the royal palace and raised me as his own [...] but I was never anything but happy” even the nice things that Mogamett does are sort of evil lmao

Why doesn’t poor Titus even get a line in all this peace-making 

Knowing from my friend that Hakuryu is going to do something after all this plot resolution is making me real tense 

“Now that their common enemy is gone” IS HAKURYU GOING TO BECOME THEIR COMMON ENEMY

“The alliance will spare no effort towards the rebuilding Magnoshuttat” Sinbad’s deviousness is finally coming to fruition 

OH MY GOD TITUS IS BACK AND HE’S A MAGI I LOVE IT 

“I have chosen to forever turn my back on you” why are you like this Hakuryu 

Alibaba’s ‘my friends are idiots’ senses are tingling but I guess it’s not time for him to go full Naruto to Hakuryu’s full Sasuke yet

[linneaem]

Jennie & Simon

”I wake up every morning, with a heart beating so hard and fast that my whole body is shivering. Adrenaline is pumping through my veins. My body is shaking. My hands are shaking. I’m out of breath. Tears are streaming down my face. Agony. The agony coming from the fact that my little brother is dead for real. It’s true. This fucking nightmare is true.”

This is what my friend Jennie Hultgren wrote on her personal blog two months after her brother Simon, only 14 years old, committed suicide. With slightly more than 800 daily readers online, she ripped her chest wide open and poured her heart out in words, telling stories that most people keep to themselves. On that blog, she shared her darkest inner thoughts about the nightmare that would forever change her life.

I first met Jennie in High School, and unexpectedly went through what some people would call a massive ”friend crush”. Since the first second we started talking to each other we’ve been laughing constantly, and the truth is, we still haven’t stopped. We have been best friends ever since.

On March 29th 2009, me and my sister went to the house of Jennie and Simon. The four of us celebrated Earth Hour and saw our chance to use the lit down rooms to play some hide and seek. The evening was peaceful, yet incredibly noisy and filled with laughter and happiness. Imagine four teenagers competing in jump-scarying each other while their parents are downstairs trying to have a calm dinner with lit candles. For one evening, I think we all felt a bit like children again.

The following morning Jennie didn’t show up at school. Minutes after I arrived to class I received a phonecall from my mother explaining why, and the reason was something I couldn’t shake nor take in. Jennie had lost her little brother. Simon wasn’t alive anymore. The rest of the day consisted of absolute chaos. It was as if the entire city was smothered by the lingering morning fog. It felt like time had stopped. By the time I was on the phone with my mother, Jennie’s childhood home rapidly filled up with police officers, ambulance staff and people specialized with handling situations of crisis. They were all running in and out of Simons room in a high pace, and in the middle of all the chaos sits Jennie, shakily ripping a napkin into a hundred tiny pieces while tears stream down her face.

The upcoming months, which normally would consist of hard studies and exams, callously got replaced by a hollow darkness that was impossible to shake off. My sister and I moved in with Jennie and her family for two months. This gave our relationship a whole new depth that none of us had experienced before. Since those days, we have been sisters.

As the childhood home of Jennie and Simon filled up with flowers and condolences, the sun made sure to send a reminder that spring was on its way by making the sparkling snow melt. The trees slowly turned green and people walking outside were surrounded by daffodils and birds chirping peacefully. To anyone else, it was just like any other spring. In August 2009 Jennie wrote on her blog:

”We have three photographs in the house that we’re okey with being around. It hurts seeing him. It hurts seeing my own little brother. It’s painful, because it’s so close. His face. So close. His facial expressions. His smile. It’s Simon. Why is he not here? Our cat is scratching the door to his room at night. She wants to reach something I’m also missing. Something I’m missing so tremendously that I cannot take opening that door anymore. Untouched, sacred. I love you Simon, you are my heart.”

Jennie, her mother and stepfather were given pills in order to sleep. However this sleep always came with terrible nightmares. Nightmares that made it impossible for Jennie to cope with daily routines and studying. Two months later she showed up at school for the first time after Simon passing away, to try and go back to something that she found herself not caring for anymore.

Every year, the number of people committing suicide in Sweden is five times higher than people with traffic related deaths. Suicide is the number one cause of death amongst people aged 15-24. Yet, the government spends millions on improving road safety and nearly nothing on preventing suicide. Before Simon passing away, Jennie’s knowledge about suicide was small to non-existent. Considering the statistics, one would think that one of the most vital priorities in schools across Sweden would be to inform teenagers about mental health, depression and suicide. However, talking openly about suicide today is still very taboo. This is something that dawned heavily on Jennie and her family after losing Simon.

”Everytime I mention Simon, people freeze and change the subject, and I have to fake that I’m happy and pretend that oh, you know what, no problem! I see how people look at me as if I’m about to burst out in tears every single time. ’Simon liked that, Simon used that, Simon did that, Simon said that’. It’s not like those things aren’t true anymore just because he’s dead? I’m never going to stop talking about Simon. For me he’ll always be here no matter what happens.”

In our final year before graduation, we were having a ten minute presentation which could be about literally anything. With that creative freedom just thrown at us, people talked about pets, sports, anecdotes or anything else that’s less significant. Jennie on the other hand, calmly walked up in front of the class and outshined us all by talking openly about that one thing people were terrified of asking her about, bringing up statistics and how one can prevent depression and suicide thoughts. For those ten minutes, we had our fullest attention on her, united in a respectful silence.

Jennie is one of the very few people I know who’s actually talking about suicide. Before knowing her, I knew very little about it, as did any other teenager in my surrounding. The lack of help in Sweden for young people suffering from suicidal thoughts, makes the mental health system unsustainable and corrupt. Corrupt to the extent that very few know how to get help when having suicidal thoughts. In the meantime, there are websites available with explicit step-by-step guides in how to take your own life. There is information about different ways to go, where to get the equipment needed and what drugs or substances you could use. These websites are easily accessible to anyone googling the word ’suicide’. There is no age limit to read what’s on there. If it wasn’t for one of these websites, Simon could have still been alive.

With hundreds of people sending their deepest love in letters, condolences, flowers and messages, a very small number actually showed up at Jennie’s door. Those who used to be really close, took distance from the family when they needed compassion and intimacy the most. For Jennie, who was already filled to the brim with sorrow, this struck her immensely hard.

”My advice to all of you who are close to someone who’s lost a family member, mother, father, brother or sister, is to just be there for them. It’s not enough just saying that ’I’m here for you’. When you’re in the darkest place you don’t have any energy to contact anyone. You have to contact them, and respect them even though they might not even show any appreciation for you being there, because they just don’t have the energy for it. Listen to what they have to say and what they feel, and never ever claim that you know exactly what it feels like if you haven’t been through the exact same thing. Show them that you’re aware that you’ll never understand. If you’ve lost a family member yourself it can well be relieving to know that you’re not alone, it helped me.”

In the summer of 2015, Jennie’s mother Pia got married with her newfound love. The outdoor wedding took place in an almost fairytale-like forest with a sunset that coloured the entire sky pink. People were dancing, singing, mingling and having fun, the food was lovely. The happiness and love was so contageous that even the most skeptical person could get inspired. When Jennie held her speech in front of the bride and groom, she once again, talked about what no one else had the courage to bring up. ”There is someone that should have been here with us today”, she said, hands slightly shaking when reading from her notes. At the end of that speech, everyone at that ceremony was crying.

During our friendship Jennie has, in multiple different ways, showed her surrounding that Simon will never really be gone for real, that he is still alive in our hearts. Just because he is not here physically, he hasn’t stopped existing. Photos of a young, beautiful boy with messy hair, dimples and bright blue eyes decorate her blog, and on his grave, right next to the school he used to go to, there is always a candle lit.

”It’s hard to keep going after a tragedy like this. To live but not have the energy to exist. The thought of taking my own life has struck me countless of times, but Simon showed me what death really means. I would never make anyone go through what I’m going through every day. Today I know I can survive everything. So instead of saying that I would die for my little brother, I’m gonna live. I live for you Simon. I live for you.”