#the release date (hopefully) draws nearer.....

[jovenshires]

lol I know I signed off as the shaynse anon but another person referring to me as that is so funny

I will always sign off as that now just so u know that it's the anon with rare ship ideas complimenting ur fic

(Speaking of fic, I read rwylm and the spommy spiderman au and I'm obsessed with ur writing style!! Excited for domo too after learning abt it!)

LMAOOOO i can only Imagine how disconcerting it must be to see another anon refer to you as your anon tag that's so fucking funny. anyway you've built a brand now! sorry you're famous <3

(AWWW tysm!!! means the world and i too am excited yet scared for domo)

[rocorambles]

I'm am an utter Seijoh w h o r e thank you for asking 😌

I've always loved the idea of the Seijoh Third years au during the purge, going out into it as a unit to track down their darling (either manager or just someone they collectively have their eyes on) and bringing her back to their place for the worst best night of her life. Mattsun's horse cock, cockwarming in her throat while Makki and Iwaizumi make use of the rest of her. (I am wildly into double vaginal penetration)

And oikawa is manning the camera so they can remember this night for years to come. He can be patient, they waited all year right? He could wait an hour or two more. They have all night with her after all

YULI THE WAY THIS ASK HAD ME SCREAMING!!!! I needed to let it marinate in my inbox so I could do it justice and hopefully this lives up to your expectations~

Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Rape/Non-Con, Non-Con Video Recording, Degradation, Humiliation

Graduation is quickly approaching and it should be a time of excitement, celebration, maybe a tinge of sadness as the third-years prepare to move on with their lives and go on a new adventure. But all Iwaizumi, Oikawa, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki feel is frustration. They had all jokingly taken bets on which of them you’d end up dating, although there’s nothing funny about how much each one of them cares for you and wishes more than anything else that it’s them that holds a special place in your heart. But they had been so sure that you must love one of them, no one else even in contention in their minds. So imagine their surprise when you reject all of them. 

You’d rather be alone than with any of them? 

That’s not an option and quite insulting as far as Oikawa is concerned and they panic, heatedly whispering and seething to each other as graduation draws nearer and nearer, as the end of their time with you threateningly approaches. 

But they have one saving grace and they impatiently wait, nonstop planning and scheming as they work out your special night, hopefully the first of many as the yearly purge also draws near, thankfully just before graduation. Really, they couldn’t have asked for better timing and it’s almost like even God is on their side. 

The purge isn’t something you’ve ever worried about much, not something that a normal person like you has much to fear and you plan on quietly spending it safely locked away at home as usual, knowing no one has it in for you, that there’s no reason for anyone to be actively trying to hunt you down. So terror lances through you when there’s pounding on your front door, when the locked doorknob rattles and shakes as someone attempts to twist it open, when the wood of your door creaks and shudders under the force of the person trying to break in. 

But suddenly there’s strangely familiar shouting and the noises stop and you stare with hopeful teary eyes, practically sprinting to fling open the door when you place the voice in your mind that’s softly urging you to open up and throwing yourself into the arms of the handsome captain. 

Maybe in hindsight you’ll wonder why you didn’t question what Oikawa and Iwaizumi were doing at your front door, but in the moment, shaken by what had just transpired, you obediently lace your fingers with Oikawa’s and let him tug you to his house, closely trailed by Iwaizumi who scans your surroundings, before letting Hanamaki and Matsukawa pull you into a group hug when the three of you safely return to Oikawa’s residence where the five of you will ride out the rest of the purge together. 

It should be comforting knowing that you’ll be with four of the strongest men you know and you do feel safe, at first, but you feel uneasy the longer the four of them unabashedly stare at you, hungrily looking at you as if you’re a piece of meat, tensing at the question Oikawa asks. 

“Why aren’t we good enough for you?” 

To be honest, you had thought it was a joke when one by one, all four men had asked you out privately and it wasn’t until afterwards when you saw the genuine hurt on their faces when you turned them down that you realized all of them had been serious. It’s flattering. It really is. They’re handsome and athletic and you know most of the female population at Aoba Johsai would kill to be with any of them, let alone have all four interested in them. But you aren’t most of the female population and dating just wasn’t in your current plans. 

You flinch at the harsh scoff Matsukawa directs at you. 

“You’re not like most women? So this doesn’t make you feel anything?”

You screech as he abruptly slips a hand down the front of his pants and pulls out his cock in broad view for everyone to look, your hands trying to cover your face, but Iwaizumi’s hands grab your wrists from behind and Hanamaki’s hand on your face forces you to really take in the view in front of you. 

And what a view it is. 

You had heard rumors about just how massive Matsukawa is and you can now attest to the fact they aren’t just rumors and despite the blaring alarms in your head, you can’t look away, mouth going dry at the sight, which doesn’t go unnoticed by the tall blocker who mockingly laughs at you. 

“I thought you weren’t like most women? If you want it that much, I’ll give it to you.” 

You don’t have time to register what’s happening until you’re being shoved down to your knees by Hanamaki, face forcefully being squished against the cock, nose having no choice but to inhale Matsukawa’s musky scent, upper body splayed across Matsukawa’s lap while your ass is raised high in the air behind you. Your hands desperately try to scramble for purchase, trying to lift yourself up and away from your humiliating position, but they’re pulled back behind you once again by Iwaizumi and tears begin to prick at the corners of your eyes as Matsukawa mockingly rubs and smears his shaft all over you, beads of pre-cum being rubbed all over your face.

“Now open up and don’t bite, otherwise you really won’t like what we do to you.” 

And you believe him, already terrified of what they have in store for you, hopelessness and helplessness flooding through you and keeping you docile when you register just how little you can do against all four of them, when sinking realization that even if you did miraculously escape them, there’d be no hope for you out alone during the purge. 

What choice do you have? 

So you listen, hoping that if you play along with their sick and twisted game, they’ll let you off the hook more easily, that you can just toughen up and get through this one night and flee far far far away from these monsters once the morning arrives. And you open your mouth, nausea roiling through you as Matsukawa’s tip slides past your pursed lips, his girth achingly stretching your mouth, his length bringing a new wave of tears to your eyes as your throat is completely violated, breathing becoming shallow as you desperately inhale as much as you can through your nose as your head is continuously shoved down, throat and eyes fluttering at how agonizing the feeling is when he finally bottoms out inside of you. 

Matsukawa laughs at the way your body wildly flails for oxygen, groaning at the way your mouth vibrates with your screams and your throat convulses when he cruelly pinches your nose shut with his fingers and it becomes an awful game of push and pull as he alternates between releasing and pinching, enjoying how much control he has over your body and your life. 

But you have more to worry about than just the man in front of you and you’re rudely reminded of that as a body slips underneath you from behind, hands holding your thighs in place as bodies move behind you. And you incoherently scream, unintelligible babble and gargles from around Matsukawa’s cock indicating just how stressed and panicked you feel as two objects grind and rub against your pussy. 

They’re not going to fit. They’re not going to fit. They’re not going to-

Your eyes go impossibly wide, body going rigid in shock and despair, mind trying to cope with the excruciating pain as two cocks insistently press against your tight opening, slowly, but surely bullying their way in, and a high-pitched keening scream pierces the room as your walls are brutally stretched wide, body feeling broken just from the two well-endowed men bottoming out inside of you. 

But your mind completely shatters when they begin to move, Iwaizumi painfully pulling your arms almost of their socket as he pistons in and out of you at a feral pace, Hanamaki forcing you to bounce up and down on his cock, jeeringly slapping your ass as your globes jiggle in front of him. And you don’t even know who or what you are anymore as your pussy and mouth are ravaged, used as little more than two convenient holes, pain and humiliation blinding you, and something far more terrifying beginning to bubble just below the surface as Hanamaki’s hand slides between your legs to play with your clit. 

You don’t like this. There’s no way you like this. You can’t feel good. 

But Hanamaki is insistent on making sure growing pleasure entangles you in its grasp, smirking at the way your pussy undeniably begins to clench, the way your hips begin to move on their own, the way arousal begins to drench both their cocks, the way beautiful wanton moans begin to fill the air. 

They love you after all. What fun would it be if they didn’t make sure you felt good too? And sure, maybe it’ll hurt a bit in the beginning, but you were made for this, made for them, and your body will get used to it, adjust for them. 

Oikawa watches in fascination, hand palming his own raging erection as he observes everything from the video camera filming, unknown to you. And it takes every bit of self-control not to join the fray, not to make use of that tight puckered hole of yours that’s so lonely and unused. But his time will come. The time will come when you’ll know what it feels like for every single hole to be stuffed full. The time will come when he’ll know every inch and crevice of all your holes personally. 

But for now he can sit back and watch as his peers break you in, as he secures the footage that will tie you to them forever. Because even when the purge ends, this video will still exist and he’ll have no qualms about sending it to any university you hope to run away to after graduation if you don’t forget about your far fetched thoughts and stay by their side where you belong. 

Did you really think they didn’t know about your silly selfish plans to stray as far from Miyagi as possible, as far from them as possible? 

It’s almost enough to make him completely lose his temper, the thought of you escaping them. But he reminds himself that it didn’t happen, that it won’t happen. And with that comforting piece of knowledge, he carefully adjusts the camera, zooming in on your tear and drool stained face and the way your pussy gapes wide as the two cocks relentlessly drill in and out of you. 

[quixol]

Update plans: 1.15 and beyond

QuixolMC has been sitting on the stale old version of 1.14.4 for quite some time now. Despite how minor of an update 1.15 is, we just never got around to it! It’s a shame, really- we generally try to stay on top of the latest minecraft updates. Alas, we’ve been on hiatus these past few months, and gotten very little work done towards updating the server. We’re hoping to change that soon, though- much sooner than you might expect!

Because we’ve taken such a long time to update, the mojang team has been working away at the brand-new 1.16 Nether Update. In fact, it’s available RIGHT NOW! Yep, it just released earlier today. The 1.16 update is a major overhaul to the game, particularly in regards to the nether dimension. You can see an overview of some of the new features on this page: (x). With this in mind, we’d like to share our preliminary plans for both updates with you all!

Before jumping in: all dates discussed in this post are not final. We’re taking things a bit slower since we’re just coming back from hiatus, and want to make sure we don’t just contribute to more burnout for our staff. If one of these “deadlines” is putting too much strain on us, we’ll scale things back until we’re more prepared.

---

Minecraft ver. 1.15.2

It is currently our plan to update the server to 1.15.2 ASAP. We’ve already begun some preliminary tests to make sure our plugins are functioning on the latest mc version, and things look promising- no surprise, it’s a relatively minor update.

You can hopefully expect to see QuixolMC updated to minecraft Java Edition 1.15.2 by Friday, July 3rd!

The server will go down for maintenance on Tuesday, June 30th. During this time, we’ll be updating the server, plugins, etc. and making sure everything is prepared for you all to join again by Friday. There shouldn’t be too much new stuff, but we may have a few surprises lined up!

We previously announced that we would expand the world border for the 1.15 update, however, we have since re-evaluated this decision and decided to hold this off until later.

Our update to Minecraft 1.15.2 will primarily be a stability update, focused on improving server performance and stability. The most you can expect from us updating is having our current plugins/datapacks supporting the new features added in 1.15, as well as, potentially, some changes to ranks on the server- more on this later. Beyond that, there will be no major features introduced with this update, aside from mojang’s introduction of bees.

Minecraft ver. 1.16+

Mojang has been hard at work on a new update to minecraft, dubbed the Nether Update. It just released today, and it’s unclear when any of the plugins we currently use will even be ready to use on this version, let alone if the version is stable enough for use on QuixolMC. On top of that, we simply aren’t prepared for such a large server update at the current time.

Given the large scale changes to the nether in this update, we currently plan to completely reset the entire Nether dimension for the world “ghalea” when we update to this version.

This will mean that anything that is currently built in the nether on our primary world will be completely gone from the server after this update. This may be surprising and upsetting to those who have made structures and mob farms inside the nether, and we understand how this may negatively affect some players’ experiences. If you’re one of these players, keep reading, as we have a “backup plan” for those of you who have structures you don’t want to lose after the update.

In the coming weeks, we will be contacting as many people as we can about the upcoming nether reset, with information about how & why we are resetting the nether world. We intend to extend the offer to anyone who has built major structures in the nether the opportunity to save a back-up of your build so that you will not lose it. We can work out the details of these back-ups individually with each player we contact, so as to help you transition smoothly through this reset. You’re also free to come to us yourself with questions about this, as there are likely some significant nether builds we don’t know of.

Due to the nature of the Nether Update, most of the backups taken will be completely mismatched with the surrounding terrain in the nether, and many mob farms will be completely busted. It will be up to you to “fix” the area surrounding your build so that it blends in with the new terrain, should you choose to do so.

In addition to resetting the nether, we also plan to expand Ghalea’s world border to 32,000 x 32,000 blocks with this update. The current world border is 24,000 x 24,000 blocks. This will translate to the border expanding 4000 blocks in each direction, to a “radius” of 16k blocks. If those numbers confused you, take a look at this image hastily made in mspaint:

If you’re still confused, just know that the world will be bigger, and it will have newly generated stuff beyond where our current world border is located- this will include the new villages from 1.14, bee nests from 1.15, and some minor tweaks to structure generation as well as ruined nether portals from 1.16.

These are all incredibly preliminary plans, and are subject to change. We will provide you with more up-to-date information as the time draws nearer for this update.

With all of that in mind, we will give an extremely vague and unclear “deadline” for this update: We will hopefully be able to update the server to minecraft version 1.16 before October this year. Again, these plans are very rough, and very subject to change- it could come sooner, or it could come later. We don’t know yet.

---

There will likely be more content bundled into each minecraft update we do, particularly the later planned 1.16 update. We will make sure to provide more details as they come, but for now this should be a rough overview of what to expect of QuixolMC in the coming months.

If you have any questions, particularly about the nether reset, or anything else- feel free to ask us! Thanks for reading, cya soon! - Quixol Staff

[gaycey-sketchit]

(Gary anon) And we're usually get a breather episode during these arcs anyway; though this is the first time it's been something completely unrelated to the League. (If Scarlet/Violet is following Sword/Shield's pattern, we should be getting news somewhere in August) Hopefully it is a secret episode, these are breaks driving fans crazy. xD Two in the same month at that.

(Part 2) (Some criticism I understand to a certain extent, but quite a bit of it is wrapped in impatience. Like, Alain and Ash barely interacting so far. {And the after-story making the reaction to it worse} Key words: "So far". We have a whole tournament arc, maybe wait to see if happens later?) The Thunder trio was probably the most surprising so far, and the train is just starting. We're gonna have a huge list by the time the PWC ends.

(Part 3) (Besides the fact he stayed to support Ash in Johto, he's the one rival that has kept tabs on Ash's biggest wins. Him [so far] not shown helping or supporting Ash towards this huge goal is more than just a head-scratcher. But as I said, Journeys isn't over yet) It would be pretty funny if he was there incognito; but I really buy that happening if he somehow manages to crash it. xD

Yeah.

Oh, that's pretty soon! That release date is drawing nearer, just about four months.

Yeah, hopefully!

Oh, absolutely. And there also is just a lot of nitpicking, and the Twitter crowd has this tendency to call any battle outcome they don't like "plot armor" for some reason despite that being a term with a specific meaning (a lot like how people misuse the term "filler").

Yeah, for sure, I don't think anyone expected to see them again. I wonder who else they'll surprise us with.

Yeah. Holding out hope we'll see him there!

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “Wait for the Moonrise” (1/10) (au)

Summary:  Emma doesn’t remember who she was before she was found in the woods, but she knows that she has a few close friends, a good job, and a loyal cat that greets her every day when she gets home from work. What she doesn’t know, however, is that her past is about to catch up to her in the strangest of ways. She learns quickly that not everything is as it seems, not even her cat.   Rating: E Content warnings: smutty smut (sorry, not this chapter), brief mentions of the loss of a hand Chapter specific content warnings: None A/N: Oh man, where do I start? With thanks, of course. To @clockadile​ for the absolutely beautiful artwork that I can’t believe goes with my story. To @captainstudmuffin​ for the intense beta work and idea bounces and listening at every turn. To @phiralovesloki for the guidance and the love and more hand-holding than I should’ve ever subjected you to, but still you helped. (Edit: I AM THE WORST and forgot to thank @sambethe for her wonderful feedback, which also helped me shape scenes to be better than they were!) Without you all, this story would not be here. I’ve got nothing else. Enjoy! Catch it on Ao3 or FFN! And catch @clockadile‘s artwork HERE!

The first day that Emma Swan remembers, she is barefoot, in nothing but a cotton nightgown that looks straight out of another world, and she is freezing. Her hair is icing over, the wet tendrils hardening in the frigid weather, and she’s vaguely aware that she should be worried about her toes, her fingers, any of the exposed flesh that keeps getting colder by the minute. Instead, she focuses on putting one foot in front of the other, trying to push away the pain that shoots through each foot as she breaks twigs and finds sharp stones with her nearly-numb soles.

She stumbles over a root, crying out as she falls to the mud, her hands sinking into the nearly-frozen earth as a sob wracks through her body. Icy water seeps into the cotton under her knees, and it is tempting, so very tempting, to fall the rest of the way, to curl up in the fallen leaves she spies to her left below a sprawling tree, and let the elements take her away from the pain and confusion she’s drowning in.

Emma Swan does not, in fact, know that she is Emma Swan. She knows that she is a woman, she is lost in a forest, she is in danger of frostbite, and she is losing hope fast as the daylight sinks closer and closer towards the horizon.

There are voices getting nearer, calling something out, and she’s incredibly worried for a moment that they’re speaking another language. Her ears are ringing, stopping her from grasping anything besides the sensations she’s focused on. Her limbs ache, her head throbs, and a drop of blood lands in the dirt under her; the rest of her mind is utterly blank. It’s just weariness and exhaustion blocking the path between her ears and her brain someone is close enough for her to see when she finally looks up.

“Miss, are you okay? Are you hurt?” He’s dressed in thick attire, his hands wrapped in warm gloves as he reaches for her. Emma’s shaking hand reaches out for him and she keens as her skin meets fabric. It almost burns, this contact between her frigid fingers and this man’s protective clothing. A green peridot ring on her middle finger glints in the low light that filters through the leaves, but her attention is quickly pulled away from this discovery when the second person speaks to her.

“Is someone chasing you?” Another man kneels next to her, muttering to himself, “Where the hell did she come from?” as he looks around the woods that surround them.

“P-please,” Emma stutters out. “Please, help me.” Her eyes meet those of the man kneeling next to her, his expression one of worry for this strange woman he’s just found out in the middle of nowhere.

“Come on,” the other man says. “We have to get her to the hospital.”

It takes nearly no effort at all for them to haul her up, and as soon as her body is aware that something like ‘safety’ is on its way, she loses consciousness.

The next time Emma Swan is aware of her surroundings, the light of the room she’s in is dim but harsh. There’s a steady noise to her right that starts speeding up the moment her eyes open to unfamiliar sights, and she blanches at the antiseptic smell in the air. Her extremities all seem to be intact, but her body hurts when she tries to move, which causes the noise to speed up again.

It all starts piling up, more and more, as there’s a needle stuck into her arm and tubes stuck in her nose and foliage in her hair and small sticky pads stuck to her chest that she tries to tug at, causing a shrill noise to sound from the machine that was almost soothing before. Emma shrieks without realizing that she’s making the noise, and the curtain to her left suddenly swishes away to reveal a gruff looking man with a sour expression, grousing at her to keep it down because some people are trying to sleep.

“Help,” Emma manages to say, her hands shaking too much to get a firm grasp on the wires connected to her body and tears starting to flow from her eyes again. The man’s brows draw together as he watches her helpless movements, watches the panic rising to her eyes, and he fruitlessly reaches a calming hand out to her.

“Calm down, lady. The nurses will be here in a second. But you gotta breathe, okay?”

She understands nurse, she understands the nature of infirmaries, and it helps calm some of the panic that seems to be clawing at her insides, but everything else is so foreign that the abated anxiety doesn’t last long.

“Why don’t you tell me your name and where you’re from until they get here, okay?”

It’s that which finally breaks the dam, and Emma’s absent tears turn to full-fledged sobbing as she admits in halting tones that she has no idea. None at all. As far as she knows, she is absolutely no one.

-x-

She’s sedated through the rest of the night, and when she wakes in the morning, she’s groggy and sluggish. Her eyes labor to remain open at any point that someone comes to check on her, and nearly her entire second day of memory is spent sleeping except for when she’s fed and someone comes to hum at the papers attached to the board at the foot of her bed.

When she awakens the next day, her head is clearer. She remembers immediately that she’s in the hospital, that the monitors she’s attached to are keeping track of her heartbeat, and the IV in her arm is keeping her hydrated. She’s told repeatedly that she’s lucky she didn’t get frostbite, and no matter how many times someone inquires as to how she found herself out in the woods, she has no answer for them. She is still, as far as she knows, no one at all. The name on her wristband currently says “Jane Doe,” although she knows now that’s just what they call someone they have no identification for.

It’s somewhere during the course of this day that Emma ventures to use her legs on her own. Any time before when she used the washroom, she was accompanied by someone holding her steady, but her need to use the facilities outweighs the amount of time it would take to call a nurse to her room during this busy time of day. Despite how unused her legs feel, she slowly shuffles from the bed to the bathroom in the corner of the room, smiling in triumph when she’s safely ensconced beneath her sheets again.

There, on the table beside her bed, is a small pot of flowers that wasn’t there before. Emma turns to the other bed, but remembers that the man that was staying in the room with her was released earlier that morning, so she has no one to ask where they might have come from, or from whom. With a small shrug of her shoulders, Emma leans over and snatches the card that sticks out above the flowers.

Get well soon, dearie.

There’s no name to indicate who may have sent them, but the envelope that the small slip of paper was enclosed in has the first real clue she’s found in days: her name is Emma Swan.

As soon as she whispers the name out loud, she gasps, her head filling with the knowledge that her name is, in fact, Emma and that she’s twenty-five years old. Her birthday is in October, a matter of days prior to the current one, and while the information she remembers stops there, she’s relieved to know that she is someone. She has a name and an age and a date of birth, and that’s more than she had moments before.

Another day passes, and when Emma wakes up, there’s a small plastic bag with an assortment of items inside it. She looks at it curiously, until a nurse appears at her bedside, happily clicking her tongue at whatever she finds there and smiling down at Emma.

“Good afternoon, Miss Swan. Your vitals are all steady, and it looks like you’re going to be released today. Unfortunately, we weren’t able to get any of your belongings from your place, so we have some scrubs for you to change into when you leave, and I’ve given you a pair of my old sneakers so your poor feet aren’t out in that snow! We don’t usually see this weather until a little closer to winter, so you’re really lucky you didn’t freeze to death out there.” The nurse putters around her bed, checking various machines and instruments for their readings and writing the numbers down on her charts. She hums quietly and tells her to sit tight for a little longer as she exits the room.

The nurse is gone for less than ten minutes before she returns again, greeting Emma cheerfully once more. “This bag was left at the nurse’s station at some point this morning. It looks like some of the items from your wallet, and your keys! Still no wallet found, but hopefully that’s something you left at home.”

Emma nods, not really sure how else to react. She has a home here, a place where there are things that might spark more of a memory than what she’s gained in the last day (which isn’t far beyond what she discovered after opening her card). She reaches out for the bag when the woman hands it over, though, and treats each item as a treasure.

There is an identification card, her face smiling in the picture with all of her personal details. There’s her birthday and her address, but it also mentions her weight and hair color and eye color, which doesn’t produce any new knowledge so she moves along to the next objects. There’s another plastic card, this one with her name and a series of numbers printed on it. She’s informed that it’s a credit card, that if that’s how she chooses to pay for her stay that she’s welcome to do so. The nurse starts talking about health insurance, which she is clueless about, so she waves the woman away to let her explore in peace.

Not much else comes forth from the contents of the bag, however. Other than the ID and credit card, there’s a smattering of cash. The bills and coins all look like they were found out in the woods where she was found, as they’re dirty and wrinkled, some of the coins caked in mud. She grimaces, dusting off her fingers the best she can on a corner of the sheet and reaching for the keys. These, too, are a little dirty, but Emma takes the time to wipe them off. There are two keys on the ring, neither with any kind of identification, and she figures she’ll just use trial and error when it comes time to use them.

The next nurse who passes by, she asks for a piece of paper and a writing utensil. She still has a few hours until they’re going to release her, so she takes her time writing down everything she knows about herself, copying the name and address found on the ID in hopes of committing them to memory.

At some point, she’s given a change of clothes, and she helps herself to the tiny shower in the room’s bathroom. Emma is positive it’s the best thing she’s ever felt in her life when the hot water sluices down her body, washing away the remnants of dirt that they didn’t get off her from when she was admitted. She works gingerly to wash her hair, avoiding the wound on her forehead that’s to blame for her loss in memory.

After a thorough examination and another round of questions she can’t answer, she’s told she can go home.

When she’s officially released, Emma’s tattered nightgown is unceremoniously shoved into a plastic shopping bag. She places her belongings in there as well, holding the flower arrangement in the crook of her elbow as she signs her name with an unfamiliar flourish. She’s handed a payment booklet, instructions for what to do if she notices any further symptoms that the cold did any damage, and a list of emergency phone numbers to call if she needs help. She’s scheduled for a follow-up appointment, as well, to discuss her recovery with the doctor.

“Do you have any friends you can call to stay with you for a while?” a nurse asks. It’s not her fault. She’s not been there the last couple days that Emma has been staying, so she blushes furiously when Emma answers that she doesn’t even know if she has any friends.

A taxi drops her right off at the door to her apartment building, and Emma apologizes profusely as she hands over the grubby money from her bag to pay for it. Thankfully, it’s just enough, with a couple extra cents thrown in for a tip. Emma stammers another apology as she clambers from the back of the vehicle, and the man behind the wheel gives her one long-suffering sigh before he drives off once the door is shut.

With a sigh of her own, Emma turns around to look up at the building she apparently lives in. It’s five stories, by her count, and the number on her ID starts with a three, so she walks in and heads toward the elevator, pushing the button with a corresponding number and hoping against all other hopes that she’s correct in her assumptions.

The door marked ‘311’ is just as much a mystery to her as everything else, but she pulls out the second key. She sends up one more prayer as she tries to turn it, expelling her breath in a half-laugh as the key turns and she twists the knob. She makes sure to latch it again when she’s inside, and she leans back against the door before trying to figure out what comes next.

What comes next, it turns out, is a strange adjustment period, where Emma must figure out how to keep herself alive before she can figure out anything else about her life. Food is easy enough. There’s a smattering of groceries in the cupboards. The refrigerator is entirely barren, but she’s thankful for that. There’s no telling how long she was gone and the last thing she wanted to come home to was spoiled food.

Thoughts like those are surprising, whenever they appear. She has no idea how she knows what she does, but it’s almost a comfort that some form of muscle memory is at play and that she has instinct to rely on. She spends hours reacquainting herself with various items and their uses in her apartment. She’s not brave enough to try cooking food, so she decides to venture out.

She dresses in clothes from her own closet and dressers, finding a bare minimum selection of undergarments to choose from before sliding on a pair of jeans and a cream sweater. She slips on a pair of boots and goes to find a coat and gloves, still not wanting to expose herself much to the weather outside.

When Emma reaches for the keys and credit card she left on the table by the front door, she finds a purse sitting there as well. She swears it wasn’t there before, but it has a wallet inside, empty slots for her ID and credit card, plenty of cash, and a medical insurance card. She looks around, trying to figure out where the purse came from, but there’s no logical explanation. The bag she brought back with her is still on the kitchen counter where she left it. The flowers are displayed in the middle of the kitchen table, and suddenly she has a purse.

With how disoriented she was when she got in, maybe she just missed it. But she swears she went over every inch and every item. She shakes her head again, clearing it of the confusion trying to build up as she grabs the cards and puts them back in. The strap gets hefted onto her shoulder in a gesture so familiar she’d think she was doing it her whole life, and at least she figures she’ll have something new to explore as she eats by herself.

Out in the hall, she almost slams into another person coming or going to their own dwelling, and she’s met with an eyeroll as she focuses on the other woman.

“I see you’ve still not learned to watch where you’re going, Miss Swan.”

“Sorry,” she mutters, moving to edge past this stranger and down the hall to the elevator.

“That’s it? No witty comeback? Emma, are you okay?” The other woman raises an eyebrow as she gets a look at Emma’s forehead, the bruising around the gash now dark purples, stark against the still pallid color of her skin.

“I uh, I don’t know? I don’t know anything, though. Do you – well, obviously, you know me. But do I know you? Are we friends?”

The woman stares at her as if she’s suddenly grown a second head, her brows furrowing down as her mouth drops open.

“Um, sorry again, I’ll just go.”

“Emma, wait. It’s Regina,” the other woman says, raising an eyebrow in question. “My name is Regina. You really don’t remember me?”

Instead of verbally confirming this fact again, Emma just shakes her head.

“We’ve lived next to each other for as long as I can remember. And while I wouldn’t call us besties, by any stretch of the imagination, I like to think of us as acquaintances who would call each other if we got injured or something.” Even behind the irritation in Regina’s voice, there’s some level of camaraderie under the surface.

Emma has no idea what ‘besties’ are, but they must not be very enjoyable by the way Regina’s mouth twists around the word. She has no idea what to say in response again, so she just makes an ‘o’ shape in what she hopes is a non-committal move.

“Why don’t I treat for lunch and you can tell me what happened,” Regina suggests, changing her course to walk by Emma’s side instead of heading for her own apartment.

-x-

“And that’s it,” Emma says as she finishes her, admittedly, extraordinary sounding tale. Regina purses her lips in thought, taking in all the information that’s been handed to her and responding in exactly the way Emma has learned Regina responds to things in the very short span of time she’s been with her.

“Well, that was stupid of them to let you go from the hospital with little more information than your name and shoe size. Do you need me to talk to Graham about time off?”

“Graham?”

“Right. Amnesia.” She taps her fingers on the laminate a couple times. “You’ll probably need some time off.”

“I don’t even know what I do for a living,” Emma mutters, letting out an exasperated sigh and picking at the food on her plate. She’s told it’s her favorite, if the proprietress is to be trusted. The grilled cheese sandwich is nothing but crumbs, but she’s taking her time with the onion rings on the plate. Beside her elbow is a steaming mug of hot chocolate, a perfect swirl of whipped cream sitting on top and a light dusting of cinnamon covering it.

She watches the whipped cream melt into the warm beverage as Regina chatters on about texting Graham and ‘paid time off.’ She nods whenever it feels appropriate, and answers the questions that are asked of her, but otherwise Emma remains silent for the rest of the meal. She dips a finger into the last remaining peak of cream and brings it to her mouth, but almost bites her own finger off when Regina yanks her hand towards her.

“I don’t remember seeing this before,” she says, a sly smile on her lips as she eyeballs the ring that Emma has yet to take off.

“It was my mother’s,” Emma says quickly, knowing nothing about lying but the words at least sound plausible coming out of her mouth. Emma withdraws her hand immediately, dropping it to her lap and turning a little pink. She shrugs, her head tilting to the side before she looks down at the glinting jewel. A sense of warmth spreads through her, a smile just beginning to form on her lips, even if she doesn’t know why. All she knows is that she’s calmer than she’s been in hours. “So about getting time off from work?” Emma says soon after, wanting to draw attention away from things she can’t explain.

There’s a big to-do when Regina mentions something about Graham texting her, and she looks like a lost soul again, but the other woman quickly brushes it off, saying that they’ll just have to get her a new phone when they leave the diner.

The next half hour is spent picking out a phone and programming the key numbers into it. Regina tells her as she’s cautiously typing that the number for the police department is also her number for work. If Emma had an idea of what ‘too much money’ was, she would guess it’s how much she pays for the small device in her hands, her eyes popping wide at the amount. Again, it all must be knowledge from her past that leads the reactions because the piece of plastic in her hand is arbitrary, as far as she’s concerned, and so she hands it over and signs when told.

They walk back to the apartment complex, thankfully right down the street, and on the way they pass the clock tower above the library, and it chimes loudly.

“So strange,” Regina comments as they keep walking, with Emma doing her best to keep up with the other woman’s brisk pace. “That thing hasn’t worked in ages, but it started working a couple days ago out of the blue. No one knows why, or what was wrong with it.”

“Yeah, strange,” Emma comments back, even though she has no idea what’s up or down in this world.

Emma goes to bed that night straddling the line between aware and confused. She knows more than she did when she woke up, but she’s left with so many more questions. Regina assured her before she closed her door that Emma could call her or Graham if she needed anything, but how is Emma even supposed to know what she needs?

A noise of exasperation leaves her as she runs her fingers through her hair. Tomorrow is another day, and she’s hoping she has more answers than questions at the end of it.

-x-

A week after she’s released from the hospital, Emma returns to have her follow-up appointment with one Dr. Victor Whale. From what she can tell, and her instincts seem to be pretty accurate, the guy is a creep, but a harmless one at that.

First comes her physical health, which mostly consists of him poking and prodding at the healing cut on her forehead. The bruises are all fading, she’s eating and sleeping so her complexion looks better, and thanks to her scare in the woods, Emma has taken to carefully layering and paying fanatical attention to the weather channel.

Her mental health is a whole different story.

“Have you remembered anything new?” Dr. Whale asks as he checks the rest of her vitals.

Emma tries hard to not blink as he shines a light in her eyes. “Not much. I stopped by the police department to meet with Graham about some time off after I was released, and things like what I do for a living came back to me.”

“How about anything to do with how you ended up in the woods the morning of October 25?”

“No, but there are some days I dream that I’m wandering the woods again, and I wake up feeling like everything is tilted on its side. Does that sound weird?”

“Not really, no. Especially after what must have been a doozy of a birthday party if you’ve lost all your memories in the aftermath,” Whale says. He’s joking, his grin stretching wide across his lips, and Emma tries to fake one back at him even though she’s still stuck with that churning feeling in her gut that says something isn’t quite right. Not with Whale – at least, not directly with him – but with this whole situation. “Well, Emma. You’re in top shape, physically. I’m going to recommend you start seeing Dr. Hopper to see if you can’t unlock those memories. Whatever you went through, your mind has decided to lock them up tight. I’ll see you back here in six months for your check-up.”

-x-

It takes time for Emma to feel comfortable in her own skin. The bi-monthly trips to Dr. Hopper help on some level. Mostly, he’s good at uncovering her memories from childhood. They spent the entire first session going over her current mood and mindset, and even though the good psychiatrist knows that she can’t remember anything prior to the hospital, he’s still taking the time to poke around what he claims is her past.

“So, your file tells me that you were in and out of the foster system as a child,” Dr. Hopper starts during their second session. “What can you remember about that?”

“I don’t really…” Suddenly, her brain feels as if it was submerged in ice water, and a shiver works all the way down her spine. She blinks a couple times, partly to gain her wits and to also clear the tears that have gathered in the corners of her eyes. “I remember… Feeling lonely, a lot.”

“You’re remembering something?” The excitement in his tone is subtle, but Emma can still pick up on it. “Don’t push yourself, but tell me anything you can.”

“Um, okay,” Emma says, her voice shaky. She takes advantage of the glass of water that Dr. Hopper poured for her at the start of their session, and when she speaks again, her voice is stronger. “I remember some older kids taunting me about being an orphan. I can’t see their faces or remember how old I was, but they told me that I was found on the side of the road out by the woods.”

“This is progress, Emma. Good job. Take it slow and tell me as much as you can remember.”

Icy chill after chill races down her spine that day as Emma digs through her memories, with the help of Dr. Hopper’s limited notes on her past, and she remembers more of her early life than she thought she ever could. There’s the sparse bedroom with the hand-me-down toys and second-hand clothes. There’s the slow gait she would use when wandering the halls of the school, wondering if the number of steps she takes are greater or lesser than the amount of days until she’s shuffled to another foster home.

There’s the feeling of packing up her meager belongings time and time again, the expressions of pity on the faces of adults as she’s put into the backseat of a car and taken back to the group home. Again, and again, and again.

“How about we save the rest for our next appointment?”

With relief, Emma nods, gathering her stuff and making an appointment for two weeks to the day.

She’s continually asked if she remembers how she got in the woods, and with each appointment that the memories don’t return, Emma’s tone gets sharper and sharper. They stop asking after she goes in for her six month checkup with Dr. Whale, and he makes the mistake of inquiring if she recalls that moment.

“That day in the woods then, anything new that you remember?”

“Listen, can we assume unless I specifically mention it that I currently don’t remember that day in the woods? Is that something we can agree on for the time being? If I remember anything, I’ll tell you.”

Across the room, Dr. Whale taps the folder containing his notes on Emma against the counter and pastes on a grin. “Noted. Looks like you’re all good to go. Call us if you notice anything and continue your sessions with Dr. Hopper as long as you feel you need them.”

Looking just slightly put off, he exits the room, and Emma heaves a sigh of relief. It’s been six months, but she’s finally starting to feel like a normal, functioning member of society here in Storybrooke. These appointments are the only things still dragging her through the wringer of the past, because work has been going well, she’s figuring out a system in her home life, and she got behind the wheel of the car that Regina claims is hers. To say that the first time trying to drive was rough would be an understatement, and she’s sure Regina has other words for how that little adventure went that would include “hazard” and “whiplash,” she’s sure.

But just as the wind is likely to shift without notice, so does Emma’s life, although she doesn’t realize it at the time and still won’t for a while.

It all starts when she falls into bed hours after she meant to, reaching sleep just as the streetlights outside are considering winking off and the sun is cresting over the horizon. She’s working herself to the brink of exhaustion, but at least it’s less time to brood about her missing past. Emma is asleep before her head even hits the pillow.

It starts with a dream.

She’s standing in a field surrounded by flowers. The dress she wears flows around her legs, the bodice fitted over her torso and bell sleeves hanging elegantly over her wrists. It could be white, or ivory, or a perfect iridescence to match the clouds. She can’t really tell, as she’s too focused on the flowers spreading in every direction. They’re all different – wildflowers of every shade and variety – all in various stages of blooming and barely shifting in the almost nonexistent breeze.

Sucking in a deep breath, Emma flicks her wrist on the exhale and all the delicate buds sway gently, shimmering colors as they wave back and forth like hundreds of metronomes. Carefully, she weaves between the blossoms, lifting the color from one and replacing it with another at whim, until the flowers surrounding her path are nothing but multicolor swirls.

In the distance, she hears someone call her name, equal amounts of fascination and exasperation in the smooth, male voice that comes across the field clear as day. In the midst of the flowers, he stands, but she can only make out bright blue eyes that sparkle with mirth. She feels happy, the warmth of the sun soaking through her dress and glittering along her skin. Feeling free, she easily snaps her fingers and returns all the flowers back to normal as she heads towards the figure in the distance. Affection leaks through the way he says her name, noticeable as she steps into the circle of his arms and feels his pulse against her cheek where it rests against his neck. He is as warm as his voice, the sun, and the feeling spreading through her stomach. Yet, all she can make out are those eyes.

When Emma wakes up, she remembers nothing of the dream, but her fingertips are tingling with pins and needles. It’s afternoon, but outside the warm cocoon of her blankets, there’s a chill to the room.

She wakes with the same feeling gnawing away at her stomach: the feeling that something isn’t quite right. It’s the same feeling she explained six months ago when Dr. Whale was asking her if she remembered how she ended up in the woods outside of Storybrooke.

No, of course she didn’t. She didn’t even remember her name at that point. How could she be expected to remember how she ended up in a place that she’d be hard pressed to point out on a map if given the opportunity?

Now, she knows more about herself, but that feeling remains.

A gurgle from her stomach alerts her that it’s past time to roll out of bed and eat, and Emma’s scrambling for clothes to head down to Granny’s Diner for her usual and favorite lunch. All her other thoughts can wait until she has time to dissect them, for the time being.

Chapter 2

[jeichanhaka]

And Carried Me Away: Ch. 16

Author Note: Sorry about not updating lately, I’ll try to get back to writing more frequently to this fanfic.

Previous Chapter                                                        Next Chapter

Chapter 16:

"All right. Hopefully that will help find this Bryce Samuels." Cam muttered as she returned to the investigation area of the station, Tara not far behind. The two of them had just finished up a press release after a database search into the suspect, whose name Hotch got from James, yielded no results. "I can't believe Garcia couldn't find anything on him."

"Well, he was one of the children in Somerfield's institute. It's possible Somerfield used aliases for his 'patients' in any records he kept." Tara replied, shutting the door behind them. "Hotch did get a description from James, but it was from over twenty years ago when the two were thirteen."

Cam grumbled, her heterochromatic eyes livid. "I can't believe this. We have all of his files, but can't find out what we need."

Tara grimaced and nodded, her arms crossed. The moment Hotch had given the team a name to look into as a possible unsub, Garcia had did an extensive search into Bryce, including the files they'd taken from Somerfield. It didn't take long for the tech analyst to discover that on top of giving each subject of his an alias, Somerfield had also obscured or falsified their personal information. Ages and dates were all changed.

The only thing he kept were records of the experiments he did, which horrifyingly were done to many of those at his institute. Not just James. And most were experiments repeated on multiple victims. Multiple times.

"If..." Cam started to say, only to be interrupted by Tara's phone ringing. The latter quickly answered it after a glance at the display.

"Yes, Morgan? What..." Tara paused, eyes narrowing in thought as she listened. "Yes. All right. We'll meet you there."

"What is it?" Cam asked after the older woman hung up.

"Jersey police just found a body of an unidentified woman, enucleated and stabbed in the spine. She was killed and dumped recently."

"Is it Melissa Joyce?"

"If it is then the unsub could be escalating. He kept Olivia Sutters for weeks. He barely had Melissa a day." Tara replied, the two of them already heading out to meet up with the rest of the team.

"Yes. We're fine. Jemma and Alsie are picking out some ice cream." Spencer glanced towards his sister and niece, his cell phone pressed to his ear. He pulled a face, a tentative frown tugging his lips. "I know...we got a late start. There was...but things are fine now. What about the case? Has the unsub been found?"

-"Not yet." Rossi cocked an eyebrow at the shift he heard in the younger agent's voice, and the false start Spencer made. "Are you sure everything's all right? Did something happen? Did Alsie...?"-

Spencer grimaced, instinctively wanting to keep quiet about what had happened. It took a glance at Jemma and the concern in Rossi's voice as he repeated his question for Spencer to re-realize that the other man deserved to know. Jemma was Rossi's granddaughter and Alsie had almost become his daughter-in-law.

-"Reid..."-

"Sorry. Alsie shifted to an alter earlier and...well, it delayed us getting to the park. Jemma had a tantrum because of it." Spencer gave a demure smile as he kept his gaze on his niece. The full, wide-eyed, grin the toddler gave when Alsie handed her a small, soft serve vanilla ice cream cone covered in sprinkles made him smile more.

"Jem, not like..." Alsie chuckled as Jemma started eating the ice cream with her hands, scooping it up with her fingers and putting it in her mouth. Alsie shook her head quietly and picked up her sundae, before leading Jemma back towards the bench Spencer was standing beside.

Spencer shook his head as Alsie started to ask him if he was sure he didn't want one. "I don't do too good with dairy products."

"Ah. All right." Alsie mumbled, turning her attention to her sundae after helping Jemma onto the bench. The toddler continued devouring her ice cream, her fingers and chin becoming an increasingly sticky mess. Alsie smiled at her daughter and then started eating her sundae, scooping it with the spoon it came with.

-"It sounds like everyone's having fun." Rossi grinned as he spoke, the genuine laughter he heard from the other end alleviating his concerns.-

"Yeah." Spencer chortled, watching as Alsie broke from her resolve to let Jemma eat as she pleased and gave the girl her spoon.

"Here. Use this. Not your hands. Please." Alsie sighed and glanced toward the ice cream vender, wondering if she should get another spoon. As well as some napkins.

"Sorry, Rossi." Spencer apologized, his lips twitching as Jemma gave back the spoon to Alsie. "I got distracted."

-"No problem. Just take some photos of my adorable granddaughter so I can add them to the album I started." He paused, thinking about something. "We need to get you a phone with a newer camera."-

Spencer blinked and shook his head. "What's wrong with the phone I have now? I like it. It works just fine, it calls, texts, and takes pictures. I don't need a new one."

-"...kid." Rossi sighed. "The picture quality of your phone is just...not the greatest. Besides you can't really record video on it either. Jemma deserves the best quality of photo and video."-

Spencer made a face, twisting his lips. It wasn't that he disagreed with Rossi's comment about Jemma, but rather the idea of upgrading his phone. Most if not all of the phones with better cameras were smart phones with touch screens. He hated touch screens.

-"...it's all right, kid. I was joking." Rossi replied with a chuckle after realizing what Spencer's silence meant. "Alsie has a smart phone so you or her can use that." He paused a moment, listening to Spencer grumble about newer technology and how addictive it can be for people. He waited until the younger man was done grumbling. "All right. I get it. Anyway there's another reason I called, aside from checking up on Jemma."-

"...What is it?" Spencer asked, glancing at Alsie and Jemma briefly before turning away to focus on the call.

-"...Hotch found out something that the team needs to hear. He didn't elaborate, but said it was important." Rossi took in a breath, rubbing his chin as he recalled Hotch's call. The younger man had seemed perturbed by something he'd learned, and Rossi was sure it had to do with James. Hotch had just gotten done with an interview with James after all. He couldn't help wondering what it was Hotch had learned, what James may have told him.-

"Rossi, I..." Spencer started, but quickly stopped, his eyes widening after returning to his sister and niece. The wheezing coming from the latter terrifying him. He quickly flew to the bench, his eyes widening at hives marring his niece's skin. "Jemma!"

Alsie trembled, panicking. Her frightened and wide eyes searching Spencer's face before locking once more on her daughter. She was unable to speak, and simply panicked, her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

Spencer, recognizing the symptoms of severe allergic reaction, quickly hung up on Rossi. The very next moment calling for an ambulance.

New Jersey:

The sky overhead a deepening crimson as sunset inched nearer, police cars surrounded the area leading to the dumpsite. It was a wooded area, with biking and hiking trails leading along and from the road that curved through the area. The trees were many and a lush of green, part of a lovely, non-urban landscape.

It was not a place used to homicide, nor the disposal of corpses. That was evidenced by the reporters and onlookers trying to see what the commotion was about. To see why so many police were around in an area that was considered safe.

Cold eyes peered at the flashing lights, their owner standing quietly among the gaggle of onlookers. Dressed in worn jeans and a slate-gray hoodie, he studied the officers coming and going while blending in with the crowd.

"What's happened?" One of the onlookers asked another, trying to see some hint of what was beyond the police barricade.

"Don't know. Heard someone say there was a dead body. A woman."

"What? Seriously? Do you think she was killed?" The first asked, turning to her friend. Her eyes widened and lit with morbid interest. "Do you think it could be another of the copycat murders? Like it mentioned on the News?"

"Weren't the other ones found closer to Newark? Why would one be found here?"

The man with the cold eyes crept away, a twitch of his lip the only indication that he'd heard the two friend's conversation.

"'And now we roam, in sovereign wood, and now we hunt the doe...'" Bryce whispered as he sauntered off, his thin lips itching to form a sneer.

It was as he walked off, not yet outside of the crowd, that he emptied his hoodie's pocket. A parcel, unremarkable enough not to be noticed amid the draw towards the police lights, but of enough girth to eventually be seen. And felt.

Bryce smirked slightly, really just a twitch of his lips, as he continued on. His cold eyes, catching sight of a black SUV driving towards the site cordoned off with police tape, gleamed. He watched it disappear behind the gaggle of onlookers before resuming his walk.

-Flashback-

-"Yes, I understand. You were hoping to find her or the family, but you knew from the beginning that it was a long shot." The man spoke, handing over a quarter-inch stack of papers to him. "There isn't any proof that a switch happened, or that this Crawford family is connected. Mr. Reid...It's been years, any trail, if there's one to be found, has likely grown cold. The agency you hired before has a great reputation, if they didn't find a trail back then, it's unlikely any will be found now."

"I...that's..." William sighed and begrudgingly took the papers, his blurry gaze shifting to the top page. He blinked until his tired eyes were clear, the sliver of hope he had diminishing.

"I suggest you deal with the likelihood that your daughter wasn't switched and move on." The man waited, watching as his client nodded though with more weariness than just moments ago.

"Yes. Maybe you're right. I should...thank you for your time Mr. Cutler..."

x

William Reid glowered at his steering wheel, his increasingly livid gaze shifting to the sign on the front of the building across from him. He squeezed his steering wheel as he read the name of the law offices. C. J. Cutler. The lawyer who drew up Mary Schmidt's will.

William scowled and took a deep breath, his eyes flitting to the folder he'd lain open on the passenger seat. The folder he had kept during his search for Alsie, the folder containing all the reports filed by the detective agencies he hired.

His jaw taut and eyes narrowed, he picked up the papers and folder before exiting his car. Though it was getting late, his detour to visit James at Alsie's behest having taken up a chunk of the day, he refused to wait longer.

Midway in shutting his car door, his cell phone rang. His narrowed, angry eyes widened with concern seeing Alsie's number and name on the display.

"Hello? Elsie, what's...?" William paled as he listened to his daughter, her voice terrified and what she was saying terrifying. Though he honestly only heard 'Jemma' and 'hospital.' "Which hospital? Whi...don't worry. It'll be all right. I'm on my way." William reassured Alsie, returning to his car without another thought.

[findasongblog]

Find a #live song

Bartleby Delicate - Sleeping Song (Brandbau Sessions, Wiltz - LU, 02.02.2019)

Gig Review Pt. 2

At the beginning of Bartleby Delicate’s set, we were treated with a new song. As I already knew I shouldn’t share it, I decided to record one of my faves instead – also an unreleased one, but there’s already an acoustic version online, so I guess that’s okay.

Many in the audience knew the rest of the songs and sang along to them as well (sorry btw, I tried to refrain, but couldn’t 😳) though probably no-one as beautifully as Karma who also joined Georges on stage for the last part of A Little Less Home.

(complete photo set here)

No Daniel Johnston cover this time, but we learned that Talk To The Wall is actually a tribute to him – well, his forename is mentioned, so one could have probably guessed that (I never made the connection).

As the release of their sophomore album is drawing nearer, we mostly chatted about Seed To Tree after the gig, also about the cover of Until It Gets Better Melanie performed with a friend of hers last month at a school event – you’re welcome to take a look at it here (proud mum alert, sorry not sorry).

No upcoming tour dates for Bartleby Delicate atm (though hopefully some new music released soon?), but in addition to the release show at Rockhal on March 22nd, Seed To Tree will play quite a few shows in Germany in support of the new album Proportions (dates here). German readers, take the chance, you won’t regret it!