#pip too but hes really detailed so its a pain

[atomra]

Finally did some art of Pip and Seras! 💙

[trancylovecraft]

(KNY) YANDERE PLATONIC! KOKUSHIBO x SISTER READER: You, Shibou. I, Kokoro (CHAPTER SEVEN)

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CHAPTER SEVEN: "The souvenirs of a lost country, the hope of a promised land. This divorce between the woman of her life-"

@crazycatlddy

A scar is apart of the wound repair system in the skin, Being a natural part of the healing process. Things such as stabbings or slices are known to leave rather large and noticeable marks.

"Okay.. So start from the beginning, Take your time and make sure to be as detailed as you can!"

A wooden chair dragged forward with a screech towards the side of the bed, Mitsuri promptly sat herself down on it. Front facing the chair and her head resting on the backrest with a happy-go-lucky grin.

It was early morning, The warm sun only hung just over the distance.

Tender white clouds were woven on the far horizon leaving the rest of the elysian blue clear as acrylic glass. The windows were open in the butterfly mansion to let a feather-like breeze float its way into the room.

A sharp ray of sunlight was brought in too, Shedding light into the unlit room. Particles of dust and fluff floating through were made lucent in the shine as it overlooked the two women.

Mitsuri clicked her pen and readied her notepad with a happy hum.

The chartreuse of her irises were speckled with a star-like glow, A kind of glow that hadn't been present in weeks and burned like the sun.

Maika could near feel it's tender yet scalding warmth when she looked up from her bed as the woman spoke again.

"Go on now! Make sure to not leave anything out, Okay?" Mitsuri spoke with a peppy outgoing tone, One that contradicted her previous demeanour when Maika first greeted her. The bags that were under here eyes were gone along with the mess of her strawberry locks, Now neatly tied into nicely made braids.

Maika clicked her tongue, Trying to recollect her thoughts.

"Well.. It all started when I traversed down to the village in search of herbal medicines. [F/N]-sama had chest pains at the time and we were out of any remedies so I had volunteered to go and get some for her.." She started. A hand was rested on her chin in an mime of thought.

Mitsuri nodded and hummed, Quickly scribbling down something onto the paper in front of her.

"Go on!" She pipped, Continuing to write.

Maika nodded.

"At the time I had brought a Kakushi with me on [F/N]-sama's orders.. We had gotten down to a stall and the merchant and the Kakushi got into a fight. When I backed off.. I.. I was suddenly yanked into an alleyway." Maika said as her eyebrows lowered.

Mitsuri raised her eyes over the notepad, Proceeding to write yet her attention partly dragged itself to Maika at the light of new information.

"It was.. It was Uppermoon six, I.. H-He held me by neck and asked me about the Kakushi I was with.." Maika's voice grew softer as she recalled the memories.

Mitsuri clicked her pen and nodded.

"I'm so sorry to hear that. It must of been awful for you being in that kind of situation, I can barely imagine it myself!" Mitsuri laughed airily, A way of trying to breaking the tension "The new Uppermoon six was mentioned in the report filed by Himejima-san, What happened next? If it's too much we can try this again in ten minutes?"

Maika looked back up at Mitsuri, Obligation already present in her eyes.

"No! No.. I want to be of help, I want to make sure I can tell you everything while its still fresh in my mind." She rebutted, The fire in her eyes didn't quite match Mitsuri's but that didn't mean it didn't put up a fight.

Mitsuri's smile spread.

"Kyah~! You're really admirable, Heihachiro-san. I appreciate your determination a lot you know." Mitsuri squealed, Voice sweet as parfait.

A faded flush rose up on Maika's cheeks, She smiled shyly.

"T-Thanks.. Well.. Anyways, I was able to escape by stabbing him in the neck with the Kaiken all of the shrine-maidens carry around.. I ran out into the street and met up with the Kakushi.. Not for long though as the Uppermoon quickly caught up to us." Maika said.

"And how did you escape?" Mitsuri queried, Leaning further towards her.

Maika inhaled, Taking in a deep breath.

"Well, Before I did he attacked me. Sliced me on the back and injured me pretty badly.. The Kakushi was able to distract him and he ordered me to run. I didn't want to but I had no other choice, So I did.. I ran off into the mountain" Maika replied.

Mitsuri followed up her explanation with a quick squiggle onto the notepad, A single brow comically furrowed while she sung a quick song under her breath.

"The Kakushi.. Right! And after that you were able to make it all the way back to the shrine in time to see [F/N]?" Mitsuri asked once more. The fire in her eyes stoked as soon as she mentioned the name.

Maika paused for a second, Trying to recall what happened. The entire thing was a snowy blur, The mist on the mountain that day was now clouding her memories as she looked back with a hazy eye.

"Erm.. I.. I can't remember how I got back, The most I remember was a general direction and a will to live I guess.." Maika chuckled. "But before I knew it I was there, And suddenly a a wall collapsed onto me. I don't know how much time passed after that but next I know there was Fujimori-sama and the demon fighting."

Mitsuri's breath hitched. The point after she had been dragged off by Seijun, The point where everything fell into obscurity. None of fact or knowledge but instead theory and assumption.

[F/N] was eaten, That was the general consensus. It was one that made Mitsuri feel sickened, One that made her keel over and her head spin. It was the only rational explanation due to the body being missing. It was the only reasonable one because there was no one there to see it happen.

No one except Maika.

"They had been fighting for a while it looked like. Eventually it reached this sort of peak and Fujimori-sama went in for a neck slice.."

"And..?" Mitsuri mumbled, Leaning even forward on baited breath as she waited for Maika to finish.

"And.. And.. The demon cut open her stomach, [F/N].. She fell to the ground next to me, Laying against the wall bleeding out…" Maika spoke softy, Sensing it would be a tough topic for the woman perched over her bedside.

Mitsuri's smile gradually turned into a frown as the maiden spoke, Her lip trembled as it morphed into a frown. She steadied her breathing when it picked up once more, Keeping a steady rhythmic flow in her lungs.

A demon actually able to defeat [F/N]? Unheard of! If Mitsuri was told so a few months ago she would of waved it off as heresy. But now with everything that's happening, It didn't sound so unbelievable now.

She had been injured badly by the sounds of it. Cutting open her stomach Maika said, The mere thought made Mitsuri bite her tongue. It was worded like it was fatal but..

"Yes.. Yes I see.. But you said that [F/N] is alive.. R-Right?" Mitsuri's voice quivered.

Maika paused for a second before slowly nodding.

"I had lost a lot of blood at that point so it's a little fuzzy but I had went over to her side to see if she's okay.. Fujimori told me to hide myself in the rubble.. I did as she said and a few moments later the demon had came out from the smoke." Maika said.

Mitsuri clicked her pen once more, Her cheery attitude before had dissolved into something more serious as the conversation took a darker tone. She wrote down a few more sentences, Dotting down what Maika said with careful importance.

"He had walked up to her, He.. He went on some long-winded rant I think.. Insulting him and.. And her haori, Yes.. He took interest in her haori." Maika said. The entire thing was fresh in her mind yet it felt so underdeveloped inside.

"And..?" Mitsuri prodded

"And then he went to take off her mask.. It.. I don't know how it happened but suddenly Fujimori-sama had became [F/N].. I.. It happened in a blink of an eye, But then.. Then the demons entire demeanour just.. Changed.." Maika said.

"How so?"

"The way he felt.. It was so intimidating before, It felt powerful and.. And absolutely terrifying but once he had lain his.. eyes.. On her face he just.. He reached out and cupped her cheek then he just.. Started crying." Maika explained.

As she spoke disbelief was flooding her voice like a broken dam, Mitsuri felt washed away by it too. What Maika said? It didn't make sense..

"He was silent then.. He screamed, It was so loud and guttural it.. It sounded so painful and animalistic then he just picked her up and held her in his arms. Suddenly Uppermoon six was summoned to him and then they just left.. With her in the arms of that demon." Maika mumbled.

Mitsuri at this point was stunned speechless, The scribbling on the notepad had stopped a good while ago in favour of processing this new information. A demon, One that seemed to have some authority over another Uppermoon.. What changed once he unmasked her?

A demon crying was near unheard of, Only in their last moments were they ever reported to show such emotion. Did the demon recognise [F/N]? But how? Mitsuri knew her better than anyone, If she had any contact with a demon she would of known.

But to be fair, Her failing to know was how she was in this situation in the first place. Mitsuri couldn't be sure.

"I'm sorry but.. After that I don't remember much, I.. I might of passed out but all I know now is that I'm here, Explaining what happened to you.." Maika murmured. While she knew she explained most of what she knew a part of her ruminating in her chest felt as if it wasn't enough, As if it wasn't helpful at all.

Mitsuri shook her head.

"No, No! Don't be sorry, You've been extremely helpful and I'm so glad that you're okay. I'm just gonna ask one or two more questions and then I'll be out of your hair, Thank you so much!" Mitsuri comforted.

Her hand snaked over to Maika's which lain limp by her bedside, Mitsuri's fingers wrapped around Maika's palm and held it with a tight yet comforting grasp.

"Right.. That's fine.." Maika smiled lightly, It was nice to get some reassurance after everything's events.

"Alright.. So the demon in question, Could you please explain to me what he looked like?" Mitsuri asked.

Maika squinted her eyes, Trying to get a good picture of the culprit in her mind. He was the kind of demon who could be mistaken for human on first glance but a few details stuck out immediately like a dandelion in an orchid field.

Maika rubbed her chin, Piecing the portrait together.

"Well.. He was tall, Erm.. Human looking, Spiky ponytail, Hakama and purple kimono.. Uhm.. Ah-" Maika shot up, Seemingly remembering something. "Right.. Right, How could I forget.. He had six eyes. I.." Maika trailed off suddenly lost in thought. Mitsuri flipped a page in her notepad and jotted down the description of the assailant.

Powerful, Definetly, Especially if he could take down [F/N]. Being able to defeat her spoke miles in strength.

"Six eyes?" Mitsuri asked.

"Yes.. Yes and- OH!" Maika exclaimed, Taking a loud gasp which instantly made her start to cough up from the sudden jerk of her body.

"What, What's wrong?" Mitsuri asked, Squeezing Maika's hand in a futile attempt to console her sudden outburst. Maika wheezed lightly, Fixing her breath and speaking with a hoarse voice.

"T-There was kanji in his eyes, He wasn't just any demon.. He was Uppermoon one." She rasped, The hand holding Mitsuri's squeezed tighter as he free hand moved up to her throat to check.

Mitsuri paused mid inhale. Her eyelids expanding at the final syllable as she stared down at Maika, Seemingly mulling over the information as it started to churn in her head.

She made no movement for only a moment, All before slowly nodding.

Uppermoon one. [F/N] was kidnapped by Uppermoon one.

It seemed ridiculous, It seemed like a pipe dream with smoke rising up in the air, Easily wafted away by the stroke of a hand. Mitsuri wanted it to be a result of mistake or blood loss, An accursed mirage caused by delirium.

But it added up. The demon was able to wage victory against [F/N], Uppermoon six seemed subservient to him and everything Maika had testified thus far made sense. Mitsuri didn't want it to be true.

But she took a deep breath, Held it for a moment before exhaling out. But she needed to accept the reality. According to Maika, Her best friend was kidnapped by Uppermoon one. For what reason she didn't know and dearly wanted to.

"Right, Okay.. I.. I see. Thank you so much for your help, I can't express how much I appreciate this, Heihachiro-chan!" Mitsuri warbled. Her same peppy smile rising back on her face as she got up from her chair. She placed the paper and pen into her obi, A makeshift pocket.

"I'll leave you to rest now, I truly hope you make a full recovery soon! Take care, Okay?" Mitsuri quickly bowed down in a polite gesture of gratitude, Hand slipping away from Maika's as they went down to her knees.

Maika nodded.

"Alright then.. Stay safe!" Maika called out to Mitsuri as she walked away, Already at the door The Love Hashira turned back and waved her farewells.

"Bye, Bye!" Was the last thing she said before stepping out the door and shutting it behind her, Leaving Mitsuri alone within the long winding hallways of the butterfly mansion.

As soon as the door shut with a resounding click! she was left only to hear the loud noise of the silence.

Mitsuri propped herself up against the door, Back hitting the maple and supporting her up like a harness. She breathed in and out, Trying her best to keep the rhythmic beat of her heart to a minimum.

But it was fruitless. Mitsuri's cheeks grew a shade of blossom, Her hands slapping the sides of her face as she squealed in euphoria.

She pushed herself up from the door. Mitsuri couldn't contain the sheer exhilaration pumping through her bloodstream as she spun around, A way to exert the happiness as her braids trailed behind her gliding movements.

[F/N] was alive. She was really alive.

Her attempt had failed. Mitsuri knew that it wasn't completely confirmed, The demon had taken her, What happened after was a mystery. But if he had taken her he must of wanted her alive for some reason, Right?

Mitsuri paused in her movements, The smile on her face near ear to ear as she tried to cool down the inferno of her blush.

"Mitsuri-chan!"

A voice called out from down the hallway, Snapping Mitsuri out of her ecstasy and guiding her head to the left.

Shinobu walked down the passageway, Head held high with a small smile and glossy eyes as they spied Mitsuri. She looked content, Yet Mitsuri could see the curious gleam under the morning light.

"Shinobu-chan!" Mitsuri greeted, Prancing lightly over towards Shinobu and stopping in front of the shorter woman with a swing in her step and her hips as she stood in front of Shinobu.

"Mitsuri, You're in a good mood." Shinobu commented, Cocking her head to the side.

Mitsuri hummed lightly.

"Really? Is it that obvious…? Oh who am I kidding, Of course it is!" Mitsuri exclaimed, Jumping up and down on the spot as she hummed. Shinobu smiled in return, The change in mood from yesterday was drastic.

It was good, She seemed to be back to her old self. Though there was a reply to that observation, Only one thought going through Shinobu's mind at the moment.

But at what cost?

"I suppose Heihachiro-san had some good news?" Shinobu queried to which Mitsuri quickly nodded.

"Yeah! Well.. As good as it can be I guess but the main thing is that [F/N] is alive! I feel so happy right now, I just can't contain it!" Mitsuri grinned, Swaying her hips side to side.

Shinobu clicked her tongue.

"Do you mind giving me the rundown?" She asked.

"Ah, Yes.. Hold on!" Mitsuri nodded quickly. Her hand instantly stuffed itself in the side of her obi and tried to fish out something stuffed inside it. Shinobu wondered to herself why on earth she was holding things in there before Mitsuri pulled out a little notepad and pen.

"Here you go!" Mitsuri announced, Holding out the notepad out to Shinobu to take with a grin. Shinobu took the item into her hands and started to flick through the pages.

Mitsuri watched on as Shinobu looked through her writing, Mumbling out the words as she read the scribbled writing. Shinobu raised a brow as she reached the end of the verse.

"Kidnapped? By Uppermoon one of all demons.." Shinobu gawked, Eyes fixed to the sentences as she read it over a second time.

"Great, Right?" Mitsuri responded with glee, A reply that felt unfitting for the news of her best friend being maimed and whisked away by one of the most elusive figures within the slayer's world.

Shinobu's brows lowered.

"Mitsuri-chan.. If what your reporting is true then you do understand the implications of her kidnapping, Correct?" Shinobu inquired. But by the looks of Mitsuri's slowly shrinking smile, Shinobu didn't even need the answer she gave.

"Of course I do, But don't you get it? [F/N] is alive, She's not dead! It's good news, Don't you see?" Mitsuri said, The gleeful spark in her voice seemed to dim only a little bit. It was still present yet it definetly faded.

Shinobu sighed.

"Yes, I do. But she was taken for a reason. What if she was taken for information, What if she was being tortured-"

Shinobu cut herself off, Pausing to find the right words to say.

"..What if she has been turned into a demon, What will you do then?" Shinobu asked lowly, Her voice only kept between them. The prospect of [F/N] being turned into a demon was a real possibility, If she was then the indications would not look good. Both for the two of them and the demon slayer corps themselves.

Mitsuri looked at Shinobu dead in the eyes, The malachite hues shone under the sun. Near burning with fire of the same calibre.

"Then I guess I'll just need to ask where Tanjiro-san got his box." Mitsuri replied so casually that it took Shinobu off guard, The corners of her lips quirking if only for a moment before turning back into that same porcelain smile.

"I see.." Was all Shinobu said as Mitsuri walked past her, Off to somewhere Shinobu didn't know. Mitsuri turned back to Shinobu, Giddy grin reappearing on her face.

However when Mitsuri's shoulder brushed past Shinobu's, She stopped in her tracks. Her face was unable to be seen by the shorter woman, Her eyes not looking back at Mitsuri's.

"I failed [F/N] once, Shinobu… I'm not going to fail her again, Never.. Never ever again." Mitsuri whispered.

That was all she said, Footsteps picking back up as she walked down the hallway.

"We'll talk soon, Have a good day Shinobu-chan!" She called out, Then turned the corner and walked away.

☆♡☆

The silence reverberating down the hallways was nigh-unbearable, A drone that stopped at a stand still and seemed to never continue on.

The sawdust scent burned at the tip of [F/N]'s nose, Her eyes wide and aware of the demon in front of her. His presence catching her off guard, Not expecting to see another soul wandering about the confines of her birdcage.

Upper three appeared to share the sentiment, His face mimicking her own expression perfectly if not for the demonic features prominent on his visage. Sharp fangs shining under the light, Cracked glass eyes that seemed to burn into her and sharp navy stripes wrapping around his entire body.

"You.. What are you doing here?"

His voice called out, Slightly echoed within the high walls of the corridor. It sounded fairly deep, A hint of a boyish tone under the serious and accusing hiss near spat out from his throat.

[F/N] stared him down. The sharp inhale she took stuck in her lungs as she looked over him, Judging his stature to his clothing all the way to the angles that made up his cruel face.

But.. She didn't feel scared.

Kokushibo felt like a firm hand of authority, A dark presence that just dripped in power. It was one that could make any person tremble in fear regardless of status, The sheer aura that radiated from his soul made [F/N]'s insides turn and want to puke.

But it was different with this one. He didn't command authority or did he have any overwhelming presence (At least, Not for someone like [F/N]). While it was powerful in its own right it instead felt more accusing than anything, And strangely enough it didn't feel threatening or dangerous.

It infact felt similar. The first impression of his looks and the read she got off of his aura reminded her a lot of certain boys from her childhood, One's which memories made Goosebumps raise up on her skin and her fingers itch in irritation.

And they were something she could handle.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here?" [F/N] responded, Folding her arms and trying to keep up a tough demeanour in front of him to try and hold some ground. The annoyance in her voice a second-nature to the demon's behaviour.

She thought she was alone here, That it was just her and her captor but now as [F/N] glared at him she now knew that it wasn't the case.

The demon's nose scrunched up at her response, Offended at her audacity to ask her of such. His teeth started to bare a little more, Gums barely showing out from under his dry lips with his eyes narrowing to a sharp tipped glare.

"Do not question me, What are you doing here? Who are you? This place isn't meant for any kind of human being, How did you get in here?" He hissed, Taking a single slow step towards her, One that echoed out from the sheer weight.

[F/N] backed up foot in tandem with him, Keeping them both at equal distance. She pinched her temple, Groaned once before mumbling under her breath a string of curses.

"Okay.. Number one, I don't even want to be here. Number two, My name is [F/N] Fujimori" She started.

"Number three, I don't even know how I was brought here, I don't even know where 'here' is so if you could enlighten me then that would be great!" [F/N] replied, Mimicking the demon's hiss in a sarcastic mockery yet it held the dragging undertone of desperateness.

[F/N] didn't even know where she found the guts to speak to upperrank three like this, She figured it was probably the built up agitation from the past few.. Well, She had no idea how long it had been. She only knew the mix of anger, Hopelessness and melancholy fester inside her like an illness.

The demon gawked, Maybe it was at the new information provided to him or maybe it was the gall she had to speak to him that way. Either way however, He felt his own agitation start to match hers.

"You are in the Infinity Castle, The demons headquarters. How a weak human woman like you got in here without even wanting to is a joke." The demon responded through gritted teeth, Eyeing her up and down.

How some weak looking human woman got into the infinity castle baffled him. As soon as he turned around the corner and spotted her he felt a jolt of surprise shock his dead heart. What he would do he didn't know, This was a woman and as such physical violence is out of the picture.

"The.. The Infinity castle. The demons headquarters." [F/N] repeated back to him. "A joke, Does it look like I'm laughing?" She said, Leaning in a little bit to emphasise her mockery.

"This is not funny, How you got in here is a major security risk and a threat to you and us. So tell me now what the hell you did to get in here?" The demon snarled.

Even though his tone was venomous he hadn't made a move to attack or even touch her in any way, Just limited to threats and demanding tones. It was unusual behaviour for who she would assume would be upper three, But deemed it safe to continue.

"I have no idea how I got here! I was kidnapped!" [F/N] exclaimed, Throwing her hands up in the air as an overdramatic gesture.

"Kidnapped? By who?!" He interrogated.

"Oh! I don't know.. Uppermoon one, Perhaps?" [F/N] hissed, Taking a foot forward to get up in his face. [F/N] bit back her tongue, Wondering if she had went too far once his face fell. But she kept up her guard and her mask, Stand your ground.

"You were kidnapped by Uppermoon one?" He repeated, Mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water.

"Correct."

Upperrank three stood silent, The two of them were only separated by half a foot. His nose was still scrunched up in what looked to be a mixture of disgust and disbelief, One that she'd been wearing a lot herself recently.

He took a single step back, One that made the old floorboard creak within the quiet passage.

"Why would.." He mumbled lowly under his breath, More to himself then to her.

"It's complicated." [F/N] responded, Huffing lightly.

The demon looked back up at her. It seemed as if the shards in his eyes and the amber hue of his kanji stained irises were sizing her up, It was similar in the way how you would square up your opponent in a fight. Examining every muscle, Checking the chances of victory.

"So why aren't you killing me?" [F/N] asked. Even though his stare radiated that of an adversary, He made no move to fight. A behaviour [F/N] wouldn't assume of the upper rank three.

"What?" The question she asked seemed to make the demon break out of his train of thought.

"Why aren't you trying to kill me, Before you knew I was brought here. You're upper three right? So.." [F/N] trailed off in her sentence, Seeing that he had already gotten the meaning to her question.

The demon groaned.

"I don't kill or raise my hand against women, Even if I did I wouldn't waste it against a weak human being like you." He retorted, Folding his arms in a display of what only could be described by [F/N] as a faux show of morals.

[F/N] sighed, The one time her mask would be really useful. The one time when she would really need it. He wouldn't harm her as a woman, He wouldn't kill her as a woman. In other words that was off the table.

Why was it that every time she got that one chance it would be ruined by some bullshit reason? It seemed like every turn there would be some curveball thrown to stop her path. It was irritating to say the least.

"Ugh.. Whatever you say I guess. Have your principles or.. Something, I don't know. I'm just gonna go find somewhere else to wander about in.." [F/N] grumbled, Scratching the back of her neck and turning around to start trotting off to wherever "somewhere else" was.

The demon 'tched. He watched her drag her feet down the hall, Shoulders slumped and a grumpy far-away gaze. As she turned the corner he was left with an assortment of questions.

Kokushibo, Uppermoon one. Why would he kidnap her? Was it on the orders of his master? Maybe.. But if that was the case Akaza suspected that both him and Douma would of been informed of her bounty.

Was Kokushibo doing this on his own volition? Unlikely.. But not impossible. He was loyal to a fault to that man, Even to the point of fanatisism. But what if he was keeping her here by his own will?

Akaza didn't like it when women were harmed in any way, He had to ball up his fists when the other Uppermoons talked about their deeds towards them. It irked him, It gave him curiosities and questions.

Ones that built up on his tongue and were dying to spill out.

Akaza clenched his teeth and turned back towards the stairs.

It's better to keep his nose out of whatever's happening here, For now at the very least. This didn't involve him and if Kokushibo wanted her dead then he would of already done the deed.

☆♡☆

The obsidian black shade of the nights sky loomed over the small village. Dotted with glittering specks like eyes looking down at the mortal plane.

It was quiet, The only sound was the light rustle of tree leaves in the cold midnight wind passing by. It swept over the low valley the silent town sat atop of, A chill running down the spine of whoever may come in its way.

Not that they would. The houses and the buildings, The restaurants and the streets were all completely empty.

Candles went unlit, Light usually emanating from behind the windows didn't show up tonight. Bowls full of fresh food sat on top of restaurant tables went untouched, Stuffed animals played with by children went abandoned.

There was no sign of life at all in this village, None except for one.

Slow footsteps clad in well-made leather shoes wandered the empty streets. The sound reverberated along the wooden panels of the houses the man passed. The moon sat high signalling midnight, The soft rays shining down on his form.

Muzan paused. The golden laced waistcoat and blouse he wore was in pristine form, Perfect to the very last fold in fabric. No stain or spot to be found once he stopped in his steps.

"Kokushibo."

His calm voice sung out into the silent night. He didn't even need to turn around to know that he was behind him, Kneeling down in respect and honour before him.

"Muzan-sama." Kokushibo replied. He was kneeling down, Head tilted towards the ground to bare his neck amongst his hair. Kokushibo made no move to get up from his position, The two parted by a good few metres.

Muzan turned around to face the Uppermoon. His scarlet eyes scanned over him, Veins visible in his irises as he stared. His face was hardened with a cold expression, Yet it seemed more relaxed compared to that of how he treated someone such as Akaza or especially Douma.

It was more trusting, If you could even call it that in the first place.

"I assume you know why you have been called today" Muzan questioned. Wine stained eyes waiting for his subordinate's answer.

Kokushibo was silent. His body still before his master, Crouched down he mulled over his reply. He infact did know, He had been expecting this for a good while. However how he would explain was still something he had no clue on how to phrase.

"Yes.. I believe this is about the Kakushi base.. That me and Uppermoon six got into a few weeks ago.." He answered. Head raising up from the ground slowly so his amber hues could meet the maroon of the progenitors.

Muzan hummed.

"Correct. I believe that you were able to destroy the main base of operations there" Muzan asked, Tilting his head to the side in question. Urging him to go on.

"I was able to destroy the entire base.. Yes." Kokushibo confirmed, Letting Muzan nod slightly at his response.

He walked a little closer to the Uppermoon, A single step echoing softly from within the confines of the silent village.

"And what exactly were you able to get out of it?" Muzan queried once more. The question of the century. Both Muzan and Kokushibo were on more levelled ground compared to the other Uppermoons, Even going as far as to calling Kokushibo his near equal, A business partner of sorts.

The keyword is 'near', However. Kokushibo was loyal to him like a dog, Fanatic and subservient by choice. Even though he had the decision of being a kind of contracted servant he had denied this in choice of full compliancy and order.

That's why it was so hard to explain what Kokushibo had done on instinct, For once in his long life he felt himself speechless in front of him. While Muzan could very well peer into the caverns of his mind and take a look for himself, Due to Kokushibo's high standing it was a sign of respect not to.

Either way, Kokushibo knew what he had to say.

"..While in the midst of destroying the base I came face to face with that slayer you had informed us about.. The one who slew one thousand." Kokushibo started, Slowly getting up from his kneel to stand on his two legs while he explained.

Muzan's thin lips morphed into a small frown at the remembrance of the slayer.

"And I assume you were able to take care of him?" Muzan asked. Kokushibo didn't respond for a second, Making his master's eyes narrow in suspicion.

"No.. This is where it gets more complicated.. And where I selfishly ask for you to lend your ear.." He trailed off for only a second, But the words that came before rose a narrow eyebrow on Muzan's face.

"Why? Did you not succeed in killing him? Of all the Uppermoons I did not expect you to fail against a slayer.." Muzan commented, A comment which he knew would strike Kokushibo right where it hurts and it showed in how he subtly clenched the hem of his haori.

Muzan, He always had a way to dig into the insecurities of the people around him both Human and demon. An off-handed comment or a simple look was enough for him to have his claws on whoever he targeted. And the pride festering in Kokushibo was absolutely no exception.

"..No, I was able to take the slayer down.. However.. Whilst I was about to kill him.." Kokushibo trailed off once more. An oddity of the Uppermoon, The usual calm and unbothered demeanour was absent and instead replaced with a hesitant drawl.

Muzan took a few strides forward towards the taller man, His steps reverberating against the derelict streets. Kokushibo didn't falter an inch once his master reached out a hand, Two bony fingers extended to press on the temples of the Uppermoon.

Kokushibo stood silent, Jaw locked as he felt a sudden surge of energy come from between his eyes. A searing shock, He could feel the sensation of prying eyes into his memories like claws combing through an archive.

It pulsated. Kokushibo felt as if his head was cracked open, Brain on display for Muzan to see as his fingers removed themselves from Kokushibo's temples.

Muzan took a step back, His action finished as he stared up at his subordinate with an unreadable expression to the normal eye but Kokushibo could see the irritation arising from him. He hummed, Eyebrows tightly knitted together.

"I.. I see.. So the slayer was.." Muzan trailed off. His nose twitched in agitation, The fact that the slayer hadn't died and infact turned out to be someone unexpected entirely was.. Irritating to say the least.

He didn't speak after that, So Kokushibo took the opportunity to do so.

"Respectfully.. Before you say anything more I ask of you to let me explain.." Kokushibo asked, Courteous in tone as always. Muzan looked at him, Crimson irises staring him down.

Muzan raised a hand to his chin, Clawed fingers covering his mouth in a display of thought.

"..Your sister? Ah.. Right, I remember now. The one you spoke about a few centuries ago, The one I provided you a vial of my blood for." Muzan commented, His cat-slit eyes widened slightly at the realisation.

Kokushibo nodded. The memory of that night coming back to him. The tiled rooftop at the dead of night, A night very similar to this one. Muzan had came to him with an offer, One Kokushibo just couldn't resist.

The night they stood eye to eye. The one where Muzan offered him a chance at eternal life, A chance to hone his skills and live past the dreaded age of twenty five. A way to surpass Yorichii.

Kokushibo remembered it well. Once Muzan had offered and set down the deal Kokushibo had bargained, He didn't mean to but it didn't mean he regretted it either. The words just slipped out of his mouth.

"What? Is this not enough for you? What more can I possibly offer you?"

"I ask that you provide more of your blood, Not for me. But for my sister dying of an incurable illness.. That's all I ask and then I will do whatever you ask.. Whatever you ask.."

Muzan had accepted rather easily and once the three days of transformation was up he had awoken with the vial gripped tightly in his hand. If only he had gotten back to [F/N] in time.

If only.

"Correct.. She is back with me.. I am currently keeping her in the shrine replica in the infinity castle.. I am sorry I did not ask for your permission, However due to her injuries I thought it was necessary.." Kokushibo apologised, Bowing his head down low to represent that. Muzan hummed once more.

"I am not concerned about where you are keeping the girl, I am concerned about how you were able to let an opportunity like this slip by you. The Kamado girl, Nezuko Kamado.. She was there, Was she not? Not to mention the boy with the hanafuda earrings.." Muzan replied.

The air around them seemed to grow sharper, A thick edge made of the oxygen they breathed. It turned cold, Colder than it already was. Kokushibo took a deep breath in, The boy with the hanafuda earrings, He didn't need to be reminded once more of him. How Yorichii's earrings were turned into a family heirlooms he had no idea, But he didn't want to remember right now. He'd figure out how to deal with the boy later.

But the Kamado girl, He had failed on that front. That was something he couldn't deny, He had failed to capture her in favour of saving his sister. But that didn't mean he had no more course of action.

Kokushibo raised his head, Looking at Muzan in the eyes.

"Yes.. I was unable to capture them.. Fortunately however.. Since I have brought my sister back home I have come to the belief that she is able to assist on that front.." Kokushibo started, His voice was low yet concentrated. A confident lilt.

"Since she is a Hashira.. A special kind at that.. I strongly believe she knows the whereabouts of the Ubuyashiki estate.. If I am able to get this information out of her we will most definetly be able to both take down the corps.. As well as capture the Kamado's." Kokushibo finished. Finality lifting his tone up as he stood his ground in front of Muzan.

Muzan paused. He didn't say a word.

His eyes narrowed, He appeared to be contemplating over Kokushibo's words. Mulling over his proposition, Thinking it over with utmost care. If Kokushibo was any lower in ranking or had any less respect, Muzan would of tore him to bits for his audacity to speak to him with such equality.

The silence around them was louder than any wail or scream that came after his arrival, Though it was broken once he, Muzan, Decided to speak.

"Alright then. If that is the case then I assume you'd be wanting to turn her into another demon then? You agree that it must be the best course of action, She wouldn't need to confess where it is when it can be done with a quick look into her mind, Yes?" Muzan inquired.

True, It would be incredibly easier to turn her into a demon and get the information that way. Not to mention that it would be more agreeable to Kokushibo, So much so that turning her into a demon was one of the first thoughts in his mind when he saw her again.

However..

"No.. Currently that is not an option.. With the injuries she sustained during her fight and the fact that she is a breath user.. I fear that she might die if I give her my blood right now.. Besides that.. Right now she isn't in the best of moods.. She's rather confused and in a sort of rebellious phase currently.." Kokushibo replied.

For a human to become a demon, Their blood must mix with that of Muzan's. The cells coursing throughout his bloodstream doing the job of processing them into such.

As such, Every demon has a concentration of Muzan's blood.

Especially the Uppermoons, The most powerful of the bunch. Normally Muzan would be the only demon capable of turning others, However due to the high concentration in the Upperranks blood they have gained the ability to turn others as well.

However, While the Uppermoons have a high concentration it is certainly not pure. If they were to inject their blood into a human being on a whim the person has the ability to actively fight it off similar to an illness.

It means that the transaction has to be consensual, The human has to willingly drink the blood and accept that along with the approval of Muzan himself to become one. Not to mention a breath user requires much more blood than normal due to their skills and talents.

Even if Kokushibo was to ask of pure blood from Muzan, The chance that [F/N] would be able to break free from his curse after transformation was a very real possibility. It's why Muzan occasionally asked for people to become demons instead of just outright doing it, Tamayo was a warning of what might happen.

If he attempted to turn [F/N] now, Her injuries and the amount of blood he needed to give might just kill her. Even if she survived and became a demon, Kokushibo guessed that there would be a very good chance that she would get away from Muzan's hold. And if someone like [F/N] was to break free of the curse, It would signal an issue at the very least.

It had to be consensual, Kokushibo knew that much.

"I see.. And you believe you are able to convince her of such?" Muzan asked. The proposal that Kokushibo had lain out seemed to finally click inside his head, Idea's and thoughts forming. Forgetting Kokushibo's failure entirely.

"In time, Yes.. Once she has calmed down and I have been able to resurface her memories.. I know she wouldn't mind becoming one, Then.. It is only a matter of 'doing' afterwards.." Kokushibo concluded. Muzan nodded slowly.

"Yes.. But I must ask how you believe you'll be able to 'bring back' her memories in the first place, Are you even sure she is your sister at all and not just some random human girl?" Muzan asked once more, The final question.

"There is no doubt about it.. She is my little sister. I have considered every possibility… Including the chance that she isn't who I thought.. However due to recent information coming to light my worries have disappeared.." Kokushibo said, Remembering their recent talk.

"My best theory on what happened.. Is that she has been reincarnated after a good few centuries.. How that is possible I do not know.." He finalized.

Reincarnation, Before it was something he believed was dubious at best. It was something he never considered a possibility nor had it ever been proved, Not until now. The proof was there, Hopefully waiting for his return back home.

Hopefully.

"Alright then.. I will leave you to do as such and I expect you not to fail me again. I wish you good luck in your endeavour" Muzan said, Turning away from him and beginning to stroll away.

"I appreciate it greatly, Thank you, Muzan-sama." Kokushibo bowed once more as he walked off. The cool air of the night and the now derelict village turned to nothing in his wake.

The moon stood high in the ebony black sky, Hues of faded purple and mists of scattered cloud looking down at the quiet landscape.

Kokushibo took it in, Staying there for a while. Watching as Muzan started to get further and further away until he went entirely. Disappearing on the horizon.

Kokushibo licked his lips once, The faint smell of copper and iron danced along his nose. An emptiness in his stomach, He felt hungry.

It wouldn't hurt to grab food before he got home to see [F/N] again. While it ate at him to stay away for too long, The thought of what might happen to her when he's not there bit down into him.

But he needed to tend to himself. Feed, Get stronger. Kokushibo knew that he had to find food.

Maybe he'd take her out next time, Maybe it would be nice to bring her outside and get some fresh air to calm her nerves.

Besides, She'd need to learn how to feed on human beings once she became a demon and he was more than willing to teach her, Hold her hand and guide her along on the right path, That's what a good big brother would do after all.

He'd get her to turn eventually, Becoming a demon is what's best for her. Once she calms down and regains her old memories he knew that she'd be more than willing to become a demon. Kokushibo knew that she trusted him more than anything, He knows she loves him.

He'd wear her down, While she was extraordinary in her own right she couldn't keep acting the way she has forever. [F/N] had nowhere else to go, No one but him to turn to. But then again, She'd need to feel more comfortable to regain them.

Kokushibo would figure that part out later.

With that final thought he disappeared into the night, His figure fading from view as he went to find his next meal.

☆♡☆

[F/N] warily strode down the shrine hallway.

It had been a good while after her encounter with the Uppermoon. Sure enough he hadn't walked after her or tried to search her out afterwards, It was probably better that way. He wasn't going to kill her nor was he going to help her get out of here, So it's for the better if they just ignored each other.

At least, That's what [F/N] thought anyways. As she paused at the doorframe, Leaning her bodyweight into it she looked at the soft canary light pouring in from the other side of the corner.

[F/N] layed her head against the wood, Listening to the sounds of punching and hitting something unknown. It sounded fast, Furious and determined. It was a sound she often heard back when at the corps, Memories of training sessions coming back to her.

Days she'd stay up practicing her form, Days she'd spar with her comrades and all the mistakes they laughed over. It all felt so ready in her recall.

It felt sort of nostalgic. She had only been conscious for at least two days yet it felt so far away to her, Like the mountains on the far horizon at the shrine. It was a sort of comfort, A bittersweet taste on the tip of her tongue.

As the punching sounds continued she wondered how they were doing now. [F/N] knew she wasn't very well liked as a Hashira. Even though she was somehow considered the strongest among them, It was more of her attitude that put people off.

Colleagues like Sanemi and Iguro were especially unpleasant, Uncalled for comments and snide looks were always their go to. Every time [F/N] turned up late or showed a lack of respect they would be in abundance.

Even other's like Tengen or Rengoku had something to say at points. Others like Muichiro or Giyuu didn't pay much attention at all to her, Ignoring her entirely. Shinobu was one that she had shallow conversations with in passing, She was alright.

Mitsuri, [F/N] felt bad at her name being brought up again in her mind. Why Mitsuri still stayed with her for all these years was a mystery. Was it because she felt pity? Some long lost attachment or could it be because of their pact?

Either way she deserved better, Someone that didn't keep her tethered to the ground.

The memories swam around her, They hurt a lot. A sense of dread or guilt, [F/N] couldn't tell which it was but they held onto her like a hand, They hurt so much yet [F/N] didn't want to get rid of them at all.

As the punching sounds continued she listened on, Reliving the memories in her mind. She knew that the sounds most definetly came from the demon, She recognised his voice from the grunts and yells echoing a bit away.

She also knew she shouldn't of been drawn to them. She knew she shouldn't be taking a step towards them and she was very well aware that slowly walking in their direction wasn't a good idea.

But she continued anyways. Her cautious footsteps made slow creaks on the floorboards, Where she walked was unfamiliar. One of the rare places she didn't venture into on her previous scouting mission.

It was on the first floor, Dead centre. It must of been one of the modifications Kokushibo was talking about as she didn't recognise the architecture or the layout. She walked into the very wide open double doors, The light shining through the translucent paper windows and the cracks in the dark bamboo door.

Fresh air flooded her nose. [F/N] took a few more wary steps before the light hit her face, Making her raise a hand to cover her eyes.

Once her eyes adjusted, She looked upon the scene.

Tall winding wood, Branches twisting out from the bark and bursting into arrays of beautiful green leaves that shined chartreuse under the faux light. It was a tree, It was unlike any she had saw before.

It had the long turning branches of a Japanese pine yet stood as high as a Hyperion tree, Reaching up into dark sky above. The shrine surrounded it, The middle of the second floor and the roof gone to make way for it. [F/N] could spot glistening red apples hanging down from the dark oak, Shining and ripe. Ready to eat.

The sight amazed her. How a tree was able to get that big or how it was even here in the first place was astonishing, It was impossible yet it stood before her like a tower and looked down on her like a god.

[F/N] pried her eyes away from it, Looking around at where the tree surrounded.

It was wide open and [F/N] could tell it was the courtyard, Smoothed over dirt flooring with clumps of unmown grass standing before her. The walls of the shrine acted like the fortress surrounding the shrine, Boxing it up. The jacktop walling there, This must of been where the light was coming from..

PUNCH!

[F/N] snapped her head over. With the sight of the tree and the new area around her she was completely phased out to the fighting sounds, The reason she was here in the first place.

Upperrank three was in the far corner of the courtyard, He was dead-eyed staring at what looked to be a makeshift dummy. He was beating the living daylights out of it with a fire and passion [F/N] could see from a mile away.

It was very beaten so when it flew back from his punch and hit the wall of the shrine, Parts of stuffing came loose from within the seams of it.

[F/N] watched as he stood over the dummy, Worked up fighting stance as he looked down at it like a defeated opponent. She was somewhat impressed by his determination and energy, It showed through the beads of sweat rolling down his body and his heavy breathing.

She folded her arms over her chest, The warmth of the courtyard keeping her snug as the demon picked up the destroyed dummy and set it back in place. [F/N] frowned a bit, He really did remind her of the kids she grew up with.

"Hey." [F/N] called out. A quiet mumble as she watched him jerk his head around, Obviously unexpecting the sudden presence interrupting his training session. His eyes lowered on her.

"What do you want?" He interrogated, Shoulders raised high and on guard. A frown etched deeply into his cracked lips and deathly pale skin.

[F/N] sighed. She didn't really know why she decided to come so close in the first place, It was of course due to the nostalgic noise but it wasn't exactly something that was easy to explain to a demon like him.

She kicked a small rock with her foot, Toying around with it.

"Dunno.. I don't exactly have anything to do so I guess I just wanted to come see what you were doing.." [F/N] trailed off, Looking nonchalant as she slowly paced around the small exterior.

The demon groaned, Irritated by her presence. Even though he didn't harm women it didn't mean he'd treat her with respect either. That was fine, [F/N] was fine with returning the favour.

"Do whatever you want, I don't care." He said. Turning his bare back to her and refocusing back onto the dummy, Continuing his strikes onto the patchwork of the fake figure.

He didn't pay any more attention to her, Completely forgotten as he proceeded with his training.

[F/N] stood there awkwardly, The rock she had toyed with under her foot stood still. Why she decided to come in the first place without a plan or reason, It was stupid and she chided herself for it in her head.

Clicking her tongue once she slowly made her way over to the base of the tree. The small grassy hill it was perched on holding it up as [F/N] sat down within the vegetation, Nestling herself within the exposed roots comfortably.

She dragged her knees up to her chest, Sat within the shade of the leaves she watched the demon continue with his training. It was cosy within the leaves, The cool heat like a blanket on a winter's night.

Of all the places in the mockery of her shrine this was the one that felt the most authentic, Even though it wasn't even in the original it still held that sought after amenity that none other could replicate. It was nice, It was a distraction. It wasn't cold or uncomfortable, It was just fine.

"So.. What's your name..?" [F/N] asked. She didn't even mean to let the words slip by her lips, They came out on their own. She didn't mind though, Just curled up tighter and rested her head onto her knees.

The demon didn't even flinch, Nor did he turn around.

"Akaza." Was all 'Akaza' said.

[F/N] hummed, A bit disappointed on his answer. She wondered why but supposed that being kept up in here with only Kokushibo made her hungry for other forms of social connection, And his one word answer wasn't satiating at all.

"Why are you here anyways?" [F/N] asked.

"..I come here to train, I like this place because it's quiet and has no one around to bother me with meaningless questions." Akaza jabbed, His eyes focused on the task in front of him, The one that made his soul radiate with determination and fire. Burning bright.

Ignoring the insult. A neuron clicked within [F/N]'s mind. Fire, That's it. This is the one that killed Rengoku, The one the crow had called about on that fateful morning. A hole in his stomach and the Mugen train incident.

[F/N] remembered how she got it, The crow had landed on her shoulder during a ceremonial dance. It had to be paused just so [F/N] could go check up on Mitsuri, She didn't have a personal connection to Rengoku but Mitsuri did. Him being her previous master after all.

The crow had told of their bargain, How he wanted Rengoku to become a demon, To train with him forever. Rengoku, Being an upstanding and moral man had fiercely denied leading to his death.

[F/N] felt a twinge of disgust pang in her heart, One of her colleagues and this was the man who slaughtered him. While they weren't close it still was still a tragedy to kill such a decent person, He was strong and had a good heart. And it was punched out by this demon.

"So, Akaza.. Why are you training on a dummy so much? Don't you have any other Hashira to punch a hole through?" [F/N] queried. A poorly disguised jab at him, A snide yet knowing look on her face as she watched him side-eye her.

"..How do you know about that?" Akaza asked, Throwing one more powerful punch to the dummy making it topple over onto the floor.

[F/N] shrugged.

"What, How do I know about you killing off Kyojuro a few months ago? Do I really look that weak?" [F/N] asked. Yes, That was the correct answer and the one she said in her head. She had none of her support beams like the mask and sword that made her strong, But she needed to keep up her tough exterior.

If you let it down, You will be killed. An old voice echoing in her head, One she agreed with.

Akaza breathed air out of his nose.

"Of course you do, I don't know why you were kidnapped but you're definetly not happy about it. But you're not trying to escape nor do you look like your planning on trying to.. So yes, I think you're weak." Akaza replied casually, Turning around to meet her eyes.

[F/N] exhaled, Her brows furrowed in annoyance.

"Well, I tried running but it just brought me back here! I'm.. I'm still trying real hard to get out but I'm still figuring out how." [F/N] retorted, Staring right back at him with the same energy trying to match it.

"You might be a member of the corps, However you know it doesn't matter. I can see a weak person from miles away, I feel it in my skin.. They absolutely disgust me. Sounds to me you just tried running once and then gave up, If that's not pathetic then I don't know what is." Akaza argued.

[F/N] blinked. His words cut through her like a chilling blade and left frostbite in its wake, It hit hard and made her jaw drop agape. The gall he had to call her pathetic, The gall he had to point it out. It irked her to say the least.

She put each of her hands beside her, Hauling herself up from her comfortable position she stumbled before standing on two feet. [F/N] stared him down, Huffed lightly from her perch.

"Well then, If you're so horribly disgusted by my presence then how about you just get me out of here? You don't want me here and neither do I, So you get me out of this godforsaken place and I'll be out of your hair." [F/N] argued, Exasperated and tired as she stood strong in place.

Akaza shook his head.

"No, Absolutely not. I don't know why you're here but if you were taken by Kokushibo then there must be a good reason for it, I'm not getting involved." Akaza said, Speaking his name with such acidity that she thought wisteria was in the air.

[F/N] groaned loudly, She turned around and grabbed the back of her neck with both hands. Staring up within the foliage as if communicating with the kami. She started to feel irritated, Annoyed and very angry.

"There is no reason.. There is absolutely no good reason.." [F/N] mumbled, Moving a hand round to pinch her temples tight.

"What?" Akaza asked, Not being able to hear her.

"He's keeping me here because he thinks I'm his fucking sister!" [F/N] exclaimed, Sharply turning back to Akaza and taking a few steps towards him, Indignant and irate as she stood before him.

Akaza froze, His expression going blank as he processed the information given. [F/N] sighed. The anger she had before exiting her body as she flipped round and paced a few steps away from him, Trying to let it all go.

"You.. He thinks you're what?" Akaza asked, Bafflement in every word he spoke.

"He thinks I'm his sister.." [F/N] sighed, Resting her head in her palms. Akaza stood still watching the girl a few feet away from him. She was breathing heavily. Stressed, He could tell.

"..Are you?" Akaza asked once more, Words coming from his confusion and stammer.

[F/N] sighed, Stilling in pace.

"I don't know.. I really don't know.." She mumbled. The conversation her and Kokushibo had a good while ago, It resurfaced again. The nightmare that matched up to his story, What were the chances? They were so low, Nigh if not impossible.

Everything felt so alien, So strange and weird. Her emotions were in pieces and her thoughts even more so. Was she his sister? At first there was no way, Definite deniability. But now after their communication she had no clue, None at all.

[F/N] gagged lightly, Moving her arms down to her abdomen.

Akaza looked at her, Going over every muscle and fold in the sleepwear she wore. Her hair was a mess, She seemed like she hadn't showered in ages.

What was up with her?

First this girl knew about his encounter with Rengoku, Something only corps members and his family should of known about and she did not resemble Rengoku at all. His best guess is that she is a corps member, She had no fear when he approached her and strangely enough had no fighting spirit what-so-ever. An anomaly, Something not achieved by many.

But how? She didn't look like a slayer at all, Could it just be her nature? He couldn't tell.

Secondly she claimed that she was Uppermoon one's sister and that was impossible. Kokushibo was one of the founding members from over five hundred years ago, It was improbable but.. No.. She wasn't claiming to be as such, According to her it was Kokushibo who was claiming blood relation.

That was unlike him. Kokushibo, As much as Akaza loathed him with every inch of his being couldn't deny he was of respectable standing. He was calm and thought his actions out, He was smart and most certainly of sound mind.

"So why would he.." Akaza thought out loud, Half to himself and the other to the girl a bit away from him. He waited for an answer but only watched as she keeled over, Grasping her abdomen and starting to cough violently.

Akaza's eyes widened and his body moved before his mind did, Instantly running over to her side to examine any damage.

"Hey, Hey- What the hell happened?" Akaza shouted rather agressively, Hand grabbing her shoulder and adjusting her so he could see what she was grasping tightly.

Around her mid-section was a very bloody dressing, It seemed like it hadn't been changed and whatever injury she had sustained down there had possibly came open. Maybe it was from the sudden turn she made to face him or maybe it came undone on its own.

It didn't matter, She was.. Sick.. Akaza's instincts kicked up. It was one he wasn't sure he had anymore nor was it one he knew he had in the first place but before he could think he had hoisted a single arm under her armpit, He positioned her hand to wrap around his shoulder, Supporting her entire weight.

"Fuck- Damnit.." He cursed as [F/N] groaned in pain. He started to move, One foot in front of the other as they made their way out of the courtyard, The warm light fading behind them as they got into the cold passageway of the shrine.

"Do you have anywhere you sleep?" Akaza asked, Continuing to walk along. [F/N] looked up at him, Pain erupting inside her abdomen as she spoke.

"I- Ugh..- Upstairs.. My bedroom is upstairs.." She wheezed, Another group of coughs coming up from her throat as Akaza nodded. He mumbled a confirmation under his breath and started to direct her along to the stairway.

They got to the foot of the old rickety wood steps. Akaza made no more move to speak as he silently guided her feet along, One step at a time as they slowly made their way to the second floor.

Once they got to the top, [F/N] weakly guided him towards the select room with a feeble point. As they walked [F/N] wondered why he was helping her, Why his attitude changed up so quickly once she started bleeding.

Akaza pushed open the shoji door, It slid open with ease thanks to his immense physical strength. They walked inside, [F/N] limping along with him as he laid her down on the futon. Surprisingly with a careful touch.

Akaza hissed another round of curses under his breath.

"Alright.. Don't move, I'm gonna check your injury." He spoke quickly yet he didn't make any move until [F/N] feverishly nodded, In too much agony to disagree.

Akaza moved his pale hands down to her jinbei. Before it was oversized enough to shield the dressing entirely, Making it completely unable to be seen before.

He moved it up lightly, Showing off the ruby splotched bandages wrapped around her entire mid-section. Akaza worked quickly, Slowly peeling the dressing down to get a good look at her injury.

[F/N] wailed in pain, Akaza's spare hand moved down to her shoulder to keep her in place as the injury was finally showed off to him. He gawked, It was massive. A large cut from assumedly a sword was on display.

It was stitched up to the nines. It had been sterilized yet the thing that disturbed Akaza the most was how deep it seemed to go. This injury went more than muscle deep, This went right down into her organs.

This was a fatal blow. No human being would be able to survive this, Hashira or not. Especially since something of this magnitude would be unable to heal, The muscle and skin destroyed and showing off her innards.

It was impossible to heal yet the majority of it looked good as new, There wasn't even any scarring, Not a single mark to be found. The only remainder of it being the outline of the stitches plotting out where the injury would've been.

While it still was mostly healed over, A small part of it still seemed to be in recovery. The stitches there luckily weren't open, The pain must've come from the unsettled position that it was in.

"Ugh.." [F/N] groaned as Akaza moved away. He got up from his crouched position and went over to the dresser, Near impossible to see except from his illuminated aquamarine outline from within the dark.

Akaza grabbed a fresh roll of bandages conveniently sat on top of the dresser, Walking back over to the crippled girl lying on the futon he grabbed on to the bloody bandages. Unwrapping them slowly, [F/N] moaned in agony.

"It's fine.. It's fine.." Akaza hissed lightly under his breath as he finally got off the dressing, Cloth drenched in crimson sat in his hands. He tossed it aside into a far corner of the room, He'll deal with it later.

Unrolling the bandages he moved a hand under her to the dip in her back, [F/N] complied as he raised her up and started to wrap a fresh dressing around her abdomen. She huffed lightly, He was being so careful. It was strange.

He rolled a few more layers around her before tearing it off, Tying it neatly it settled in place. Akaza removed his hand, [F/N] lowering back onto the mattress with a groan she lain splayed out. Panting and breathing hard.

Akaza raised up, Looking down at the exhausted girl with an unreadable expression. Why he did what he did he had no idea, It was some inner response that held more authority than his own common sense.

He felt a chill run down his spine like cold water, He shivered, Shaking it off. This was bad, He should of stayed out of this. He shouldn't of kept interacting with her in the first place.

Akaza groaned under his breath and turned away from her, The bandage was already settled and done, All that was left was for her to get some rest. He needed to leave, He'll go out and find someone real to train with.

The floorboards ached under his heavy footsteps. He got to the frame of the shoji door before he heard her meek voice call out to him for a final time.

"R-Real motherly behaviour for a demon there.. Seemed like you're use to taking care of people" [F/N] mused exhaustedly, One final jab at him before he left.

It made him tense up, He had no idea why. Shoulders were raised and his muscles flexed.

"Whatever. Don't speak a word of me being here to anyone." Akaza commanded, But it was too late. When he turned back she had already fainted on the futon. Her body grown limp and her eyes fluttered shut.

Akaza 'tched. Grabbing the door he slid it shut, Leaving her in darkness.

He sighed. What occurred played out like a reel tape in his mind. She and Kokushibo, Related? Improbable. Yet..

He shook his head. It's none of your business. Just walk away, This doesn't involve you.

And he hoped it stayed that way. It was his last thought as he took off.

Disappearing in a blink of the eye.

Next Chapter

[baka-monarch]

xD here you go

Also those stats are not lookin good–its neck and neck xD

(dhejekejdjeh I mean I still like Awesamdream so it's fine if they win, plus I don't really expect prime boys to win, either way it seems fun to do this- so now I'll write you a thing I guess :3 )

Dream scampered across the floor, his bag swinging around and thumping against his side painfully but he couldn't slow down, not now, not with a cat chasing after him. As a mouse hybrid there were many dangers in the world, especially if you choose to gnaw a hole to live inside of someone larger's walls. Dream knew these dangers well and always kept an eye out for them when moving- but this time he somehow missed the glaring detail that a cat lived here; the yellow feline itself was currently chasing him through the house, hissing, and glaring at him with it's blue eyes.

All Dream needed to do was to get to any of the holes he'd chewed into the walls here- but every time he was close the cat pounced and blocked his path. He was running out of options and out of time as he steadily grew more and more tired. Mice have good endurance but he couldn't exactly run forever, and he could already feel his legs tingling, about ready to give out under him.

Dream spotted another hole and turned to make a dash for it, but he really had been running for too long, because as soon as he moved his body to turn he tripped on his own tired legs and collapsed onto the floor painfully. Not long after that he could hear the cat's pip paping of paws approaching him and he knew it was over. Out of all the ways he thought he'd go he'd always hoped it wouldn't be a cat, or at least he'd be able to put up a fight if it was; but with how exhausted he was he couldn't move let alone fight as he felt and heard the cat sniffing him from behind.

It was over for Dream....

The little mouse closed his eyes as he felt a warm breath that smelled like cat food envelope him, and prepared to be bitten into....

To his surprise however, he was gently lifted up by the back of his hoodie. He looked down to the floor below confused and saw the cat's legs and paws below him. So they were holding him, but why not eating? His question was far from answered as the cat started running off again, taking Dream with it somewhere upstairs.

Dream could do nothing more than watch as the cat brought him into an unfamiliar bedroom then hopped up onto a bed where it dropped Dream down onto the blanket unceremoniously.

"Oof-" The mouse huffed as he landed, then pushed himself up to turn to look back at the cat- who was staring at him with it's face literally in his own. "Uuuhhhhh hi cat?" He asked as he scooted back away from the fairly scary face and started looking around the room, trying to think of something other than the predator that probably just wanted to play with him more before finally eating. "When did this room get here...?" The mouse wondered aloud, still ignoring the cat for now.

"It's always been here." A voice spoke up and Dream froze. None of the humans were supposed to be home yet, and when Dream looked at the bedroom door no one was there. He tried to keep looking for the source of the voice but didn't get far as he was picked up by his tail, a fearful squeak being ripped from his throat. "Heeeyyy over here little guy!" It was the voice again, and as Dream was spun around he found the source finally- there was a large person behind him, they looked like a skinny teenage boy with curly blond hair and blue eyes- and cat ears.

"O- oh!" Dream squeaked. Oh... A cat person... Literally. The teen chuckled and tossed Dream into the air, ignoring how he shouted before catching him.

"Hmm, I think I'll call you squeaks since you squeak y'know!" The teen laughed again as he pet Dream's hair and the little mouse shivered.

"Wh- what? Who-" Dream started to ask but didn't get far before he was dropped onto the cat's pillow with another pained squeak.

"I'm Tommy, Tommy Danger Kracken Innit!" The teen introduced himself as Dream struggled to push himself up on the squishy pillow. "Now, who are you really and why are you in my house mousey?" Just as Dream got up he was pushed over again by a massive finger.

"I- I'm Dream..." He stuttered out. "And uh- well uh-" Well shit if he told this kid he lived in the walls he might actually be eaten. "I was just passing by....?"

"Uh-huh, sure, inside someone else's house?" Dream gulped as he watched the cat's tail wave around in annoyance.

"Y- yeah! It was uh- it was cold I just- I just needed to warm up for a second before heading home!" He lied, shivering as he looked up at the cat's glowing blue eyes.

"You were cold out there eh?" Dream nodded, even though he could tell the cat didn't believe him. "Alright!" The cat smirked, showing off rows upon rows of terrifying fangs. "Then why not stay a bit longer? Warm up some more! I even have somewhere to keep you very warm..." The cat growled and Dream held back a whimper.

"N- no no I- I couldn't-" Dream started to frantically say, trying to think of any reason why he'd need to leave, and flinched when the cat barked out into loud laughter.

"Oh my gosh you mice are so weird!" Tommy kept laughing, "Did you actually think I'd eat a person?" Dream froze and looked into their blue eyes for any sign this was a trick, and when he didn't find any he nodded. "Wow, guess it's true about what they say with you little guys and anxiety." Tommy rolled his eyes which only confused Dream more.

"S- so.... You're uh... You're not going to eat me?" He looked up at Tommy hopefully and flinched again when he started giggling.

"Nah, I'm really not into eating other hybrids- feels all morally wrong and all that bullshit." The teen shrugged and scooped Dream up in his hands. "Plus it was fun to play with you today, it's pretty fucking boring here alone." Dream held onto Tommy's thumb as the kid started carrying him somewhere. "Would you mind playing a bit of cat and mouse again some time?" Tommy smiled that same toothy smile that sent a shiver down Dream's spine.

"I- if you don't scare me a- again..." He stuttered out, and sighed in relief when the cat nodded in understanding.

"That's fair, I think I went a biiiit to far this time anyways-" Tommy giggled when Dream nodded. "Either way, I think this is what you were trying to get to?" The cat gently set Dream down in front of one of his holes, and Dream finally actually calmed down. He was being let go- they were being honest.

"Y- yeah uh- thanks?" He took a step into the hole, happy to be back in the darkness.

"No, thank you for giving me some entertainment." The cat purred and Dream was glad that they weren't going to eat him again. "Before you go though, I should probably warn ya that the rest of my family will eat you though, so don't let your guard down stupid mouse-" Tommy pushed Dream into his hole with a ginger and Dream didn't argue before running off into the walls, planning to go home and maybe move.

[inventors-fair]

Getting the Bant Back Together: Alara Contest Winners ~

Congratulations to @bread-into-toast, @izzet-always-r-versus-u, and @spooky-bard for winning this week's contest!

@bread-into-toast — Bant Paragon

Bant and Enlist are a match made in heaven, or wherever the angels of Bant live. The name is perfectly reasonable, not too much, perfectly descriptive enough, and surprising that it hasn't been used already. Triple enlist is absolutely a wakening slap, I'll say that much. What I love about this card is that you can enlist the butts off your creatures if you want to smack someone, but a single multicolored creature can get the job done. This is a uniquely decisive design that offers so much more than it seems at first glance. You'll have to invest a little in white, but perhaps the environment is more of a flavorful allowance than a precise measure of everyone-gets-mana-fixing.

Curiosity does drive me here, as does a little bit of nostalgia. Alara certainly had its pips, and it had some weird pips at that. Committing to double colors felt like a bit of a risky miracle. You absolutely could—triple pips if you so chose! But for a three-color environment? Risky, risky, risky. Double here ain't so bad, but you're still encouraged to branch out. So hybrid maybe? Who knows! Or the power here is simply asking for enlistment, white with a splash, a centering. The notion of this knight finding their allies while retaining their central strength is still powerful in its own emotional right, with the single attacker calling back to exalted naturally as well. Thoroughly enjoyable and thoughtful choices were made here. Love this card as a limited tempo beater and a potential mono-white/hybrid aggro constructed card.

@izzet-always-r-versus-u — Tidehollow Salvage

I mean, hell, c'mon, it's pretty wonderful. I'll talk about the mechanics afterwards, but the flavor? I'll admit: I don't like the Phyrexians invading all the worlds at once. I didn't like the MOM story as much as I could've, I was a huge fan of the ONE world but not as much the invasion aspect, and having my poor baby plane of Alara infected with these guys wasn't my idea of a good time. Here, you've infused that nostalgic factor with a post-conflict eeriness and a grotesque emotional reality on top of a neat draw spell. Yeah, the perfection of Esper is steeped in inequality! Tezzeret was sympathetic for a while! He got really messed up! Etherium is scarce! It still kind of sucks underground here! I didn't know a lot about the Alara storyline when I started playing, but the feeling for the shards was always there. Bant's casts felt uncomfortable for their societal enforcement, but Esper's commodity-based world was uncomfortable in a different, desperate way. Man. This is cool.

Plus, putting the surveil on a separate paragraph? You gotta love it. I know it's a small detail, and it's just a design necessity, but it's the attention to that detail that I love about this card. I can imagine it as part of a cycle of alternate spells, like with a red creature that forces discard on ETB if black was spent to cast it, or a blue return spell that exiles something instead if white was spent to cast it, etc. We got possible multicolor but good draws otherwise, we have the cost of metal-scrapping, and... I mean, what else is there to say? This card's chops speak for themselves.

When I talk in my contests about elegant common design, this is exactly what I'm looking for. As a player, big splashy complex cards will slot in my decks. As a designer and storyteller, tightness is key.

@spooky-bard — Sigiled Construction

See what I mean? I'm only mildly irked that this doesn't have a quote from, like, a Vedalken designer who's learning how to venerate the designs of the angels, or a Bant paladin who for the first time is accepting the use of etherium as a means of fabricated glory. I can imagine both of those scenarios, but argh! At least this card's a pain in the ass. ... Hold on, I'm sounding more negative than I intend. What I mean is that someone's going to get three of these in their sealed pool, play UWX, slam a Thopter, and every turn thereafter is going to have a massive exalted attacker clock. Is it too powerful? Depends on the environment. Is it really cool from a lot of perspectives? Yes, absolutely, and I wanna talk about it.

In short, this card is one of THOSE commons—you know, first-pickable-over-rares sometimes kind of commons—and the chances of it doing nothing if something bigger comes along is also totally there. And that's okay! It's not oppressive, it's not unbalanced, it's not literally better than the mythics that would be appearing in this set. Just a plain old good card. And I do like the implication of how these shards would be coming together. I like how all three winning cards this week highlighted different possible aspects of Alaran unification. The first was a knight finding their way through a harrowing world, the second an emphasis on the underlying Alaran conflict, and this one is the coming-together of two strengths in a positive light. Whatever's happening here, I can still feel the wonder even while I'm whining for flavor text. Dangit, I can only whine so far... Heh. I'd love to play and see this card played.

Runners and more soon! @abelzumi

[rpgwrites]

The Path We Take - Chapter 21: Jokes and Mockery

Many thanks to @pip-n-flinx for betaing. 

Many thanks to @ripley95things, @natsora, @pigeontheoneandonly, @fromathelastoveritaserum, @missmeggo929, and Musi (discord) for reading this chapter beforehand and giving me their opinions and suggestions. I really appreciate it!!

I’m posting the whole chapter on here because this can also be read as a one-shot. 

Story Summary:

A cold feels innocent enough. Ryder has them all the time while she was back in the Milky Way. But when things doesn't add up, and a cold went from bad to worse. What if its connected to the Archon somehow? Ryder wishes she never met the Archon. This might change her life for the long run.

Chapter 21: Jokes and Mockery

Read it on AO3 

“Ready to go back?” Asher asked.

They were walking around the Nexus. Harry had said it would do him some good, but Amber could see how the walk was tiring him out."

“Back to the med bay or back to work?” Ryder joked.

“Ha ha. Very funny,” Asher mocked between deep breaths.

Of course Ryder knew what he meant, but when she saw the opportunity she had to take it.If their roles were reversed he would do the same thing.

“Seriously though,” he nudged her at her side. “How do you feel about going back?”

Ryder felt happy. In the first time in months, she felt much better about dealing with her diabetes than she had before. She had a great chance of getting her sugar right. Ryder could win this.

“You make it sound like I was away from work for months. But,” she nodded and took a deep breath, “yeah, I'm excited.”

Asher was smiling, but she wasn't sure why, “You deserve this.”

They'd been walking behind an Asari and a human woman. Ryder wasn't listening to their conversation until something caught her ear

“So, a friend sent this sample. It is so sweet,” the brunette said.

“Oh? How sweet Janette?” the asari asked, needling for more details.

"It’s so sweet it’s going to give me diabetes.”

Ryder stopped. There’s no way what she heard was correct. People couldn’t be that stupid.

Anger engulfed her. Ryder didn’t know why but it felt like she insulted her in a way she wasn’t insulted in her life before. To say this, was unacceptable to her ears. 

But her limb was moving without her permission and her hand flew, punching the brunette whose name was apparently Janette. Everything was moving fast, the impact of the punch took her a few paces back. The asari looked shocked. And her brother rushed to her side.

“What-“ the asari started to say but the look of recognition stopped her in the tracks. “You’re the Pathfinder.”

Ryder opened her mouth to say something. She wasn't entirely sure what, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her. “Sorry about that.”

Did Asher just apologize? What the hell? Why would he do that?

She swiftly turned around, “You do not apologize for me!”

Janette rubbed her injured cheek. “Why the hell did you punch me?”

There was no need to look at them. Ryder could feel the eyes on her and for a moment she was speechless. Why had she punched her?

She ran the situation in her head over and over again.

It’s so sweet it’s going to give me diabetes.

But why did that bother her? Scratch that. Why the hell would someone say that? Was this a joke? Because they couldn’t be serious.

There were so many things to compare how sweet a thing can be, so why compare an illness to it? An illness that’s been there for many years. One that people struggle with every day.

Something that can slowly kill you. That you can’t beat no matter how hard you try. Something you can’t escape no matter what you do. That meant living with horrible complications.

Did the brunette think this wasn’t serious? Did she think people that dealt with this did this to themselves? That they wanted this? Who would want this?

Amber Ryder did not do this to herself.

The more she thought about it the angrier she got.

“What the hell is wrong with you that you would use an illness to describe the sweetness of something?” Ryder didn’t know how long she said nothing, but it was time to do something.

The brunette’s blue eyes were bewildered. She wasn’t sure if Ryder was serious or not. She dismissed it with a wave of her hand, “Oh, that’s nothing. It’s just something people say. I meant nothing by it.”

Ryder was going to explode. She meant nothing? It made matters only worse.

“If that bothers you,” while the brunette spoke Asher hid his face in his hand, “then you’re sensitive, Pathfinder.” She snorted.

Despite having only met Ryder moments ago, the asari had a much better read on the situation. She placed her hands on the brunette’s shoulders. “Janette, you need to shut up now.”

“I’m not backing off!” Janette was mad, and Ryder didn’t understand why. She insulted her. Ryder was anything but sensitive. “She punched me.”

“I have a valid reason.”

“Amber,” this time her brother spoke. “You need to cool off. Walk away.”

“I’m not going to take a damn walk.” All of them were looking at her hands and when she looked down she understood why. Her hands were engulfed with blue, she was flaring. She took a deep breath and got a hold of her biotics.

“C’mon,” Asher said as if she said nothing, “we have to get back.”

While Asher got a hold of Ryder, the asari got a hold of the brunette – Janette. She didn’t want to back off, cool off. And neither did Janette.

“This is not over! You’ll hear from me again.”

****

Neither Ryder nor her brother said anything until they took the tram ride. The silence was eating away at her.

“What the hell was that?” Asher asked.

Ryder could feel the tram moving and she held onto the railing. She was never this thankful that nobody else took the tram with them. “What?” she shrugged. “Was I unreasonable?”

Asher pinched the bridge of his nose, and Ryder had to wonder if it was because of what just happened or a headache. “It’s not that you were unreasonable. This is so unlike you.

“Oh, so what? I should just let her insult me?”

Asher frowned, confusion was clear on his expression. “What? She didn't insult you. That wasn't directed at you.”

He didn't see it. What Janette said sent a stab through her chest. It wasn't what she said but what it represented. Was that how people saw it? That this was just a diet and nothing else? Did she actually think one could get diabetes like that? It was ridiculous. Janette mocked something that changed her whole life.

“And what she said afterwards wasn't?” she threw back. She didn't agree with him, at least not fully, she knew it wasn’t directed at her but it showed her opinion of diabetes. Ryder also didn't want to start another argument with her brother.

“You punched her!”

“I had reason!”

The tram doors opened and they walked out in awkward silence. When they got to her brother’s bed they stopped.

“Are you really leaving like this?”

“Like what?” Anyone could hear how irritated she was.

“You’re mad.”

Asher was right, but at this point, she didn’t know at who or what she was mad at anymore. But was she really mad at him?

“I have to go,” she lied. She needed to do something. Get her mind off things and then she can have a clear head again. Right now her brother wasn’t helping.

“Look, Amber…”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” she said before her brother could say anything else. She wanted to be alone. Talking about something she didn’t even fully understand wasn’t something she wanted to do.

Asher had nothing else to say so she made her way to leave. “I’ll see you before the Tempest leaves. Enjoy therapy.”

****

Ryder needed to see Lexi later in the day. They needed to be sure that everything was working as it should. She was still sore from the surgery, but the pain meds helped.

They made a couple of changes to the program, and might tweak it further in the future. Ensuring that the implant supplied the correct doses was still hard work. This wasn't the cure Ryder had hoped for.

The implant made just as much insulin as it was programmed to, no more no less. SAM could help make the changes but Lexi needed to approve them. Too much insulin wasn’t good for her. Not for anyone. 

The extra insulin injections would go to Erna and her daughter. The Tempest should still have insulin just in case of something happening. But she’d freely give it to someone who need it.

Ryder was still getting used to that. Going from having to stab oneself with a hypodermic needle multiple times a day, to not stabbing tender flesh was amazing. It was like one of her wildest dreams came true.

It gave her motivation. It gave her hope. Maybe things weren’t that bad after all.

****

“Long day?” Jaal asked. They were snuggled up on the couch. They would leave the Nexus the next day. Ryder had some business in the morning but afterwards, they could leave.

“Yeah, it was.” She looked up to him smiling. She wanted to forget the day’s events. Sometimes the first days were rough, and today was no exception.

She had to meet with a couple of people, tie some loose ends and catch up on some paperwork. Then there were the arguments she had.

It took more out of her then she cared to admit.

“Pathfinder,” SAM’s voice rang in her head, “Lieutenant Harper is looking for you.”

“The day isn’t over yet.” She sat straight and Jaal shot her a questioning look. Ryder ignored it and focused on SAM, “Tell her where we are.”

“Yes, Pathfinder.”

This better had to be an emergency. This day was starting to give her a headache. 

Cora came rushing in. “Ryder,” she was relieved to found her, “There you are.”

“What’s the emergency?” Ryder looked for any signs of what was going on, but nothing gave her any indication.

“No emergency.”

Ryder cocked her one eyebrow suspiciously. “Did you tell yourself that?”

“I was at a meeting with Tann.”

Oh no.

“He wants to see you,” Cora continued.

Oh crap. This can’t be good. Never before did Tann wanted to see her immediately. That was not a good sign.

“Now?” Ryder kept her face as natural as she could. “Did he say why?” It didn’t necessarily mean it’s bad, right?

“Yeah,” her second looked awkwardly at Jaal. “He said something about you assaulting someone.” Cora’s words were unsure as to if she wasn’t sure she had all the details.

Ryder couldn’t help to wonder how he found out. Did Janette go to Tann? Why the hell would she?

Jaal was the first to speak up, “Did my translator catch that right? Did you assault someone?”

Ryder shrugged as if this happened every day, “It’s no big deal. She had it coming so I punched her.”

Jaal and Cora just blinked and she wondered what they were thinking but went on regardless, “How does Tann know about that?”

“She’s one of Addison’s people,” Cora explained.

“Well, that’s not good,” Jaal took the words right out of her mouth

“She probably made it worse than it was.”

Cora was right, but that wasn’t the problem. She and Tann argued just a day before her surgery. Not to mention she was already on thin ice with him. But this was something she brought on herself. There was no one else to blame.

Ryder pinched the bridge of her nose. This was the last thing she needed right now. “This is the day I’m getting fired.”

When she looked up neither of them had serious expressions.

“He won’t fire you,” Jaal said.

“At least not before we get to Meridian,” Cora added lightly.

“That is not funny.” But there was no seriousness in her voice. They were probably right, but she still felt uneasy. “I should probably go.” Ryder didn’t know if she had the energy to deal with Tann of all people. But she started walking anyway.

“For what it’s worth,” Cora stopped her in her tracks, “I’m sure you had a good reason.”

I hope you’re right.

****

“Tann.”

“Ryder.”

It was a standard, neutral greeting. Neither party gave any indication of how much they didn’t want to have this meeting.

“Do you hate me, Ryder?”

For a second Ryder thought of telling Tann exactly what she thought about him but that would probably count against her. “Uh… why would you ask me that?”

“Why else would you assault people you just meet? It’s your first day back and you’re already giving me trouble. Unless you have a valid excuse for your poor behaviour.”

Ryder felt like she was a kid being scolded by the teacher and she had no good answer. What was she going to say? How is she going to explain to her boss why she punched someone when she didn’t understand it herself?

Ryder had been insulted many times before in her life. She wasn't always calm about it, but she had never outright punched someone in the face for insulting her. Janette didn’t even talk to her, so why did she feel the need to confront her with her fist. And why did she flare?

Flaring was something she did when she was surprised or beyond mad. Why had she gotten so mad?

It was as if she didn’t just defend herself but all diabetics in Andromeda and The Milky Way. She needed to stand up for them. It was the only physical thing she could do. So without giving a thought, that’s exactly what she did.

And if she was honest with herself, she didn’t regret it at all.

“It was just a small disagreement.” That was putting it mildly. And it took her everything to tell this lie. But what else could she say?

His big eyes told her he was sceptical. They studied her, looking for something flaw in her explanation but Ryder straightened and kept her face impassive, refusing to give him anything. 

“Very well,” Tann continued. “Then you’ll have no problem apologizing to her.”

“Hell no! I’m not apologizing to her. That’s crap!” With each word her voice rose.

“That’s quite the reaction for a little disagreement.” If Ryder wasn’t here she wouldn't have believed Tann could be sarcastic. And she couldn’t be sure if her ears deceived her. “Unless something else happened.”

Tann was acting far too suspicious. He was many things but stupid wasn’t one of them. He knew there was more going on.

“Yes, Director.”

****

When Ryder arrived at the Tempest the night cycle had already started. She wanted to do nothing more but to climb in her bed and sleep her worries away.

But she was a diabetic. She couldn’t skip her dinner and snack. Besides, she would probably suffer a low in progress and that was the last thing she had the energy for.

After dinner, she could spend some time with her crew and hopefully go to bed early for a change.

When her door opened in front of her Jaal was standing in the middle, waiting for her. “Uh… why are you in my room?”

Jaal immediately changed his demeanour, “You said I’m welcome anytime. I’d thought I would wait until you come back.”

She cupped his face in her hands and pulled him in for a kiss. “I’m just surprised.”

There was a lot of unsaid between them. After agreeing she would tell him everything she couldn’t go against that.

“Did you get fired?”

Ryder laughed. She couldn’t help it. But somehow apologizing to Janette seemed worse than getting fired. “No, but I need to make amends.” Ryder sighed. Tomorrow would be a headache of its own.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

No.

“I need some coffee first.” With Jaal’s hand in hers, they went to the Galley. Hopefully, the coffee would give her the courage she needed. 

[cilldaracailin]

A Kind Of Magic

Thanks for all the lovely Tumblr love. Here is the next part :)

20

“The word ‘happy’ would lose its meaning if it were not balanced by sadness.”

“Each one?” Asked Taron as he held up the circle cookie cutter.

“Not the pink or red one, but the rest yes please. I am going to take the pink cake and start icing.”

Claire had left the two, two hours after she had arrived, keeping her promise to Robyn and was extremely nice to Taron, Robyn quizzing him when she came out of the bathroom to make sure her friend hadn’t overstepped her boundaries.

“She was nice, made me tea.” Assured Taron as they sat on the couch having a chat before Claire had to leave.

Robyn and Taron went back to their cake, Taron excited to finally get to add the surprise to the middle of the cake. He helped her to make the vanilla buttercream and as Taron cut the hole into the middle of each sponge, Robyn spread the icing on each layer. Half way through, they switched places, Taron now icing each sponge layer as Robyn handed them to him.

“Ok now the surprise?” He asked when all layers of sponge had been added except the top red one.

“Yes, now the surprise.”

“Yes!”

“Don’t go too mad though. The surprise needs to be able to fall out.” Robyn got him a breakfast bowl. “Add a bit of everything you want into this bowl and when it’s full, that’s all we can put inside.”

“What do you want inside?” He asked as he started to tear the seal from the unicorn confetti.

“Whatever you want I am good with Taron.”

Giddy Taron was back and he added a bit of every kind of sweet they had bought in the shop into the bowl, sneaking one or two into his mouth as he went.

“Are you humming Pure Imagination?” Asked Robyn.

“Uh-huh.” He replied as he chewed and hummed. “Thought it was a perfect choice.”

Robyn reached over and took a white chocolate button from the bowl.

“Ok now just pour into the cake?” He asked as he lifted the bowl up.

“Yep.” Taron carefully tipped the treats into the middle of the cake. “And put the red layer on.” Doing as Robyn said, Taron looked to her. “And now we continue to buttercream.”

“I got it.” Taron picked up the palette knife and started to add the buttercream on top and around the cake.

Robyn got up from the stool and walked to her baking drawer and pulled out a two buttercream combs. “Keep going. You can do the whole cake.” She left the buttercream tools on the island and picked up her phone. “Just one more to add to the wall.” She said as he looked at her. “You know I have been documenting this whole process Taron.”

“You need them all to send it to me.”

“I need to get your phone number first.”

Taron looked up. “You do not have my phone number yet.”

“No, I do not.”

Taron started to call out his number to Robyn and she typed it into her phone. “You can stick me under ‘Rocketman’.” He said smiling. “And send me the pictures.”

Once Taron had covered the whole cake, Robyn handed him one of the buttercream combs. “Use it to spread the icing evenly the whole way around.” As he made the cake smooth, Robyn grabbed an icing bag and started to fill it with some buttercream. “Ok and now use the other one to make the design.” She handed him the second comb. “You will be ready for celebrity bake off when you’re done.” Laughed Robyn as she watched Taron concentrate very hard on what he was doing.

“I think I will have to Instagram this.” He said as he moved the comb up to create the second wave of pattern but he looked up to Robyn. “Shit Robyn, I didn’t think.”

“Why wouldn’t you Instagram this?”

“I am supposed to be incognito.”

“Well give Lyndsey a ring and ask her. I would imagine people might be wondering if you are actually alive and what a way to come back to the world, with a rainbow surprise cake. I don’t think she would mind too much if a picture of a cake appeared. Your caption could be “Eating cake and resting up. Just what the doctor ordered.”

“Yeah maybe.”

Robyn came to stand beside him. “Your life can’t stand still Taron. It’s a picture of cake.”

“You’d be surprised how a picture of cake can turn nasty.”

Robyn leaned her head on his left shoulder. “Ok let’s finish this cake and I feel like pizza. Want to order in?”

“On one condition.”

“And that is?”

“We can put pineapple on the pizza.”

“Of course!” Taron smiled a little. “Right finish the top of the cake and then we can add the rest of the decorations.”

After showing Taron how to do the first pipped swirl, Robyn let him do the rest and she cut up the fizzy rainbow laces to go on top of each one. The carefully placed the rainbow stripes in a rainbow shape on each pipped swirl.

“And we are done.”

“This looks too good to eat.” Said Taron as he stood back and admired the cake. “But now I see what you mean about eating a seven-layer cake ourselves.”

“We can give some around to the neighbours tomorrow if you want.”

“Yeah I think so. This is too big even for me to eat however I can’t wait to see inside.”

“Well why wait?” Robyn grabbed him a knife. “Let’s cut it now.”

“Really?”

“There is nothing stopping us from cutting it.” She handed him the knife. “You want a little Instagram video to go with it?”

“No but you can video me cutting it so I can show my sisters. They are going to be very jealous.”

“Well now you know how to bake it, you can bake one with them.”

“That’s some expectation there Robyn. Ok. Let’s cut this open.” Taron handed Robyn his phone and she opened the camera and moved the selection to video and gave him nod when she started. Taron had to put a little extra pressure onto the knife to cut through all the layers but he got a slice cut and placing the knife under the slice, slid it out. “Whoa!” He exclaimed as the sweets inside tumbled out. “Oh yes that is amazing!” Robyn stopped the video and grabbed him a plate for the slice of cake.

“Taron!” She said when he pulled some of the cake from the plater off with his fingers to eat. “I was going to get you a fork.”

“Ugh this is so good.” He delved in again, taking some green and blue cake from the slice this time. “Come on Robyn. Have some cake.”

Following Taron’s lead, she broke a piece of the cake off and tasted it. “Yep that is some good cake.”

“I like cake.” He said simply as he ate some more, Robyn laughing. “I like rainbow surprise cake. I like that you made me cake.”

“You helped Taron. You made cake too and can we start using longer sentences please?”

Taron grinned. “I like cake.” He said again reaching for some the sweets inside the cake.

“I think it might be time to step away from the cake Taron.”

“No, my cake.” Taron picked the plate up. “Cake makes me happy. You make me happy Robyn.”

“Taron.” Robyn rolled her eyes.

“No seriously. Every day it has just gotten easier and today has been brilliant. I know I have said it a million times and said it again but coming to see you has been the best medicine for me. Robyn?” As he spoke Robyn had moved away from him over to the breakfast bar. “Hey what’s up?”

“I am totally going to ruin your brilliant day.”

“I don’t think you could do anything to ruin this day.”

“Taron, we need to talk about you going home. I don’t think we can avoid the subject any more.”

“Or maybe you can.”

“I am sorry to ruin your happy mood but it is something we need to talk about. You know I love having you here for many reasons but you have a family back home who are desperate to see you and…”

“… And a pile of responsibilities waiting for me.” Taron put down the plate and leaned his left hip against the island. “I have been avoiding it. Really don’t want to think about it. Really don’t want to have to do it.”

“And using longer sentences please Taron.”

He sighed and moved to stand beside her at the breakfast bar. “Taking what happened to us out of the picture, forgetting what you did for me and why I came here, this past week…” He stopped. “Ok maybe not the whole week but since Wednesday, being here with you has been a breath of fresh air for me. It is not often I get to just sit and sit and know I can sit without being interrupted or disturbed or reminded I need to be on set. I have slept so soundly, cooked and eaten, been to choir and had the most fun laughing until my sides hurt. Then throw in the other part of it, the one we have worked very hard to come to terms with what happened together and all I feel is undeniable love and support from you and you don’t even have to be talking to me for me to know you are there.” He took a small breath. “When I go home, it is going to be the total opposite as soon as I step off the plane.”

“Remember we spoke about your support system Taron?”

“Yeah I know my family and friends will be there and Lyndsey has sorted every fine detail for the press but here I can almost hide. At home, when I go back to work it’ll be different.”

“You don’t know that Taron.”

“I know it won’t be like it is here.”

“As much as I love having you here, you can’t hide with me forever.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Been a pain in the arse for you?”

“Nope. You have been wonderful and what support I have been for you; you have been just as important for me. I quite enjoy sleeping through the night, love hearing you sing in the shower and very much enjoy your squishy hugs. If you hadn’t of turned up on my doorstep, I can only image the state I would be in now. You have helped me so much Taron, showed me how important it is to talk, to share and communicate, to laugh and have fun. I would love for you to stay but you need to think about going home Taron. It is going to be hard at first, there is no denying that. I would imagine the story is going to blow up for a while but then it will die down Taron.”

“When I do press for Kingsman though…”

“Sure, it will come up but don’t you find it much easier to talk about now? And I am always going to be here Taron. Whenever you need to talk and I was serious when I told you that you could come and visit me whenever you wanted. Just because we won’t see each other every day, doesn’t mean what we had and have will change. We said we were in this together and we always will be.”

Taron sighed. “I hate your sensibleness.”

“Me too.”

“Can I have another week?” Robyn turned to him. “Can I have another week with you. It will give me some more heal up and properly prepare for what is to come.”

“Well I wasn’t going to kick you out tomorrow Taron. I mean we have this damn rainbow cake to eat. Of course, you can have another week but only if you ring Lyndsey and ask her can you post the picture of the cake.”

“Ugh why?”

“Because it will ease you back into the world a little, rather than stepping off the cliff at the press conference.”

“Yeah ok.” Taron ran his hands through his hair.

“I am sorry to ruin your day.”

“You haven’t.”

“And let’s try that with a bit less sadness.”

“You haven’t!” He said again with a cheerier tone to his voice.

“Actors.” Robyn returned. “Taron?”

“Hmm?”

“Can I have a squishy hug please?”

He looked to Robyn and saw a lone tear fall down her right cheek as she stood beside him with her eyes closed. He drew her in close and hugged her tight. “We still have a week.” He said into her hair and he heard her mumble something back but didn’t quite catch it. He had been avoiding the subject of going home but knew Robyn was right when she said he needed to face whatever was coming and as he had learnt over the last week, time helps to heal everything but as much as Taron didn’t want to leave Robyn, when he saw a little tear on her cheek, he realised that she was going to find him leaving just as hard. Robyn spoke into his shoulder again. “Chicken, I can’t hear what you are saying when you talk into my shoulder.”

“I said, can we sing something together and don’t call me chicken.”

“Of course we can and you are always going to be my chicken. What do you want to sing?”

“How about something on the piano.”

“I thought you only played the classical pieces.”

“Might have one or two songs I can play that we can sing.”

“I am up for anything.” Taron gave her back a little rub before letting her go. “Please don’t be sad.”

“I am not sad.” She said. “I just like having you around.”

“I like being around and don’t be sad. If you keep looking so sad, then I am going to be sad and it’s just going to be a miserable week and I want our week to be filled with more laughter and jokes and baking and you have your visit to me to look forward too.”

She smiled. “Yes, I do. I have a feeling your mam is going to pull out your baby pictures.”

Taron chuckled. “Yes, she probably will. It’s not the end of us seeing us each other when I go, right?”

“As I said to your mam, Wales is not that far away.”

“What about when I am back filming.”

“Let’s not get to ahead of ourselves ok? Week one together might have been great, week two might suck. We might not want to see each other after week two.”

“Somehow I doubt it very much. Now you promised me a song and last time that worked a treat in cheering us both up and this doesn’t count as our sing off, right?” He asked as he took her hand and led her to the piano.

“No, it definitely doesn’t.” She agreed as she lifted the lid of the piano and sat on the stool, Taron sitting beside her.

“So, what have you got up your sleeve?”

“How about a little Johnny Gorilla.”

Taron looked at Robyn very confused until she started playing and he instantly recognised the chords to John Legends All Of Me and she nodded to him to start and he sang through the first verse and pre chorus and when he started singing the chorus, Robyn joined in perfect harmony and as the second verse started, she kept singing with him keeping the harmony going but Taron stopped suddenly, before they got through the second line of the verse.

“Hey what’s up?” She asked him.                    

“Do you mind if record this.”

“Record this?”

“Us singing. It’s the first time and it is beautiful and I want to have a recording of it because at the moment our emotions are a little raw. I promise it will be for my entertainment only for when I feel sad, like the way you have your pictures. I will send it to you too so you can have it as well.”

“Yeah ok, sure why not.”

Taron stood up and walked into the kitchen to get his phone. He carefully placed it on top of the piano, making sure the video would have the two of them in it as they sang.

“Ready?” He asked.

“Surprisingly yes.” She replied.

Taron pressed the red button and sat back down on the stool beside her. “Wave.” He said giving her a little nudge and she did, finding it hard not to grin as Taron was waving like a mad man. “Me and Robyn…”

“Robyn and I.” She corrected.

“Robyn and I, impromptu sing song take one.”

“Take one? Oh Taron, you of little faith. One take.”

Robyn started playing the opening chords of the song, nodding to Taron to take the first verse as before, looking to him as he put his whole heart into the song, Robyn joining in once again with the chorus, a smile on Taron’s face as she pitched the notes perfectly against his. They continued on through the second verse the, both closing their eyes as they sang the first two lines the words meaning so much to them. Robyn let Taron take the pre-chorus alone, listening as his beautiful soft voice melted easily into the melody, picking back up with him in the chorus. The song grew in volume as they reach the bridge, before coming back down for the last chorus, Robyn keeping melody with Taron before she broke off into harmony again. Robyn let Taron sing the last part of the chorus by himself, just to hear the stunning tone of his voice before joining him for the last two lines.

He smiled her way when they finished. “I stand corrected. One take.” He reached up and stopped the video. “That was just what I needed. What else do you know?”

“Nothing as complete as that one.”

“One song Robyn huh?”

She laughed. “Pretty much. Your voice is beautiful Taron. There is still stunning rich sound quality to it and a softness when you need to. I could listen to it all day.”

“Now you are making me blush.”

“I like singing with you.”

“Yes, with you, not too sure I want to sing against you.”

“No backing out.”

“A tour of a film set instead?”

“Nope.”

“I can introduce you to Colin Firth.”

“Nope.”

“Hugh? Hey you can have a sing off with Hugh instead.” Robyn smiled. “Ahh yes, you like that idea.”

“Nope.”

“Robyn…” Groaned Taron.

“Sorry rocketman. Not happening. We shook on it.”

“Can I play my I was sitting in pain and quite delirious at the time and cannot remember this conversation happening at all card?”

“Pity there was a witness.”

“Witness?”

“Yes, my new best fake boyfriend, Richard.”

“Ahh shit Richard.”

“I am willing to wait until you are back to full strength Taron but you are not backing out of this. Now, I think it’s time to order some food, unless you are full of cake.”

“Let’s order some food and book a flight.”

Robyn had started to get up but sat back down. “A flight?”

“May as well and sure while I am at it, I will ring Lyndsey and ask her about the Instagram post.”

Taron very much appreciated the sideways hug Robyn gave him. “I can help with all three, if you want.”

“I want.”

“And we are back to short sentences again.”

Before he could change his mind, Taron booked a flight to Birmingham with help from Robyn and from there he could take a train back home. He booked it a week away, for early Saturday morning. “It’s not that I don’t want to spend another full day with you, it is just that I don’t want to drag our ‘see you later’ out all day.” He also contacted Lyndsey who was happy to let him post a picture of the cake, agreeing with Robyn that it wouldn’t do any harm to show he was still around. Last but not least, they ordered pizza and a heap of other food from Robyn’s favourite pizza take out in the next town.

While they waited for their food to arrive, Taron took a picture of the cake, making sure it only the cake and surprise inside in the photo and using the caption that Robyn had suggested, he posted it.

“Now we wait.” He said as he sat back on couch beside Robyn but it only took about five second after Taron had settled himself for his notifications to start coming in.

“Here let me.” She took his phone and opened his Instagram, looking as the comments started racing in. She found a smile on her face as she read them. “Your fans are lovely Taron and don’t make that noise at me. Everyone is happy to see you posting and wishing you nothing but well wishes.”

“Until they are not.”

“Don’t make me slap you Taron because I know where you are not injured.” Robyn watched as the comments continued to appear under his photo. “‘Definitely what you need Taron. Wishing you a speedy recovery’. ‘That cake, yum!’. ‘So glad to see you posting again! Get well soon!’. ‘Hope you are ok Taron. Sending you lots of love.’ Yeah a tonne of nasty messages.”

“Just wait Robyn.” He took his phone back and closed the app. “Give it time.”

An hour later their take out arrived and while Taron routed for plates, Robyn lifted the pizza box straight into the sitting room and placed it on the coffee table.

“We ate ice cream from the tub. We are going to eat pizza from the box. Saves washing up.”

Another hour followed and Taron lay sprawled on his back on the couch, his head in the corner beside Robyn legs, rubbing his stomach, groaning. “Ugh too much food.” He complained.

She looked down to him. “No, not too much food. Too much cake. I told you not to eat cake afterwards.”

“Don’t mention cake!” Moaned Taron.

“Aww poor little baby.” Robyn smiled, stretching a little so she could help him rub his stomach.

“Why did you let me eat more cake?” He asked.

“You are a grown man Taron. You make these decisions for yourself and I did tell you not too.”

Taron curled up on the couch, while Robyn moved her hand from his stomach to his head and gently scratched his scalp, Taron moving a little to get closer to her hand. “What do you want to watch?”

“Hmm me sleep. You watch.”

“Taron please tell me that you will use longer sentences for the rest of the week.”

“Ok.”

Robyn continued to play with his hair, as Taron dozed in and out of sleep while she watched some TV. Taking a deep breath which finished in a sigh, Robyn was relieved Taron had accepted her challenging conversation earlier and agreed that it was time to think about going home, even taking it on himself to book his flight. It filled her with dread to think about next Saturday but trying to push the negatives to the side, she instead focused on what she knew was going to be a very good week with Taron. Now that the conversation of what happened in the 7/11 was an easy one for them to discuss, both trying to find positives in what they now called ‘their adventure’, their time together was constantly filled with laughter, stories and a pure interest in getting to know each other.

Taron moved under her hand and moved again. “Ugh I need a wee.” He said opening his eyes, Robyn chuckling.

“Then go and wee.” She answered him.

“Way too much effort.”

“You know I think I might bring you to work next week Taron. You will fit in quite well. Giddiness, no listening ears, not wanting to go to the bathroom and making messes.”

“Well I already have a best friend in creche. Her name is Beth and we like to eat fruit and yogurt together but I really do need a wee.” Taron eased himself up from the couch slowly. “Think we might have a done a bit too much today.” He said as he got to his feet, his hand on his ribs.

“Feeling a bit achy?”

“Yeah.”

“We had a late night and an earlyish start and definitely have done more activity today than any other and the flour fight probably has not helped either.”

“Probably but it was fun.” He said as he walked past her and made his way to the bathroom, leaving Robyn on the couch.

While he as gone, Robyn opened up her own Instagram on her phone and clicked into Taron’s page and into the picture he had posted, scrolling through the hundreds of comments, her own curiosity getting the better of her. All the comments, the ones she could understand in English, were positive, talking about the cake and wishing Taron a very speedy recovery, only a few questioning who had helped him and making a smart comment about being his nurse.

“Thought we weren’t supposed to look at any media posts Robyn.”

His voice made her jump and she dropped the phone into her lap as he spoke to her from behind the couch. “Jesus don’t do that!”

“No looking, that’s what Lyndsey said.” Taron reached over her and took her phone from her lap. “No looking at the comments.”

Robyn turned and knelt on the couch. “That counts for you too.” She said taking the phone back but Taron grabbed her hands.

“Looking together?” He asked raising an eyebrow her way. “Jesus your hands are freezing.” Taron had pulled a long-sleeved shirt on over his shirt while they had waited for their food to arrive but Robyn had only dressed in a blue t-shirt. He walked to the island and picked up his grey hoodie that he had saw Claire with but pretended he hadn’t and brought it with him back to the couch. “Here. You’re cold.” He handed her his jumper.

“I can grab a jumper from my closet.”

“Your closet is all the way over there in the bedroom. This hoodie is right here. Take it and put it on.” Robyn took the hoodie from his hands and he sat back in the corner. “Put it on.” He repeated.

She shuffled forward and fixing it so it was the right way around, opened the bottom of the material and pulling her arms through first, she slipped her head in and pulled Taron’s jumper down over her. It was soft and oversized on her and as she fixed the hood, she could understand why Claire spent so much time smelling his clothes. There was the faintest scent of aftershave on his hoodie and it was heaven. Finally getting the hoodie to sit right, she sat back on the couch. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Taron snuggled back into the corner, sitting up. “So, we’re looking at the comments now?”

“Just a sneaky look.”

“And?”

“All good. You even had some offers to be your nurse.”

“Think I will pass.”

Robyn moved a little closer to him. “Good choice. I’ve picked a movie for us.”

“And I have the fleece ready.” Taron held up the teddy bear throw he had also claimed as his own along with her couch. He opened his left arm for her and she moved a little closer, taking up their all too familiar positions. Taron puffed the throw out and covered their legs as the rested on the poof and pulled it up a little, stopping at his waist. “Love this fleece” He said. “Might have to stuff it in my bag to bring home.”

“Don’t even think about it. I will buy you one. Penny’s best. Sorry Primark to you. Primark’s best.”

“I don’t want my own one. I want this one. This is used and loved and it will fit in my duffle.”

“Ok then I get to keep all your clothes because they will not fit in your duffle with his fleece.”

“I can agree to that. Most of them are already in your closet.”

“You’re a tosspot.” Replied Robyn looking his way. “Watch the movie.”

“Okie dokie.” Answered Taron with a laugh. “What’s a tosspot?”

“You are. Now be quiet and watch Channing and Jamie blow up the white house.”

“I know those guys.”

“Taron! You are incorrigible!”

“You secretly love it.” Taron gave her a squeeze.

“You are bloody lucky I do.”

[papitocarlositothirst]

fourth and last part for i need peace of mine to thoter in peace

Months had passed since your big confession and you had spent almost every day with Max. You got to know each other better, talked more. You had also eavesdropped on his phone call that one time and it kept you curious until today as there was just something in the way he tried to distract you with kisses after, that seemed somewhat strange to you.

But there was also another thing bothered you a little bit. You had told Max you loved him multiple times now. During sex, the morning after, before bed. But he’s never said it back. Not even once.

You tried to convince yourself that it was okay and that he should take his time. He had also told you more about growing up in ‘tough’ environment and how he had previously struggled with relationships. He probably still had some trust issues and whatnot.

But it still hurt. It hurts like a fucking bitch.

However, you tried to ignore that pain, tried to focus on Max instead and how you wanted to know more about him. ** Max watches her dance around the kitchen from his position by the door. Her music is too loud, filling the kitchen, for her to know he’s there watching her. The wireless speaker he bought her was definitely her favourite and most used gift. 

She’s expecting him home, that’s why he can smell the aroma of homemade burgers cooking. She’s tidying the mess she’s created to prepare his favourite meal, whilst jiggling her hips. The rnb song that’s playing is one he’s heard many times but he has never cared enough to ask her the name of. 

Hasn’t cared enough about something she likes to make the effort to find out the details. Not put the effort in with her in the same way she does with him, listening to his favourite dutch music without complaint, waiting patiently for his return, always waiting to be whatever he needs—A shoulder to cry on, a distraction to bury himself in to forget the bad, a verbal punching bag when it all gets too much, or on the rare occasions he’s happy, she’s the one he goes to to share that with.

Maybe that’s why she sticks around, puts up with all his shit, for the happy times, as few and far between as they come. She’s never nagged him, never pushed him to open up, never asked him to stop, never berated him for leaving her on the special occasions. She always accepted it, told him she loved him and would wait for him and she did just that.

He sees it now, he sees how good she is for him, how much of a good woman in general she is. Why it took such a long time for him to see it, he doesn’t know, but that’s what it’s come down to. What’s done is done. 

The one thing he never thought he did was take anything for granted, if anyone knows how fragile and fleeting life was, he does. But he had taken her for granted, assumed she would stick with him no matter what, and she has, until now. But there’s only so much one person can take, only so much shit one person will put up with. He’s pushed her away more than once, dragged her back in, taken her love and barely given her anything in return. He knows she will have reached her limit, this will be the end of the line for her, the final stop on the ‘Max Verstappen Bull Shit Train’. 

His pride won’t allow him to keep his secret, won’t let him be selfish and keep it from her. He knows he did wrong, she deserves better, she deserves to know.  She spins on her heels, bottom lip caught between her teeth, her nose wrinkled as she acts out the dramatic music video in her mind. She squeals with surprise when she sees him, but then her face breaks into the broadest smile that lights up her eyes. He pushes himself off the wall mirroring her smile as he jogs down the few steps to greet her. 

She runs across the kitchen, crashes her lips into his and wraps her arms around his neck, caging him into her. He just about keeps his balance from her assault and her tongue seeks entry to his mouth. He grants her permission with a gentle sigh and tangles his hands in her hair, keeping her locked against him for as long as he can. 

Air becomes a problem for them both. She’s the first to pull away with a satisfied hum against his lips, “I missed you.” 

I missed you - he commits the words and the sweet melody of her tone to memory. He searches the contours of her face, tattoos the colour of her eyes to his mind, runs his fingers down the side of her cheek. Has her skin always been this soft? Did she always have that scar above her left brow?  He brushes her hair back to access it closer, it’s an old scar, that much he can tell. How did she get it? The song fades into a new one that sounds the same to him but she seems to have forgotten the music is playing. Her brow pulls in tight, worry creasing her eyes, “Baby, what’s wrong?” 

Fuck, she knows! You’re an asshole. Just do it. Tell her. But then that will be the end, she’ll leave.

“Kiss me?” he asked softly, leaning into her.  She’s suspicious of his request and leans back to stop his advance, “why?”

“Because I’m afraid when I tell you what’s wrong you won’t do it again,” he admits sadly. She takes pity on him, the sadness in his eyes telling her to oblige him in his request. Her lips meet his, but the passion and longing behind her earlier kiss is gone. 

He tries to get it back, running his hands down her back, cupping her ass and rolling his tongue against her bottom lip but she frees herself from his grip, wriggling free of his distraction. She turns her back on him to find her phone and stops the music pipping through the wireless speaker. 

“What’s going on?” she asks turning slowly to face him. Her mouth is set in a hard line, she’s preparing for the worse, she knows what he has to say is going to be bad. 

“I’m sorry, babe. I’m so goddamn sorry,” he runs a hand down his mouth, suddenly his throat is dry; too dry to form words. He walks to the fridge and takes out a cold bottle of beer, twisting off the cap with his head still stuck in the cold flow of air, he gulped down a quarter of the bottle.  

She watches him from her position across the room, back against the counter top, he can feel her eyes on him. He thinks about staying where he is, confessing his sins to the contents of the fridge so he doesn’t have to see her heartbreak but she deserves more. He closes the fridge slowly and bites the proverbial bullet. He has to own it, has to take responsibility, “I can’t lie to you, I thought about it, but I can’t.” 

“Okay, so don’t lie,” she suggests cautiously. 

“There’s no easy way to say it, so-” he inhales deeply. Do it jackass, prove to her you’re a piece of shit. “I have a girlfriend for years now, her name is Dilara.” 

Her expression doesn’t change. She’s neither hurt, or surprised, no sign of anguish or anger. She trusts him, so much so that she just want to think that he’s lying.

His head shakes slowly, no. 

“Did you guys break up?” her voice breaks, she doesn’t need him to answer. 

“I wish I could say yes-” 

She interrupts her voice pleading, “so say yes.” 

Silence. 

“Please,” she begs of him. 

“I can’t, I ‘love’ her.” 

Staring one another down, Max is afraid to look away for fear it will be the last time he sees her. She’s unwilling to break eye contact, waiting to see the sign that it’s not really Max standing in front of her. 

Tears stream steadily from her eyes, she makes no attempt to wipe them away. The timer on the oven beeps incessantly, but she barely hears it. It can all burn as far as she is concerned, the whole damn house, with its cheating, unfaithful ass of an owner in it.

The noise penetrates Mac’s brain, the alarm acting as a warning that this is the end of his relationship with her; a warning that has come too late. He strides across the room past her and pushes the button to stop it. He takes a brave step to stand before her, within reach to touch her, or for her to punch him should she feel the desire too. 

He reaches out to take her hand, but she stands up straight, her body tensing at the prospect of him touching her. He sighs, his chin resting on his chest, hand dropping to his side once again, “say something, please.” 

She wipes her tears and nose with the sleeve of her shirt and talks to the top of his head, “like what? What do you want me to say?” 

“Go to hell? Tell me to go fuck myself. Anything” 

“Or maybe, you’re an asshole and I hate you, I wish I’d never met you?”

“Yes, all of that,” he agrees raising his head to look into her now angry glare, “I deserve it and more, please.” 

She fumbles for her phone on the countertop without looking away from him, “the thing is, Max. I can’t lie to you either.”

She shoulders past him, out of the kitchen, out of the house, out of his life. 

[peace-love-piper]

Piper was laying in her bed in her room at Borgin & Burkes. There were still a few days to go before they were supposed to leave for France, but Maeko had left for her big camping trip two days ago; it was strange how the absence of a very quiet person could still make a house feel empty.

Piper was on the verge of drifting off to sleep when she heard the creak of a floorboard outside her closed door. She stared at it for a moment, and though there was no more noise, sure enough, after a moment, she could pick up the faintest wisps of energy as they trickled up through the cracks between the door and its frame. She sighed, and then decisively walked over to the door and opened it, where she was unsurprised to see Oz standing on the other side, half-naked as usual and looking like a Niffler caught with a diamond.

“Piper!” he said with unconvincing casualness, “Don’t mind me, I was just, er…” He trailed off, unable to come up with an excuse.

“Oz, would you like to sleep in here with me?” Piper asked kindly. His black-ringed eyes glinted sheepishly in the low light, and Piper added reassuringly, “It’s okay. I’m alone tonight, too.”

Not requiring further convincing, Oz grinned appreciatively and sprang into Piper’s bed in a manner that was, somehow, both catlike and uncoordinated. Piper tucked herself into bed on the opposite side and closed her eyes. She was used to the distinctive energy of both her roommates at this point; Oz’s was frantic and could be intense, but it held a quality of organized chaos reminiscent of listening to jazz music too loud inside headphones. It was comforting, now, in its familiarity, but the fact was that simply having someone else in the bed with her—no matter who it was—suddenly made Piper not very tired at all.

She rolled over so that she was facing the middle of the bed, almost touching noses with Oz. His eyes were open and he smiled a disarming, impish smile—so eerily similar and equally as unreadable to the one often worn by his half-sister.

“Oz, can I ask you something kind of…personal?” said Piper.

“Sure thing, Peach. I’m an open book.”

“Well…you and Maeko, you’re…you’re half-siblings, right? So, I was just wondering…” Piper flushed, embarrassed; staring into his face she couldn’t seem to find the words she was looking for, or the courage to ask them.

Oz seemed oddly unoffended by Piper’s lack of social etiquette on the subject. If anything his smile widened as he rolled onto his back and said, “Ah, the age-old existential quandary: where do I come from? What’s my Tragic Backstory?”

“Well, erm…yeah, I guess,” Piper said, turning several shades darker pink. She really could have handled this better, but…she was curious.

Oz sighed and stared up at the ceiling for several long moments, resting his head on his hands. Piper watched his face crinkle up into a wince, like the memories he was dwelling in were painful, and Piper was going to tell him she was sorry and to forget she’d said anything, but then Oz said:

“There’s not much to it, really. It’s not particularly tragic or particularly interesting. Maeko’s dad’s name is Richard Burke—I’m sure you will have heard of him, no? Real slimy prick. Definitely deep into the Dark Arts and got the hell out of dodge when the Ministry cracked down on that kind of thing around here. That was right around the time Maeko was born, and her mum—my mum—well…she got lonely. Women, huh?” He glanced at Piper and gave her a cheeky little wink that seemed wildly inappropriate given the context of the story. Piper squirmed, uncomfortable, and Oz continued: “Maeko’s godfather’s name is Donovan Pryce, and—ding ding ding!—you guessed it! That evil bastard is my dear old dad.” His tone was flippant, but Piper of course could feel the cacophonous waves of resentment and longing that were rolling off of Oz and shocking into her system.

It certainly did nothing to lessen the sensation, but Piper being Piper reached out tentatively and took his hand, intertwining her fingers with his in a small attempt to comfort him. Oz gave her a sad smile and squeezed her hand back a little. Then, after a moment he continued, “Who knows how long the affair went on…in all likelihood it started long before Richard bounced and Maeko was born. But whatever happened, nine months later and I was born. Isla—that’s our mum—she got word from her hubby that he was just hiding out until it was safe to return, and maybe she was scared of him or maybe she was just plain naive, but she suddenly started feeling real guilty about having a kid with another man. She wanted me to live with my father but honestly, he just really hates children. So they sent me to live with various relatives and told me my parents were killed in the war supporting the Dark Lord, and I was homeschooled—not very well, I might add—because I guess that made it less likely the truth would get out. Which, you know, it eventually did, at the trial that sent all our parents to Azkaban…where I for one hope they all rot ’til they’re dead.”

The sudden surge of hatred burned against Piper’s palm, but she winced through the pain. It was gone almost as quickly as it came, though, and Oz softened back to his usual distant, humored disinterest; that was just the way he was, pinging between emotions like a pinball machine. “Maeko was not thrilled about having me in her life at all, at first, but…well, neither of us had anyone else, did we? So we’ve just…tried to make the best of it.”

Oz turned toward Piper and, disentangling their hands, used his to toy with some strands of her bright orange hair. “Why do you ask? I mean, you’ve lived here all this time and you wait until now to start prying into our personal lives?” Oz said with his signature brand of off-color humor.

“Well…” mused Piper, trying to think of a way to voice her reasoning without sounding completely selfish, and coming up with none. “…it’s just…my mother has always been so secretive about everything I’ve ever wanted to know about myself…who my father is, the details of our Veela line…I’ve felt like an enigma in the world for so long and I just…I don’t want to go my whole life without knowing.” Oz’s fingers traced abstract shapes on her arm and Piper shivered, feeling vulnerable.

There was silence between them for a long beat and then, with a quaver of uncertainty in her voice, Piper said, “I guess what I want to know is…do you think it’s better, to know? Even if the truth is painful, or unpleasant?”

Oz withdrew his hand and seemed to genuinely ponder this for a moment. “I think it’s always better to know, Pip. I doubt there’s such a thing, really, as being blissfully ignorant.”

Piper nodded in solemn agreement. “I’ve…I’ve had a hard time working up the nerve to admit to Loxley that it’s something I want to look into. He’s so touchy about things having to do with his own past, you know…painful truths that he’d rather keep buried. And besides, learning more about my Veela heritage means really acknowledging what I am, and…I guess I’m just scared of what that will mean, for us…”

Oz frowned in confusion. “Why? What do you mean?”

“Well...people who have said that they care for me, in the past…it’s never been real, really. It’s nice while it lasts, but…people have a tendency of telling me what I want to hear, because, I’m…I’m so pathetically desperate for affection that they just…they can’t help it, it…it goes along with the charm, being…influenced, emotionally, by my desires…” Tears were welling up in her eyes and her throat was tightening up, and Piper hated how utterly stupid she was. People like Oz and Maeko and Loxley had it far worse off than she ever had, and yet she still had the capacity to sit here feeling sorry for herself? It was beyond comprehension, and Piper hated herself for it.

Oz stared at her with an air of genuine sympathy, but also like he had no idea what to say. After a moment he drew up Piper’s hand again and, wetly and unrefined, he kissed her fingertips. Then he said, totally deadpan, “Well for what it’s worth, I think you’re an ugly cow with no redeemable qualities to speak of.”

Piper, who understood precisely what he was trying to say, gave a wet laugh and smiled. “Thank you.” She sighed, and closed her eyes, allowing the lingering tears to tumble down her cheeks.

“For what it’s also worth, I think he does really care for you, despite your freaky little powers…” Oz continued, “…but I’m also a certified unstable lunatic and a drug addict, so take that with a hefty fucking grain of salt.” He smirked lopsidedly and Piper hugged him around his middle, and neither of them said anything else.

And, eventually, they both drifted off to sleep.

[bounnostra]

Pip || Amulet || Trial 3.2.5 || RE: Lies, Notes and Betrayal Theories

PIP is distracted with his thoughts, perhaps too distracted at first! It’s not until BOOTS yells at him t take off her amulet that he reacts with any semblance of surprise! But most of all there’s just, confusion! He stares at her for what seems to be almost 30 full seconds of awkwardness! He’s not sure what’s going to happen but he just, speaks up anyways, even if he does sound completely shocked by the fact there was even yelling involved.

“H-Huh? W-What– Ah, I see your point now… I guess it still, ultimately, is your good luck charm huh… Sorry, my bad, I should’ve at least asked first before putting it on. Er, I promise I’ll be giving it back to you once this whole thing is… Well, it’s over…”

He takes a deep breath and just does as ordered. Contrary to what BOOTS yelled, absolutely nothing happens regarding the amulet! It just, stays there and does nothing, but he still does as instructed and removes it, laying it to rest down on his knees with a tired smile on his face. Guess the whole AmuletGate thing was a fiasco at the end of the day, huh!

“Er… Let’s… Continue with the trial, okay? QUININE, I have some things to say about the notes as well: Mainly that it does not at all seem like it was BOOTS who brainstormed this plan. If you analyze it, what MAVERICK said rings true… Amita herself was the one that seems to have learned about BOOTS abilities after recruiting them. After all, the note found in Amita’s room? It seems more like a message that never got sent, again, like MAVERICK said. Even if you look at it from the other angle, this theory holds true. If this was BOOTS’ reply to Amita, why did Amita not destroy it? I guess you could say it was like… Insurance, in case something went wrong; which we can clearly tell it did. Amita wasn’t counting on BOOTS realizing there could’ve been foul play taking place.”

With that, he turns to look at DUCK once it’s she yelling at him! Compared to before, this time he just, stares at her with a visibly confused and blank stare! What was… She going on about? Regarding the amulet and its purported magic?

“… I’m not lying… I haven’t lied to you about this thing at all! It really is nothing but a good luck charm, DUCK. I have no reason to hide the truth anymore. Gambit said it himself, BOOTS is doomed because she played against the ‘House,’ whatever that means… But if you want to really think I’m lying to you, then I can’t change your judgment. All I’ve spoken about this thing is the objective truth…”

He actually seems rather disappointed that she would think this low about him! But even as he words his thoughts, his gaze never leaves DUCK and neither does his voice crack or his frame tremble. He is being as sincere and honest about this as he possibly can be, but he then turns to COWBOY as well and decides to address their theory.

“You’re forgetting about a few things. The notes were vague, and for all we know perhaps there were a lot more that were destroyed to conceal perhaps how deeply the plan went, but it went horribly wrong. Did it not? It culminated with Amita’s death. Explain then Amita’s look of shock and horror as she died, or the reason why she chose such a painful way to die? If she truly intended it to, she could have asked for a painless death. Besides, the great detailing of the notes suggest a few things: I want to mention once more that Amita perhaps was seeking someone she considered enough of a wildcard to go along with their plans, that description fits BOOTS perfectly, does it not? It’s only after reeling them in that Amita learns of her abilities. That should explain the tone of surprise in the notes, correct? Perhaps Amita’s true intention was to indeed have BOOTS murder Masaki and then use her Magic to hide the true perpetrator, and then she intended to murder BOOTS herself  to keep the crime secret. Then she could’ve used the same method IVEY escaped execution last time: obscuring the details and motivations of the crime by claiming it was all for everyone’s sake, while in reality she intended to use the portal described in one of the notes to escape.”

What follows is a deep sigh as he once more turns to DUCK.

“And here’s why your ‘BOOTS went wild’ theory is unfounded and false: you said she would have been tired and that’s why she went wild and attacked Amita and not because she realized Amita’s trap; we just witnessed BOOTS remain in Masaki’s shape for what, an hour? Maybe two? Perhaps even longer! We know she has been pretending to be him for at least six hours! Do you really think murdering Masaki, a human, and Amita would take longer than six hours? No, what she did was act in deliberation. Besides, we can infer that it was BOOTS who transported Amita’s body over to Sonya once she had died. If she had truly gone feral, then I ask you, how did she carried out these very well thought-out actions? If she had truly been reduced to a mindless beast and monster as you two are arguing, she would’ve likely rampaged around and completely and leave even more tracks, or worse reveal her status as a Shapeshifter earlier on. It just doesn’t make sense.”

I’ll address ORWELL’s note in another post once I actually receive it ooc.,, hhhh horses hhh. Lastly he looks at MAVERICK and tilts his head.

“Huh? You think so? I guess it makes sense, but is it truly as likely as you think? For all we know, maybe Amita had a Fae spell prepared in time so that once it was her turn to spin on the wheel, she could’ve subtly cast it and just make it look like it was random when in reality that’s how she planned to spin the wheel?”

[colitisandme]

The last week has been awful. The arsenal I have gathered to tackle this bloody disease, head on has failed me. The meditation, the mindfulness, the mantras, the stroking puppies, picking four leaf clovers, drinking potions, rubbing poultices and ointments on myself, lighting candles or anything else I could possibly have snaffled, eaten, drank or rubbed on myself to encourage this disease to give me a sodding break, has not worked. Instead my immune system has put a colander on its head, rolled up its sleeves and charged full pelt into each of my arsenal, knocking them over like bowling pins, then continued to sit on them, shout ‘who’s your daddy?!?’ whilst squishing its massive arse cheeks into each of their faces. As they try to run away, screaming and covered in arse cheek indentations, my beefed up, (probably green) eyes wide and terrifying immune system grabs each of the squealing group, sending them on their way with a final present of a massive wedgie. So in the end I am left with my immune system performing a victory dance, waving his hands above his head whooping in delight, and a group of wailing, whining group of treatments, all waving a white flag and all trying to gingerly coax their pants off their ears, snivelling in a corner vowing never to go back into the fray. How bloody useful is that?

As a result, I hold my hands up and say, it has been a struggle to maintain my sunny disposition. At times, I admit I have felt like hiding in the fridge. The only place I can lessen the pain of these bloody bites. I have felt like putting a ‘gone to lunch sign’ on my head, sitting with a blanket over myself, hoping all the world will just bugger off and let me be. I have dragged myself out of the house kicking and screaming, and through gritted teeth stepped out into the world attended meetings and appointments whilst avoiding eye contact and looking almost certainly like a bum with eyes. My nerves have been frayed. My eyes are bloodshot, I feel like my hair is on end. I am most certainly irritable and cranky, sleepy, hacked off, dopey and several other Dwarves in the process.

It hasn’t helped that I have had to fill in my PIP at the very moment I can’t remember the word for umbrella. Sometimes I get such bad brain fog, the conversation becomes like a game of Articulate and I start to scrabble around like a frightened raccoon climbing a curtain, desperately trying to wrack my brain and search for and assemble the correct words, nouns and adjectives I need, and enter into a maddening description game, so I can form sentences that actually make sense. “You know,it goes up, big, rain... oh YOU KNOW” clearly my husband doesn’t have a bloody clue and looks at me with a look that can only be described as a cross between, pity, alarm and probably wondering if he can nudge me into the shed without me realising, so he can go back to having normal conversations with people without turning it into a game of charades. My brain would not work this week. And I have no idea how I managed to fill that thing in.

The PIP is the most demoralising piece of paperwork I have ever had to fill in. I spend my time trying not to give IBD energy or power. I am mindful not to start sentances with ‘my IBD’ in order to prevent it from giving it an identity or a personality. I try not to go over my symptoms or dwell on what I can’t do, or go to, or participate in because I refuse to give the IBD control over me. The PIP is designed so you have to go over, in great detail, why you can’t do things. Why your disease/disability deserves financial help? What can’t you do? Where can’t you go? Name all the horrible ways it effects you? How does it make your life a misery? Can you bathe? Can you eat? Can you walk? If so how far? Is it unaided? Tell me, tell me TELL ME NOW, TELL ME HOW RUBBISH IT IS!!!! It’s like there are a group of people all sitting in the dark listening to you tell your story, all cackling and rubbing their knees in delight as you become more and more miserable, smaller, insignificant and finally succumb to the very meaning and nature of the disease. This form is made to reduce you to jelly. And that’s exactly what it did. I felt so awful after completing it. So angry, so stressed and so tiny. Here it was in black and white, in front of my eyes, all the ways in which my disease hurts or hampers me on a daily basis. I hated writing it. I hated admitting that sometimes I eat only one meal a day because it hurts too much to eat more. I hated stating that sometimes I can be in pain for hours. I loathed writing down that I sometimes only sleep 2 hours a night because I am so uncomfortable. Here it all was. My life with IBD and I really struggled reading it. This form gave the IBD so much power it was able to light up a neighbourhood. So much strength, it could pick up a bus, so much presence that if it was leading a motivational seminar, it would have every person screaming its name, leaping out of their seat with joy, suddenly seeping inspiration and motivation from all of their pores. It would have so much gravitas, that every woman and man in the room would want to either be with them or be like them. But I had no choice, I had to fill it out. I even asked my lovely husband to tell the arse hats judging this, what it was like for a loved one to watch someone precious to them, to live and function with this disease and I knew it made him uncomfortable because he didn’t want to give it any power or presence either.

After we both finished it. I admit I was upset. It had to be done. I know it did, but once I completed it and the words stared back at me, it forced me to admit that IBD is rubbish. It’s bloody rubbish. It’s a scary, non sensical disease. It robs you of sleep, looks, vocabulary, bowel function, loo roll, company, finances, control and equilibrium. It makes my immune system go completely crazy, which is why I am still battling hives, and a prickly rash snaking up my arm and the worst itching imaginable, 4 WEEKS later! It stops me from eating yummy things or from eating at all. It prevents me from doing kick boxing (a sport I used to love) or hiking, or enjoying long walks because of the pain and severe chronic fatigue I get. And it means I have to fill in bloody forms like that one, just to get a bit of financial support because all the symptoms have been so bad I haven’t been able to work. It’s hard. IBD is hard. And this week has been really hard. Battling just a couple more symptoms than the regular IBD symptom symphony, has sent my fatigue, my immune system, my sleeping pattern, my pain threshold and my patience into overdrive. It’s meant that moving my bunnies house into our dining room to give our fur babies some more socialisation, drove me to tears. It’s meant that I can not control my bowel movements. It’s led to me cancelling meetings and not going to Choir. It’s made my hair frayed and my nails brittle. It’s given me horrible nausea, sore throat, cough and headaches coz my immune system acts like it drinks red bull 24 hours a day. But what I have realised is. Sometimes it’s okay that it’s all rubbish. Sometimes you have to give in and agree. By doing that you actually give yourself back the power and control. By accepting the way it is at that moment it means that you rest. It doesn’t mean you give up, but it’s okay to feel sad and frustrated having this disease, to look like a bum with eyes, to accidentally put keys in the fridge, and not be able to think of the word for ‘pyjamas.’ And then, when we are ready we need to go back to whatever we need to do to deal with it again. So at the moment I am ‘out of order’ because I need to be, in order to make it better but before long, I will be ready to tackle it again. Ready to get back to the meditation and mindfulness, and remedies and slathering anti itch creams on myself. But just for a little while it’s okay to close the door, cuddle up on the sofa and hide away from the world in order to miss parts of your life before IBD. It doesn’t make us weak. It makes us strong and it’s necessary to heal. And if any of you have ‘gone to lunch’ for the past few hours or days, come on over. We can all wear our matching jackets and go on strike together.

[midnight-circus]

another bullshit meme

from sidebloggable

answered for logan and lucius bc i dont talk about my big dumb idiot enough

and im actually gonna answer for their original Fable timeline bc ive been feelin nostalgic recently

Their physical weak spots

Logan - depends on his age and/or stress-levels. He has a fair amount of upper body strength from swinging twin swords around all the fucking time, but it wouldn’t be ridiculously hard to overpower him if you could disarm and get hold of him - however, he’s fast, agile and extremely skilled, and it’s getting hold of him in the first place that’s the issue. In the middle of his reign, on the other hand, his body condition takes a dramatic dive - he’s pretty severely underweight and loses a lot of his muscle tone, and it really wouldn’t take much at all to best him. 

Lucius - Lucius is a big, heavy mercenary who fights with a broadsword, so it’s hard to get the best of him in a one-to-one melee fight. However, he’s missing his left eye and is deaf in his left ear - subsequently if you use a little bit of stealth and come at him hard and fast from the left, you’ve got a pretty good chance of getting the jump on him. He’s also into middle-age and despite having decent reactions, a younger man of the same build as him might just pip him to the post.

Their emotional/moral weak spots

Logan - oh god lmao. Logan’s a mess, but his primary emotional weak spot is his siblings - be they his original two (hey queenie and dorian) or Morgan. I think he feels a bond that’s closer to paternal than fraternal, and I think the only way he can really justify to himself the pain he puts them through is telling himself he’s doing it for them. ok honestly, he will do fucking anything for them. at the climax of the revolution, the primary thought running through his head is how fucking proud he is. be nice if he said it out loud every once a while - hell, itd be nice if he’d just asked for some fuckin help before causing the literal death of hundreds of people - but yknow. thats just going one step too far i guess

Lucius - he’s a bleeding heart. when Morgan and his little band of rebels rock up in the Dweller village, Lucius is already there running supplies up and down the mountain to them; he watches way too many kids starve to death, and joins up with the rebels in order to lead them through Mourningwood. then he gets a crush on morgan’s little bitch face and just like. never leaves lmao. He’s easily blinded by injustice and gets worked up really quickly when he sees wrong being done - it can lead him to act recklessly or thoughtlessly at times.

Scars or painful spots

Logan - asides from the obvious scars across his lips (fencing wounds when he was a boy), he took some nasty damage from the Crawler during the three days he was trapped in the Auroran cave - he’s got a network of scars on his back that look a little like lashmarks. they hurt when they’re touched and he Does Not talk about them. he’s also got a few other scars here and there on his arms and chest from miscellaneous scraps and scuffles, and he has a deep puncture scar on his abdomen from an assassination attempt, but the less said about those the better.

Lucius - lmao Lucius is literally missing half his face to scar-tissue. he was attacked by a dog as a boy and it left him heavily messed-up. he’s also a merc, as i said, so he’s got a lot of miscellaneous old wounds but nothing quite as obvious as the ones his face. 

Best places to kiss on their body

Logan - oh, the neck, bitch. he’s also kind of a slut for being kissed on the insides of his wrists; anywhere vulnerable, basically. if you could kill him there, kiss him there. freak-ass bitch.

Lucius - dude just likes a nice traditional french kiss man nothing crazy. but also definitely give him a blowjob. i know this question said kissing but lets be real thats kind of a kiss.

Guilty pleasures

Logan - he reads really terrible novels. like…really terrible. he pretends he’s reading something highbrow and intellectual but its actually a shitty romance recovered with something suitably acceptable and nobody can know

Lucius - he doesnt have any ‘guilty’ pleasures tbh, he just enjoys stuff unashamedly. he’s too thick to feel guilty

Their vices (physical or emotional)

Logan - lets be real, he’s probably done, like. an impressive amount of coke. i guess the terrible sleeping and eating habits are probably also a vice but like. it’s mainly the coke

Lucius - he smokes like a fuckin chimney

Their tickle spots

Logan - not only does he not have any, but you would also die for trying. Elrick disagrees.

Lucius - his ribs, but he is uncontrollably violent when he’s tickled so its a real good way to get a broken nose. he doesn’t mean to do it, he just spasms. 

Bad memories/experiences

Logan - lmao. I’ll skip the most obvious (the 3-Day Auroran Extravaganza) because i think that goes without saying - it left him with crippling PTSD and damaged his mind heavily and insidiously. he was already pretty traumatised by his childhood and i think being forced into so many responsibilities so young also messed him up a little. it’s more like….rather one one or two specific experiences, its more just a general feeling of Bad that has stuck with him throughout his life. It was worsened by his later experiences, and essentially primed him for failure.

Lucius - yknow i was thinking about how to word the answer to this question and i realised that i accidentally made Lucius into Batman. His family farm was attacked and burnt to the ground by bandits when he was about 12; his parents and siblings were killed, and he only escaped by hiding in the coal-cellar. Later, he joined up with the mercenaries to try and track down the group that targeted them. fuck hes batman. i didnt mean to batman

Humiliating memories

Logan - oh man his father was a pro at humiliation. mistakes or oversights werent just punished, they were fuckin learned from, and he figured the best way to do this was humiliation - generally through public displays of What You Did Wrong and repeated recitations of the mistake in front of the people whose opinions Logan valued. It was kind of the catalyst for his inferiority complex and intense desire to succeed without input from others. 

Lucius - again, Lucius doesn’t really experience embarrassment - he’s kind of too laid-back for it. yes, it was embarrassing the one time he fell over carrying two milk buckets and threw them all over himself in front of the handsome boy from the next farm over and the guy started laughing at him but like. you live and learn and the dude turned out to have a really ugly laugh anyway so who cares

Fears/phobias

Logan - he’s always had claustrophobia, but after the Auroran Experience this intensifies to a whole new level, and he also develops crippling nyctophobia. part of this is due to his hallucinatory psychosis - he sees things pretty much constantly, but it worsens in low lighting - but it’s also due to the fact that there may very well be actual Things in the dark and he struggles to tell reality from hallucination

Lucius - dogs. fuckin dogs. he hates dogs theyre literally so scary even the small ones bc the small ones move so quick and you never know when theyre gonna come at you

Bad or petty habits

Logan - oh, he’s just a petty bitch. he’s also outwardly arrogant, even if his internal feelings don’t match up to that. drily sarcastic, too, tho a person only really sees that when they get past the walls he throws up - Elrick is very familiar with it. 

Lucius - he’s constantly standing to the right-hand side of people and then he wonders why he cant hear them properly

Grudges and vendettas

Logan - he’d hold a grudge against his father if he wasnt dead. he also holds a pretty heavy grudge against Theresa for not just fucking telling him.

Lucius - at first, only against the bandits that killed his family, but once he deals with them hes kind of at a loss as to where to go next. fortunately Logan starts starving people shortly afterwards, so if nothing else it gives him a kickstart into the rest of his life. Subsequently, Lucius will hold a vendetta against Logan for the rest of his life, even after he has been in a relationship with Morgan for years - he will never forgive him for the shit he put the common people through, and he doesnt really give a shit about the ~pressures~ Logan was under at the time. fuckin excuses, man. 

Ingrained habits/forces of habit

Logan - his terrible sleeping/eating patterns. even before trauma and night-terrors made it almost impossible for him to sleep peacefully, he didn’t get more than 5 or 6 hours a night, if that.

Lucius - if something is smaller than him, he’ll protect it. he’ll also protect things bigger than him, if given half the chance. hes basically a golden retriever in human form, which is ironic considering his feelings about dogs.

What it takes to make them cry

Logan - would rather die than cry, quite literally.

Lucius - his heart is softer than butter, he’ll cry at anything. he’ll cry at an injured pigeon on the street. 

Dark secrets/’skeletons in the closet’

Logan - never, ever, ever talks about what happened in Aurora. The details die with him.

Lucius - he doesn’t really have any - he’s not ashamed of much in his life, and he’s never done anything terrible enough to render it a skeleton. 

People they’ve hurt or indirectly killed, and how it affected them

Logan - L M A O. yes, it affected him terribly, but tbqh however much its affected him kind of plays second fiddle to how much his actions affected other people.

Lucius - has killed a lot of people who deserved it during his mercenary years, and justifies it to himself by being absolutely certain that they did deserve it. sometimes he doubts this, though, and that doubt plays a big part in his eventually getting out of the game entirely

People who’ve influenced them greatly

Logan - Walter, tho he’ll never admit it in a million years and he still definitely kneecapped him right at the start of the game so idk what that says about him

Lucius - Morgan. it’s real gay, i know, but there it is.

[a-pretty-nerd]

Madness: Chapter Eleven, Finale!

Concept: Keeping secrets from your mob boss father has always been difficult, but how hard will it be to keep your new afair with his new hitman a secret?

A/N: hahahaha!!! Left you on a cliffhanger last time, didn't I!? Well! Lets see how you guys like this chapter! On another note, I'm glad you guys really liked this series even though it was wildly unorganized and probably my worst series yet! But as always, your requests and feedback keep me goin'!✌❤

Warnings: gun violence, death, nsfw.

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You could hardly bring yourself to do anything in that moment. Your body felt sore from all the sobbing, and the heartache. The pain in your chest made it hurt to breath, your lungs stung and your stomach turned. Raven however, barley let you mourn. She pulled you into your room to clean and dress you. All while you shivered and shook with hooded eyes. She rushed to dress you for the rain outside.

Cars waited with and for you father and his Crew. Bell stood beside him carrying an umbrella over his head as he walked outside to yell a few orders and then back in to shout a few more. You felt warm hands grasp your own, calloused and rough. For that moment, your heart jump for joy. Assuming the owner to be none other. Only for it to cry when you found brown eyes. J looked back at you with a sad brow.

"Come on, its time to go." He said with a sorry tone. His gentle touch guided you to Reyes and Octavia as they placed flat palms on your back and gently walked you down the stairs. Sharing a moment of mourning as if they catered to a widow in a funeral procession. As you walked down the stairs to the lobby of the hotel, you heared and smelled the rain pouring down outside. A flash of lightening illuminated the streets of the city. Once you reached the ground floor, you looked out to the cars outside and to the figures in the them.

Your father stood outside, Bell standing by to hold an umbrella above the old man. You stood in the center of the open room, and turned. Taking in your very last sight of the hotel you called home for so long. You took details to heart like the pattern of thr carpet, and the warm color of the rich oak liking the staircase and walls.

"Lets go!" Your father's deep voice rang. You turned and saw his angry and wrinkled face. You stepped out into the rain, but was quickly rushed into the warmth and dry seating if a vehicle. You wished they'd just let you stand there in the rain. To feel the water hit you harshly, perhaps if you stood there long enough it would melt you. And you too would hit the cement of the New York side walk, washing over it and fly down to disappear into a nearby drain.

You sat in the middle seat between Octavia and Reyes. Each held a hand which sat on your hose covered knees. You stared out the front window at the dark street in front. You sat there for a moment until everyone was seated. Then M started to drive away with J in the passanger seat.

"Where are we going?" You pipped up after what felt like hours of silence. The only sound that filled your ears was the hum of the car and the rain that hit the roof. The city lights illuminated the surprisingly empty streets.

"We're headed to the harbor, a ship is waiting to take us across to Italy." M spoke matter of factly.

"Italy, exciting. Init, Y/N?" J made an attempt to make conversation with an awkward smile that flashed at you in the rearview mirror.

"Leave her alone J." Reyes told him.

"I'm just trying to-"

"Well you're not helping anything by being a pain in her ass, so shut your mouth!"

"Raven..." You corrected her with a soft reminder. She quieted instantly. The car went silent once again. That is, until you reached a round about. In the center, a fountain overflowing with water from the rain stood tall and proud in all it's stone glory. As the car that drove before you turned into the large round about, you notice another that drive in from the other side. You watched the car and suddenly a sick feeling in your stomach emerged. As you intered the center of the street, a loud pop rang out.

"Get down!" Octavia shouted, reaching over to pull your head down with hers as bullets flew through the windows. Your head pounded as you heard the shouting through the sound of guns and bullets. After a bit you lifted your head to witness the chaose. The cars had stopped dead in the round about, around the fountain. The car ahead of you, the car that help your father and a few of his men was stopped dead. The driver in the front, lied dead over the steering wheel. Bell kept your father hidden behind the car as they shot. The cars behind you, which held more and more men of yours were also used as sheilds as they fired back. Though they were unprepared and not armed properly. A few men lied dead in the street. "Go! Go! Go!" Octavia cried again.

Raven opened the door facing away from the fire and hurrled herself out before reaching back for you. Your heart pounded in your chest as you made it out. You held your ears, sheilding them from the pops of the guns. Any other day you'd take out your pistol and fire back, aiding in the war. But you didn't have it in you this time around. You shook, and cried as those around you dropped like flies in their best efforts.

The cry of a familiar voice shook you from your states. You watched as J's body fell to the gravel. He grabbed at his chest and wringled in pain. He threw his head back and panted. You watched his eyes close tight and whimper in pain.

"J!" Reyes shouted, and knelt. "J are you hurt!?" She leaned over him, and pried his hand away from the wound. "Oh god...Jasper..."

"Tis but a scratch!" Jasper joked with a chuckle, only to keel over in pain with a solid ground.

"Oh you bastard! You can't die on us now!" She held his suit jacket and shook him.

"Did it hit is heart!?" Monty cried from his shooting spot over the car.

"No...but its bad." She said, analyzing it. He tilted his head up, gazing up at Raven's worried face. Reaching a hand up and brushinf aside the wet hair from her beautiful face. He smiled.

"You should wear your hair down more. You never wear your hair down." He commented with a smile.

"Jasper, not now-"

"I'm in love with you ya'know?" He told her with a reassuring smile.

"Jasper please don't do this."

"It's fine you don't feel the same. I just want you to know."

"N-No, it's not- J-Jasper no! No Jasper!" She cried as he closed his eyes and relaxes into the ground. She shook him over and over again, begging. "You can't do this to me! You can't! No! Jasper please...I love you!" She cried into his chest. The sight made you sob as you watched it. So much so you couldnt tell what was rain and what were tears. Jasper groaned and she gasped. She threw her head up, starring at him for a minute. The blood from his wound had gotten on her cheek. She ripped her dress and covered his wound before dragging him to you. "Pressure! Put pressure on it!" She demanded from you and of course you did so. She leaned down to his peaceful face, still flushed with living color. "You stay with us now, love. I can't lose you." She told him before she ran back to shooting. You help Jasper as you pressed down on his chest, feeling his heart beat intensely as it worked harder and harder to keep him alive.

Suddenly the loud sound of a siren cit through the bullets. The shooting slowly ceased as the loud siren became louder and louder. You saw the blue and red reflections in the water and off the black cars. You looked up, and watched as cop cars parked themselves on both sides of the round about, trapping both gangs within it. You couldn't see a thing from where you sat, but you heard.

"Hands up! Drop your weapons! Keep where we can see you!" Several shouted. Until one voice came over a speaker.

"Alright, if everyone would take a moment to calm down. Drop your weapons and no one else will get killed." Your heart panicked in your chest. That voice. That voice. You know that voice. You'd heard it low, and quiet. That voice had whispered in your and that voice moaned for you. Throwing caution to the wind, you stood up.

The figure stood on top of a cop car to fearlessly grab the attention of the gangsters at war. All firing had stopped and there was a moment of clearity. All eyes peered on him as he stood there in his uniform, a cop. Murphy was a cop. A smile crossed your face without warning, you couldn't help it. He was alive! You wanted to run to him, to shout at him how worried you were, how you were sorry, how much you loved him.

In that moment of silence and clearity, his green eyes drifted to you. They sparkled at your appearance as he tilted his head towards you. You felt yourself move for him, to run to him. Until you heard a pop, then a thud. One of the cops had been shot. You didn't know who took that shot, but it didn't matter. Murphy disappeared again from sight and it the cops began firing back.

"Cease fire!" You shouted at your friends. "Stop it! Stop shooting!" You ordered. Monty listened and ran to Jasper's side as did Raven. Octavia however, didn't hear and she pressed on. Instead firing at the enemy. She only stopped when Bellamy pulled her back behind a car with your father and proceeded to scold her. You searched for Murphy once again amung the chaos. Desperate to find him, to hold him. The fire had gone to the exits, no longer the center. So you ran to the fountain, your shoes flying off in the process so you ran barefoot on the soaking wet road. You almost fell into the water when you reached the edge of the foutain.

"What are you doing!?" That voice shouted. You looked up to find him there at the fountain with you. You wept as you threw yourself at him and cried.

"I love you! I want you to know I love you!" You cried in his arms as he held you. The warmth of his hands felt like heaven through your soaking wet clothes. You reached up and held him in a passionate kiss. It felt euphoric, like smoking for the first time in a while, it just hit the spot perfectly. He was all you wanted. You clung to him.

"You love a rat, you know. Im a trader, a coward, a cop." His voice purred into your lips.

"I don't give a damn. You're mine now and forever." You said breathlessly before another kiss.

"I love you my princess. I'm sorry so sorry I betrayed you." He burried his face into your shoulder and wept. It was just the two of you in the rain for a moment. Completely unaware of the show you made. Unaware of the enraged man standing behind you with a gun. As the gunfire came to an end, dead bodies decorated the street around you. Scattered, your men, your enemy's men, and innocent police. So many slaughtered. Murphy lifted his head from your shoulder and looked up. He choked. "No!" He shouted before the last blow.

A peircing paint shot through your midsection. You gasped in pain as it tore through your whole body. Murphy's grasp on you tightened as he looked into your eyes. You looked down at your body, the blood spreading across your dress as the shock hit you. You looked up to your lover's eyes. You heard people shouting your name as the two of you swayed there for a moment. Before you slowly fell together onto the road. Your head fell to his chest, where you could then see the blood crawling up his uniform.

You didn't say a word, you simply looked up at him and you held him close. He looked down at you with a telling gaze. Your hearing faded and the world slowly became silent. Your head felt heavy and your body ached. First your hearing, then you became unable to move your body, it almost felt like falling into a deep sleep. You stared into those green eyes. His smile, his brow, his eyes, he was all you needed in that moment. You smiled back with what strength you had. Then your vision started going. Your eyes were open and yet it all became blurrying. Green. Green eyes. The last thing you saw.

You died in each other's arms that night by the hands of your enraged father. Who shot out of reflex and emotion. The bullet tore through you and then him. A tragedy for the ages. A tale told for ages to come.

[secret-captain-swan-blog]

CS JJ Day 20: First Snow

"It’s just starting to snow the day that Killian Jones meets Emma Swan for the first time." // In which Emma and Killian meet and save each other during the first snow of the season. (A Lieutenant Duckling-ish Fic)

Word Count: 7026

Ao3

Many thanks to @lenfaz for organizing this wonderful month of fic! Wonderful job to everyone who participated. Sending all the cozy hygge vibes to everyone out that reading!

It’s just starting to snow the day that Killian Jones meets Emma Swan for the first time.

It’s past curfew and he knows it. As an indentured servant, Killian has few joys in life. Watching the sunset on deck each night, listening to sound of birds calling overhead, and exploring each port they stop in are among the scant few. And right now, they’ve just stopped in in the charming port of Misthaven. The jewel of the Enchanted Forest kingdom, the city is known for its Old World architecture. Killian carries with him a tiny sketchbook and kohl, a gift from Liam for his birthday three years ago. Killian only sketches out his very favorite of buildings he’s encountered on his travels. So far, Killian has sketched three in Misthaven, more than he ever has been before.

And this, of course, is why he is in trouble. 

There are several rules to being an indentured servant and the first is to be on time. He knows, absolutely knows, that being late is going to delay the ship and he is going to have to answer for that. And it’s going to hurt.

If he doesn’t get skinned alive by Captain Silver (and Killian knows he will be), he’ll have Liam’s disappointment to answer to as well. He knows that his older brother just wants to be free of the cruel captain’s command and reckons that avoiding trouble is probably the best way. Killian agrees, but that doesn’t mean that he’s actually good at avoiding trouble. Sometimes, he thinks it finds him.

All of this considered, Killian thinks his adventure today is worth it. Not just for the pictures tucked in his notebook, but because of her.

He had been sketching one of the row houses, an hour or so ago, just as a few flakes of snow were starting to fall, filling in details of the complicated roof, when a voice pipped up, “That’s rather good.”

He had turned to see her a lovely looking girl, 12 or 13 maybe, about his age, with dark green kerchief pulled over soft blond curls. Killian’s only experience with women has bar wenches at taverns they visited. Not that Killian talked to these women at all, but well, he supposed he liked to look at them. But this girl, she was something else all-together. Lovely in every single way.

“Thank you,” He stammered.

“How did you learn that?” She asked, tucking one of the wrapped Christmas presents she was carrying under her arm.

“I taught myself,” Killian admitted.

“Did you really?” She asked. “I’ve been dying for art lessons, but my parents say they aren’t practical. May I look through your book?”

“Of course,” Killian said, passing over his book.

The girl flipped through the sketchbook, pausing first a sketch of a bazar in Agraba, “Have you really seen this?”

He nodded.

“And this?” She asked at a picture of the Arundel Palace covered in ice.

He nodded again.

“What sort of life do you have where you get to see so many lovely places and draw them?” She asked, leafing through the book.

Killian couldn’t find it in himself to be honest. Saying, “I’m an indentured servant,” didn’t seem particularly attractive. So instead he said, “I work on a ship.”

“Do you really?” The girl asked. “I think I love that kind of thing. I keep begging Papa to take on me on his next sea journey, but I don’t think he’d ever allow that. He says that young women don’t belong on ships. He says the voyage would make me sick.”

Killian thought of the depraved antics of some of the sailors on his ship and silent agreed with this girl’s father.

“Maybe one day you’ll get to see the world,” He said, softly.

“Thanks for the sentiment, but I doubt so,” The girl told him.

“I’m Emma,” She said.

“Killian,” He introduced.

“Safe travels,” The girl said turning, walking back towards a distant figure which he supposed must be one of her parents.

This encounter with the mysterious and charming women caused Killian tardiness and what he supposes will be his eventual demise. Which is why he is currently hustling through the docks as fast as he can.

The docks are always chaos, boats coming and going, various ruffians and thugs lingering around, trying to see black market items and the like. While the cities that Killian visits change at each port, the docks are always the same mayhem and baboonery.

He hurries faster when he sees Silver’s ship, the gruff captain standing at the gangplank, checking a pocket watch.

“You’re late,” He says. “You horrible, piece of scum. You’re not just my property, but you’re a burden too.”

“I’m sorry, Captain,” Killian says, ducking his head.

The cruel man lets out a long laugh. “As if an apology would spare my hand.”

Killian shrugs, “I didn’t really think it would.”

The captain raises his hand and delivered a strike against Killian’s cheek. Killian flinches at the pain, which burns sharply against his skin.

“I’m not done with you, but we do need to leave this dock. There will be more once we are out at sea,” Captain Silver reprimands. A bit of dread begins to fester in Killian’s stomach at the thought of more beatings- and Liam’s disappointment.

“Stop,” A voice shouts suddenly.

Both Killian and Captain Silver turn to the source of the voice, it’s feminine trill out of place in the raucous docks.

It’s Emma, the girl from earlier. There is a fierceness in her emerald eyes as she looks between Killian and his Captain.

“Stop,” She repeats. “Don’t hurt him.”

Captain Silver turns and glares at the young girl.

“And just who are you? His girlfriend?” The man snarls.

There is something lecherous in his face as he looks at her that makes Killian’s blood curdle.

“Leave her alone,” Killian says.

“Are you talking back to me now?” The captain asks, raising his hand again.

“Stop. As Her Royal Highness Emma Swan, Princess of Misthaven, I order you to stop,” The girl shouts.

She brushes the kerchief off her head to reveal a small tiara in a hair beneath it.

Captain Silver’s face twists grotesquely. “I don’t care you are missy. This boy belongs to me.”

“He can’t belong to you,” She says, her voice still defiant. “Slavery is illegal in the Enchanted Forest.”

“He’s my servant, indentured, because his father needed to repay a debt,” Captain Silver explains. “He’s to work for me until the debt is repaid.”

Princess Emma doesn’t pause for a moment, “Fine, I’ll pay it. How much is it?”

She removes a pouch of coins from inside her coat.

“20,000,” The man says. “You got that much little lady?”

Killian watches, dumbfounded, as she extracts two coins and passes them over to the man. He spins them in fingers and rubs at them.

“I didn’t even know they made 10,000 dubloon coins,” The captain mutters.

“Well, they do,” the Princess tells him. “Will that suffice?”

Killian is in shock. His entire childhood, since his father left them, as been servitude. He’s spent hour upon grueling hour toiling aboard the ship, abused by the Captain, taunted by the sailors, and now just like that, with literally two coins- he’s free.

He’s free.

He’s free.

He’s in shock.

It’s so surreal and fast, but in moments his entire life has changed.

Except, wait. What about Liam? He can’t be free without Liam. They’re a package deal. Shipmates, bothers. He can’t take off into a new life of freedom without his brother.

“What about Liam?” Killian finally says.

“Liam?” The Princess asks.

“My brother,” Killian explains. “He’s also a servant. I can’t leave him.”

The Princess glares at the Captain before passing him two more coins.

“Get your brother and let’s go,” The Princess says.

Killian is pretty sure that his legs are shaking. He doesn’t know how to react to this abrupt and beautiful change. He walks up the gangplank to find his brother. He can hardly imagine what he will tell him. There is no way that he will believe him.

He finds Liam below deck, working on getting supplies ready to leave port.

“There you are little brother,” he says. “Are you just getting here now? Silver is going to have your hide for this.”

Killian swallows, trying to find the words.

“By the look of your cheek, it seems he already has. I’m sure they’ll be more of that once we get out at sea. Why don’t you start moving these supplies and I will look for some sort of salve for you?”

All in all, Killian decides that Liam is being far more kind than he deserves given his tardiness.

“Earth to Killian. Come on, take this rope,” He says. “Why were you so late anyway? Head in the clouds?”

He has to say it. He really has to cough up the words.

“Liam, we are free,” He says.

His brother looks up from where he is busy with the ropes and looks at him.

“Sorry, what did you say little brother?”

“It’s younger brother,” Killian corrects, finding his voice. “And we’re free. We’re done here. With Silver, with this bloody merchant ship, all of it. We’re free.”

Liam blinks a few times, disbelief painted across his face. “How could this have possibly happened?”

“The princess, my sketchbook, Silver-“ Killian tries to string words together to explain it all. But he can hardly find the words. “It’s a long story.”

“Right,” Liam says, dropping the rope. “What do we do now?”

“I suppose we should go thank the princess,” Killian says.

“Sounds like a good idea,” Liam says.

The two brothers walk out from below deck, snow fluttering all around them. The light washes over them and they feel it, something they haven’t felt in their bones since childhood- freedom, possibility.

They walk down the gangplank to where the princess is standing beside a still shell-shook Silver.

“There you are,” She says. “Do you not have belongings?”

Killian bites a lip, “Forced servitude doesn’t lead to a lot of belongings.”

Liam gives a bow, “Thank you so much, your royal highness, for this gift. There is no way to repay you.”

“Oh,” She blushes. Killian feels a tendril of jealousy arise in him. “Well, it was my pleasure. I couldn’t let Killian, or you, stay on this dreadful ship.”

“We don’t know how to repay you,” Liam says.

“Please don’t,” Emma says. “Human dignity isn’t the kind of thing you repay.”

Dammit, not only is she gorgeous and kind, but she’s also well-spoken.

“Do you have somewhere to go? Why don’t you come home with me?” The Princess says. “At least for dinner and someplace warm to sleep tonight while you make your plans. After all, I’d hate for you to sleep in the snow.”

“Why not?” Killian agrees.

So, they follow the Princess of Misthaven through the town to a large castle, the castle. It’s grey and elegant and Killian’s never been in a castle before. His eyes are wide, taking notice of stain-glass, gold leaf, and all the things he’s only read about in books.

She takes them to a small guest room with two beds and tells them that she’ll “leave them to get settled.” Both Liam and Killian try not giggle. They have nothing to settle. They haven’t slept in an actual bed since they were children, memories they barely have.

“Shall I send up things for you to bathe?” She asks. “I can’t imagine what I’d want after years of servitude, but I suppose I think I’d like a bath.”

“That would be nice, your royal highness,” Liam agrees.

“Honestly, you can call me Emma,” She says. “We normally dine at sunset if that suits you.”

“That suits us kindly, Emma,” Killian says.

The whole thing is surreal- bathing in warm, perfumed water. Killian has only ever bathed in cold seawater himself and even this small thing is a luxury. A few servants arrive with fresh clothes. They are simple, but they are clean and new and Killian doesn’t know how to react to it all.

As the sun lowers in the sky, Princess Emma arrives to invite them down to dinner. They follow her down the corridors to a lavish dining hall. There is already a feast spread on the table, roast chicken, potatoes, broccoli and squash, and tartes. Just looking at the spread, Killian feels tears prick his eyes. He’s never eaten so well in all his life. Emma looks over and sees his tears, reaching out to squeeze his hand. He feels a sense of comfort lodge itself there.

“Mama, Papa,” Emma says, referring the older, extravagantly dressed adults at the head of the table. “These are my new friends, Killian and Liam.”

“We are very grateful for your generosity and hospitality, your majesties,” Liam says. He’s good at this.

“Nonsense,” The queen says. “When Emma told us about what she witnessed at the docks, we knew she made the right decision. You are welcome to stay with us as long as you need.”

“Thank you, your majesties,” Liam says.

They begin to have their feast. Killian is very self-conscious about trying not to stuff his face, even though he has never seen so much fresh food in all his life. He can’t believe that Emma eats like this all the time.

After dinner, Liam bids Killian to go to bed and get an early rest. After all, he deserves one after securing their freedom. Liam says he wants to thank the king and queen personally. Killian agrees, too tired from the meal to argue. He heads to bed, someone bringing up a healing balm for his cheek. It must contain some sort of magic, because it takes away the sting and removes the redness of the angry mark. He falls asleep, curled on the miraculously soft bed.

He awakens when Liam comes in a few hours later. In the dim light, Killian can see him moving around the room, preparing for bed. He hears his brother sniffle.

“Is everything okay?” Killian asks him.

“Yes,” Liam says, sitting on the side of his bed, rubbing a hand through his brother’s hair.

“Were the king and queen nice?” Killian asks.

“Very nice,” Liam says.

“Is something wrong?” Killian asks, sleepily trying to read his brother.

Liam pauses, searching for words. “I’ve made an agreement with the king and the queen.”

Killian feels like something is off. “What is it?”

“I’m going to join the Royal Navy,” Liam tells him. “And in exchange, you’ll stay here in and learn from the royal tutor with Princess Emma.”

“What? Why would you do that?” Killian gasps, sitting up. “We won’t be together.”

“Killian,” Liam says. “I don’t want us to be separated, but I want the best for you. You’ll get to learn, really learn and better yourself. You’re bright, I’ve always thought that. You taught yourself to read. You taught yourself art. Just think what you could learn if you had the chance to get a real education. And you’ll be able to live here, finally in comfort, with good food and a family, the royal family, to take care of you.”

“But-“ Killian protests.

“The decision has been made, Killian,” Liam says. “Please be on your best behavior with the king and queen. We won’t ever get another chance like this.”

Killian sobers. He thinks of years of hard labor and cruel punishments aboard the ship. He thinks of hammock beds and hard tack. He know that he has been given the gift of a much better life. And as much as he’ll miss his brother, as much as he’s furious at his brother- he knows that he can’t ruin this opportunity. He can’t disappoint his brother or the king and queen or Princess Emma.

“Okay, good night,” Killian says, rolling over. He buries his face in the pillow, muffling his second round of tears of the day. He knows his brother made a brave and good decision, but that doesn’t mean he is going to miss him like heck.

When he wakes up the follow morning, Liam is already gone. There is note written on Killian’s bed that he explains that he’ll be back in six months after training and his first voyage. He reminds Killian to be good and gracious to the king and queen for their generosity.

Killian finds himself tearing up again, the room feeling so empty and cold already.

There is suddenly a knock on the door. He supposes it must be someone with breakfast or a bath or whatever royals have people come with.

“Come in,” He says.

It’s Princess Emma.

She’s dressed in a plain leaf green day dress, not as elegant as her traveling clothes or dinner dress from the day before. She seems like an ordinary girl, though a beautiful one.

Killian sniffles, “Oh hi Emma.”

“Hey,” She says, smiling. “I thought you might be lonely. So I wanted to go show you something. Get dressed and follow me.”

Killian realizes he’s just dressed in his large chemise, so he pulls on stockings, breeches and what is apparently a cravat. He runs a hand a through is hair to tidy it, to very little avail.

Emma giggles, “You look like a prince. Follow me.”

She leads the way through more ornate corridors. Killian takes notes of suits of armor (13) and tapestries (5). He already wants to write Liam a letter about them. Just the thought of Liam brings a pang to his throat. He tries not to cry again, especially in front of Emma.

“This is my room,” She tells him, opening a door.

Her room is extravagant, a large bed with curtains around it, a large vanity in the corner for dressing. She leads the way across the room and to the doors to the balcony.

“Here,” She says, thrusting some furs at him, “You’ll need this.”

She opens the door and it’s cold, but his mouth gasps a little at the sight. The grounds of the palace are coated in snow. It lines the trees. It covers the softly rolling hills. Even the small lake is iced.

“I have this tradition,” Princess Emma explains, “where I always take my breakfast on the terrace on the morning of the first snow. I’ve never shared it with anyone before, but I thought you might like to see it.”

Killian feels a burst of happiness. The princess finds him special enough to share this tradition with him. She keeps giving him gift after gift. He wonders if he’ll ever, ever, be able to repay her.

“Thank you,” He says. “This is really beautiful.”

So are you, he wants to add.

They eat breakfast on the terrace, warm cocoa with cinnamon and croissants. Princess Emma tells him about the royal tutor and what he’s like- brilliant, but jolly good to play pranks on. She tells him about the first time her father left for a very long voyage that lasted months and how much she missed him. She gives him a smile and tells him how good the palace’s carrier pigeons are and if he wants to write to his brother, the message will get there that very day. Emma always knows what to say.

Eventually, he takes out his sketchbook and uses his kohl to draw the way that the palace grounds look glistening after the first snow.

“It’s really good,” She says. “I’m glad you live here now.”

Like snow falling, the years begin to fluttery by. There are adventures through the palace- late night feasts in the kitchens and ice skating on the frozen lake. Emma teaches Killian how to horseback ride and waltz. Killian teaches her how to sketch and tie knots. She starts to develop powers, sparks that come out of her finger tips. In their lessons, they learn about maps and Killian shows her all the places he’s traveled and they make plans to take their own trip one day. Liam visits often, every few months when he is in port, but writes almost every day. Even though he is far away, Killian knows he’s proud of him for learning in the palace- reading Great Books, learning advanced arithmetic, and relations between kingdoms. The king and queen become like parents to Killian. Every year, of course, Emma and Killian celebrate the First Snow by having breakfast together on her terrace. Every day, he is grateful for the life that he has found and know he’ll never, ever, be able to repay Emma for what she’s given him.

He still thinks she’s beautiful, and brilliant, and kind. He starts to think he might love her.

Yet, it’s four years later when things change. She’s seventeen, nearly eighteen, when she runs his room in a flutter.

“Killian, Killian,” She babbles, “I’m going on a voyage. I’m going to travel.”

“Emma, darling, that’s amazing,” His face is bright with delight for her, but knows what this means. It means weeks upon weeks of no communication, of him lonely in the castle without her or Liam.

“Where are you going?” He asks.

“Arundel,” She tells him. “Just for a few weeks to visit my cousins. It’s not very dangerous or adventurous, but I’ll get to see mountains and fjords.”

“Emma, that’s amazing,” Killian says, because he can see the joy making her cheeks rosy and he doesn’t want to do anything to mar that.

“Of course, I’ll write to you every day,” Emma promises.

“I’d expect nothing less,” Killian says. “I’ll tell you if I plan any pranks on our tutor without you.”

“Oh, I hope you do,” Emma giggles. “Can you come help me pack?”

“Yes, let’s go,” Killian says.

Killian has been to Arundel once before when he was a boy. He remembered it was very cold, so he helps Emma packs her warmest furs and thick wool socks.

He goes with the King and the Queen to help send Emma off. While she’s gone, he works diligently on his lessons. He’s been working the past few weeks to put together a large volume of research he’s done on the history of art. It’s something he’s truly loved to learn. Before coming the palace, he’d hardly had the opportunity to see great art, but now it surrounds him and he loves it. He’s left the palace a few times to go to the museum in town and see Misthaven’s most famous artists. He likes to try to imitate their drawings in his sketchbook, a much larger one, a gift from the royal family.

He knows that most people expect that he will follow in his brother’s footsteps and go on to join the Royal Navy when he turns eighteen next year. But he isn’t certain. His brother and the royal family gave him the amazing opportunity to study and learn these past few years. He wonders if he would be throwing it away to join the navy. He still has a lot of bad memories of being at sea- of beatings by Captain Silver, and sometimes worse. He misses the adventure, the smell of salt water, navigating by the stars, the sunsets- but he’s not sure he wants to go back to hammock beds and hard tack. Sometimes he thinks he would prefer to study at a nearby university. Which would be closer to Emma. Not that he’d want to admit that.

They send each other letters each day that she’s gone. She tells him about how funny the ship feels beneath her feet, but how much she enjoys the sunrises on the ship. “I wish you were with me,” she writes, “You would be able to teach me so much about this ship, about navigation and knots and sea legs.”

She writes about arriving in Arundel. “My cousin Elsa has even more incredible powers than I do, but she’s going to teach me how to control mine. She told me she is going to show me how to make a palace using my powers alone. How crazy is that?” Emma writes. Killian spends the whole day doodling ice palaces in his sketchbook.

A week later she writes, “Today we climbed one of the highest mountains in Arundel. It was so amazing to look down at the kingdom from the top, the fjords spread out beneath us.” This day Killian spends the afternoon in the library flipping through book after book about Arundel, looking at paintings made of the fjords. He starts work on a painting of his own based on it. He wants to give it to Emma, maybe a Christmas gift, when she returns.

All of a sudden, one day, the letters stop. Killian tries to ignore the weird feel that nestles in his stomach. She must be very busy. He tries not to think that maybe she met a kind Prince or a Duke of a wealthy kingdom. He tries not to think of what he’d do if she came back with a suitor.

The King and Queen speak in hushed voices to each and Killian feels uncomfortable, knowing that they are keeping a secret from him.

One night it starts snowing, Killian watches the flakes fall and wonders if it will stick. It doesn’t. He’s relieved.

A week passes without a message from the princess. Killian is really starting to worry. This has got to mean that she’s engaged, right? Why else wouldn’t the king and queen tell him what the worry is?

He even writes to Liam about it, admitting his vulnerability and worry that she may love another.

“I have been in contact with the princess,” writes Liam. “I cannot say much other than that she will be coming home soon and she is not betrothed to another.”

Frustrated with more questions than answers, Killian decides it is time to approach the King and the Queen.

That afternoon, he tears into the throne room. “Where is she? What’s happened?” Killian demands. “You have to stop keeping this from me. Where is Emma? Why hasn’t she written? Why isn’t she home?”

Killian has always had the awful habit of wearing his heart on his sleeve and a tear appears in his eye.

The queen gives him a look of pain and pity, before nodding at the king.

“Killian, we haven’t wanted to worry you unnecessarily, but we are sorry for keeping this from you,” The queen begins.

“What?” Killian asks. “Keeping what?”

“There’s been an accident,” The king says slowly.

Killian’s stomach lurches, fear curling around his shoulders, down his spine.

“With Emma?” Killian asks.

The king nods gravely. “She was out in the mountains with her cousins when they were attacked by a foreign army. Both Emma and her cousin, Elsa, were able to use their powers to fight back against the foreign soldiers. But unfortunately, Emma was struck by Elsa’s powers and it froze her heart.”

Killian swallows, trying to keep down his worry. “What does that mean?”

“It means that she’s been on her way home for the last few days,” The queen answers. “Liam’s ship has been taking her. She doesn’t have much more time before the curse freezes her solid.”

“When will she be home?” Killian asks.

“Tomorrow night,” The queen replies.

“We should be researching,” Killian says, “We should be researching what to do save her.”

“We’ve sent for the best doctors, the best healers, the best magic wielders,” The queen explains. “We have some ideas, but we can only wait for her to return home to see if we can heal her. Liam is taking good care of her, as I’m sure you know.”

Killian nods. He trusts his brother, even if no one has been honest with him.

“I’m going to see what I can do,” Killian says, leaving for the library.

He finds a table full of books about ice curses and reads on. He read about how an act of true love can thaw a frozen heart, however, it’s not always that straight forward. The curses can learn from the past, not always responding the same way to similar acts of true love. Just like a disease, a curse strain can become resistant. Killian doesn’t know what will save her. He just wants her home so he can see for himself.

He doesn’t sleep that night, tossing and turning. He wonders how she is doing. When he gives up on sleeping, he goes to her terrace and watches the snow begin to fall fiercely. It’s starting to stick. He wonders if it is a sign that she is getting closer. It almost seems to be mocking him now.

It’s nearly a blizzard when Liam arrives just after lunch, with Princess Emma cradled in his arms. Killian follows the solemn procession of family and guests as he carries her to her bedchambers. A fire has been lit, blankets have been warmed, and hot cocoa waits for her in a magical self-warming mug. It’s all for naught.

Emma is shivering uncontrollably, her body thin and pale against her sheets. Her hair has even turned white, a seeming reaction to her heart condition.

“Killian,” She says, her voice quaking, reaching for his hand. “I’m so glad you are here.”

Unfortunately, just after that, the King and Queen ask for the room to cleared of visitors, Killian and Liam included, so that they can have the array of doctors, healers, and magic wielders try to save Emma.

Killian and Liam retreat back to their old room.

“She doesn’t look good,” Killian says. He wants to be angry at his brother for keeping Emma’s condition from him, but essentially, he wants her better. He just wants her to be okay.

“It’s been hard, she’s been getting worse and worse every day,” Liam admits. “When we first picked her up, she was mostly fine, walking around the ship. She just needed a blanket and a cup of tea to stay warm. But now, she’s really taken a turn for the worst.”

“What do you think? How much longer?” Killian whispers.

Liam shakes his head, “If she isn’t cured by tonight, I can’t see her lasting longer than the morning.”

Killian sinks onto the bed, burying his face in his hands.

“I don’t know how to live without her,” Killian whispers. “She’s my one true friend. She’s my savior. I don’t know, Liam. I honestly think I might love her. I don’t know how what I’ll do without her.”

“Tell her,” Liam says, quickly. “Tell her how you feel before you lose the chance. We might lose our princess, but don’t lose the opportunity to tell her how you feel.”

“You seem pretty adamant about that,” Killian says. “What if that’s not what to tell her? What if it causes her more stress at a fragile time?”

Liam shakes her head. “Her highness and I had time to talk while on our voyage back, especially the last few days when her health got much worse. I think you should tell her. I think it’s the kind of thing that might give her strength.”

Killian agrees. They dine with the royal family as normal. Hardly anyone eats. Emma isn’t there. They all wonder if this is their last night with their Princess.

The healers resume their work after dinner. Killian goes the library and sees if he can find out anything more about her curse. It’s dead end after dead end.

Liam comes in when Killian’s candlelight is beginning to wane.

“The doctors have been asked to leave,” He tells his brother. “They’re out of options. The king and queen are telling the princess ‘good night.’”

Killian nods, stacking up the books, understanding the implicit message in that statement.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Liam says softly.

Killian walks down the corridor slowly, realizing this might be his last time to go visit Princess Emma in her room. He knocks on her door.

“Come in,” her voice says, now small.

He pushes the door open and sees her in bed like before. She’s still shivering. With her white hair and deep circles under her eyes, she looks skull-like against her sheets.

“Oh, Emma,” He hushes, moving her side. “Oh, love.”

“Hey,” She says softly.

He reaches forward to run a hand through her hair. Even her hair feels ice between her fingers. She lets out a soft sigh.

“I take it your first trip could have gone better?” Killian asks, gently.

“It honestly was really fun,” Emma admits, “Before I got cursed.”

He laughs, wrapping his hands around hers. He can feel them shaking.

“You’ll have to meet my cousins sometime,” Emma says. “They are a lot of fun. And Arundel is beautiful. I wish I could take you there.”

“Maybe one day we can go there together,” Killian says, lifting her hands to mouth to blow soft warm air on them.

Emma shakes her head. “Killian, not to be morbid, but there really isn’t going to be a one day. My parents have tried everything.”

“Even true love’s kiss?” He asks.

“Of course, true love’s kiss,” Emma replies. “I must have some strain of the curse that doesn’t respond to it. You know like when you get a sickness and even medicine doesn’t make you better? It’s like that. But it’s a curse. And it’s going to turn me into a giant icicle.”

Killian feels pressure build at his throat.

“Well here, let me do what I can for you,” He says. “Maybe I can keep you warm and give you a little bit more time.”

Emma looks at him with a face of gratitude. He pulls back the blankets and slides under the blankets.

“Is this alright, love?” He asks.

“Yes,” She replies.

He wraps her arms around her, her quivering body stilling slightly held in his strong arms. She snuggles into him, her head falling to the crook of his neck.

He’s dreamt of this moment, taking the princess into his arms, holding her like the precious light she is to him. However, in all his imaginings of this moment, it wasn’t as terribly heartbreaking as it is now.

“I wish I could take you everywhere,” He says. “Maybe if you could lie in the Agrabah sunshine, you’d feel better.”

She says, “Tell me about it.”

“It’s so warm, you can’t spend too much time in it. It’s a dry heat, not humid. It makes your skin looks tan and sun kissed after you’ve spent time in it. And there are beautiful market places, you can buy rugs and silk scarves and spiced sandwiches,” He says.

“I wish I was there,” She says.

“Another time,” He tells her. He wants to give her all these experiences. He wants to give her the world. “Another time, I visited a jungle far away. It was the opposite, hot, but sticky. There were all sorts of snakes and lizards and crawling bugs. I think I saw a tiger while I was there, but I’m not sure.”

“I don’t know if I’d like tigers,” Emma admits.

“They’d be no match for you with your magic,” Killian tells her.

“We’re never going to get to see all the places we want to see together,” She says sadly.

“I know,” Killian says. “But at least you’ve imagined them.”

“Do you miss it?” Emma asks. “The adventure? Do you wish I hadn’t swooped in that day?”

“Oh Emma,” Killian says. “I would never, ever wish that. My life was so pitifully miserable. You gave me a chance to learn, to spend a few years in a real home. You saved me. I would never regret that.”

“Selfishly, I’m glad you’ve been here,” She tells him, snuggling closer. “You’ve made my days much for colorful.”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do here without you,” Killian struggles to stay, tears pooling in his eyes.

“You’ll keep taking classes, keep making art, keep dreaming, keeping being happy,” She says.

“I don’t be happy without you,” He says, his own voice shaking. “My days will be too bleak without you. I couldn’t- I can’t. Oh Emma, what will I do?”

He starts to sob and Emma does too. Their bodies shake together, her tears cold against his neck.

“I’m going to miss every bit of you with every bit of me,” He whispers.

“I’m going to always, always wish for more days with you,” She says.

A tear drips down Killian’s nose, wetting his lips and summoning the words he needs to say.

“I love you,” He says.

Emma moves her head slightly to look up at him.

“My darling, I love you too.”

He lowers her lips on to hers and all of sudden everything is warm. It starts at his lips, pure warmth and it moves through his whole body, till it reaches her toes. And it’s not just warmth, but bright light and it’s everywhere.

And then nowhere. But Emma is there and flushed and warm. And alive. And uncursed.

“Killian!” She says, sitting up, her now-blond curls dancing down her back, suddenly no longer weak. “Killian, you did it!”

“Me? Not me? Us, we. We did it,” He says.

Emma hugs him again, pulling him close, kissing him once, twice, three times.

“We did it,” She echoes.

His hands tangle in her hair.

“It’s blond again,” He says, kissing her forehead, her nose, before his lips touch her hair. “Your hair is blond again.”

She flings her arms around him. “We did it. I’m not cold. I’m not shivering.”

There is banging at the door.

“Emma, what was that?” Asks her father.

“Are you alright?” Her mother asks.

“I’m fine,” She cries in the direction of the door. “I’m fine, I’m okay, the curse is gone.”

“Oh darling,” the queen says. “Let me in! I must see you at once.”

Emma kisses Killian again. “Can’t this wait till morning? I’ve had quite a nice true love’s kiss and I’m not keen on sharing.”

“Emma, what are you even talking about? Open up,” The king demands.

“Stay,” She whispers to Killian.

She reluctantly extracts herself from bed, runs to door and opens it. Killian can see Emma’s parents looking in from the corridor, quite baffled.

“Look, okay, I’m fine. Killian broke the curse. Apparently, we are true love,” She says, lingering in the doorway. “I’d quite like to keep kissing him.”

“That sounds very inappropriate,” The queen remarks.

“He just saved my life,” Emma admonishes. “I think you could find a bit more compassion.”

“I suppose we are very happy that you are well,” The king grunts.

“Yes, I’m sorry,” The queen says, coming in to give Emma a hug. “We are simply in shock that you are well again. We really thought you were lost from us forever.”

“And we’d be lying to say we are surprised that Killian is your true love,” The king adds. “We’ve thought this ourselves for a while.”

“Yes, come here, Killian,” The queen insists.

And that’s how Killian finds himself tucked inside a Charming family hug. Killian’s never felt so warm and happy and satisfied.

And loved.

Emma loves him.

True love.

Eventually hot chocolate is ordered and the whole family sits on the floor of Emma’s room to drink it. Liam is summoned and claps Killian on the shoulder, thanking him for his service to the country and gives him a wink.

Emma can’t stop touching Killian, and he doesn’t mind a bit. She’s safe and she’s alive and she’s his.

It’s late when everyone creeps into their bedrooms. Once the castle is silent again, Killian sneaks back out to Emma’s room. She grins at him as he climbs in her bed.

When they wake in the morning, the room is bright, filled with light reflecting off of the snow. It’s already starting to melt now that Emma’s curse is broken, but it’s beautiful none-the-less.

They order breakfast to the room and sit out on the terrace, wrapped in furs.

“You saved me,” Emma says.

“You saved me,” Killian says.

“I guess we are good at that,” Emma says.

“First snows, saving each other,” Killian teases.

“Exactly,” Emma replies, “And I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

It’s two years later when Emma and Killian find themselves sitting on the same terrace taking in the first snow. Killian is on his holiday break from university, having just finished his exams in Art and Art History. After studying for weeks, he’s happy to be back at the palace and with the woman he loves.

Emma is home from her first voyage with the Royal Navy. After much reluctance from her parents and many promises to keep good watch over her from Liam, Emma was made a lieutenant in the Royal Navy. Killian loves to watch her talk about it, her eyes bright as she describes her travels.

But there is nothing better than the two of them being back together. In fact, this was something that Killian realized months ago, when he left for university. He loved that they could have their own adventures and chase their own dreams, but he also longed for Emma by his side. Which was how he decided to purchase a small silver ring.

As he takes out his sketch book to sketch the snowy trees, Emma tugs at his sketchbook, wanting to look at the art he’s made so far at university. He smiles as he watches her flip through some portraits of herself, others of different parts of the university. She lets out a little gasp as she opens the final page where “Marry Me?” is written in beautiful writing.

Killian has the ring in hand as she looks up.

“How would you feel about spending every first snow with me?” He asks. “How would you feel if we kept on saving each other?”

Her lips are on his before he can even ask any more questions.

“Yes, yes!” She exclaims.

And so with the first snow as their witness, Killian and Emma were finally, happily engaged.

[daisychainblogs]

Ben Nunan is a useless fake. Well - that’s the way he sees it, at least.

“I feel like a fraud!” the twenty-year-old admits through a gulp of flat white. When I ask if he’s okay for me to record our conversation, Ben is quick to nod a yes, of course; but I notice that said nod is prone to a little wobble here and there – more of a down-left-up-right than an up-down-up-down - as it contends with the buffets of a simultaneous chortle. It’s just that he’s worried he might not have anything useful to say, the newbie playwright tells me. Judging by the three notebooks and accompanying pens perched on the table in front of him, however, I somehow doubt that this is will be the case.

Unconventional creative he might well be - as a second-year BioMed student, Nunan is of the lesser spotted ArtsyScientist bracket - but ‘fraud’ he most certainly is not. Just a few days before we hook up to shoot the breeze and chain caffeine, Ben’s debut piece, Torchlight, opened its doors to a sold-out Pegg and – three sardined nights later – closed to the glitter of a four star gush from Inter:Mission. A verse-prose mash up, Torchlight follows the sensible, good-head-screwed-onto-those-shoulders Rosaline and her somewhat spunkier little sis Lesley as the pair attempt to charter the years following their mother’s death.  It’s a family drama, sure – but zapped and zippy-fied with a few shots of poetic goodness.

So – let’s start it from the top, I suggest: what did those early Torchlight days look like? Has the script undergone any major plastic surgery sessions since its youth, I wonder?  

Well, those early drafts did have a few extra roles kicking about, as it happens.  

“It was a vague idea about F.S Scott Fitzgerald being a gangster…”, Nunan grins, shifting shoulders up and into a yeah-you-didn’t-expect-that-one-now-DID-you shaped shrug. ‘Yeah – it didn’t have legs… I was going to do it so that one of the other main characters was Fitzgerald’s protagonist…but then I decided gangsters…and I can’t do that kind of dialogue…and it was just a mess!’ Nunan blurts cheerfully, following his attempt to proffer further explanatory detail on Torchlight’s somewhat eye-brow raising origin form; “I think every writer tries to write about a writer first - but I didn’t want to do that”, he clarifies, shaking his head and laughing.

Nunan is not one to take himself all that seriously. Not that there’s anything flippant about his attitude: he is seriously driven, make no mistake. One third of a coffee cup down, and I am informed that the prospect of collaborative writing doesn’t really appeal at this stage in the game: it’s still early days, after all, and “getting the credit” for his work is not something to be sniffed at, reasons the practical, softly smirking writer. He’s aware of making the first-few-times count – can’t remake a first impression and all that. But he’s more than happy to fess up when things feel a bit off. A few moments after describing Torchlight’s first totter into the world as “a mess”, Ben reaches the conclusion that actually, to dub those early days “absolutely terrible” might be more accurate. The final product, on the other hand - now that’s something he was utterly thrilled with. When I congratulate him on scoring such a stellar cast - suggesting that he really lucked out with that, these things can go either way, etcetera etcetera - Nunan jumps to agree. “We really did!” he nods with energetic abandon. I don’t need to hear anything else to know that Torchlight’s was a happy team indeed.

So I know that writing about writers turned out to be a bit of a dud this time around – but I wonder what other story springboard Ben turns to in his time of need? Is it a mood, perhaps? Does he fling himself at a desk and let it all pour forth when he feels - melancholy, joyous, fill this space, x, y, or z? Or is it the characters who get their teeth in first, and the story which comes along second? Neither, really. “For me it was more - reach a philosophical decision or conclusion, and express that as a theme; and then tailor a character to resemble my opinion - or some side of the argument - and then you have an antagonist who does the other side, and then the actions I mould around the question”.

So - the apple doesn’t fall so far from the tree, then? There’s a ‘Ben’s opinion’ shaped pip or two in each of his characters? There’s some hesitation - it’s not quite so straightforward as fruit trees and falling.

“It’s almost inevitable that – even if you decided to write history – you would find the themes that you resonated with, and then you pick the events and portray them in a different light based on that”, he nods – slow, contemplative: taking a breather before judging it safe to continue.  “If you think and think, eventually you’ll find something that you’ll relate to. So if you were going to do a history play, you would keep going until the bits that stood out to YOU become the plot – and because you have an emotional connection, it will transfer that into an emotional story”.

Ben doesn’t deny that he’s been caught off guard by the Page Turned Mirror Phenomenon before. His next piece will tell the story of a magician – so far, so distant from reality. But things soon start to feel a little more familiar. “I was really connecting with the idea of this magician feeling dissatisfied after his show goes well – and then I was like – oh wait…my show [Torchlight] went well … and I’m dissatisfied!”. I’m quickly assured that this sense of dissatisfaction has absolutely nothing to do his lovely Torchlight team (*que gush of affection round two*); its just the post show blues, he says. The twitchiness of that inevitable lull, and those ‘now what?’ whispers.

Now that we’re on the subject of works in progress – are there any other titbits Ben might care to give me about future plans? Titbits there most certainly are – Nunan is clearly beyond psyched at the prospect of getting properly into Take Two. It will be set in 1830’s Paris – “I want it to be big!” – and its central character will be magically inclined. I nudge a bit more. Maybe there’s something Ben might want to give a bit more oomph to with this second play? A theme, or a technique?  Or maybe there’s a trademark Nunan stamp he’s hoping to ink up and carry on over from Torchlight? Not really. It’s not that he’s about to throw all things familiar to the wind; there are, granted, one or two features which will likely be sticking around for the foreseeable. “I mean, lots of stories have similar themes, right? Like kindness and forgiving and understanding”. And Ben wants to make sure that his characters remain firmly rooted on the neither-wholly-good-nor-completely-bad side of things: “Regardless of what I do, I want to have characters that are sympathetic and I want to do different viewpoints […]even if you don’t forgive them, you understand them…”. Good forward slash bad is off the table, then.

“I like softening moments where people take a step back and forgive someone or change their mind’,  Ben tells me when I ask what human quality he really looks to get up on a stage; any character who tends ‘to be a bit reflective - think twice about things”- gets top marks in Nunan’s book.

Oh, and his Coming Soon romp through the French capital will still devote a decent chunk of its attention to the kicking about of a juicy philosophical quandary – “the next one is going to be more about existentialism – determinism” - ; but other than that, Nunan is expecting this next work “to be the opposite” of Torchlight’s general tone and manner.

To kick off with, Ben is a bit more interested in the audience experience of things this time around.

“Everything this magician does on stage is like a show, right? So, he doesn’t really get the point of doing it … or he’s a bit sick of it?”, an excitable Nunan chatters, explaining that he wants “the audience to tell that these performances are fake – and then by the end, our magician will do a show that is … less easy to see behind?”. He hopes this might be “a good way to get the audience to experience the same thing as the character, in terms of … how far are we willing to believe in nice things to enjoy ourselves?”

So, he cares about the individual owners of his bums-on-seats, then? This isn’t all just good fun for him, and damn the rest? Absolutely not, Nunan says.

“I want to write with the audience in mind – I think there’s a lot of merit to that. It makes sense for me to think about how much they’re tuning in and tuning out of it – I want them to reach conclusions at the same time as the characters do”.

And might this be what those punchy verse sections of Torchlight were all about? Letting the audience in on a character secret – giving them a VIP pass into the characters-inner-thoughts pen? Kind of.

“Verse is a good way of showing openness to the audience…it definitely has something to do with getting inside a characters head, because I mean :you don’t see that unless they’re talking to the audience – you can only infer”. With verse, the character can be a bit more “truthful with the audience”. But then – it’s a bit more than that, even; it’s about his audience, too, Nunan thinks.  

“A character is feeling poetic…because we do that right?” Does he mean we all have those moments when we’re staring out the bus window, and there’s rain dragging its way on down, and we have a sad song blaring and we just feel so deliciously pained? “Sure! So its kind if realistic in that way …”. It’s a lovely observation – that we all feel like the poet at times: that these verse sections perhaps aren’t so unnatural as they initially seem.

And when the house light glow back up? What are the things he wants his audience members to take away with them? Well, certainly not the ooey-gooey-happy-endings thing. Ben favours a more “bitter sweet” taste: “especially at the end; when you feel like you’ve gone through the good and the bad; I like that feeling – and I want to give the audience that”.

Listening to Ben tiptoe his way through each answer – a little hesitant to commit, thinking it all out and bagging those marks for working – it’s easy to get the impression Nunan is forever musing; one of those cursed/blessed individuals for whom locating the brain-off-switch perhaps poses a bit of a challenge. He tells me that he likes to ‘carry notebooks around’ in case of any impromptu, inconveniently timed lightbulb moments, and has a habit of sending himself texts from bed if inspiration hits in the small hours. He’s even partial to a bit of thinking ABOUT thinking: “I like the idea of thinking and the loneliness, in that - your thoughts are never going to be heard by anyone else”.

For a fraud without anything useful to say - Ben Nunan sure has some useful things to say.

[deadcactuswalking]

REVIEWING THE CHARTS: 22nd December 2019

It’s the special Christmas episode – or at least the climax of many – of REVIEWING THE CHARTS, where we discuss the UK Top 40 every week without fail, with a complete disregard for my deteriorating mental state. Let’s start with the top 10 and finish what is essentially season two of this show.

Top 10

I’m sure everyone knows the Christmas #1 by now. I’ll talk more about it later, I actually have a lot to say, it’s British YouTuber LadBaby’s “I Love Sausage Rolls”, debuting at #1 much like he did last year. I’ll elaborate in more detail once we reach the new arrivals section.

Steady at the runner-up spot is “Own It” by Stormzy featuring Burna Boy and Ed Sheeran, sadly pipped at the post even with the release of his sophomore album, Heavy is the Head.

At number-three, actually up one space this week, is “Before You Go” by Lewis Capaldi.

It replaces “Don’t Start Now” by Dua Lipa, down one spot to number-four.

We have our first true Christmas song in the top five this year next, as “Last Christmas” by WHAM! is up two spaces to number-five. It isn’t the first time it’s reached the top five, or even its highest placement, but I think they’ll settle for top five this year.

At number-six, we have another debut, the second of three in the top 10, and first of two for Stormzy: “Audacity”, a pre-release single from Heavy is the Head, or “Audacitiy”, as the BBC’s page, in its typical fashion, misspells horribly. It features Headie One, becoming Headie’s highest-peaking song ever, tied with “18HUNNA” featuring Dave, and fifth UK Top 40, as well as second top 10 entry. It’s Stormzy’s 20th UK Top 40 hit and also his ninth entry into the top ten.

At number-seven, we have “ROXANNE” by Arizona Zervas, down two spaces to number-seven.

Also down two spaces, surprisingly, is “All I Want for Christmas is You” by Mariah Carey, despite the release of a new music video. In reality, all of the top 10 has probably gained in performance, and Carey here was a victim of LadBaby and Stormzy.

We have Stormzy’s third and final debut here, “Lessons”, at number-nine, this time solo, which is his 21st UK Top 40 hit and his tenth entry into the top ten.

Finally, at #10, we have a nine-spot crash for “Dance Monkey” by Tones and I, hurt by streaming cuts that dumb UK chart rules implement, but also would have possibly cost LadBaby the Christmas #1, and at least his song is vaguely Christmassy, unlike “Dance Monkey”, which would have otherwise spent a consecutive twelfth week at #1 hadn’t it jumped down to #10.

Climbers

We have one non-Christmas climber this week, and it’s “Falling” by Trevor Daniel up nine spaces to #26.

Fallers

We don’t actually have many of these, either, though, but we do have a handful at the tail-end of the chart: “Heartless” by the Weeknd is definitely in freefall, down 13 spaces to #35, whilst “Don’t Rush” by Young T & Bugsey with Headie One curiously goes down seven spaces to #37 after going up seven spaces last week, “Someone You Loved” by Lewis Capaldi crashes down 11 positions to #38, and “Netflix & Chill” by Fredo collapses down 12 spots to #40.

Dropouts & Returning Entries

As always with these Christmas weeks, we have quite a few drop-outs, yet very little returning entries. Streaming cuts have dragged out “Memories” by Maroon 5 out from #10 (Thank God), and brought out two other garbage top 20 hits with it: “South of the Border” by Ed Sheeran featuring Camila Cabello and Cardi B from #13, and “Lose Control” by MEDUZA, Goodboys and Becky Hill from #18. Sadly, a pretty fantastic top 20 hit, Lizzo’s “Good as Hell” featuring Ariana Grande, is out too from #20. Also out from middling positions last week, #37 and #38 respectively, are “Down Like That” by KSI featuring Lil Baby, Rick Ross and S-X, and “Into the Unknown” by Idina Menzel and AURORA, from the Frozen II soundtrack. Oh, yeah, and “Professor X” by Dave is out from #40.

In terms of returning entries, we only have one revolving around pretty depressing circumstances. The early death of 21-year-old emo-rapper Juice WRLD, one that we have seen a lot on this show, has propelled his song “Lucid Dreams” back to #27. For what it’s worth, the song has grown on me a lot since its release, and I’ve said my peace on the matter on Twitter. Rest in peace, Jared Higgins.

There is one returning entry and one drop-out that I’ve missed, but we’ll talk about them later.

IT’S CHIRSTMAS INNIT

First of all, the non-movers, climbers and fallers: If “River” by Ellie Goulding counts, it’s down three spots to #11, but otherwise... “Fairytale of New York” by the Pogues featuring Kirsty MacColl is at #14, “Merry Christmas Everyone” by Shakin’ Stevens is at #16, “Do They Know it’s Christmas?” by Band Aid is up two to #17, “Step into Christmas” by Elton John is up six to #19, “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” by Michael Bublé is down one spot to #24, “One More Sleep” by Leona Lewis is up four to #25, “Santa Tell Me” by Ariana Grande is up three to #28, “I Wish it Could be Christmas Everyday” by Wizzard is up five to #29, “Merry Xmas Everybody” by Slade is up five to #31, “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” by Brenda Lee is at #32 and “Underneath the Tree” by Kelly Clarkson is up six to #33.

We have one Christmassy returning entry, and that is the festive albeit creepy “Santa’s Coming for Us” by Sia back at #36. Combined with the Christmassy new arrival and the songs within the top 10, that means we have within 15 to 17 holiday songs on the “Christmas chart” (More on that later). So, basically, we’re 50% Christmas here on the UK Top 40... arguably, disputably, whatever. Here are the Album Bomb(s)?

ALBUM BOMB(S)?: Heavy is the Head by Stormzy and Fine Line by Harry Styles

This is a pretty awkward album bomb as I’ve already covered most things about Stormzy in the Top 10 section and it’s really disputable if Harry Styles had an album bomb but he had one debut and one re-entry as well as a faller, all from the same album, so I’m counting that as an album bomb. Rod Stewart, however, the damned fool, didn’t get an album bomb however he got the Christmas #1 on the albums chart, trumping both UK rapper and songwriter Stormzy at #2, and former One Direction member and current rockstar Harry Styles at #3.

I haven’t heard Heavy is the Head but I’m excited to check it out. I’m weary of its length, but some of the features seem intriguing. Its impact on this chart is weakened by both UK chart rules only allowing for three songs and the fact that, well, it’s Christmas, technically. That would also explain why Harry Styles’ “Lights Up” dropped out from #33 this week, as it was the single that performed the least, whilst “Watermelon Sugar” is back at #18 and “Adore You” has dropped off one spot from its debut, landing at #12 on this chart. Before we even get to exciting new music from Stormzy, let’s cover some weaksauce garbage from Harry Styles.

#39 – “Falling” – Harry Styles

Produced by Kid Harpoon and Tyler Johnson – Peaked at #62 in the US

Aw, do I have to? Well, I’ve already said how much I disliked Styles’ sophomore record and why, back on last episode (And the last paragraph) actually, so I don’t need to bring it up again. “Falling” is Styles’ fifth UK Top 40 hit, and the third best-performing song from the album; three is all allowed from one album on the UK Top 40. Styles had an actual album bomb on the Hot 100, and this one charted decently high there too. Also, fun fact: since Trevor Daniel is still here, this marks the first time in forever that two identically-named songs with entirely different lyrics and content (I.e., aren’t covers) have charted simultaneously. Somehow, and I dread to think, the Trevor Daniel song may be better. The pianos here are reverb-heavy and saturated so much to the point where I geta feeling of drab, moist dread, which is represented in the production overall, especially when Harry Styles belts and his vocals clip pretty heavily in the mix here. The lyrics are specific and do resonate to some extent, especially the self-referential and dare I say meta second verse, and I can’t exactly say Styles’ delivery is unconvincing, despite it reminding me too much of Lewis Capaldi than it probably should – you’re a much better singer than him or this, Harry. If the production wasn’t so shoddy and it wasn’t four plodding minutes, perhaps this gross, distorted excerpt of a power ballad wouldn’t be so excruciating, but alas, here we are. Good effort, I suppose.

#9 – “Lessons” – Stormzy

Produced by Ed Thomas

I have no idea what to expect. It’s the penultimate track on the album and it’s produced by some guy I don’t know. I haven’t been this clueless about a song before hearing it on this show in months, but it’s actually pretty high here because of how it touches upon Stormzy’s personal life, specifically his relationship with television presenter Maya Jama... and I really want to like this. The song is honest and soulful, with Stormzy admitting his faults in the relationship multiple times, and I enjoy the theme of childhood that he toys around with in the verses, but it’s really vague to exactly how he “disrespected” her, and I’m not asking for a vent that details his entire relationship with Jama but it feels somewhat insincere if the closest you get to a specific memory is either having candles lit up, which is overwhelmingly common, and pacing around the kitchen after a fight, “like this s**t is foul”. Some of these rhymes are also pretty painful. Rhyming “Maya” with “Maya”, and then, “fire” with “desire”? Come on, man, you’re better than that, and there is a lack of internal rhymes or even a comprehensive flow to the whole thing. I do like the vintage R&B beat with some very 90s keys sprinkled through the fake finger-snaps, and the blocky percussion is pretty smooth, albeit too stiff to make the chorus work at all, as it’s just really odd, aimless, multi-tracked rambling, with really half-hearted singing vocals from Stormzy. I don’t know, I really want to like this, but the content is overly vague, the production is dull and uninteresting, and the performance is just the same, as he sounds like he hasn’t slept in days. Maybe that’s the point? Probably, but it doesn’t make this song any more endearing. Sorry, I really wanted to like this, so a half-decent single here sounds like the biggest disappointment, but it’s just passable at best, really.

#6 – “Audacity” – Stormzy featuring Headie One

Produced by Fraser T. Smith

This is the banger of the record, with an up-and-coming UK drill rapper, that would burst onto the chart with a wham... whilst also being right next to WHAM!, but that’s a coincidence. T. Smith is on the boards, Stormzy and Headie One are on the mic, and they sound hungry. Any time Stormzy starts off a track with that trailing “It’s like...” ad-lib, I know it’s going to be ferocious, and this is what this track is. Over looming 808 bass and crawling synths, Stormzy is losing his breath, rasping through his bars because of his insistency to do an angered one-take, like a madman, and it sounds angry and really violent. I’m genuinely kind of scared, it kind of works like Bobby Schmurda’s “Hot Boy” because its purpose is to paint such a vivid picture of gang violence that it gives you goosebumps. Stormzy is talking about inexperienced rappers dissing him... and in the first verse, he goes into detail about why he wants to kill this man, in an oddly calm demeanour before he starts losing it once he starts talking about how he’s going to “skeng-fry his dome”, even accepting the gunsmoke (Both literally and figuratively) that this person tries to use to intimidate Stormzy as just weed smoke, which sounds a lot more savage than I made it sound. Headie One is more melodic on this mix of nasty grime synths and UK drill bass beats, but his more casual delivery really makes the pretty funny bars somewhat intoxicating, especially when he says, “Knowledge is power, ask Gandhi”, which is just hilariously nonsensical... but it’s still not great. It runs way too long at four minutes, and feels pretty repetitive and like a drone by the end, especially due to lack of a true climax. Also the beat just fades out and leaves Stormzy’s isolated vocal, which is abruptly cut off by the end too, so that just sounds awkward. I wish I liked this more, but it sounds more like a weak “Wiley Flow” than the anthemic “Vossi Bop” or the pounding “Sounds of the Skeng”. I still like it, though, it’s just a fair bit duller than Stormzy’s usual offerings in this trap banger lane. Speaking of that, I listened to “Big Michael” out of curiosity and that was freaking amazing, so why didn’t that chart instead of these comparatively mediocre offerings?

One week, it’s “Blinded by Your Grace” / Next week, it’s bang you in your face!

NEW ARRIVALS

#34 –“Happy Christmas (War is Over)” – John Legend

I have no production or chart data for this one, because, guess what? It’s another Christmassy cover song released by an aging and increasingly irrelevant pop star exclusively on platforms that provide more sales and hence boost its false chart placement. I’m glad this is only a holiday thing because it’d drive me up the wall if this was done often. Legend released his Christmas album in 2018, called A Legendary Christmas, and it included many covers, including the infamous “woke” “Baby it’s Cold Outside” rendition with Kelly Clarkson on the 2019 deluxe edition. Of course, this song’s not on said deluxe edition for whatever reason... he really couldn’t just cover a nice old Christmas song, he had to do the controversial songs, huh? The whole album is really disposable garbage filled with novelty and commercialised merriment. I used to really like this guy but he is far beyond receiving my best wishes at this point in his career. Uh, the original song is a hot mess as well. Let’s just get to the meat and potatoes, no pun intended.

#1 – “I Love Sausage Rolls” – LadBaby

Produced by LadBaby

No, not DaBaby. LadBaby. Okay, so, first of all, this potentially isn’t the true “Christmas #1”, as after all, this chart was released before Christmas Day and doesn’t count sales that were made on December 25th, although the press seems to have accepted this as the Christmas #1, and have highly publicised it as such, so I’m allowing it, even though I guess you could dispute that. Second of all, LadBaby is a YouTuber who makes comedy videos or vlogs or something? I don’t know, I don’t pay attention. The video for this that they showed on Top of the Pops (Yes, this was aired on Top of the Pops) had his family in, all wearing sausage roll outfits, so maybe he’s a family vlogger? Speaking of those outfits, the same family is featured on the cover, which is a parody of the famous Abbey Road album cover by the Beatles. Not only is that not a Christmas album but it equally doesn’t work because this is a parody of a Joan Jett song, “I Love Rock and Roll”. Finally, LadBaby got to the top before with “We Built This City” in 2018, a parody of the Starship song with the exact same punchline as this one. Bottom line, this is just a novelty song with a dumb punchline and pretty terrible production, because as with all YouTube songs, it sounds cheap and very royalty-free. These guys can’t sing, especially not LadBaby himself, but it really doesn’t matter because we’re not supposed to actually listen to this. We’re supposed to listen once and have a chuckle, and move on, but sadly, this isn’t even funny enough for me to snigger. I’m not a fan, and if Tones and I’s song hadn’t crashed as hard as it did thanks to dumb UK chart rules, LadBaby would be even less liable to stick the landing next year, and I really hope he doesn’t.

Conclusion

On principle, I feel like giving a tied Worst of the Week to John Legend for his annoying exclusivity and really garbage album that “Happy Christmas (War is Over)” is connected to, alongside LadBaby, for hitting the #1 spot with a cheap novelty song in “I Love Sausage Rolls”, which is a joke he’s done before, instead of Stormzy or, you know, an actual Christmas song. In reality, I haven’t heard the John Legend song and I don’t even want to, and the LadBaby song isn’t really worth getting angry about. The Best of the Week is just as hard to pick due to the sheer lack of quality on display here, but I’ll give it to Stormzy and Headie One for “Audacity”, I guess.

I hope you guys enjoyed this second season of REVIEWING THE CHARTS – I know it was a rocky one, but we got there in the end. I can’t really say happy holidays because I’m a day or two late from Christmas but I’ll definitely say thank you for reading this past year. Follow me on Twitter @cactusinthebank for more musical ramblings and I’ll see you next week – but that’ll be next season, and possibly next year.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

[headfirstintothefallout-blog]

Episode One

Enter; Headfirst, into the Fallout!

[An introductory episode setting the story for our sole survivor.]

    There’s something to be said about the symphony of unbridled rage and fear that sprouts from within the soul as your stomach doubles over and knots itself, blood filling your ears with a cacophony of hissing static, throat clenching like a vice as your vision starts to become spotted. An onslaught of memories clamoring to be at the forefront of your mind as if they had missed their cue when the symphony started and were now trying to steal the limelight of the stage as you try in desperation to piece together each specific part of the events that had already unfolded, recording everything in detail to tell if you were blind to it all or if you could never have known, to begin with. Everything else seems to slow down to an insufferable pace, nearly taunting as the world snaps into sharper focus. Questions brandishing torches and burning down the curtains of the theater and setting your mind ablaze with shrieks of anguish and terror, demanding recompense by way of answers but fearing what they may hear as a result. Nails biting into the flesh of your palm, the body’s way of bringing the mind out of itself, the digging pain nearly a comfort; sending a rigid chill throughout your bloodstream and with it, an electricity that threatens to strike down any who stand before you. Copper on the tongue, a bitter taste that drags acknowledgment out of its preoccupied state, the rage has set into a growing crescendo through clenched teeth.      I wish I could say I wasn’t familiar with this song, but truth be told, it was one I had sung many times in my life before. Even now, as my fists slammed against the glass of the cryo-chamber I had been encased in; staring towards the slumped over figure in the pod across from mine, I found the song tearing through me. A scream erupted from my throat but cracked half way through from lack of use, hot tears threatened to fall freely from my eyes but the anger welling inside pushed them back with reminders that there may be hope yet. The lid clicked and I scrambled against it, trying to speed up the process. Panic had me fumbling and as the lid lifted, I fell through and collapsed on the ground in a heap. The pain hardly registered with me, my body was too cold and my heart was beating wildly against my ribcage, urging me forward. My breaths came through in ragged intervals as my eyes flicked up towards Nate’s pod.    Gods....please let him be okay.    A violent cough sputtered its way out of my mouth and I hissed, clenching my eyes shut as I half crawled toward the pod. My shaking hands clambering for a button, a switch, something! There had to be something, some way to open up the damn pod...I bit my lip and slowly rose to my feet, slamming a fist against the controls. I gripped the edge of it, tears threatening once again as I dared to steal a glance at Nate. He hadn’t moved. Hope was dwindling like the dying remnants of a fire.        Fire...memories flashed in my mind of a campfire, the smell of burning wood wafting upwards and with it, floating embers that illuminated the air within the trailing smoke. Nate’s wide grin and bright eyes as he laughed, the sound sparking a warmth in my chest that had nothing to do with the fire. “Oh come on, that can’t be your biggest fear. You, Miss headstrong soldier girl who isn’t even afraid to look death in the eye, are afraid of a gurgling, giggling, drooling, baby?”     My cheeks flushed red and I cast my vision elsewhere, my hand resting on my swelling belly as a wry smirk tugged at the corner of my lips ever so slightly. “I’m not afraid of the kid, or even the idea of having a kid....it’s more like...I’m afraid I can’t be a good mother. You know? I’m afraid that I won’t be able to love him like I should or care for him like a mom should or....protect him.”    Nate’s hand found my chin and lightly guided my face to meet his attention, his thumb rubbing my cheek gently as he stared at me with a soft smile. “You’re going to be a great mother. I know you are. You are going to love him because he is the embodiment of us, our love.” He shrugged playfully and dropped his hand, tilting his head up with a cocky grin. “I mean, you’ll probably freak out the first time he gets sick or falls over or something and we should probably get one of those Mr. Handy’s just so that you aren’t smothering the poor kid...but,”     He paused and drew his full attention back to me, his smile faded and his eyes genuine. “He will be resilient because he has your blood too. And for those times when you freak out or worry that you’re doing something wrong, you’ll have me there. I can protect you from yourself, just like I always have and you’ll protect us from everything else....but no matter what, we will do it together, because we are a team. We are a family. Always.”     A guttural sound escaped from inside me and I pounded my fist against the glass, hoping that maybe Nate would wake up and tell me that we were going to find who did this, that we were going to get Shaun back...together...that we were going to be a family again.     He didn’t move.    Tears started to fall but my mind refused to think about the what-ifs. I looked back at the controls, my eyes spotting a lever. I nearly tripped over myself as I pulled it, the sound of the Cryopod mechanics clicking their release drew out a breath I wasn’t aware I had been holding.      “Come on....C'mon, c’mon, c’mon....don’t you be dead, damn it.” My words were barely even a whisper as the lid slowly rose.      I rushed forward, a hand immediately going to Nate’s cheek as my vision blurred with more tears that I rapidly blinked away. “Nate? Nate, c’mon....don’t do this to me....don’t leave me here alone...Nate? Open your eyes, come on, open your eyes, I’m right here....I’m right here...please? Nate!” My voice shuddered and I shook him but he was limp with no signs of life. “No....no, no, no, no!”     I was screaming, I didn’t care who heard me, I didn’t care if that man came back, in fact...I wished he would, I wished he would so that I could kill him myself for taking the only things I had left in the world. My hand slipped from Nate’s face and clenched on to the stiff fabric of the vault suit he wore. I couldn’t stop the grotesque shrieks that emanated from me as I sobbed into his neck, hoping beyond hope that he would rest a hand on the back of my head and smooth my hair comfortingly.     But I knew better, I had seen people die before, I was in the war...I knew from the start that he was likely dead...but I didn’t want to believe it. I wanted so desperately to hear him laugh and call me silly because I was crying.    But he wouldn’t, he wasn’t going to, he was never going to do that again...I knew that. And sobbing into his lifeless shell wasn’t going to change that.     My hands loosened and I sluggishly stepped away from his body, tears still falling as I caught my breath. A gold glint caught my eye and drew my attention to his hand.    His wedding ring...    My throat clenched and nausea threatened to make a sudden appearance, my hand reached out to his without me realizing it and I slipped the ring from off his finger with some effort. I stared at it in the palm of my hand, remembering our wedding, the day I gave birth to Shaun, every date we went on before all that, the plans we made for Halloween, every breakdown I had that he consoled me through from PTSD and nightmares, the day that we came to the vault...the moment just as it was descending after passing all out neighbors who were shrieking and begging to be let into the vault....and then, the moment when the bomb fell. The wave that washed over us... Comforting Shaun before getting into the pod, smiling nervously at Nate, hoping that we’d somehow be able to make it through all this together...    I clenched my hand into a fist around it held it close to my heart as I looked up at his lifeless corpse, “I'll find who did this. And I'll get Shaun back. I promise."     Getting out of the vault proved to be a bit more of a task than getting into it, passing pods of long-dead neighbors and fighting off huge mutant cockroaches with a security baton and later, a 10mm pistol. There were moments where I was certain that I was going to start losing it, seeing skeletal remains of the workers and reading the logs on the terminals to try and gain some bearing...nothing quite made sense to me but it was clear that a lot of time had passed since we had first come here...that thought alone made me sick from unanswered questions and worry. Evidentally, we were never meant to live in the vault. We were meant to be part of some sick experiment. The reasoning was unclear but the thought alone made that song of anger start to hum in the back of my mind. I could find no trace of the man who killed Nate and took my son, I had no leads as I kept searching within the vault, somehow calm despite all that had happened.    Having nowhere else to turn, I made my way out of the vault, securing a pip-boy off a lone skeleton near the entrance that I had come through, what felt like maybe a few minutes or even hours earlier. It seemed to come in handy as I used to open the entrance, given the unknown state of the world, I figured I should keep the pip-boy permanently, in order to at least record anything I found and keep track of things while I hunt down whoever did this. I found myself rubbing Nate’s ring in my pocket as the vault platform slowly rose and I braced myself for whatever waited on the surface above. My anger present but dwindling into a controlled fire inside me.    It seemed like an eternity before I could finally see the surface again, the light was blinding and took me a few moments to adjust. Whatever I had been expecting, it could never have prepared me for what I saw. You never really think of the prospect of what the world will look like after a nuclear explosion. The trees, what were left of them, were charred or broken, their colorful leaves long since gone. The ground little more than a desert in comparison to what it used to be... and...Sanctuary. Houses lay in ruins or half collapsed into themselves, some proved to be still standing but as I looked out at it, a sick feeling twisted itself into my stomach.      I couldn’t go back there, not yet...I couldn’t go back to my home and face all the reminders that I had somehow failed to keep my family safe. The odds of Shaun just being at the house were astronomical given that I saw him be carted off by some woman and that man...they had come into the vault on purpose sure, but if they were smart enough to kill Nate in order to take Shaun, surely they were smart enough to leave the area entirely. No, I needed answers...and I wasn’t sure where to look, but I wasn’t quite ready to go back there just yet. U didn’t need to put myself through more of that pain. I had to keep it together, keep going, I had to...do...something! Anything! Anything other than pour over my failures and lament in my sorrow, thereby getting nothing accomplished aside from the world’s most pathetic pity party. There was an odd static coming in from the pip-boy that now adorned my wrist. A signal.    

   For a moment, I half debated even trying to tune into the frequency, but curiosity got the better of me...I would need to know the state of the world I was left in and maybe, just maybe, if I looked around, helped some people, I’d get some answers....at the very least, it was better then sitting in the shell of a home that promised little more than more heartbreak. I would return to Sanctuary someday, but that day was not today. 

                                         To Be Continued [A note: the upcoming stories of our Sole Survivor; Kaeshara Crowe, will deviate from the main storyline for a series of episodes. It should be noted that I am basing this off of one of my playthroughs with one of my oc’s...In which I have the mods ‘Tales from the Commonwealth’ and ‘Wild Wastelands’ along with a few others but those two will alter the storyline for Miss Crowe quite a bit. Companions will also be featured in the episodes to come and as this one was more of an introductory, expect much more in-depth episodes that dive into emotions, thoughts, actions, etc. in the future]