#we all know what's going to win this but i need to say the turban + almost naked look suits him WELL

[whos-hotter-jjba]

Hottest JJBA Outfit Bracket - Kars Preliminary Poll

[hedgewitchgarden]

I recently saw a social media post where an atheist showed a picture of someone wearing a cross and said:

I don’t advertise my non-belief on my body. Why do Christians feel the need to advertise their belief?

I’m not going to attempt to speak for Christians. Some of their reasons overlap with mine and some are their own. But I want to respond to the question from my perspective as a religious Pagan.

The assumption behind the question: the public square should be religion-free

This wasn’t a neutral, value-free inquiry. This was a “hey, I’m just asking” question where a particular viewpoint is assumed to be correct.

The question assumes that the purpose of religious clothing and jewelry is advertising. Now, let’s be honest: some Christian apparel is all about advertising, especially the in-your-face t-shirts like those I sometimes see advertised on Patheos. But that’s far from the only reason people – Christian or Pagan or other – wear religious items.

Beyond that, it assumes that wearing such items is a bad thing. It assumes that the public square should be free from all religious displays and be entirely secular.

When governments put up religious displays, that’s a bad thing. When government officials and employees promote their religion in their official capacities, that’s a bad thing. When the gatekeepers of the public square allow some religious displays but not others (hello, Satanic Temple…) that’s a very bad thing.

But individuals wearing Jesus t-shirts or hijabs, crosses or pentacles, yarmulkes or turbans? That’s all part of the glorious garden of religions we have in this, the most religiously diverse society in the history of the world. And that’s a very good thing.

Atheists do this too

The original poster may not advertise their religion on their body, but some atheists do. Search for “atheist shirts” on Amazon and you get over 3000 results. Those aren’t all being bought by fundamentalists who want to burn them. Some of them are accurate, some are funny, and some are needlessly offensive.

Some atheists insist they have no religion. I take them at their word, but non-theistic religion is still religion. And at least some non-theists like wearing clothing and jewelry that identifies them as non-theists. Whether that makes them religious or not is a matter for them to decide, but it sure looks the same as what theists of every variety do.

For visibility of a minority religion

Nobody likes watching commercials on TV or looking at the ads here on Patheos (but that’s the only way the writers get paid, not that any of us get paid anything close to minimum wage). But in an economy built on commerce, advertising is a necessity… although some advertising crosses the line into malefic magic.

Advertising isn’t a necessity for those of us who practice non-proselytizing religions. I’m not trying to “win the world for Cernunnos” – and if I was, I think He’d tell me I had my priorities mixed up.

At the same time, visibility is a good thing. If nothing else, I want people to know we’re here, that there’s a religion (or a group of many religions) that sees the Divine as many and Nature as sacred. And I want people who are looking for what we have to be able to find us.

Wearing a Pagan t-shirt or my Awen pendant silently says “hey, we’re here!”

To remind ourselves of our commitments

Read any wedding vows – traditional or contemporary – and you will see words of commitment from spouse to spouse. “With this ring I thee wed” and such. Wedding rings aren’t there to tell the world someone is “off the market” – they’re there to remind the spouses of their commitments to each other.

The same can be true with religious jewelry. When I wear my Cernunnos pendant, I am reminded that I am His priest and that I have made certain commitments to Him. My Awen pendant reminds me of my commitment to this path of Druidry.

To fulfill a requirement

There are no clothing or jewelry requirements that apply to all Pagans. But I have friends who have a geas to always wear certain items of clothing, or to not wear others. It’s not a fashion choice. It’s not a choice, period – that’s what a geas is. It’s a religious requirement. Some have items they are never allowed to remove for any reason, or only allowed to remove in certain places around certain people.

This isn’t advertising or visibility or even a commitment. It’s a requirement, a command, something a person was instructed to do by their Gods. And so they wear it, even if it upsets Christians and atheists… and the Pagans who don’t like the idea of Gods who make demands.

I’m thankful I have no such requirements. I rarely wear jewelry outside of ritual – I don’t like the way it feels on my body. But some do, and I respect their dedication.

As amulets and talismans

Anyone who grew up on classic horror movies knows you wear a cross to repel vampires (and those of us who read Anne Rice as teenagers know it doesn’t always work that way). Some of our Pagan jewelry isn’t just religious – it’s magical.

The pentagram is a symbol of protection – a pentacle (a 3-dimensional pentagram) serves as a shield against harmful spirits and energies. Some crystals and stones do the same thing. Others draw certain energies and spirits to the wearer.

Pagan jewelry can have a functional aspect.

Because we like the way they look

Not everything has to have a deep meaning or functional use. Sometimes we just like the aesthetics of something.

When you’re dealing with aesthetics in the context of religious and spiritual traditions, the question of appropriation always comes up. Christians have complained about pop stars wearing crosses since at least the early days of Madonna. In 2017 we were arguing about the “basic witch” trend – I wrote The Aesthetic of Witchcraft and the Return of Real Magic where I said that my work “keeps me so busy I can’t spend much time worrying about those who just want to look like a witch.”

But you can’t appropriate your own tradition (you can misuse or disrespect it, but that’s another topic). If you’re a witch who likes to dress in ways stereotypical of witches, have at it. My wardrobe has a lot of black in it, in part because of its association with witches, but also because I just like black. I’ve worn tons of black since kindergarten.

And sometimes we dress against tradition, because we like other things too. I’m a Druid – sometimes I wear a white robe, and sometimes I wear khakis and a polo shirt.

As a Pagan, I will gladly ally myself with anyone who will help in the work to build a better world here and now – which includes the work to keep governments from establishing, supporting, or promoting any one religion over others. But those who want a religion-free public square are fighting needlessly and for the wrong things.

[bloggerfromouttaspace]

295

Union of India - Section

Section 295 in The Indian Penal Code, 1860

295. Injuring or defiling place of worship with intent to insult the religion of any class.—

Whoever destroys, damages or defiles any place of worship, or any object held sacred by any class of persons with the intention of thereby insulting the religion of any class of persons or with the knowledge that any class of persons is likely to consider such destruction, damage or defilement as an insult to their religion, shall be punishable with imprisonment of either description for a term which may extend to two years, or with fine, or with both.

Shubhdeep Singh Sidhu ''Sidhu Moosewala'' Shot dead by a police encounter near Amritsar, Punjab on 22 May 2022.

He was killed in his hood.

Just like Tupac Shakur, Sidhu Moosewala came from a very poor background ''Pind'', farm.

Shubhdeep Singh Sidhu was born in the village of Moosa in the Mansa District of Punjab.

Moose Wala studied at Guru Nanak Dev Ji Engineering College and graduated with a degree in electrical engineering in 2016 in Ludhiana. He admired and was influenced by rapper Tupac Shakur. He started listening to hip-hop music as a student in sixth grade, and was trained in music by Harvinder Bittu in Ludhiana.

Sidhu, managed to leave his hood and make it big overseas. His nature of helping others and caring from his family, in my opinion resonated during his adolescent years as he managed to provide for his household with poverty and the everyday destruction in Indian politics.

If you think about it, Tupac was love, Biggie was money. Tupac grew up in the hood with his mum after he lost his dad which stood as a refuge for poor people. Biggie went to boarding school and rarely spent much time with family. Tupac needed investment when the world fell on him, which made him drop a triple platinum album all eyez on me. Biggie had ice, carats and gold.

Tupac rapped about his mother, so did Sidhu Moosewala.

Both had purpose, and it was love and the ability to provide. Their kindness was used against them, most people would say the men that followed these three legends are bad influencers. Kobe Bryant had a purpose and he lost his life and his daughter in an helicopter crash. Are you serious, you telling me the LA Lakers are bad?

My point is that the world ain't all sunshine and rainbows.

It's a very mean and nasty place and I don't care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it.

You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain't about how hard ya hit. It's about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward.

How much you can take and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done! Now if you know what you're worth then go out and get what you're worth. But ya gotta be willing to take the hits, and not pointing fingers saying you ain't where you wanna be because of him, or her, or anybody! Character Rocky Balboa said that.

Its a shame that the people that create change and miracles for others have a very short lifespan, others see, others envy, others pray, you are gray.

Section 295 was penalized on Sidhu because he wore a turban and blasphemed guns. When the protection order was pulled, they shot him, *encounter in a black G - Wagon. Shot in his hood.

He made modern kids speak Punjabi when their own mothers could not teach under a western influence. He provided for his pind, his mother, his family even in times of struggles when farmers got their land and veggies taken away from them.

In the end. Shot dead, as he changed the world.

I am Punjabi, and we still get rolled. Survival since 1469 AD.

Only people still alive is me and Eminem..... Legend.

[lovesosweeet]

MAY THE BEST MAN WIN

competing for the best toast at their best friends' wedding, calum and tanner go from being pretend rivals to… something like friends. maybe a little more? may the best man win.

read on ao3

part six

“Tanner, can you please go deliver this to the boys’ house?” Valerie pouts at her best friend, but Tanner has to hold in a laugh at how ridiculous she looks. A green face mask is painted all over her face, bright blue eye patches under her eyes, and her black hair is covered in a hot pink turban-style towel. It’s late, but not that late. It’s only 10:00, and everyone is gossiping about the different groomsmen’s girlfriends and wives and all of the various family members who’d shown up tonight while they paint their nails and drink champagne.

“Val, why can’t you just text him?” Tanner sighs. She’s not sure how she wound up on steaming duty for every single dress in the women’s house. The mother of the bride, the mother of the groom, grandmothers, the flower girl, every bridesmaid, and most importantly, Valerie’s dress… all of it was on her. She’s not even halfway done. Everyone else is having fun, but Tanner is working, again.

“Because, we promised we wouldn’t speak until we do our first touch tomorrow morning!”

The maid of honor, who also has bright blue eye patches adhered to her face, rolls her eyes. “Then what’s the difference between that and making me hand deliver a note? You’re still communicating.” 

“Oh my god, Tanner, please! It’s the night before my wedding and I need to apologize to my future husband! We need to wake up tomorrow excited about the wedding, not harboring any bad feelings about a dumb argument we had earlier.” Valerie continues pouting, unwavering in her puppy dog eyes while it slowly wears Tanner down enough to give in.

“Fine!” She huffs, taking the black envelope from Valerie’s hand and stomping out of the room without looking back.

She exits the house that is on the large property the couple booked for the wedding. The bride’s house is right next to the ceremony hall, but the groom’s is almost half a mile away on the other end of the property. She feels a little self-conscious in her black silk pajamas that Valerie has her whole bridal party wearing, with bright pink bunny slippers on her feet.

She’s cold and a small misting of rain is falling, making her wish she had at least worn real shoes and grabbed a sweatshirt, but she just wants to get this over with so she can get back, finish the steaming, and go to bed to be well rested for the big day tomorrow. The property is dimly lit and she wishes she’d brought a flashlight.

When Tanner gets to the boys’ house, she can hear chanting and yelling from inside. She enters without knocking, knowing that they likely wouldn’t hear her small hand rapping on the wooden door anyway. She’s met with the sight of a bunch of grown men playing Guitar Hero on the large flat-screen TV in the living room. 

Ashton is sitting off to the side with Calum, having what looks like a fairly serious conversation.

Calum notices the intruder quickly, and his eyes light up at the sight of the slightly damp girl in the doorway, clutching a small black envelope. As Calum stares, Ashton looks over his shoulder to see what’s holding his attention. His wrinkled forehead flattens and the worry he was feeling melts away. Tanner is a beacon of light for both of them. 

She skirts around the rowdy men to approach the duo on the couch, and Calum and Ashton create a space between them for her to sit.

“Well, hello,” Ashton says, smiling now, although he’s still stressed, but he knows that Tanner has to be bearing good news of some sort. 

“I come with a handwritten apology,” she huffs, plopping onto the couch and handing Ashton the envelope.

“Thank god,” Calum mumbles.

Ashton stands quickly and disappears with his note, giddy to see what his soon-to-be wife has written him.

“Has he been as insufferable as she has been?” She whispers to Calum.

“I can only imagine that they’re on the same level,” he whispers, chuckling.

“Good, they’re perfect for each other.”

Calum laughs. “I like the, uh, eye patches.”

Her eyes become big circles and she reaches up to rip off the bright blue jelly pieces under her eyes. “Fuck, forgot I had those on.”

“Are you cold?” He asks, ignoring the eye patches, despite being the one who’d brought them up. He can’t help but notice her slightly chattering teeth and the goose bumps on her arms.

She shrugs. “A little.”

He stands up and, without saying anything else, grabs her arm and drags her out of the living room to the kitchen. She tries not to wince at how messy it is and focus on whatever Calum is doing with her. He silently switches on the electric kettle after he pours water into it.

“Stay here,” he says. Tanner doesn’t know what choice she has, so she waits.

“Tanner? What are you doing here?” Ashton’s blonde bandmate, Luke, enters the kitchen and looks at her with confusion. He definitely wasn’t expecting to find a woman in the house wearing satin pajamas and bunny slippers with her hair damp from the rain.

“In the house on official maid of honor business, but in the kitchen by way of Calum Hood, who just dragged me in here and told me to stay.” She shrugs.

She has a lot of questions she could ask Luke, who’s wearing a cowboy hat and overalls without a shirt underneath, but she refrains since she really doesn’t know him very well. He looks her up and down and then shrugs. 

“Cool slippers. I’m sure Cal is happy you paid a little visit,” Luke says, laughing under his breath before sidestepping her to grab a beer from the fridge.

Tanner shrugs again. “You mean Ashton? I hear he’s been stressed and I think I just remedied that situation.”

Luke smirks. He pops the cap off his beer bottle, holding it up to his lips, but before he takes a sip, he says, “No, I mean Calum.”

And then he’s gone. 

As quickly as he had left the room, Calum reappears with a yellow hoodie in his hands that he holds out to Tanner. She doesn’t argue and takes it from him, slipping it over her head and adjusting the bottom so the very hem of her shorts is still visible. The fuzzy material swallows her whole. 

“Thank you,” she tells him, instantly feeling better with the sweatshirt on. “Are you making me tea again?”

He nods. They stand in silence as he gets mugs out for them both to have a cup of his lavender chamomile tea. “You’re cold. Tea is the best for when you’re cold.” 

She smiles. “Thanks, Allen.”

Calum frowns and looks over at her, finding that she’s biting her lip while she tries not to laugh. “Allen?”

“You gave me a bad nickname, so you get one too.”

He raises his eyebrows. “Okay, but Allen? Really? Don’t do me so dirty, Danny.”

Tanner smiles with all of her teeth, very happy with his reaction. “Calum Hood. Hoodie. Hoodie Allen. Allen. It’s not that far off!”

“Don’t make me dump out this tea I’m making for you. I’m being very nice to you.”

“Technically it’s not tea yet, it’s just water.”

Calum lifts the electric kettle up in the air threateningly, steam starting to leak from the spout. “It’ll burn you if I dump it on you!”

Tanner shakes her head and laughs. “Do it, I dare you.”

She knows he’d never dump boiling water on her.

“What are you children doing in here?” Michael, the fourth and final bandmate, pops into the kitchen then, a dorky smile on his face as he heads for the fridge like Luke just did. He very quickly notices that Tanner is wearing Calum’s hoodie but doesn’t say anything.

“Danny here is being rude,” Calum explains. He’s stopped acting like he’s going to pour boiling water on Tanner and is pouring it into a mug like he was supposed to.

“Danny?” Michael asks. His eyes look back and forth between the two people in the room that he didn’t even realize were friends, especially not friends enough to have nicknames. 

“See, Calum, Danny is a shitty nickname.”

“It’s better than Allen!�� He argues.

“Not really, and it’s definitely not worth threatening me over.” 

“Wait, are you making her tea?” Michael asks. He stares at the mug that Calum is handing to Tanner.

“Yes?” Calum says, almost as a question. 

He frowns. “I thought that was something you only did for the band?”

Tanner holds in a smile.

“Do you want a cup of tea, Mike?” Calum asks, laughing while he dunks bags of tea into the mugs.

“No! It’s the night before the wedding, I’m not being lame and drinking tea, I just didn’t realize you were close enough to Tanner to make tea for her. Actually, wait, Tanner — why are you here?”

She shrugs. “Top secret maid of honor duties. Only to be discussed with the best man.”

Michael glares, but drops the conversation there. He grabs a drink for himself from the fridge and ducks out of the kitchen. He gives Calum the middle finger on his way out.

When they’re alone again, Tanner adds a bit of honey into her tea and sips it in a comfortable silence with Calum. Although, it’s not really silent, since the loud noises of Guitar Hero and drunken men are only a room away, but the two in the kitchen simply don’t speak. Tanner is grateful for a brief reprieve from steaming, but knows that she needs to get back soon if she wants to finish her job before the end of the night.

“I’d offer for us to go for a walk or sit on the porch, but, as you are clearly aware, the weather is kind of shit,” Calum says quietly.

“Oh, no, it’s totally fine. I can’t stay long anyway. I have dresses to steam.”

He frowns. “Why is that your job?”

She shakes her head and takes another sip of her hot tea. “I’m the maid of honor. Whatever Valerie asks me to do, I have to do it.”

“I don’t know that that’s fair. Shouldn’t you at least enjoy the weekend somewhat? Wasn’t struggling through the bachelorette trip enough work for you? You missed out on the vineyard earlier, you worked the whole rehearsal dinner, and now you’re steaming?”

Then it’s Tanner’s turn to frown. “No, that wasn’t a struggle, Calum. It’s just part of how this works for us, I guess. I’d go through hell and back for Val, and she’d do the same for me. Being there for her as her maid of honor is an honor.”

Calum sighs, not sure how to reply to that. Ashton has barely needed help from Calum for this wedding, but he also knows that’s generally how it works for grooms. They sign off on and choose between two colors for the bride, but aren’t doing much heavy lifting. At least, that’s how it worked for Valerie and Ashton, and that’s exactly how Valerie wanted it. She was very particular and he just wanted her to have the perfect day she’s always wanted.

“Well, I hope that, aside from steaming dresses, you’re not asked to do too much more work,” he decides to say. 

She grimaces, staring down at her mug. 

“Good god, do you have more work to do already?” 

Tanner sighs and shrugs. “Not really much work, just another task. I have to go get breakfast tomorrow.”

“Jesus, no,” Calum says. “You do not need to go get breakfast tomorrow. Where are you picking it up from? I’m assuming it’s already ordered. Let me go get it. Just let me know where and when.”

“No, Calum, seriously. It’s fine. Valerie has always said she wants Waffle House as her breakfast on her wedding day, so I’m just gonna go get a shit ton of waffles and shit for her and a jug of their gross-ass coffee.” She holds in a gag as she thinks about the rocket fuel that Waffle House serves in mugs, only made palatable by an excess of sugar and cream.

He smiles. “Waffle House? Really? Supermodel Valerie Summers wants waffles on her wedding day?” 

Tanner rolls her eyes, smiling too. “We used to get it for breakfast every first and last day of school. Then it just became a thing, so we’d go after school dances, the morning of graduation… you get it. We have to have Waffle House tomorrow.”

“Aw, wait, that’s cute,” he teases.

“Yeah, yeah, shut it, Allen.” 

“I mean, if you wanna start your day with waffles and sodium-rich sausage and wash it all down with rocket fuel coffee, who am I to stop you?” 

The two continue to mull over Tanner’s many duties as maid of honor, while Calum makes note of just how much her eyes sparkle while she talks about taking care of the people she loves. When their mugs are empty, Calum offers to make more tea, but she decides it’s best to head back. He drives her on the golf cart that the wedding planner has been using to get around the property, and even offers to help steam, but she leaves him with a hug and says she’ll see him in the morning.

[designatedbreadbox]

Do ya'll every think about

how the bros. will love MC literally regardless of what they look like or how MC chooses to present themself because they don't have the same bullshit views about beauty that we have?

Continuation here:

Like, MC with freckles/dimples/vitiligo? Fuckin' cute, adorable, ya know Asmo be countin' every single spot. Your dimples has everyone floored. By everyone, I mean EVERYONE; YES, EVEN BARBATOS. Luke's included but its puppy love

MC with scars of any kind? They would all love to hear stories about how you got those if the subject isn't uncomfortable or sensitive for you.

MC with tattoos/piercings? Like with the dimples, everyone if floored and at first Luke was scared. But then he realized he got to go to a school with a bad-to-the-fuckin' -ass human! How cool is that?!????

^^^ *insert puppy love again*

MC with dark skin and kinky/coily hair? If you let him, Mammon will be ALL OVER seeing how your hair curls.

Very skinny MC? Fuckin' epic man, Levi wants to know how good you are at videogames.

On that note, chubby MC? The twins found a new snuggle buddy and Belphie is DEFINITELY a hugger.

MC with a certain aesthetic? Lucifer is in awe and honestly respects how hard you work to maintain that. He thinks you look great sexy in your attire.

Very pale MC? MC reminds Satan of a ghost/ghoul and is in love with that because honestly? Goals man, that's actually cool as fuck.

Ginger MC? Beel fuckin' LOVES you and is not afraid to show it. Like AT ALL.

Short MC? Tall MC? Mammon is simpin' either way height makes no difference to him.

Nonbinary/Trans MC? Anyone who misgenders and/or deadnames you intentionally is DEAD. Accident is one thing, but on purpose? They're not dealing with that.

Lesbian/wlw/Pan. etc. MC? Asmo has someone he can discuss hot women with, so win-win in all honesty.

Brown-eyed MC? Gorgeous under the moonlight and Lucifer thinks they look even better under spotlights.

Green-eyed MC? Satan wants to compare it to plants; he wants to find stuff that'll remind him of your eyes.

Black-eyed? Belphie is both terrified and finds it so fuckin' cool. Thinks you look badass.

Blue-eyed MC? Levi's already on the floor with a nosebleed and he can't function around you. Your eyes remind him of his favorite thing: the ocean.

Stretch marks? Body hair? The twins don't see how that can annoy anyone; it's just hair. And stretch marks are so common that Belphie can't see why humans hate them.

Big/small boob MC? Makes absolutely no difference to anyone whatsoever. But Asmo does worry about your back and offers give back rubs.

MC with braces/mouthpiece? Lucifer wants to know if they hurt, at all. Did you choose the band color?

MC with glasses? Canon that Lucifer and someone else is attracted to people with glasses, so he's already simping. Lowkey, of course, but it's there.

Hijab/Turban MC? Satan wants to know how you put it on, it looks so complicated and fascinating. Or even better: you tell him step by step, so he can get a taste of your culture.

Latino/a MC? Please, by all means, cook for Beel. Or give him the recipes. Man is dying for new ones and he loves savory foods above all else.

Like, it really doesn't matter what MC looks like. It truly doesn't. Can you imagine how diverse the Celestial Realm is? Seeing people that look so different from you, but you still call them your brotjer/sister? Because looks don't matter when you can just have fun with them; it doesn't matter in a strength competition or trying to see who runs better. Looks mean shit when your younger sibling has a nightmare and you need to comfort them.

They carried that view over with them upon entering the Devildom. They always held onto that belief because they truly believe there is no good justification at all as to why someone should be judged solely for what they look like.

No matter what MC looks/presents like, they'll always be loved. Even if the whole world says otherwise.

[sttngfashion]

5.26 and 6.1 - Time’s Arrow

Oh my god. Y’all. It’s a new Fashion It So post. In the year of our Picard 2020. Yes.

For literal years, Charlie and I have been like UGH WE NEED TO DO TIME’S ARROW PARTS 1 AND 2 BUT IT’S JUST SUCH A MONSTER.

Well, I’m doing a complete rewatch of the series with my partner and we just got to these two, so IT IS TIME. 

We open in a cave in San Francisco, where Data and Picard are checking something out:

Rent for the cave is $6,000 per month

Showing them around is this guy in a Science Outfit:

He’s ready to go night biking

We’ve seen this look before in both Silicon Avatar and Devil’s Due, and it’s functional, yet cute. Basically a windbreaker in jumpsuit form. 

They find a couple of items in the cave, including a pocket watch from 1889 and also:

I left my head in San Francisco

IT’S DATA’S HEAD!!! And it’s been there for FIVE HUNDRED YEARS. What could have caused this? And why is Data’s head so absolutely terrifying?

Is that fondant

This head is, in a word, haunting. The 2020 of heads. 

Data and Geordi chat in Ten-Forward about what the presence of Data’s head in the cave means. Data says it means he’s mortal; that someday he will die, and that’s comforting. Spoiler alert: that’s not what it means. But it’s a nice conversation.

Also, Guinan is here!!!

Merlot My God!! 

Or maybe: Burgundy-lightful!! Or perhaps: De-Crimson-alize Sex Work!! Okay that last one was a stretch but I really think I missed my calling as a nail polish shade namer. 

Anyway, she’s here in her classic look of a pizza-sized hat and a flowing gown/coat/top/robe. The collar here is a little too close to a mock turtleneck for my liking and honestly - this is a little staid for our friend Guinan. I want a TEXTURE or a SWEEP or some WIDE RIBBING or some PLEATS. Don’t worry, though...she will get plenty more later.

Then there’s some plot which frankly we DO NOT HAVE TIME to get into but let’s just say: the away team goes to a planet, there’s a temporal disturbance, and Data ends up here:

Huge mood

Where are we? Or should I say WHEN are we??

Well that old-timey font is a good clue...also the horse

Are we in the Old West land of an off-brand Disneyworld? Are we going to ride something called Large Lightning Mesa Train Tracks? What colorful characters will we meet here?

Winner of 1893’s Mustache Medal

This type of ‘stache is called a Fu Manchu, after the character Dr. Fu Manchu. It’s not...a great look? But it is memorable, which is sometimes enough. He’s also wearing a simple black cap, probably made of silk. He’s keeping it cazh.

So where are we?

SAN FRANCISCO, OPEN YOUR GOLDEN GATE / YOU’LL LET NOBODY WAIT / OUTSIDE YOUR DOOR

Yes, it’s San Francisco. And it’s *eyes popping out of head like a cartoon wolf seeing a busty babe* 1893!!!! That temporal disturbance was...disturbing.

So who else do we have hanging out?

Please check out our Vaudeville act, Knit Cap ‘n’ Bowly

These dudes understand those famous Bay Area MICROCLIMATES, amirite? We’ve got a Henley. We’ve got a buttondown. We’ve got a vest. We’ve got a coat. No matter which way the thermometer decides to go, THEY ARE READY. Also loving the pop of forest green on Knit Cap’s knit cap. 

We also have a 49er:

No, it’s not Steve Young. I googled “famous 49ers” to complete this joke so if there is a more famous 49er please let me know

It’s a literal 49er. Since it’s 1893, this guy’s been hanging around in town for a while, and he’s also familiar with the layering techniques one must master if one is to conquer the Bay Area’s climate. He also has a kicky Colonel Sanders-type tie. He asks Data for money and gives him a few panhandling tips. He’s chill. We like him. But don’t get too attached if you know what I mean!!!!

Data decides he needs somewhere to stay, so he finds a hotel:

Brian.

Why is this so funny to me. Brian. Why would you name your hotel Brian. Brian!!!! I know it’s a last name but like...Brian. HOTEL BRIAN. 

This bellhop’s name is not Brian:

Where’s your hat, bro

He’s giving us a classic bellhop look, complete with too many buttons. He gives Data the very important information that there’s a poker game happening in the back of the hotel, which means: Data is about to be RICH rich. 

The poker game includes a few good looks:

Louie Anderson IS Wolverine IN a Lands’ End barn coat

Two plaids? Sir...I salute you

Colonel Sanders Goes to Carnaval

Data, of course, wipes the floor with them so hard that he wins their clothes:

Didn’t get that barn coat tho

Yes, that’s the actual vest and the actual hat of those guys from the previous scene. Oh, I love it. I love Data in a vest over his uniform and I love Data with a feather in his cap. Let’s call it macaroni.

Meanwhile, out on the street, the plot is happening:

Beige: inescapable

This is our first taste of the decadent 1890’s sleeves that appear in this episode, and these aren’t even the best sleeves!! These are an amuse-bouche of sleeves. An armuse-bouche, if you will. 

Anyway, these two are aliens disguised as humans who are here to steal the 49er’s life energy. 

Pew pew pew

I told you not to get attached!!!

Back on the Enterprise, Guinan is doing mixology:

She would never call it something as stupid as mixology though

She tells Picard that he needs to go check out the temporal disturbance, too, even though captains don’t normally go on away missions, and then she gives him this look:

It’s that serious

When Guinan looks at you like this, you do what she says. 

Now this outfit is much better than the earlier one. We have some pleated sleeves, which I didn’t even think was a thing you could DO. We have some sort of functional(?) strap(??) across the front. We even have matching fingerless gloves which always make a look A LOOK. And if Picard wasn’t sure whether he needed to go on this away mission, she then gives him THIS look:

Okay now it’s REALLY serious

Back in 1893, Data is making something:

It’s actually just a really complicated and large music box that plays “I Left My Head in San Francisco”

He’s gotten his hands on some more period-appropriate clothing, including a bow tie and a vest. Since he’s not wearing arm garters and his sleeves appear to be the correct length for his arms, we can conclude that the shirt was custom-made, not ready-made, because Data is now a baller due to his poker earnings. 

Then, Data sees this in the paper:

I know her!! From work!!!!

Yes, it’s Guinan. In 1893. In a hat!!!!

We cut to the literary reception, which is honestly not as well-attended as I thought it would be, considering it got a GIANT photo of Guinan on page THREE of the paper, but okay. And who should we spy there but:

You’ll love my secret blend of 11 herbs and spices

No, it’s not Colonel Sanders. (Sorry, I really have Colonel Sanders on the brain because of that Lifetime movie.) It’s Samuel Clements, AKA Mark Twain. I had an English teacher in high school who explained the origin of his pseudonym (it indicates a mark of two fathoms, aka twelve feet, on a steamboat) and for some reason she shouted MAAAARK TWAAAAAIN when she told us that story so now her delivery of that line is in my head until I die I guess.

Anyway, it’s Mark Twain.

He’s wearing his iconic white linen suit with a black bow tie, and he’s also wearing a lot of prosthetics, because the actor playing him (Jerry Hardin, AKA Deep Throat from The X-Files AKA Melora Hardin AKA Jan Levinson-Gould’s dad) (was that too many AKAs) (you get it, right?) didn’t look enough like Mark Twain, I guess? In conclusion: what if eyebrow wigs were a thing?

Twain is having a chit chat with “Madame Guinan,” who is wearing what can only be called a sumptuous gown:

It’s 11:30 and the gown is sumptin’ sumptin’

There are so many ELEMENTS to this look! First of all: the color. Royal purple. Fit for a queen. Appropriate. 

Then: those sleeves! These sleeves are known as “leg of mutton sleeves” because they KIND OF look like a leg of mutton. Have you ever seen a leg of mutton? I haven’t. I’ve only seen these sleeves. Plus they have a stripe?? No, I don’t know why, but I LOVE IT.

The cuffs and the cravat bring this from “dress” to “lewk.” Top it all off with this hat and you have a true 1893 mood.

What bird is that feather even from

We get a few good extra looks in this scene as well:

Pink Lady is NOT wearing a corset

Look, sometimes you don’t have enough period-appropriate undergarments for all the background people and that’s fine. But I WILL notice.

Is that Loretta Lynn

I am loving all of this! That purple dress is fantastic, those stripes? I die. Military man has some fun flair on his shoulder, and there is a dude in a beautiful turban back there. Plus, another Black lady in addition to Guinan and That One Ensign Who Is On The Bridge Sometimes.

Data rolls in to the literary event in a different suit with a CRAVAT:

Craving a cravat

Data is like “we serve together on the same starship in the 24th century” and Guinan is like “huh” but then she’s like “okay” which...I’m not sure if I would believe that? But let’s just say it’s fine. 

Over in the 24th century, the literal entire bridge crew is checking out the temporal disturbance and I DON’T LIKE THIS AT ALL:

Blue Man Group...on ACID

These beings are like ghosts but also like Dr. Manhattan but also like pure energy. 

Then everyone goes through the temporal disturbance AND THE SEASON ENDS. 

Fortunately for you, this post will continue...right now.

Okay, so we’re back in San Francisco in 1893. You can tell by the horses:

Also the fruit carts

Samuel Clemens is strolling around with a reporter, telling him that he has a great story for him that involves time travelers and, like, protecting the nation.

Here’s the thing about this episode’s version of Mark Twain: he’s kind of a dick. Was the real Mark Twain kind of a dick? I just feel like Mark Twain should be JAZZED about meeting time travelers and not acting like a fuckin’ time cop* and trying to put the Enterprise crew on blast. 

Anyway I love his double-breasted vest.

See my vest

The reporter’s hat is technically period-accurate, but that style is SO associated with the 1930s-1950s that I would have gone with something else. He looks cute though.

Meanwhile, Data is wearing a three-piece suit:

My positronic olfactory synapses are interpreting something as...a fart

I hate brown, but this is fine.

Additionally, the beige baddies from before are back and this time, they’ve got a SNAKE CANE:

Love the snake cane, hate how they suck the life out of people

But we are not here for them, we are here to see our faves in period clothing. Our first look is at Riker, who is dressed as an actual cop, not a time cop like Mark Twain:

The past just had...so many buttons

I guess if you’re a time-traveling white man there are worse disguises than a cop. But WHERE DID HE GET THIS UNIFORM? I choose to believe that he found a cop with a similar large handsome body to his own and beat the shit out of him and stole his clothes. Now we can all enjoy imagining a cop being beat up.

The badge that Riker is wearing is a great historical detail; the SFPD started wearing them in 1886 and are reportedly the first law enforcement agency to have worn the seven-pointed star, which is now a common shape among sheriff’s departments across the United States.

But let’s move on to a better look: Dr. Beverly Crusher:

Curlz MT

Okay, now I have more questions. Beverly obviously wouldn’t beat someone up for their clothes, so where did SHE get HER outfit? And who did her hair? Did she do her OWN hair? Where did she get a curling iron? Does she know how to use a curling iron? Was it one of those ones that’s actually made of iron that you have to heat up in a fireplace? 

We will get answers to zero (0) of these questions.

We actually get a much better look at her dress later, so let’s focus on that cloak!!! I love it and I also love her hat. Okay, I guess I had less to say about those than I thought.

Bev and Will, along with the rest of the officers, have somehow procured a room/apartment in some lady’s lodging house. It’s cute!

They gave it 5 stars on AirBnB

This also raises questions. How did they get this room? How many bedrooms does it have? Are they sharing one large bed? If so, who has to sleep crossways at the foot of the bed and why is it Geordi? We will get zero answers to these questions as well, so let’s move on to arguably the hottest costume in this two-parter:

I’ll be in Holodeck 4

Whewwwwwww. He’s giving us a rolled sleeve. He’s giving us a casual tweed vest. The pants? They’re perfect. And he KNOWS how that slouch is working. It’s working VERY well. But the Irish landlady? She’s having NONE OF IT.

Absolutely NO nonsense

She needs the rent, but Picard charms her and she leaves. So I guess that’s how they got the room. Her look is knitwear-forward:

Eileen Fisher does sound like an Irish name

She’s got a shawl AND a cardigan! The cozy factor is OFF THE CHARTS. She also has a brooch, because a touch of fancy is always welcome. I will say that her hair is a little more fashion-forward than I’d expect for a woman of her age and station. This is straight up 1890s hair, and she would probably still be rocking an 1860s look, which isn’t as sweepy and would likely involve more braids. Still, she looks lovely. 

Geordi is also here looking dapper:

Make the collar as high as you can. I want to be sliced open by my own collar

You CAN go wrong with a three-piece suit, but it’s difficult to. He can’t wear his visor, so he has some kicky shades which we’ll get a better look at in a sec.

Back at the Hotel Brian (lol), the bellboy (who we learn in this scene is Jack London, inspired to be a writer by Mark Twain [citation needed]) lets Mark Twain into Data’s room and allows him to look around unsupervised. This is very bad hotel management. 

Great Scott

Then Data and Guinan show back up, and Mark Twain hides in an armoire.

One short day in the emerald brocade

I think one reason I love Guinan’s looks so much, both in the 24th and the 19th century, is that our color palette is very similar. We’re both winters. Bold jewel tones are the vibe. This one is in a beautiful deep green fabric with what looks like a velvet flocking pattern on it. The collar is also velvet, and I love that sleeve with a flounce on top like there wasn’t already enough fucking fabric on the sleeve so they just added a random piece to be like “yes, bitch. I’m a sleeve.”

Naturally, the hat is also jaunty af:

San Francisco’s hottest milliner is: Madame Guinan

This hat has everything: feathers, netting, a brim, an angle that makes you think it’s going to fall off but it doesn’t. We stan.

Meanwhile, Picard is setting up a sensor in a hospital while wearing a hat:

I’m bowled over

We haven’t even asked where Picard got these clothes, but I would like to point out that he’s dressed as a lower-class guy, while Riker is a cop, and Geordi looks like a gentleman. Was there even a discussion they all had about how they would disguise themselves? Was Picard like “I just really want to wear a beat-up bowler hat” and since he’s the captain, they extrapolated from there? This episode is NOT CONCERNED about any of this. They all have clothes, end of story. 

Bev even has TWO outfits!!

Hello nurse!!!!

I love this look. She still has her unlikely hairstyle happening, which means her nurse’s cap is sitting atop her voluminous hairstyle. (Not very practical, but realistic!) She’s sporting a simple striped dress and a button-on apron. (Look closely and you can see the two buttons holding the apron to the dress.) The fabric underneath might be cotton seersucker, but it’s likely a lightweight cotton or linen twill. You can see how closely her look matches these nurses from a similar time period:

Hello nurses!!!!

Deanna is also in this scene and this episode, but you wouldn’t know it from what she’s given to do. HUGE SHOCKER: TROI NOT GIVEN ENOUGH TO DO IN AN EPISODE. 🙃

She still looks beautiful:

Why aren’t capelets more popular

We never get a really GREAT look at her whole outfit, but I can tell you that it has a capelet, it’s in the red family, and the hat has a lot of business going on. For those reasons: approved. It has a flounce in the back too:

More fabric = more wealth

Sometimes I think about just how much fabric it took to make these old-timey dresses and I’m like...how did anyone get anything done?? It takes me like 4 weeks to finish a pair of leggings and those have like 5 seams and I own a serger. These historical bitches were sewing whole ass dresses in no time at all. 

Okay, so Bev is in this hospital and here come some more energy-stealing aliens, disguised as healthcare professionals this time:

I cannot take a medical professional wearing a LIGHT BROWN TOP HAT seriously, sorry

Bev AND this energy-stealing alien have BOTH managed to get their hands on the SAME nurse’s uniform?? I guess in the case of the alien, she is a shape-shifter, so she got her clothes from...that. And her hair. 

I hate this light brown top hat. If you’re going to wear a top hat, don’t DISRESPECT IT by making it BROWN, but if you’re going to make it brown, make it a good brown, like chocolate. Stupid energy-stealing aliens.

There’s a skirmish, the energy-stealing aliens disappear, and the real cops show up:

MOUSTACHE

Of course, the cops showing up is bad, because when has a cop showing up ever made a bad situation better? Never. Defund the police, but don’t defund handlebar mustaches. Those can stay.

Fortunately, Data has gotten a ping on that machine he was building before and shows up on a motherfucking HORSE:

Brent just wanted to show off

He’s back in his brown striped suit and red tie. Okay.

Everyone returns to the boarding house to suss out the situation, and we get a look at what Riker is rocking underneath his cop jacket:

Suspend me daddy

You can see very clearly here how the collar is not actually attached to the shirt. This was a thing people in the olden days did so they could wear their shirt for multiple days in a row and just switch out the collar and cuffs so they looked clean. As someone who is wearing the same sweatshirt for the third day in a row, I support this method. (If you’re interested on more info about collars, here is a very enjoyable article about them.)

We are also blessed with a better look at Deanna’s sleeves and bodice:

Black lace cuffs? Decadent!!!

You can also see Geordi’s shades, which suit him really nicely. One thing I’ve been enjoying on this rewatch is just how well LeVar Burton can act without having his eyes visible. He’s great. Let’s just all think about how great LeVar Burton is for a second

And also Bev’s dress:

I legitimately want this dress

I don’t think those buttons are functional. Can you imagine how annoying THAT would be? But I am absolutely in love with this dress. Two paisleys, Beverly???? A goddess. I’m also dying for that brooch with the chain. A+ look all around, great work.

Finally, FINALLY, Guinan meets the rest of the crew:

When you meet someone you won’t actually know for 500 years

She is wearing a hat that looks like a toilet paper cozy. Did your grandma have one of these? They’re so stupid and I love them so much. 

Picard and Guinan meet for what is the first time for her, but not the first time for him, and honestly it is...sensual?????

If I got a m’lady from P. Stew I wouldn’t even mind

Patrick and Whoopi truly do some nice work in this ep. But we are here to yell about clothes, so: LOOK AT THIS DRESS ON AN EXTRA:

Gimme dat dress

I just want that dress to wear around my house. I legitimately bought an 18th century costume dress to do just that, so don’t think I won’t literally do this.

OKAY, WE ARE ALMOST TO THE END. 

The crew, plus Guinan, go back to the cave where this all started:

Cave Club, the only club that meets in a cave

We get a nice look at the bodice of Guinan’s dress here and guess what: MORE BUTTONS. Buttons on the lapels, and also buttons on the front panel with the pointy top. I wonder if she has multiple front panels for that dress in different colors, like a Swatch watch. 

Unbeknownst to them, Mark Twain followed them!! Then there’s a scuffle with the energy-stealing aliens during which a few things happen:

Data’s head flies off

Mark Twain gets sucked into the temporal disturbance

Guinan gets hurt

Picard stays behind to make sure Guinan is okay

So we end up with Mark Twain on the Enterprise, where he sees Worf, and he’s like:

Buh-WHAT

Worf is also confused:

This is...extremely perplexing

We have a few more looks back on the Enterprise, including Regular Guinan:

ShoulderSpreads™: The Bed Spread for Your Shoulders

I love love LOVE this outfit. The color is perfect, the shoulderspreads are perfect, the front draping is perfect. It looks like a velvet housedress from the 1960s except FANCY which is kind of my ideal aesthetic. And it’s red (my fave). 

We get a quick glimpse at the barber uniform:

Bitch let me pass, idc if you wrote Huck Finn

This barber does. not. give. a. fuck!!!! 

Geordi reattaches Data’s head, the one they already had, which means this whole thing was a ding dang closed loop. The reattachment also kind of diminishes the whole conversation they had earlier about how Data’s head in the cave meant that Data could die someday, because...he didn’t. He still might, but his head is back and he’s fine now.

Meanwhile, Picard is still back in 1893 and they have to go get him, but only one person can come back through the temporal disturbance, so Mark Twain is like “duh I’ll go get him.” 

And finally Guinan and Picard can talk about how their friendship spans 500 years!!!!

Hey girl

Hey

YOU’RE WELCOME

*abolish the police

[rosiegeee]

Final Chapters of my Harry Potter Re-Write Are Out

Special thanks for chapter 15 to my brother who helped me write the chess scene. Anyway here are some passages from all three chapters:

Chapter 15:  Through the Trapdoor

Harry took a deep breath, although Professor McGonagall was the head of Gryffindor, Harry had learned her to be fair, strict, but fair. He decided the only way to get through to her was to tell as much of the truth as possible.

'We know about the Philosopher's Stone, and we have come across a plot to steal it, we need to warn Dumbledore.'

Whatever Professor McGonagall had expected, it wasn't that. The books she was carrying tumbled out of her arms but she didn't pick them up.

'How do you know-?' she spluttered.

'There is no time for that, we know that who wants to steal it knows how to get by at least two of the charms below the trap door, and we know they know know how to get by Fluffy the dog, and that they have just been waiting for Dumbledore to get out of the way. Professor, I think the owl was a fake, I think the thief plans on stealing the Stone today or tonight.'

She eyed him with complete shock, but she seemed to believe him.

'Harry, you have got to tell me how you know all this, then I can know how to help.'

This was a road block however, he couldn't mention how he knew about the stone as that would almost certainly lose Hagrid his job and despite his biases Harry liked Hagrid, he also couldn't mention that it is Snape as she would assume he was just angry at his head of house, and he couldn't say Voldemort as she wouldn't believe him. Harry hung his head low.

'I-I, it's one of the teachers, that is all I can say.'

'Who Harry?'

Chapter 16:  The Man With Two Faces

Harry couldn’t take it in. It couldn’t be true. Sirius had said he knew Quirrell in school, and unlike when he mentioned Snape or his family he talked about Quirrell with no animosity.

‘But Snape tried to kill me!’

‘No, no, no. I tried to kill you. When your friend Miss Davis cast that Titillando jink on Snape he ended up knocking me over, which I think he did on purpose. It broke my eye contact with you. Another few seconds and I’d have gotten you flung off your broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn’t been muttering a counter-cure, trying to save you.’

‘Snape was trying to save me?’

‘Of course,’ said Quirrell coolly. ‘Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn’t do it again. Funny really...he needn’t have bothered. I couldn’t do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Ravenclaw winning, he did make himself unpopular...and what a waste of time, when after all that, I’m going to kill you tonight.’

Chapter 17:  All's Well That Ends Well

‘HARRY!’

The three of them dashed to his side. Tracey gave him a hug which despite appreciating, still hurt his sore body.

‘Harry you did it, but we were so scared.’

‘You and Allison were unconscious for so long.’

‘But now the entire school is talking about what you did on Friday,’ said Allison. ‘But every tale sounds different, Theo filled me in on what happened after I was knocked out, but what happened once you went through the fire.’

It was one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange and exciting than the wild rumours. Harry told them everything: Quirrell; the Mirror; the Stone and Voldemort. The trio were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places and, when Harry told them what was under Quirrell’s turban, Theodore let out a fearful squeal.

‘So the Stone has been destroyed?’ said Tracey finally. ‘That means Flamel will die?’

‘That’s what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that-what was it?-“to the well-organised mind, death is But the next great adventure”.’

Suddenly Allison started laughing, ‘The old man has lost it, good for him.’ And they all had a chuckle.

‘So what happened to you three?’ asked Harry.

‘Well, once Theodore emerged I ran back to the key room and got the brooms like you said, and the two of us were carefully bring Allison back when Dumbledore came flying in.’

‘He just looked at us and said, “Harry’s gone after him, hasn’t he?” and sped by us. Anyway we managed to get Snape’s attention, that was a surprise, and he helped bring McGonagall and Allison to Madam Pomfrey. McGonagall woke up not long after dawn, and Allison finally came to that afternoon.’

‘I still got the bump to show what I did.’

They continued talking and catching up, Harry just felt better being with his friends. Tracey finally broke the knees about the house cup.

‘We’re in last place, Ravenclaw beat Gryffindor in Quidditch, not enough to take away the quidditch championship from us, but enough to pull ahead in the school points system.’

Keep reading chapter 15 here or here, 16 here or here, and 17 here or here

Art under the cut

Here is all the art done for the book, the art is by @noktoraspali  and @letraspal​  respectively. 

Drawing of Allison Runcorn and her cat  Shabaz

Drawing to celebrate Canini coming out, I love Canini so much and I hope to write about her more in the future.

And This is Harry coming home for Easter break, it is so sweet and I love all three of these drawings so much. You two are amazing artists.

[thewidowsghost]

The Unknown Muggleborn - Chapter 13

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

3rd Person POV

It was Quirrell.

"I knew it!" (Y/n) gasps, her right hand tightening around her wand in her pocket.

Quirrell smiles. His face isn't twitching at all.

"Me," he says calmly, then his gaze fixes behind (Y/n) where Harry had just walked through the black flames. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you two here, Potter, (L/n)."

"But I though - Snape - "Harry stammers.

"Severus?" Quirrell laughs, and it isn't his usual quivering tremble either, but cold and sharp, making (Y/n) stand taller. "Yes, Severus does seem to type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an over grown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

Harry can't take it in so he blurts, "Snape tried to kill (Y/n)!"

"No, no, no. I tried to kill her. Your friend, Miss Granger accidentally knocked me over as she rushed to set fire to Snape at that Quidditch match. She broke my eye contact with her. Another few seconds and I'd have got her off that broom. I'd have managed it before then if Snape hadn't been muttering a countercurse, trying to save (L/n)."

"He was trying to save her?" Harry asks, bewildered.

"Of course," says Quirrell coolly. "Why do you think he wanted to referee your next match? He was trying to make sure I didn't do it again. Funny, really . . . he needn't have bothered. I couldn't do anything with Dumbledore watching. All the other teachers thought Snape was trying to stop Gryffindor from winning, he did make himself unpopular . . . and what a waste of time, when after all that, I'm going to kill you both tonight."

Quirrell snaps his fingers. Ropes spring out of thin air and wrap themselves tightly around (Y/n) and Harry.

(Y/n)'s arms were behind her so she pulls the knife carefully out of it's sheath and begins to saw quietly at the thick ropes. This turns out to be quite difficult considering the fact that her hands are bound.

"You're too nosy to live, (L/n)," Quirrell says. "Scurrying around the school on Halloween like that, for all I knew, you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

"You let the troll in?" (Y/n) asks, a note of surprise in her voice.

"Certainly. I have a special gift with trolls — you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off — and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly," Quirrell complains. "Now, wait quietly, Potter, (L/n). I need to examine this interesting mirror."

It was only then that Harry realizes what is standing beside Quirrell. It is the Mirror of Erised.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell mutters, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this . . . but he's in London . . . I'll be far away by the time he gets back."

All Harry can think of doing is to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror.

"I saw you and Snape in the forest - " Harry blurts out.

"Yes," says Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me - as though he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side . . ."

(Y/n)'s breath hitches as she stabs herself in the hand with the knife.

Harry glances over at her and she tells him with her eyes to keep Quirrell distracted.

Quirrell comes back from behind the mirror and stares hungrily into it. "I see the Stone . . . I'm presenting it to my master . . . but where is it?"

Harry struggles against teh robes binding him, but they don't give. He had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention on the mirror.

"But Snape always seemed to hate me so much," Harry says.

"Oh, he does," says Quirrell casually, "heavens, yes. He was at Hogwarts with you father, didn't you know? They loathed each other. But he never wanted you dead.

"But I heard you a few days ago, sobbing - I thought Snape was threatening you . . ."

For the first time, a spasm of fear flits across Quirrell's face. (Y/n) finally cuts herself free from the ropes, and for first time, she tries to shift.

(Y/n) had been working on becoming an Animagus for a couple months now, and this was the first time she tried to shift.

Harry stares at her in shock as she shifts into a large lioness. (Y/n) slinks into the shadows as Harry asks another question.

"You mean he was in the classroom with you?" Harry asks with a gasp.

"He is with me wherever I go," says Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was.There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it. . . . Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me." Quirrell shivers suddenly."He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the Stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me . . . decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me. . . ."

Quirrell's voice trails away. Harry is remembering his trip to Diagon Alley - how can he have been so stupid? He'd seen Quirrell that very day and talked to him.

Quirrell curse under his breath.

"I don't understand . . . is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

Harry's mind is racing.What I want more than anything else in the world at the moment, he thinks, is to find the Stone before Quirrell does. So if I look in the mirror, I should see myself finding it — which means I'll see where it's hidden! But how can I look without Quirrell realizing what I'm up to?

He tries to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes are too tight: he trips and almost falls over. (Y/n), still a lioness, darts over and steadies him before slinking back into the shadows. Quirrell ignores them.

He is still talking to himself, "What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

And to Harry and (Y/n)'s horror, a voice answers, and the voice seems to come from Quirrell himself. "Use the boy . . . Use the boy . . ."

"Yes - Potter - come here," Quirrell claps his hands once, and ropes binding Harry fall off. "Come here," Quirrell repeats. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harry walks towards him, keeping his eyes on (Y/n). I must lie, he thinks desperately. I must look and lie about what I see, that's all.

Quirrell moves close behind him. Harry breathes in the funny smell that seems to come from Quirrell's turban. He closes his eyes, steps in front of the mirror, and opens them again.

Harry sees his reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiles at him. It puts it hand into its pocket and pulls out a blood-red stone. It winks and puts the Stone back int its pocket - and as it does so, Harry feels something heavy drop into his real pocket. Somehow - incredibly - he had gotten the Stone.

"Well?" asks Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?"

Harry screws up his courage. "I see myself and (Y/n) shaking hands with Dumbledore," he invents. "We — we've won the House Cup for Gryffindor."

Quirrell curses again. "Get out of the way," he snaps.

As Harry moves aside, he feels the Sorcerer's Stone against his leg. Dare he make a break for it?

(Y/n) slinks forward towards Harry, keeping her eyes on Quirrell.

They hadn't moved five paces before a high voice speaks, though Quirrell isn't moving his lips.

"He lies . . . He lies . . . Get the girl . . ."

(Y/n) quickly shifts back into herself, slipping her knife back into its sheath.

Quirrell claps his hands (Y/n) steps forward to stand in front of the mirror.

(Y/n) studies the surface, becoming bewildered when her reflection isn't hers anymore. She sees herself, Harry, Hermione and their parents, the Weasleys and a familiar figure standing behind them, (H/C) haired woman with emerald eyes.

"What do you see?" Quirrell snaps.

"I see my family," (Y/n) murmurs. "My parents, my sister, my friends."

Quirrell lets out a frustrated noise.

The high voice speaks again. "Let me speak to them . . . face-to-face . . ."

"Master, you are not strong enough!" Quirrell answers.

"I have strength enough . . . for this . . ."

(Y/n) and Harry feel as though the Devil's Snare had returned and it is rooting them to the spot. They couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, they watch as Quirrell reaches up and begins to unwrap his turban. The turban falls away. Quirrell's head looks strangely small without it.

Then, he turns, slowly, on the spot.

Harry and (Y/n) would have screamed, but they can't make a sound. Where there should have been the back of Quirrell's head, there is a face, the most terrible face (Y/n) had ever seen. It is chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

"Harry Potter . . . (Y/n) (L/n) . . ." it whispers.

(Y/n) takes a step backwards in shock.

"See what I have become?" the face asks. "Mere shadow and vapor . . . I have form only when I can share another's body . . . but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds . . . Unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past weeks . . . (Y/n) saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in teh forest . . . and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own . . . Now . . . why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket, Harry?"

So he knows. The feeling sudden surges back into Harry's legs and he stumbles backwards.

"Don't be a fool," snarls the face. "Better save your own life and join me . . . or you'll meet the same end as your parents . . . They died begging me for mercy . . ."

"LIAR!" (Y/n) suddenly shouts, moving back to stand shoulder to shoulder with Harry.

Quirrell is walking backwards towards them, so that Voldemort can still see him. The evil face is now smiling.

"How touching . . ." it hisses. "I always value bravery . . . Yes, boy, girl, your parents were brave . . . I killed your father first Harry. He put up courageous fights . . . but your mothers needn't have died . . . They were trying to protect you two . . . Now give me the Stone, unless you want them to have died in vain."

"NEVER!" Harry yells.

Harry springs towards the flame door, but Voldemort screams "SEIZE THEM!" and the next second, (Y/n) feels Quirrell's hand close on her wrist. At once, a needle-sharp pain seers across (Y/n)'s scar; her neck feeling as though her head had been chopped off; she yells, struggling with all her might, and to her surprise, Quirrell lets go of her. The pain lessens and she screams at Harry to take the Stone and go.

Harry glances at his friend then sprints through the fire, the Sorcerer's Stone still in his pocket.

(Y/n) looks wildly around to see where Quirrell had gone, and sees him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers - they are blistering before his eyes.

"Seize him! SEIZE HER!" shrieks Voldemort again and Quirrell lunges, knocking (Y/n) clean off her feet, landing on top of her, both hands around (Y/n)'s neck. (Y/n)'s scar is almost blinding her with pain, yet she can see Quirrell howling in agony.

"Master, I cannot hold her - my hands - my hands!"

And Quirrell, though pinning (Y/n) to the ground wit her knees, lets go of her neck and stares, bewildered, at his own palms - (Y/n) can see that they look burned, raw, red, and shiny.

"Then kill her, fool, and be done!" screech Voldemort.

Quirrell raises his hand to perform a deadly curse, but (Y/n), by instinct, reaches up and grabs Quirrell's face -

"AAAARGH!"

Quirrell rolls off of her, his face blistering, too, and (Y/n) knows: Quirrell can't touch her bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain - her only chance is to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from doing a curse.

(Y/n) jumps to her feet, catches Quirrell by the arm, and hangs on as tight as she can. Quirrell screams and tries to throw (Y/n) off - the pain in (Y/n) is building - she can't see - he can only hear Quirrell's terrible shrieks and Voldemort's yells of, "KILL HER! KILL HER! KILL HER!" and other voices, maybe in (Y/n)'s own head, crying, "(Y/n)! (Y/n)!"

She feels Quirrell's arm wrenched from her grasp, knows all is lost, and falls into blackness, down . . . down . . . down . . .

Something gold is glinting above her. The Stitch! She tries to catch it, but her arms are too heavy.

She blinks. It isn't the Snitch at all. It is a pair of glasses. How strange.

She blinks again.

The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swims into view above her.

"Good afternoon, (Y/n)," says Dumbledore.

(Y/n) stares at him, the she remembers. "My friends! Are they okay!"

"(Y/n), please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out," Dumbledore says.

(Y/n) swallows and looks around her, then realizes that she's in the hospital wing. She is lying in a bed with white linen sheets, and next to her is a table piled high with what looks like half a candy shop.

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," says Dumbledore, beaming. "What happened down in eh dungeons between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat." (Y/n) grins at the words. "No doubt they though it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."

"How long have I been in here?" (Y/n) asks.

"Three days. Mr. Ronald Weasley, Mr. Harry Potter, and your sister will be most relieved you have come round, they have been extremely worried."

"Sir, what happened to the Stone."

"I see you are not to be distracted. Very well, the Stone. Professor Quirrell did not manage to get it. Harry got it to me just before I reached the door. You were doing a very good job keeping Quirrell distracted."

"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?"

"We must have crossed in midair. No sooner had I reached London that it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. I arrived just in time to pull Quirrell off you-"

"It was you?"

"I feared I might be too late."

"You nearly were, I couldn't have kept him distracted from the Stone much longer."

"Not the Stone, you - the effort involved nearly killed you. For one terrible moment there, I was afraid it had. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" asks (Y/n) blankly. "But your friend - Nicolas Flamel -"

"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" says Dumbledore, sounding quite delighted. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."

"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"

"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die." Dumbledore smiles at the look of amazement on (Y/n)'s face. "To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, tot he well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure. You know, the Stone was really not such a wonderful thing. As much money and life as you could want! The two things most human beings would choose above all —the trouble is, humans do have a knack of choosing precisely those things that are worst for them."

(Y/n) lies there, lost for words. Dumbledore hums a little and smiles at the ceiling.

"Sir?" asks (Y/n). "I've been thinking . . . Sir - even if the Stone's gone, Vol-, I mean, You-Know-Who-"

Call him Voldemort, (Y/n). Always use the proper name for things. Fear of a name increases fear of the thing itself."

"Yes, sir. Well, Voldemort's going to try other ways of coming back, isn't he? I mean, he hasn't gone, has he?"

"No, (Y/n), he has not. He is still out there somewhere, perhaps looking for another body to share . . . not being truly alive, he cannot be killed. He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies. Nevertheless, (Y/n), while you may only have delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time — and if he is delayed again, and again, why, he may never return to power."

(Y/n) nods, but stops quickly, because it makes his head hurt. Then she says, "Sir, there are some other things I'd like to know, if you can tell me . . . things I want to know the truth about . . ."

"The truth," Dumbledore sighs. "Is it a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution. However, I shall answer your questions unless I have a very good reason not to, in which case I beg you'll forgive me. I shall not, of course, lie."

"Well . . . Voldemort said that he only killed mine and Harry's mothers because she tried to stop him from killing us. But why would he want to kill us in the first place?"

Dumbledore sighs very deeply this time.

"Alas, the first thing you ask me, I cannot tell you. Not today. Not now. You will know, one day . . . put it form your mind for now, (Y/n). When you are older . . . I know you hate to hear this . . . when you are ready, you will know."

And (Y/n) knows it is to good to argue. "But why couldn't Quirrell touch me?" she asks.

"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leaves its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign . . . to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hatred, greed,and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason. It was agony to touch a person marked by something so good."

Dumbledore now becomes very interested in a bird out on the windowsill, which gives (Y/n) time to dry her eyes on the sheet.

"And sir, there's one more thing . . ."

"Just the one?"

"How did Harry get the Stone out of the mirror?"

"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone — find it, but not use it — would be able to get it, otherwise they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixir of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes. . . . Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets. Ah! Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans! I was unfortunate enough in my youth to come across a vomit-flavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them —but I think I'll be safe with a nice toffee, don't you?" He smiles and pops the golden-brown bean into his mouth. Then he chokes and says, "Alas! Ear wax!" (Y/n) smiles.

Madam Pomfrey, is very strict, (Y/n) notes a little later that day.

"Just five minutes," (Y/n) pleads.

"Absolutely not."

"You let Professor Dumbledore in . . ."

"Well, of course, that was the headmaster, quite different. You need to rest.

"I am resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey . . ."

"Oh, very well," she gives in. "But five minutes only."

And she lets Harry, Ron, and Hermione in.

"(Y/n)!"

Hermione looks ready to fling her arms around (Y/n), but (Y/n) is slightly glad that Hermione holds herself back as her head is still sore.

Hermione sits down beside (Y/n)'s knees, studying her sister's pale face.

"Oh, (Y/n), we were sure you were going to - Dumbledore was so worried -"

"The whole school's talking about it," says Ron. "What really happened?"

It is one of those rare occasions when the true story is even more strange than exiting than the wild rumors. (Y/n) and Harry - who adds somethings in as the story progresses - Quirrell; the mirror; the Stone; and Voldemort. Ron and Hermione were a very good audience; they gasp in all the right places, and when Harry and (Y/n) tell them about what is under Quirrell's turban, Hermione screams out loud.

"So the Stone's gone?" asks Ron finally. "Flamel's just going to die?"

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that — what was it? —'to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure.'"

"I always said he was off his rocker," says Ron, looking quite impressed at how crazy his hero is.

"One good thing did come out of this whole situation though," (Y/n) murmurs with a grin. She glances around to see of Madam Pomfrey was watching, and then she shifts in to lioness quickly before shifting back.

"That's so cool," Hermione whispers excitedly, taking (Y/n)'s hand and squeezing it gently.

"So, what happened to the three of you?" asks (Y/n).

"Well, I got back all right," says Hermione. "I brought Ron around - Harry showed up during that process - and we were dashing up to the entrance hall - he already knew - he just said, '(Y/n)'s gone after him, hasn't she?' and hurtled off to the third floor."

"D'you think he meant you two to do it?" asks Ron. "Sending you Harry's cloak and everything?"

"Well," Hermione explodes, "if he did - I mean to say - that's terrible - you two could have been killed."

"No, it isn't," says Harry thoughtfully. "He's a funny man, Dumbledore. I think he sort of wanted to give us a chance. I think he knows more or less everything that goes on here, you know. I reckon he had a pretty good idea we were going to try, and instead of stopping us, he just taught us enough to help. I don't think it was an accident he let me find out how the mirror worked. It's almost like he thought I had the right to face Voldemort if I could. . . ."

"Yeah, Dumbledore's off his rocker, all right," says Ron proudly and (Y/n) laughs. "Listen, you've got to be up for the end-of-year feast tomorrow. The points are all in and Slytherin won, of course — you missed the last Quidditch match, we were steamrollered by Ravenclaw without you — but the food'll be good."

At that moment, Madam Pomfrey bustles over. "You've had nearly fifteen minutes, now OUT," she says firmly.

After a good night's sleep, (Y/n) feels nearly back to normal, though Hermione had forced (Y/n) to put on her brace - like she needed it.

"I want to go the feast," she tells Madam Pomfrey as she straightens her many candy boxes. "I can, can't I?"

"Professor Dumbledore says you are to be allowed to go," she says sniffily, as though in her opinion Professor Dumbledore didn't realize how risky feasts could be.

(Y/n) makes her way down to the end-of-year feast alone that night. She had been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on giving her one last checkup, so the Great Hall is already full. It is decked out in Slytherin colors of green and silver to celebrate Slytherin's winning the House Cup for the seventh year in a row. A huge banner showing the Slytherin serpent covering the wall behind the High Table.

When (Y/n) walks in, there is a sudden hush, and then everybody starts talking loudly at once. She slips into a seat between Fred and Hermione at the Gryffindor table and tries to ignore the fact that people are standing up to look at her.

Fortunately, Dumbledore arrives moments later, the babble dying away. "Another year gone!" Dumbledore says cheerfully. "And I must trouble you with an old man's wheezing waffle before we sink our teeth into our delicious feast. What a year it has been! Hopefully your heads are all a little fuller than they were . . . you have the whole summer ahead to get them nice and empty before next year starts. . . Now, as I understand it, the House Cup here needs awarding, and the points stand thus: In fourth place, Gryffindor, with three hundred and twelve points; in third, Hufflepuff, with three hundred and fifty-two; Ravenclaw has four hundred and twenty-six and Slytherin, four hundred and seventy-two."

A storm of cheering and stamping breaks out from the Slytherin table.Harry can see Draco Malfoy banging his goblet on the table. It is a sickening sight.

"Yes, yes, well done, Slytherin," said Dumbledore. "However, recent events must be taken into account."

The room goes very still, the Slytherins' smiles fade a little.

"Ahem," says Dumbledore, clearing his throat. . "I have a few last-minute points to dish out.Let me see. Yes . . . "First — to Mr. Ronald Weasley . . ."

Ron goes purple in the face; he looks like a radish with a bad sunburn.

". . . for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor House thirty points."

Gryffindor cheers nearly raise the bewitched ceiling; the stars overhead seem to quiver. Percy can be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! My youngest brother! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

At last, there is silence again.

"Second - to Miss Hermione Granger . . . for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor House thirty points."

Hermione buries her face in her arms; (Y/n) suspected that she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table are beside themselves, they are eighty points up.

"Third - to Mr. Harry Potter . . ." continues Dumbledore. The room goes deadly silently. ". . . for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house forty-five points."

"Fourth - to Miss (Y/n) (L/n)," the room seems to go even quieter. ". . . for outstanding loyalty and the best potion made this year," (Y/n) flushes at the comment, "I award Gryffindor House fifty-five points."

The din is deafening. Those who can add up while yelling themselves hoarse know that Gryffindor how had four hundred and seventy-two points - exactly the same as Slytherin. They had tied for the House Cup - if only Dumbledore had given (Y/n) just one more point.

Dumbledore raises his hand and the room gradually falls silent.

"There are all kinds of courage," says Dumbledore, smiling. "It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends. I therefore award ten points to Mr. Neville Longbottom."

Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud is the noise that erupts from the Gryffindor table. Harry, Ron, and Hermione stand up to yell and cheer as Neville and (Y/n), white with shock, disappear under a pile of people hugging them. Neville had never won so much as a point from Gryffindor before. Harry, still cheering, nudges Ron in the ribs and points at Malfoy, who couldn't have looked more stunned and horrified if he'd just had the Body-Bind Curse put on him.

"Which means," Dumbledore calls over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin, "we need a little change of decoration." He claps his hands. In an instant, the green hangings vanish and a towering Gryffindor lion takes its place. Snape is shaking Professor McGonagall's hand, with a horrible, forced smile. When he catches (Y/n)'s eye, however, he gives her a small, genuine smile - shocking the others.

Harry had almost forgotten the exam results are still to come, but come they did. To their great surprise, both he and Ron pass with good marks; (Y/n), of course, had the best grades of the first years, Hermione only behind from (Y/n)'s brilliant Potions grade. Even Neville scrapes through, his good Herbology mark making up for his abysmal Potions one. They had hoped that Goyle, who was almost as stupid as he was mean, might be thrown out, but the had passed, too. It is a shame, but as Ron says, you couldn't have everything in life.

And suddenly, their wardrobes are empty, their trunks are packed, Neville's toad is found lurking in a corner of the toilets; notes are handed out to all students, warning them not to use magic over the holidays ("I always hope they'll forget to give us these," says Fred sadly.); Hagrid is there to take them down to the fleet of boats that sale across the lake; they are boarding the Hogwarts Express; talking and laughing as the countryside becomes greener and tidier; eating Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans as they speed past Muggle towns; pulling off their wizard robes and putting on jackets and coats; pulling into platform nine and three-quarters at King's Cross station.

It takes a while for them go get off the platform. A wizened old guard is up by the ticket barrier, letting them go through the gate in twos and threes so they don't attract attention by all bursting out of a solid wall at once and alarming the Muggles.

"You must come and stay this summer," says Ron, "all three of you - I'll send you an owl."

"Thanks," says Harry with a laugh, "I'll need something to look forward to."

People jostle them as they move forward towards the gateway back to the Muggle world. Some of them call:

"Bye, Harry!"

"See you, (L/n)!

"Still famous," says Ron, grinning at the two of them.

"I wasn't famous in the first place," (Y/n) says, waving her hand dismissively. "Nobody else knows."

"And not where I'm going, I promise you," adds Harry. He, Ron, Hermione, and (Y/n) pass through the gateway together.

"There he is, Mum, there he is, look!" It is Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, but she isn't pointing at Ron.

"Harry Potter!" she squeals. "Look, Mum! I can see-"

"Be quiet, Ginny, and it's rude to point," Mrs. Weasley smiles down at them. "Busy year?"

"Very," says Harry.

"Thanks for the fudge and the sweater, Mrs. Weasley," (Y/n) says and Mrs. Weasley smiles, as (Y/n) was wearing said sweater.

"Oh, it was nothing, dear," Mrs. Weasley answers.

"Ready, are you?"

It is Vernon Dursley, still purple-faced, still mustached, still looking furious at the nerve of Harry, carrying an owl in a cage in a station full of ordinary people. Behind him, stands Petunia and Dudley, looking terrified at the very sight of Harry. (Y/n) raises an eyebrow at the man, Marvel's black and white form jumping onto her shoulder.

The others watched, amused, as the two have a sort of staring contest and Vernon finally backs down.

"You must be Harry's family!" says Mrs. Weasley.

"In a manner of speaking," says Uncle Vernon. "Hurry up boy, we haven't got all day." He walks away.

"Hope you have - er - a good holiday," says Hermione, looking uncertainly after Uncle Vernon, shocked that anyone could be so unpleasant.

"Oh, I will," says Harry, and they are surprised at teh grin that is spreading over his face. "They don't know we're not allowed to use magic at home. I'm going to have a lot of fun withe Dudley this summer . . ." At the words, (Y/n) lets out a laugh.

Harry, smiling, grabs Hedwig's cage and his trunk, follows the Dursleys out to their car.

Someone places a hand on (Y/n)'s shoulder, and she looks up to see her parents standing there, along with a man with dark brown - almost black - hair, a clean shaven face, and dark brown eyes.

(Y/n) waves shyly to the man and he smiles back. "You must be (Y/n)?" he asks, and (Y/n) nods. "Would you minded if we talked?" he asks and (Y/n) looks over at her parents, who nod.

Mr. Granger takes (Y/n)'s trolley and (Y/n) gives Marvel a quick pat on the head before turning towards the man.

"I'm Tony," the man says, and (Y/n) shakes his offered hand. "I've heard from your parents that you're very smart."

(Y/n) flushes a little but nods in agreement.

"How would you like to pick up an internship with me," Tony says and (Y/n) considers it for a moment.

"Where?" she asks after a moment.

"Stark Industries."

Word Count: 5686 words.

So, yeah, it might be a little bit until my next chapter. It strays a little from the HP universe, but I hope that's okay with y'all.

See y'all soon!

Love y'all!

Kaitlynn 😍❤️

[fishandloaves]

Know Your Rights: Advice on Arrest/Police Powers During Protesting (London Edition)

Hey all, I haven’t seen a post like this advising on what to do in the event you are taken to police custody that is UK-based. so I thought I would share some tips/contact numbers/advice. In light of the upcoming #BLM protests coming up in London, I thought I would share some resources/tips on your rights and dealing with the police. 

[Disclaimer: I am not a legal practitioner - this is NOT legal advice. This is all advice that I have collated from various grassroots organisations, charities, and government websites] 

1. Here is a bustcard - print one out and keep it on you during the protest! Always have either this bustcard on you, or write down the contact number of a trusted solicitor and the Protest Support Line at all times. (If you are outside London, check the greenandblackcross website for a bustcard specific to your location)

Plain text version:  ADVICE ON ARREST 

Say “NO COMMENT” to all police questions during casual chats, ‘booking in’ & interviews. At the police station you may wish to give your name, address and date of birth to speed your release. If asked your nationality you must give it. For protection and that of other people don’t answer further questions. 

Do not accept a CAUTION without advice from a recommended solicitor. This is an admission of responsibility and goes on the police national computer. 

You have the right to FREE LEGAL ADVICE at the police station. Duty solicitors do not always have experience with protest law, we recommend asking the police to contact one of the following: 

ITN (Irvine Thanvi Natas): 020 3909 8100  HJA (Hodge Jones & Allen): 0808 252 8678  Bindmans: 0207 833 4433 / 020 7305 5638 (out of hours)  Kelly’s: 01273 674 898 / 0800 387 463 (out of hours) 

You have the right to have someone informed of your arrest. (Make that the Protest Support Line unless otherwise arranged: 07946 541 511).

You have the right to an interpreter if English is not your first language.  If you are or appear under 18, an appropriate adult should be called.

LEGAL QUESTIONS about PROTEST? 

STOP AND SEARCH: You do not have to give your name and address under any stop and search power, see below website for more details. Legally you must be told the reason and the power that you are being searched under. 

If you witness an arrest, want support or have legal questions about protest: courtsupport@protonmail.com  07946 541 511 

Legal Observers are independent volunteers who gather evidence on behalf of protestors and act to counter police intimidation and misbehaviour. Read more about your rights and protest legislation: www.greenandblackcross.org

After arrest &/or if you have a court date & want advice, email courtsupport@protonmail.com

2. Stop and Search: Know Your Rights Linked above is the official gov.uk webpage regarding the police power to stop and search. Read it fully before a protest so you know what your rights are when asked to submit under this power.

Important: ‘stop and search’ is NOT the same as ‘stop and account.’ Under stop and search, you are well within your rights to refuse to answer and walk away! 

Police Powers  A police officer has powers to stop and search you if they have ‘reasonable grounds’ to suspect you’re carrying:

illegal drugs

a weapon 

stolen property 

something which could be used to commit a crime, such as a crowbar

You can only be stopped and searched without reasonable grounds if it has been approved by a senior police officer. This can happen if it is suspected that: 

serious violence can take place

you’re carrying a weapon or used one 

you’re in a specific location or area

Before you’re searched  Before you’re searched the police officer must tell you: 

their name and police station

what they expect to find, for example drugs 

the reason they want to search you, for example if it looks like you’re hiding something 

why they are legally allowed to search you 

that you can have a record of the search and is this isn’t possible at the time, how you can get a copy

Removing clothing: police powers A police officer can ask you to take off your coat, jacket or gloves. 

The police might ask you to take off other clothes and anything you’re wearing for religious reasons - for example a veil or turban. If they do, they must take you somewhere out of public view. 

If the officer wants to remove more than a jacket and gloves they must be the same sex as you. 

3. Key Messages  NO COMMENT  NO PERSONAL DETAILS WHAT POWER?  NO DUTY SOLICITOR NO CAUTION

No comment: 

You do not need to answer police questions, so don’t.

This is for your own protection and for the protection of others.

The police will try to pressure and deceive you into incriminating yourself. Instead of trying to decide when it seems ‘safe’ to answer, just say “No comment” to all questions. During ‘informal chats’ in the police van and especially in interview. 

If your friend in the next cell knows you aren’t going to talk, they will feel better able not to talk themselves. Remember, interviews only help the police - they will not interview you if they already have enough evidence to charge you. 

A good solicitor will sometimes suggest that you make a prepared statement in interview. In that case, you or your solicitor will read the statement and you should answer “No comment” to any more questions. 

For a longer discussion, see the “NO COMMENT” booklet produced by the Legal Defence and Monitoring Group. [Their website seems to down at the moment - will update when I can get the link!] 

No personal details: 

You do not have to give personal details under ANY stop and search power, so don’t. 

On protests, the police often use searches as a way of finding out who is present, both for intelligence purposes and to intimidate you.

Police also use arrest as a means of gathering information, particularly when they arrest a large number of people together (“mass arrest”).

As a default, you do NOT have to give your personal details to the police at any point during the arrest process. However, since 2017, if you have been arrested, the police can require to say what your nationality is and can require you to produce nationality documents, if they suspect that you are not a British citizen.

We recommend not giving personal details to the police for as long as possible – for more information on why, see the page “Do I have to give my details?”. If you have been arrested and taken to the police station you may wish to give your name, address and date of birth at the custody desk to speed your release. Police will usually check the address and may visit at a later date.

Once you reach court, you can be required to give your name, date of birth and nationality.

There are a few situations in which police may have a power to require personal details: if someone is driving a vehicle (or another licensed activity); if they are being fined under a Fixed Penalty Notice; under a particular anti-social behaviour power (which should not generally be used against protesters); or if there is a particular by-law.

What Power?:

Ask “What power?” to challenge the police to act lawfully

Some police officers rely on you not knowing the law. If you are asked to do something by a police officer, ask them what power (i.e. what law) they are using and why they are using it. Make a note of what was said, by whom (numbers) as soon as possible afterwards.

Don’t let them turn this into a situation where they ask you questions though – just walk away once you have your answer, and remember No Comment!

No Duty Solicitor:

Use a recommended solicitor with protest experience. Here is a list of trusted solicitors who are experienced at dealing with cases surrounding police and protest. 

The “duty solicitor” is the solicitor who is present at the police station. They may come from any firm of solicitors, which means they almost certainly know nothing about protest.

Duty solicitors often give bad advice to protesters; we recommend you always use a good solicitor who knows about protest. 

You are entitled to free legal advice inside a police station and can ask for one of the solicitors in the above list. 

If you do not know which solicitor to call, contact the Protest Support Line. 

No Caution:

Cautions are an admission of guilt

Offering you a caution is a way the police may ask you to admit guilt for an offence without having to charge you. It is an easy win for the police, as they don’t have to provide any evidence or convince a court of your guilt.

At the very least, you should never accept a caution without taking advice from a good solicitor.

4. Guides

For supporting yourself:

Key Advice when going on a Protest Stop and Search Being Trans and Protesting Looking after your health on actions Trauma and Emotional Support What happens if I’m Arrested? I’ve been Arrested! What Next? Should I ignore Police Bail? The Post-Charge Legal Process DBS checks and being arrested on protests Key Advice for Protesting in France Demonstrations and International Students

For supporting others: 

How to give Police Station Support My Friend has been Arrested! Support for People going to Court What is a Legal Observer? Witness to an Arrest or Police Violence?

For organising an action:

Guide to Injunctions Planning an Action Protesting on Private Property

Protest Laws:

Filming and Photographs at Actions Laws Commonly Used at Protests Obstructing Workplaces: Trade Union Legislation Police Liaison Officers

Challenging the police:

Holding the Police to Account How do I find out what Information the Police hold on me? Making a Claim Against the Police Making a Complaint Against the Police What is a Judicial Review?

For more information: www.greenandblackcross.org 

5. General protest advice

Look out for things that don’t seem right. Stay alert for undercover white supremacists who may be infiltrating the protest. If anything seems off to you, document it. 

Follow the directions of grassroots black organisers. 

Film safely - do not film anyone’s faces/anything that could identify individuals at a protest. There are other, better resources online for successful filming.

Wear unassuming clothing and face coverings.

Buddy up - write down each other’s contact details on your arm, as well as the Protest Support Line. Make sure someone is keeping an eye on you and check in on them. 

Keep socially distanced - we’re still in the middle of a pandemic! 

Wear masks and protective eye gear if possible. 

Tie hair up.

If you can, leave your phone at home and bring a burner phone for contacting your buddy/contacts.

If you must bring your smartphone, first turn off Face/Touch ID, disable data and location services, and go on airplane mode. Also, watch this video on signal proofing your phone.

Don’t bring anything incriminating e.g. drugs, weapons (including pocket knives) - don’t give them a reason to arrest you! 

Don’t wear contact lenses or jewellery 

Bring water (for hydration and tear gas) 

Bring snacks (thank me later) 

Bring first aid supplies

STAY SAFE AND LOOK OUT FOR EACH OTHER.🖤 

Safe protesting, y’all ✊🏽 #BlackLivesMatter

[vladvodadracul]

Drăculeştii, by Georgina-Viorica Rogoz, 1977

Harefta

At my sight - I must have looked awful, sweaty and dusty, driven mad with the thought that I would not arrive in time and that everything was in vain - the guards made a wall of spears.

I was worn out, I couldn't shout, I only mumbled in Romanian, showing the seal ring I had from Mitri.

"His Majesty's service."

An unknown boyar invited me and took me to the Lord. He was eating some bread and steak under a half-sheet of tent, hung on the elms, to give him a little cool, for the summer sun had begun to burn since before noon.

With Vlad Dracul there were in the tent some boyars and his two sons, one of whom was very small, sleepy, with blond hair, large dark eyes, like those of a doe; the other was tall, bony, already jumped over early childhood. I only paid attention to him for a moment, and addressed my Voivode without hesitation, barely breathing:

“I'm Stepan sin Nanu, Your Majesty's man from Adrianople.”

"I know. You haven't changed. What news do you have?”

“Your Majesty may ask the honorable boyars here not to be upset, because I have to speak to you in private.”

The Lord beckoned to his companions, who pulled away, giving orders and preparing to set out. I didn't tell him anything, but I gave him the scroll with the seal of the Citadel of Giurgiu.

Vlad Dracul looked at it and his face darkened.

"What does that paper say?"

“Examine it, my Lord, it’s the seal of the Danube Fortress. If it's the same as the one on the letter handed to you in the winter by sub-pasha of Giurgiu himself, who sent you here, on the road to perdition, then I will read what is written in the letter, although it is hard for me to upset you. You still have to know the truth.”

The voivode grimaced worse, clapped his hands and shouted, "Logothete, give me the last papers in the rosewood box. Quick!”

A tall, young man I didn't know was approaching.

"And the boyar Voicu?" I murmured, astonished that I had not seen his faithful counselor near his Lord.

"He's sick in Philibe city. The sun hit him on the head, and at his age he felt sick,” murmured the young secretary, handing the voivode a few scrolls with gilded writing.

Vlad looked over the two parchments in disgust, handed me the scroll I had brought, and growled out the words:

"Read. I suspected for a long time, from the moment I looked in the yellow eyes of the bastard sub-pasha. Read it now, what are you waiting for?!”

I raised my eyebrows, waiting for the secretary and prince Vlăduţ to leave, who was now moving next to his father, chewing on some food and turning his back to me.

"If Your Majesty commands me to read it in front of the young son of the Country," I hesitated, beginning to gather my strength after the long, exhausting journey.

“Go, son.”

"I beg you, father, to allow me to stay," the answer snapped. It sounded so little like a request or politeness, it had been said with such passion and seriousness, that the Lord laughed.

"Stay, if you want. You will begin a moment earlier than I thought, or even the ruthless Murad-han himself thought, the bitter lesson that a hostage giaour prince must swallow daily at the Sublime Gate of Happiness.”

"Your Majesty," I said breathlessly, "you should turn around. Know that everything is ready for your escape. We'll hide you for a night in a caravanserai, then we'll put you in a camel driver’s clothes and we'll take you to the Arvanites in Scanderbeg’s mountains. The Castriota prince is with the Christians, although today he is in Murad's service.”

“Mitri is an idiot!” Vlad Dracul thundered. “I don't need such advice, it's too late! Come on, read.”

I coughed, ashamed, and started with the official formula:

“To our great Sultan Amurad-han, the son of the glorious Muhammad, the enlightened and ...”

“Jump over his enlightenment. Get to the core”, the Voivode ordered me.

"... And know, my blessed Sultan, that as long as Vâlkoglu (Despot Brancovici) will continue to plot with the Hungarian, Dâraku will not think of bowing with true obedience, because he is a hypocrite. And he will do to me what he did to the pasha of Silistra, three summers ago ...

Do not believe Vlad Dâraku to be a friend, even if he comes with his sons and his nobles to bow to your high chair and renew the treaty, because we have news that he has an understanding with Iancu, who is allied with the Serb and The Greek and the Pope of the Christians of the west and they will attack you from two parts, from the waters of the Danube and from the steppes of Karamanoglu, who is also allied to them to jump you from behind, through Anatolia. This is why I think, as your humble and unworthy servant, that the beglerbey of Rum has the right to say, as he said before, that it would be more useful for you here to have a pashalak with a faithful bey from among our own people who believe in the Prophet, than an unruly bearer of hilat (flag), from the sons of Mircia-Voivod.

And know, my beloved and glorious, enlightened master, that I am grieved, like the werewolf-eaten moon, at the thought that not I, but another of your servants will rejoice when he puts the chains on the unbeliever Dâraku, as You desire, glorifying Allah for His justice.”

“Hm... is there much left?”  the Voivode growled.

"All that's left is the closing formula of the letter."

"The pig of a sub-pasha!" the Voivode burst out. “I knew since before. I understood a long time ago. He handed me the Sultan's safe-conduct, pushing me into the ready-made trap.”

"Did our letters from this spring reach Your Majesty?"

"Sure, but I had  no choice. I had to come. Better I come to the wolf's lair than to wait for the wolf to come over my sheep, unprepared for his strong fangs. I need one more year. Then...”

"Your Majesty,” I tried again. "A caravan of ours awaits your decision. There is room for ten to twelve people, along with Your Majesty and the princes. You can't enter Edirne. That's where the dungeon will receive you, maybe the executioner.”

"Who knows," Vlad laughed. “The year doesn’t bring what the moment does. Murad is a righteous Sultan, he does not tarnish his signed treaties, he has no reliable evidence against me, he is also of a changeable nature when he hears certain meaningful words... And I have nowhere to go. His guards would slaughter us anyway, on the way back...”

“If not us the twelve fugitives, certainly for the other three hundred Romanians we came with!” young Vlad intervened.

I looked at his face. There was no trace of bratty arrogance on it, but a mature, thoughtful and upright tension.

"So you, son, are also saying we should stay and face the music?" old Vlad smiled under his mustache. Keep in mind: the son of a dethroned voivode is more endangered than an ignorant hostage caught in battle. You might perish.”

"I'm getting ready to die, just like I'm getting ready to win."

"What do you think about this, Stepane sin Nanu?" the Voivode asked, suddenly sounding joyful.

"I obey the command of my brave Lord and his noble son."

“Stop the teasing. It’s not empty words I want to hear, but your advice.”

“Your Majesty, we could save your life, with a little luck on both sides”, I insisted further on my plan. “Give the order...”

“Hm!” the Voivode grimaced again, darkened by some unspoken thought. “Everyone's life hangs by a thread. Even yours. Therefore, Stepan, go back to the Chancellery of the Gate, pretend that you have not seen me, that you know nothing about me, play your part well, because we will need your skill and advice! And if we don't have time to talk between ourselves, without unfriendly ears and enemy turbans in front of us, know that I want and order you to stay as close as possible to my sons... To guard them as much as possible ... Radu, because he's silly, frail, small... and Vlad...”

“Me, why?” the proud princeling got upset, staring at me with cold, green eyes, like clear sulphur, ready to ignite at the first spark.

Vlad Voda let his hand fall on his little boy's shoulder.

I noticed that he no longer wore the necklace with the large medallion that had mesmerized me as a child. His nose had become thinner, the muscles of his face glistening under sweat, as if polished on an effigy; two gray strands descended past his hollow cheeks, framing him in a sort of telluric silver. His eyes, wide open, were glowing just as strangely as before, and it seemed to me that the powers of the dragon, which was already part of the yet unwritten legend of his life, had passed from that magical necklace into his own body, gathered under the ivory eyelids of this man. wise and burdened with fate, and from there - unleashed - they bent, burned, sucked the earthly, the perishable, the small glances that rose towards him.

The Voivode then turned to his middle son and smiled softly and anxiously at the same time:

"Guard Vlad too, Stepan... because even the bravest prince needs in his youth someone to protect him from hidden enemies, and even the one he doesn't suspect to be in the depths to himself...”

"What do you mean, Dad?” said the child, trembling with spite.

"I want you to know, my son, that I have relied on Nanu, our loyal judge from the land of Lovişte, and this man's father.... Therefore, you should also place your trust in his son and don’t take him out of your heart, unless you have proof of his betrayal. And now, go and give orders that the horses be harnessed to our wagons and that they all get into saddle. Let's go to the Gate of the Sublime Duplicity!”

[askkrenko]

Krenko’s Guide to Pokemon: Shellder Line

I’m sorry, but every goofy, throwaway comment I can think of for this Pokemon is absolutely filthy, so I’m just going to say nothing and let you all wonder what I was thinking about for this clam-based pokemon. DESIGN:  Shellder is modeled after a clam, but given big adorable eyes to remind you that clams are actually living creatures. Though real clams don’t have tongues, what they do have are a single large, fleshy, pink foot they use to move around with, which often resembles a tongue. The sheller design takes this visual trick and makes it real.  Shellder looks enough like a clam to be obviously a clam, but also different enough that one would never mistake it for a clam that wasn’t a Shellder, and that’s a successful design in my book. It’s also cute. Shellder’s evolved form, Cloyster, is clearly going a bit more Oyster style, with the old darkness of Shellder’s head very clearly being a pearl now. Cloyster looks powerful, dangerous, thoroughly spikey, and yet still unique. It’s clearly some sort of bivalve, but also clearly an original creation. I have absolutely zero complaints about this design.

EVOLUTIONS:  Shellder + Water Stone = Cloyster. It’s that simple. And like many stone evolutions, Cloyster stops learning moves.  There’s a pretty big power gap between Shellder and Cloyster, and in fact it’d be mechanically fine if there were another stage between them, but Pokemon doesn’t add middle evolutions, and we don’t need a third one on the bottom or the top... But how about a third one to the side? See, Shellder has a second evolution that we all know about and that we all have but none of us have it in our Pokedex. Cut from Gold and Silver, meet Turban, courtesy once again of Dr. Lava.

For those not in the know, it’s said repeatedly throughout the games that when a Shellder bites a Slowpoke, they both evolve, either into Slowbro or Slowking, but the game’s never had a mechanic for that. Instead, it’s just a factoid around Slowpoke as you evolve it normally. In the anime and side games, though, we see Shellder evolve into Turban multiple times, but it’s always still referred to as the Shellder, or part of the new Slowbro/Slowking. 

We don’t know much about what Turban can do on its own, and we may never, but Generation 2 almost gave it to us as an alternate form of Shellder. Turban, as its name suggests, is based on the Turban Snail.  How it would’ve evolved is unknown, as the game data at the time of the leak didn’t actually include any way to get Turban.  This isn’t unusual for the demo- Chikorita wasn’t programmed to evolve, even though Bayleef and Meganium were in the game-but it does leave the question eternal. It’s possible it required feeding a Shellder one of those tasty Slowpoke Tails that Team Rocket’s after. Personally, I’d still love to find a way to get Turban in the future, but it seems like the moment’s passed... and besides, it’d be weird if it was stronger than any of Slowpoke’s evolved forms that require its assistance.

Art by PeregrineJazmin TYPING: While Shellder is a Water type, Cloyster is Water/Ice and we were just here like two Pokemon ago weren’t we?  Water/Ice is decent offensively, super effective against six types,  but Ice is such an awful defensive type that Cloyster winds up with four weaknesses and only two resistances. It’s double resistant to Ice, which is helpful, but rarely necessary. STATS: Cloyster has 180 defense, and 45 special defense. It can tank some pokemon all day, and others are just going to one-shot it. It’s weird to see a Pokemon with 180 defense and say it’s not here to be a wall, but with poor HP and Special Defense and not many resistances, Cloyster’s 180 defense is a perk that makes it hard to stop, not a tool to win a drag-out brawl.   For offenses, Cloyster has a decent 95 attack and a below-average-but-inoffensive 70 speed. Cloyster needs to be built for speed to keep up, but it can be, so that’s fine.

Art by raizy

ABILITIES: Shell Armor grants immunity to critical hits. Overcoat grants immunity to Hail (which Cloyster already has), Sandstorms, and Powder/Spore moves. But we don’t care. Because Cloyster has Skill Link and Skill Link is what makes Cloyster great. Skill Link says that if a move can hit multiple times, it hits the maximum number of times every time. I’ll get into why this is so good in the Moves section, but I want to be very, very clear right here: Skill Link is what makes Cloyster a strong Pokemon.

Art by Zebes MOVES: Cloyster is better as a Physical Attacker than as a Special Attacker, so its Water move is generally going to be Liquidation. Except... Cloyster doesn’t necessarily need a water move.  Ice already hits ground, so it only needs Water to hit Steel, Fire, and Rock. Keep that in mind and we’ll come back to that later. Cloyster’s Ice attack is Icicle Spear.  Formerly Cloyster’s signature move, Icicle Spear is a mediocre move that hits 2-5 time for 25 power and 100 accuracy, averaging at just under 80 power... But Cloyster has Skill Link. With Skill Link, Icicle Spear is 125 Power, 100 Accuracy, STAB, Physical, and doesn’t even make contact. With Cloyster’s decent 95 power, this is amazing. And you know what else triggers off Skill Link that Cloyster can learn?  Pin Missile, Rock Blast, and Spike Cannon. Spike Cannon’s garbage, so don’t worry about that, but Pin Missile’s solid and Rock Blast is super-effective against Bug, Fire, and Ice types, and does neutral damage against Rock and Steel Pokemon. Though technically weaker than STAB Liquidation, it’s better coverage for what Cloyster needs.

It’s also important to note that if Cloyster uses a King’s Rock, every hit of  Icicle Spear, Rock Blast, and other similar moves give a chance to make the target flinch, giving Cloyster better odds against foes that can survive a turn against it.

Art by JRCoffronIII

Now, the real way to take advantage of Cloyster’s huge defense in battle is to reliably have a turn to set up, and Cloyster has one of the best set up moves in the game: Shell Smash. Shell Smash lowers Cloyster’s Defense to something still respectable, tanks its Special Defense even further, and raises Attack, Special Attack, and Speed each by two stages.  As long as you’re confident whatever’s in front of you isn’t going to drop you in one hit (and a Focus Sash can ensure that), a single Shell Smash puts you in a position to start sweeping with Icicle Spear and Rock Blast. 

For a fourth attack, Cloyster has options. While Liquidation isn’t necessary for coverage, Cloyster’s special attack isn’t that much lower than its physical attack, and with Shell Smash it might be worthwhile to pick up one special attack for enemies that are physically defensive.  If you do this, Surf or Hydro Pump for the added coverage is good. Other options include Icicle Shard, the Ice-type equivalent of Quick Attack, the aforementioned PIn Missile to be super-effective against Dark and Psychic types, and Explosion for when you absolutely positively have to make sure something’s dead. For non-attacks, Cloyster can learn Spikes and Toxic Spikes,  as well as their opposite, Rapid Spin, all of which can be very useful. 

OVERALL:  Shellder and Cloyster have great designs, and thanks to Shell Smash and Skill Link Cloyster has a very unique combat style that’s really solid and has its place in a lot of teams.  It’s funny to me that it really looks like it should be a slow, tanky Pokemon but it’s actually best at just mowing down everything in its way with Icicle Spears. I don’t have much to say about Cloyster because Cloyster is great as is. I don’t see a need for improvement, or a change, or a new evolution or anything. The only thing I’m really interested in seeing from this line down the road isn’t even more power, it’s that I’d like to finally see Turban playable on its own.

Art by SplatterParrot

[courtorderedcake]

Hallow : ch xix - CSSNS 2019

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

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

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

Read on AO3 here.

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

Written for @cssns

Ch 19 / ?? - In which Emma makes her choice

Emma was seated to the right of Jasmine again when they began to dine, Killian seated to the Sultana's left. If Emma didn't currently feel a sense of absolute frustration beyond anything she ever had felt for that man, she would have wished him closer for the way the four men sat across from them leered at her. Raja patted her hand in a comforting gesture from his seat next to her own, his paws giant over her sweaty palms. His deep, soulful eyes read hers with sympathy as the dinner began. 

"So, Princess Emma, is it?" Jafar smiled widely, stabbing at the vegetable tart served to them as their first course. "Regale us on how you acquired such an illness while eluding capture in your family's overthrow. It must be a fascinating tale."

He smirked at her, biting a piece of asparagus viciously as she tried to keep an easy-going grin plastered on her face. The way he drew out words as if she was some shallow and simple girl made her skin crawl. 

"Oh, I'm not sure how I caught it really," Emma cut at the tart, making tinier and tinier morsels. "I only know that whatever it is, it's baffling the most talented team of healers I have ever seen."

"Well, it looks similar to an ink blot hex -" Hades began, but Emma shook her head, and he paused. 

"I know. That's what they thought at first, because of Killian telling them about the black bruising." Glancing at Killian, she saw him stop pushing food around his own plate with a frown and stiffen. All eyes at the table rested on his tightening shoulders. "He didn't know, and I was unable to explain that the bruising is a good thing. I was gifted a soot sprite blessing by an ally. Killian…" Emma hesitated as she saw him stab at his food, but Jasmine patted her knee gently to push her forward. "Out of fear of poisoning, Killian disposed of medicine given to me by an ally to combat the illness before I could take it. He threw their herbal remedy into the sea. These soot sprites have been helping me, and are one of the only reasons I am here today. It was a mistake that cost me precious time; as they treated the charm, it weakened. I got worse. Now they are praying it continues to last."

"Oh, Princess, I'm so sorry. I'm sure the Dark One must have not done it maliciously," Arthur said, frowning. "It seems as if you both trust each other quite a bit -" 

"We do -" Emma tried to interrupt, but Killian glowered at Arthur darkly. 

"The Dark One is right here, and had no bloody idea about a soot charm, herbal remedies, or anything these 'allies' of yours gave you to possibly kill you; if the Dark One had known, he gladly would have mentioned it on behalf of the Princess." His words were clipped and seeping with animosity. Emma swallowed hard, and Arthur looked at her with worry, eyes darting back to look at Killian. Their plates were taken away as more wine was poured and various cheese, fruit, and bread was provided. 

"Ah, a soot sprite charm. Interesting indeed that it's helping. That is effective for a very limited scope of illness," Hades nodded, rubbing at his chin. "Where did you find such an ally that could weave such inane magics?" 

A chill ran down Emma's spine, Hades eyes piercing her with a fixated precision. 

"Oh, we have been in the Mortal world. It's changed more than can be even explained," Killian shrugged, and Emma nodded in turn. Not a lie, but not an admission of where the Dragon and Kitsune base was, or that it still existed. Killian pressed on, a lazy, indulgent smirk settling on his features. "I'm sure you have not been recently?"

"No," Jafar sighed. "I've heard they have the most interesting machinations though."

"Their wars are what excite me, and luckily, you need not be there to experience it when you have recorded written histories," Hades smiled softly, propping his chin in his palm. "The beauty of the ever cycling world that is mortal pettiness."

"As if we Fae are much better," Ali mumbled. Emma looked at him, his dark eyes surveying the meat now sliding onto the table. 

Arthur laughed, clapping a hand harshly on Ali's back. "Quite right, quite right - Always the altruistic idealistic ponce, this one."

Ali frowned deeper, picking at his meal. 

By the time dessert began, conversation had become a sort of cyclical pettiness itself. Hades, Arthur, and Killian had begun a sort of verbal sparring over each other's intelligence as Jafar egged them on with a satin finesse, Ali pushed small bits of food around his plate while only looking up to gaze at Jasmine with a strange vehemence, and Jasmine herself gripped Emma's hand or thigh almost constantly as the men flirted or bragged incessantly trying to win favor. 

Arthur seemed the most genuine in Emma's opinion, his heart broken by his would be queen, and seeking a tender hand to cradle it. He talked about his many feats of heroism, his philanthropic efforts, the hopes of his great kingdom, and how he would bridge a kingdom together with his own. Emma herself was surprised to find that he wasn't completely unattractive, and he seemed to treat her and Jasmine with a good bit of respect. 

Jafar and Hades both seemed too dark and somehow deeply unsettling. There was something about them that made Emma feel as if they were predatory; a flash of tooth and spark on the eye that she could have placed in wolves. They both looked as if they were piecing together where the people around them were weak, waiting like snakes to strike. Hades seemed less confident than Jafar, warmer in a more personable fashion, but quicker to bouts of anger. Jafar gave Emma the creeps many more times over. 

Ali was the wild card. Surprisingly, Killian had exchanged not a single barb with him when he had spoken. It was as if Ali did not exist to Killian, although Ali himself seemed to be half present; he flipped between wanting to be there and desperately wanting to escape. Emma could understand the emotion, although it had been over a year ago since she had last dealt with that specific unease in royal matters. Was his kingdom without social etiquette? Did being outside of the United Realms mean you did not follow any social constructs? But then, Jasmine, Jafar, Arthur, and Hades seemed to know most of the stiffer mannerisms and propriety. 

It simply was bizarre how clearly Ali disliked the Sultana while he still fought for her hand. 

When they rose to take an after dinner libation, Ali trailed behind. Holding back herself, Emma watched him approach a servant clearing their plates. They began to argue after Ali seemed to say something to shock the Palace staff. 

"I don't care how much it costs. Do it. On my orders, and if anyone asks -" 

"M'Lord, I m-mean you no d-disrespect, but your orders m-mean little here. You would need -" The servant stammered, and Ali sighed, taking off his turban to comb his fingers through his hair with exasperation. 

"It was going to be thrown away, was it not?" Ali snapped at the man. 

"Well yes, but -" 

Ali took a step forward as the man cowered. "Then why -" 

"Omar, what is happening here?" Emma asked, and Omar bowed low with a sputter. Ali looked irritated, his eyes narrowing. 

"Princess, I am honored that you have remembered my name, but there is no need -" 

"I asked for the leftovers not being reused to be given to the hungry people I am sure must live in this kingdom," Ali gritted out. "It seems, however, that is too difficult - "

"It's m-much t-too good to waste on them," Omar stammered again, and Ali's eyes lit with a dark rage. He gripped Omar by the vest, and Emma squeaked out a warning. 

"Stop! Stop please!" Ali lowered the trembling man, who breathed a sigh of relief just as Jasmine turned the corner. Emma nodded at her, Ali still gripping Omar's vest as his fingers loosened. 

"Just what is going on?" Jasmine chided, her hands on her hips. 

"Ali wanted this food to be given to the poor living in your kingdom, Sultana. Omar was stating that it could not be done, and that it was too good for 'them', whoever 'them' is. I would hope no kingdom as opulent as Agrabah would have hungry people on the streets, but…" Emma trailed off, watching Ali step back with a look of surprise. 

Jasmine raised a cocky eyebrow. "If we do, I certainly have never seen them."

"Maybe you aren't looking hard enough then," Ali challenged, Jasmine's jaw dropping. 

"How dare you!" Jasmine hissed, but Ali only shook his head with a condescending smirk. "I look after this entire kingdom -" 

"You look over things alright, Sultana. You look over the things you don't see, because your guards remove them from your view. Although, since you spend the majority of your time here in your gilded towers, it isn't surprising that you have no idea how many go hungry," Ali sneered at Jasmine. She scoffed, looking at him with rage. 

"How would you even know? How dare you, how dare you -" 

"Take this food down to the streets then. Tonight. No guard clean up beforehand, just them protecting you while you serve hot meals. Let's go. Right now," Ali challenged, Emma's eyes going wide. 

"I - We - That's a logistics nightmare -" Jasmine said weakly. 

"If the food will be thrown away regardless, Jasmine," Emma smiled, batting her eyelashes. "I've not gotten a chance to see the market -" 

"Oh, not you too!" Jasmine groaned. 

"I mean, the worst thing that could happen is some food allotted for waste gets a few more hours of potential use. Please, Jasmine?" Emma watched as Jasmine fought herself internally before sighing. Whistling with two fingers, Raja appeared a moment later. 

"Sultana?" the Anisapi asked, eyeing Ali suspiciously. 

"I want this food brought down to the plaza square, and my seated box brought before it. I am about to prove this," She pointed at Ali, glaring as her chin rose in defiance, “Fool that he has no right to disrespect me when in the grace of my hospitality.”

“Fine, then, Sultana,” Ali challenged. Omar scurried off, and Jasmine turned in a huff to walk away. Before she could get very far, Ali called after her. “But what if I am right?

Jasmine whirled around, stomping back to him to poke a finger into his chest. “You aren’t.”

Ali grinned cockily, and Jasmine fumed. “Willing to wager?” he asked in a silky tone. “I bet you an evening with me that you, Sultana, the Seer of the Sands, are wrong.” Jasmine opened her mouth to say something, but Ali raised a hand. “And no peeking into the future to cheat, Sultana. No. I wager you are very wrong. I wager you have looked at your life, at Kings, Queens, and Royal fuck all, but never the poorest you rule over.”

Jasmine sputtered, and Emma watched helplessly as the viewing box was brought to them. As she stepped inside to escape the awkward tension rippling off the two, she heard Jasmine’s clear reply. 

“And when you are wrong, Ali of Ab’Dua, you will leave my kingdom to never return.” 

The viewing carriage, or 'palanquin', for the Sultana was lined in velvet, Ali seated next to Emma so Jasmine could stare him down from her seat as they approached the public square. Emma tried to focus on the sweet and spicy scents that drifted in through the small windows, or the colorful stalls that they passed as Jasmine and Ali bickered. It seemed everything they spoke about had them opposed to the other, from the size of Jasmine’s guard to their personal preferences on fruit. 

“Figs are pretentious, even to eat,” Ali sneered, as Jasmine raised an eyebrow with a smirk.

“You would know all about pretentious, as a spoiled, privileged, man-child -”

“Projection does not suit you, Sultana,” he replied coolly. Emma could practically feel the flame of Jasmine’s wrath, the heat of it as hot as the outside temperature. 

They arrived in the square in a silence that was thick with animosity, people scrambling to the shadows as if they were being chased away. Food was set forth as trumpets blared, an announcer stepping forward at the front. “The Sultana gifts you with this humble bounty, citizens of Agrabah. If you have not been fed, if you are hungry, step forward.” 

The square stayed silent, the bustle of the market dying within minutes.

“See?” Jasmine pressed, smiling slightly. Emma looked down at her feet, a strange feeling in her gut. 

Ali chuckled with a roll of his eyes. “I see alright. Your populace is terrified of you.” He stretched, cracking his shoulders and knuckles, then opened the door to the viewing box. The guards startled, but he gave a wave while he removed his fine clothes, leaving only a vest and trousers. 

“Ali, what -” Emma hissed, gesturing for him to return. He shook his head and offered his hand to her. “No! I can’t, people shouldn’t know I’m - “

At her protests, he rolled his eyes again, looking around. Spotting what he apparently needed, she saw him turn a corner. After a few moments he returned with a visibly shaken man who held several bejeweled veils. 

“Which one do you think suits this lady, good man?” Ali asked the man, who fumbled slightly. 

“The emerald, sir,” the man whispered. His forehead has begun to bead with sweat, and Emma felt intensely bad for him. 

“It’s beautiful. I’d be honored to wear such craftsmanship.” Emma smiled softly, taking it from his fingers. He flinched, but when her fingers gently took the material from his hands he relaxed. Ali placed several gold coins into his hands to pay, and the man’s eyes practically bulged out of his head. 

“I - This is too much -” he stammered, but Ali shook his head. 

“If you are hungry, if you have family that are hungry, or if you know anyone who is hungry: Please have them come forward. There is no ill will here. You are safe to do so.” Ali clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder, looking him straight in the eye. “If you are hungry, eat.”

The man glanced over Ali’s shoulder, looking at Emma and Jasmine. Jasmine sat frozen, staring straight at him. Turning on his heel, he pulled away from Ali and walked straight around the corner. Ali sighed, looking defeated. 

“Well, Princess,” Ali said sadly. “I hope you like your veil, and I wish you well. It’s a pretty parting gift seeing as I will soon be banished.”

Emma ran the silky fabric through her fingers, unable to look at Ali. She nodded, swallowing hard. It shouldn’t have made her feel so sad when he looked at her like that, but she knew without the blessing of the Sphinx he was right. He believed what he was saying with absolute certainty; Somehow he knew that there were hungry on the streets here. This was personal to him on some level. 

Carefully slipping on the veil, she stepped out of the box even as Jasmine protested. “I wanted to see the market, though. This may be my last chance.”

“Well, then we shall have to see the market.” Ali smiled, offering his arm. 

The market was beautiful, spices and shimmering draped fabrics displayed with care as callers barked out prices or pushed their goods in front of her face. Fish was plentiful, as were jewels, leather, and soaps, fragrances shifting constantly in the warm winds. 

They wandered through the stalls for an hour or so before Jasmine joined them, wearing a hooded brown muslin dress. Ali appraised her with a grin. 

"You rough up nicely, Sultana. You could be a street mouse any day -" 

"Don't you mean a street rat?" Jasmine snapped. 

"Oh no, you are far too soft and naive for that." He grinned, while her lips pressed into a thin line. "And street rats aren't generally as pretty as you are." 

Jasmine blushed, Ali saying the last bit with a strange absent-minded surety. Emma smiled, falling back as the two began to bicker over fig prices, the merchant looking on with amusement. She stopped to rest occasionally, watching them prod at each other. It reminded her of not that long ago when Killian had teased instead of running from her. 

" You don't want Ingrid to worry. That's so sweet." Emma teased, and he couldn't manage a scowl, only a slightly irritated upturn of his lips. "See, I'm right! Don't deny it -" 

"We barely survived the wrath of a Sphinx, and a Satyr. They say third time's the charm, and it would give Ingrid the utmost satisfaction to be a means to my end." A twinkle of mischief lit his eyes and Emma laughed out loud before she could help herself. 

"She did say she needs a new throw rug." Emma giggled into a coffee mug with a sideways glance. "We could take turns beating you." 

When they made their way back to the viewing box, they encountered a long line of shabbily dressed women and children, a few men here and there. Ali quirked an eyebrow, ushering them to follow him through an alley, leading them around the people waiting for whatever it was. Turning a tight corner, they came out into the public square behind a fountain. 

Jasmine's mouth dropped in shock as she saw the square full of people, some clearly in need of a healer and others skeletal. A pair of children in patchwork rags shared a loaf of bread between each other, both looking as if the wind could blow through their skinny bodies. 

"Ali -" Jasmine tried, her voice thick as she swallowed. "I -" 

"Sultana, I wish I had been wrong. Please know that now, before our wager ends," Ali said quietly, approaching her to put a hand on her shoulder. "With that said, I will see you tonight at sun down." He gave her a peck on the cheek, bowed slightly to both Emma and Jasmine, then disappeared into the crowd. 

Jasmine looked stunned as they climbed into the viewing box, guards appearing to take them back to the palace as quietly as possible. Emma watched the Sultana stare out the window, half smiling, knowing that she was planning on making changes to benefit her kingdom. 

  *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

  To say Killian found the Sultana's suitors annoying and disgusting would be an understatement. The time with them was torture, an exceedingly cruel and excruciating exercise in hatred. For one, both Jafar and Hades seemed eerily interested in his workings, bombarding him with unsubtle questions as if he was on display. They asked how the Darkness inside him worked, how its presence in his day to day life was made known, if he remembered his misdeeds, and if he felt remorse as if he would answer these questions in casual conversation. Instead he offered monosyllables, eye rolls, or simply ignored the question as if he was a petulant child. 

It suits you, you are a petulant fool of a boy. 

Then there was the fact that they were all pompous in varying degrees that were still largely high, with astounding vain and narcissistic streaks longer than the worst nobles Killian had met. All three referred to Jasmine as an object once alone in his company, as if they were speaking about the serving tray their liquor was served off of, Arthur only adding Emma in as an afterthought. Jafar treated anyone around him except the other two men with a callous disregard for their intelligence, and an outright malicious streak to boot. Hades was not only malicious, but talked openly about his hatred for women and multiple types of Fae he considered beneath him. Arthur should have been a Saint next to them, but his rapport with the two struck Killian as not to be mistaken for coincidence. If it wasn't forced, there was something to be said about what lurked below his composure. 

Topping everything was knowing that the so called 'Ali' was really the thief Aladdin, without knowing any of his intentions. What if they were in danger? Killian had suffered through this meal and now this after dinner dessert and drinks, while Emma had disappeared into the aether with no regard to anything. Again. What if she was a target? Or the Sultana, which could easily result in a wartime coup. He needed to get away from this group as soon as possible to regroup with Emma. 

The Darkness reveled in the chaos as Killian chewed his tongue, trying not to explode. 

"Yes. Do anything for that sweet princess of yours would you?" 

It's too bad you are responsible for killing her. Do you ever tire of making the wrong choices? Imagine doing everything in an effort to keep your little secret love safe, only to destroy her every step of the way. It's insidious, and I don't even have to help!

"Dark One!"

Killian looked up to see the three suitors looking at him expectantly. 

"I asked if your Princess told you where she, Ali, and the Sultana were headed!" Hades snapped, his voice cold. "You are the Princess’s lackey, are you not? Answer when I speak to you."

Killian grunted with a shake of his head. 

"It's as if you don't want a cure for…" Jafar purred, rubbing his beard and curling its ends around his long fingers. "What was her name again? Anya? Emma?" 

Killian’s eyes flicked over to stare at the grinning man, who leaned over, balancing on his staff. 

Jafar shrugged, both arms coming to rest on the curved golden head of the cobra as he continued to stroke his beard. "I'd hate for anyone to find out that the Dark One not only sabotaged an alliance that tried to cure your Emma before landing in Agrabah, but during their stay as well. Can you imagine?" 

The Darkness cackled in his head as he seethed behind an impassive stare.

Your Emma. If only they knew that she could never be yours without you obliterating her. 

"Honestly though Dark Thing, where did Emma and Jasmine get off to?" Arthur asked in a bored drawl. "Ali has one, someone should have a fair shot at the other; tis only fair."

"Ask a servant. I don't know, they were here, went to the kitchens, and then were gone with half of the guard. I assume they went to the market for whatever reasons," Killian bit out. "If you're so bloody inclined to see where they got off to, why don't you head there yourselves?" 

"Among the peasant scum?" Arthur asked as his face wrinkled with disgust. "Absolutely not. If I wanted to smell of camel dung, there are easier ways."

"Right, well. Then I'll excuse myself." Killian stood, giving a nod. 

"Yes, go fetch the Sultana and Princess, this behavior is silly. I can't do tests for this mysterious illness on a corpse. I mean, I could, but it doesn't seem preferential." Hades grinned icily and shooed Killian, the other men laughing. He left without complaint, heading down to the market with practiced ease. Taking a corner shortcut he'd discovered, he was surprised to hear Aladdin's voice. The man was arguing tersely with another as Killian stopped to listen. 

"I risked everything getting into the palace for you, and I got caught. They know to be on high alert, and if you think -" 

"Relax, Abu. She can't see us, we've cloaked the future from her."

"As if that isn't suspicious -" 

"It's not. She won't be able to tell. Djinn magic is the only thing that can take on Djinn magic. We have Djinn magic that I stole." Aladdin let a sly chuckle. "This job will be easy."

"It's not easy, and I'm not going to help you. Not when you're working with -" 

"Abu!" Aladdin hissed, and the Anisapi gave a series of scratchy chirps. 

"I'm out. I'm out, and I'm not risking it. I like the Sultana. I think today should prove she can change. What you want and what they want aren't the same," Abu said sadly, leaving in a scamper as Aladdin called after him. The Anisapi turned the corner around Killian without notice as Aladdin trotted behind. 

"Tough break there, uncommon thief," Killian drawled, pushing off from his lean against the wall. "Maybe betraying the Sultana and the Princess is not such a grand plan after all. Why are you here? You know you will be caught soon enough."

Aladdin laughed, clapping his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. "Not unless you say something. Which you won't."

"Oh? That's presumptuous of you."

"Yeah." Aladdin smirked, standing straight as his eyes glinted. "I know you are the reason that Emma is sick. You caused her illness."

"That's impossible. How could you possibly -" 

"The Princess talks. She talked to me in particular, desperate for someone after losing her best friend, who I assume is some type of elemental, and another close friend: namely, you." Aladdin smirked as Killian's jaw began to work. "It's very clear with a little bit of her sad back story of how you ended up in Agrabah. You were both close before you underwent some rite together, that no one can supposedly remember, then afterwards you avoid her and push a wedge between yourself and her. The question is, are you trying to kill her? Is that why you threw her medicine away and keep blocking her from getting better?"

"Of course I'm not trying to prevent her recovery, I never meant to hurt her!" 

Aladdin grinned, as Killian realized his admission. "So you did cause it."

"You - You great bloody -" 

"Ah ah, Dark One. Unless you want your princess to know everything, I suggest you listen to everything I'm about to say. She trusts me now, more so than you; and I can safely say now with certainty, you have feelings for her. Keep your mouth shut and I won't tell a single soul about what you did during the rite. Deal?"

"I have no feelings for her, and you have no proof - " 

Aladdin laughed again, examining his fingernails. "Neither do you. Shall I lay out your malfeasance, and hope for the best against my own?" 

"You -" 

"Deal?" Aladdin offered again, a sharpened edge to his voice.

"Deal," Killian grumbled, watching Aladdin turn away, his strides confident. They walked back to the palace in silence. Just past the gates they met the Sultana and Emma as they stepped from their boxed palanquin, Killian falling back as Aladdin moved towards Jasmine and Emma. Aladdin kissed Emma's cheek to her delight, earning a giggle as Killian felt a hot and unpleasant bitterness fill his body. 

Arthur stepped from behind a hedge, a rose in his fingers that he presented to Emma with a bow. Aladdin frowned as Arthur pulled Emma into the gardens, something unspoken passing between him and Arthur before they separated. 

Unease began to prick at the back of Killian's neck. 

Emma sat at the fountain side, her hair in a braid similar to what the Sultana seemed to favor, Arthur sitting next to her as they watched fish swimming. She looked relaxed, splashing her feet and laughing as Arthur animatedly told her something with large hand movements. Resigning himself to wait until the two separated to try to speak to Emma and at least get ahead of Aladdin or anything he could do, he returned to his chambers. 

He heard Emma return hours later as he studied Agrabah's constellations and their strange alignments, the sun long since disappeared from the pocket realm's sky. When he approached to speak with her, she was already in conversation with the Goblin from before, Iago. 

"What if it is him, Iago? These dreams have to mean something. I thought it was someone else, I thought it was… I thought it might be," Emma hesitated and he heard her sigh. "The man had different eyes than Arthur. They weren't - Arthur's eyes are green, with hazel gold. But everything else, the rough hands, the rings, the soft accent when whispering sweet nothings, the dark hair and bit of scruffy beard starting… Iago, what if Arthur is the one who keeps invading my dreams? The person I thought it was… it couldn't be him. He isn't kind, he is selfish and hurtful, and just… infuriating"

"You said that the man in your dreams makes you feel safe and loved?" Iago asked. There was a sound of something rattling, then a light clatter. 

"More than that, I loved him back. It feels as though I'm so close every time I wake up. I just desperately want him to be there instead of leaving me alone again. In the last one, he was… He kissed me. We kissed each other. I think - he saved me from something, but I don't know. Everything is so jumbled."

"The runes say that he knows your feelings, but is frightened. They say your dreams are leading you to love, and that he wishes to be with you as much as you wish the same. But… " 

"But what, Iago? Why are you frowning, what do you see?" 

"There's many obstacles for both of you. There's darkness in this man's past… And in his future. Be careful with your heart, Princess. Be careful who you trust it with."

"Thank you, Iago."

"My pleasure, and honor."

Killian swallowed thickly. His time was running out, she was remembering him more and more, Arthur a replacement in his stead. It broke him as the Darkness hissed, squirming to constrict his lungs. It paralyzed him as it drilled deep through his sorrow, then as if it was a corroding acid, began to burn away all of his once secreted feelings. 

When he was able to turn the corner by Emma's room at last, the Darkness crowed in its triumph, all love for her eradicated finally and for all time. 

Somewhere deep, deeper than the Darkness had ever dared to look, something within Killian burned . 

  *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

  The smell of flowers and soft breeze playing with her hair does little to lessen the heat of him holding her. 

"Is this a dream?" Emma murmured, pulling away slightly. "It has to be, because you, it can't be you. You're not here. You would never treat me like this, I would never forget if you did."

"Love," His arms wrapped around her tighter, his dark hair tickling her cheek. A calloused hand gently caressed the back of her head. "I will remember for you, and keep you safe. It's better that way." 

"Please, I know it isn't you." Heat was pouring from him, his arms too tight but still somehow so comforting. Emma could feel flame licking her as she pushed him away. "You're not like this. This isn't you." 

He took a step back, and the sadness in the blue of his eyes froze her. She shivered, missing his warmth against herself. Her chest ached, and the air had become thin as cold seeped into her bones. "Emma. I'm so sorry."

"Stop it. Just -" It couldn't be him. It wasn't, it couldn't be him. Not him, not those eyes that screamed secrets at her; not the way he looked at her now with such anger and hatred. It wasn't him. 

His shadow seemed to grow as he turned away. Emma reached for him, unable to control her need for warmth as it began to snow over the bright flowers in the garden. "It's better for you to forget." 

"No, please don't leave me!" The wind whipped around her, snow hitting her face like freezing needles. It blanketed the world around her, absolving it of color and sounds outside her teeth chattering. Her breath puffed in the air as she yelled his name - 

"Killian!" Emma sat up, panting under the plush blankets as she shook. A coughing spell hit her with force, and she rolled onto the floor from confusion, unbalanced from the sudden awakening. The floor was cold under her skin, sweat trapping her in the sheets. An attendant quickly ran in to help her up.

"Oh, Princess! I heard you call out, what - oh you are burning up, let me -" Emma heard the Elven woman sigh as doctors and a few more attendants swarmed the room. She took a stumbled step forward, caught as more gasps sounded and her own breath would not come. 

In the dark of unconsciousness, it was uncomfortable and painful, eyes fluttering open on occasion to see bright light shone into her pupils or concerned faces poking her with this or that. The Sultana made appearances, as did Ali among the other suitors, but him more than most. Killian only appeared behind her eyelids as she tried to escape the strange dreams that featured him front and center. Her brain and heart were just as sick as her lungs for him to be appearing with such emotion. 

In the quiet she listened, straining to hear any sounds that could be him, only conjuring more hazy images of the imposter that haunted her dreams. His laughter and the thrilling feel of his lips against her own were so much more than she had ever hoped for. When she heard the soft hum of a man's appreciation, her hopes grew high until Jasmine's whispers identified who had made it. 

"I'm scared for her, Ali. She's been a good friend, and I - what if you don't find a cure? What if no one does, or if Hades or Arthur -" 

"Jasmine, it will be alright," Ali whispered in reply. "You have been a great friend to her too. We'll figure something out. With Jafar gone, Hades is working overtime, and Arthur wants… He doesn't want to marry you. He has his heart set on Emma. We're working together to identify a cure."

"Thank you, Ali. I know I should not hope or show bias, but after our date… After everything , I feel very strongly that…" 

There was a soft sigh, and Emma could hear the sound of their mouths moving together as she tried desperately to fall away into the blackness. Their date must have gone well, if they were this enthusiastic with her as an unwilling, unknown audience. 

The idea of being kissed like that, or of comfort brought by someone in the name of love, pulled her back into dreaming. Temptation lay underneath her fingers tracing trails under a naval suit, or letting a firm hand linger on the small of her back while they swayed. Emma fell back into memories of waking up enveloped in warmth, the flutter of happiness that burst upward when she stirred and was immediately comforted by a gravelly voice. What has she done to ruin the way he smiled at her while they danced? Had it all been a dream? 

When it faded next, a rough hand squeezed her own, the owner's voice accented and quiet. Her heart beat quicker in anticipation. 

"Princess, your beauty is still undeniable, even now." 

Emma coughed, turning her head with slight difficulty to see Arthur appraising her. 

"You're awake! Oh, Princess, I'm so happy to see those beautiful eyes of yours." 

Emma felt a strange disappointment, but smiled back softly. "Wha -" The words broke off into coughing that left her clawing at her throat. 

"Water for the princess! Please!" Arthur shouted, sending attendants scurrying. "Emma, hold on my delicate flower. I've got you."

A servant brought water, Arthur snatching it from his hands to pour into her mouth. Emma pushed his hand away as she sputtered, spilling water over herself in the process. Taking a small sip eventually, she sighed, turning to look at him. He was frowning, wiping away water from his tunic with disgust. 

"I'm -" Emma felt her lungs constrict and her throat burn even from the smallest bit of speech. Her attempted apology stuck like a shard of glass she could not swallow, sending her coughing again. When she looked at Arthur for help, she was surprised to see him looking at her with anger as if he was disgruntled. When she collapsed back against the bed again, it was if she had imagined it. 

"Oh, you sweet rose petal. It's alright. I know you didn't mean to get water on my velvet. It's fine. Lay back, let me speak for you as a King would for his Queen." His face was soft, and he gently stroked her face with a cloth. Though he was a great relief as he spoke orders to the servants, doctors, and attendants, his words didn't comfort her; Something there unsettled her, his bright smile half heartedly returned as she pondered on why. 

Maybe it was in the way he spoke over her, even in their moments alone together, or insisted that she should rest her voice so he could continue his lengthy monologues. There was also his treatment of the servants and her doctors, his orders given sharply as he ignored them otherwise. A realization hit her suddenly about her discomfort: Arthur reminded her of home. 

He reminded her of the courtiers, the many nobles that her parents admonished or grumbled about for their treatment of people, and their attitudes in general. Her father had used his powers as King to block her suitors, but she had been flirted with by men like Arthur. She had not tolerated it then, but now it soothed her, and Arthur charmed her… 

If she did accept his proposal, she could return to normalcy. She could love him as long as his veneer did not cover deeper problems than the banality of nobility. Coughing again, Emma pulled up the covers around herself. 

"I've gotten myself some breakfast, and a grapefruit juice for you. I hope that you don't mind, I didn't know what you would like," Arthur said, accepting a plate of meat. He dug into it vigorously while Emma was given a tall glass with a straw. She eyed the liquid suspiciously. Grapefruit alone was a questionable breakfast, sour and entirely too much for a sore throat. Taking a sip, she gagged. 

Arthur didn't notice right away, too engrossed in his ham, bacon, and sausages. When he did notice, he sighed and took away the full glass. 

"What would you like then, little flower? Some yogurt? Pudding? Maybe a hot drink?" At the last suggestion, Emma nodded vigorously. Imagining silky hot chocolate or tea had her mouth watering. Jasmine had introduced her to a spicy mix of tea and something like cinnamon milk that had calmed her stomach but also made her feel invigorated. Trying to speak and failing with a squawk, Emma reached down to write down the drink for Arthur. 

"A Kay Tea? Kye? Chay? I don't know these foreign foods, maybe a nice hot water with lemon -" 

A servant interrupted, Arthur's eyes going steely. "Chai, a chai tea. It's popular here, and we also make a hot rice drink that is very good for -" 

"Did I ask you to speak?" Arthur gritted out, Emma pulling on his sleeve to get his attention. The servant shook her head, stepping back. "You deserve better than these strange commoner's peasant fare. I'll get you some actual tea." 

Emma shook her head, annoyed, but Arthur began to talk about his home and their varying teas. Emma's mind began to wander when he spoke about artisanal rose blends, thinking about a life in a strange kingdom. At least it was above ground, and had florals.

Tea was brought for them, and she took the tea cup carefully, examining the details. Taking a sip, she closed her eyes for a moment to savor the herbal taste. It wasn't what she wanted but it transported her home, to the marble floors and carved arches in the palace, the stone walkways and brightly lit rooms with their gilded mirrors. She could hear the rustle of skirts, clinking of spoons against small dessert plates, or the muted laughter of whatever nobility was presently sitting in front of her. 

Arthur smiled broadly at her as she opened her eyes, taking her free hand in his. "I did so hope you would like this better. You deserve the best life a royal woman of your pedigree can get."

Emma sighed at his choice of words, but a smile hadn't left her face since the first taste of his gift to her. Curling her hand in his, she managed to clear her throat. 

"I like it very much."

  *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

  Arthur left in the early afternoon, kissing her softly and leaving with another peck on the crown of her head. There was business to attend to, her cure to work on most prevalently. Emma had felt worse since her last nightmare, alarmingly feeling something move around her chest as if there was a sticky ball rattling within the cavity. The doctors were still perplexed, doing their best to keep the soot sprites alive as the true issue remained elusive. Emma needed a cure, badly. Every day, the time she had grew shorter. 

Despite it all, she resolved to hide it the best she could. Not willing to spend her weeks in seclusion or in bed, she wanted to keep her kingdom safe and be with her friends. They would be the family she could not have. They would have to help her finish what parts of her journey they could. 

Killian would get the shard, and Jasmine would take over the United Realms as a proxy ruler until a ruler was announced. Emma prayed whoever it was, her parents and the rest of her family would be spared for her failure. It was the best she could do in the worst case scenario that she was living. At least Killian would be free, and maybe even happily living his life. He could be with Ingrid and Anna, carefully seeking out where they could get a house somewhere with a bakery and a garden. Maybe he would laugh more eventually, or smile, even with the Darkness free to abuse him further. The thought of him baking some pastry with flour in his hair made Emma feel a bizarre mixture of happiness and deep sadness. 

Ignoring it was enough for now. With what time she had left, she promised herself not to fixate on the mysteries that made up Killian. 

"You shouldn't be here, darling," he whispers, holding her hand. They're both shivering, the water from the rain frigid and mostly ice. He tugs her forward as they climb, thunder pounding around them as lightning illuminates the woods. "Why did you come to my nightmare?" 

"You can," Her hand slips on a slick stone, feet digging in the mud. She's still barefoot from before. He pulls and she is again next to him, lifting her onto a rocky ledge. "See me?" 

"I always could. I couldn't do anything but watch, I can never do anything but watch it happen." Holding her while they both shiver, soaked through, he runs a hand through her hair to push the clinging strands away from her face. The wind is strong, making even her dress flap in its gusts. His arms feel safe, even as her bones vibrate the warning of impending doom. As if he knows, he holds her tighter. "I could see you. I could hear you, and I could feel your hand in mine or when you bandaged my side. I'm sorry you had to see this."

"Killian…" Emma whispered, his forehead meeting hers. "Killian, don't go. Please. Don't let it take you from me."

There's a great clap of thunder, shaking the ground and roaring like a great monster. Killian pulls from her, her hand still in his as he moves away. 

"I'm sorry. It's better if you forget."

The Darkness is in its full glory before them, Killian looking at her with those eyes as it sucks him in. Clamoring for his hand but held by unseen forces and howling winds, Emma tries to bring him back to her, tries to hold on and not let go. Wind swirls around her, spinning until she's unable to breathe in its vacuum and let's go of his hand as she falls. 

"Breathe! That's it! She's coming to!" Someone was speaking, and Emma took in a hiss of air that hurt to exhale. Shaking off dizziness, she stared directly into the worried eyes of a doctor, Jasmine, Prince Ali, and Abu. 

"What happened?" Her mouth felt dry, but her voice was back to a rasping drawl. 

Jasmine hugged her tightly, followed by Ali who easily wrapped his arms around both of them. He was wearing sleeves instead of just a vest, and Emma was about to tease them both for their matching formal dress, but stopped short. She held her tongue, examining the long, jagged, scars that ran up his arm. Confused, Emma tried to talk, but Jasmine put a finger to her mouth. 

"Hush," Jasmine admonished. "You were walking with us in my apartments, then you collapsed. Are you alright? What happened?" 

"Oh. I think I must have simply over exerted myself," Emma mumbled. Jasmine's eyes narrowed, and Emma shrugged sheepishly. "I'm still learning my limits, so I just needed a break I guess. I didn't have much of a breakfast with Arthur."

Ali pushed away, looking at her with concern. "You had breakfast with Arthur?" 

Emma nodded. "In fact, I had come here to ask when his meeting with cure researchers would be over. I'm curious about their progression."

Ali scratched the back of his head, exchanging a glance with Jasmine. 

"Why don't you come sit down in my quarters," Jasmine asked politely. Abu smirked, looking at Ali as they helped Emma inside with the Anisapi guarding the door. 

Inside the chamber was a massive bed and vanity, with a sheer and dark set of curtains blocking a large balcony. Jasmine and Ali helped Emma onto the bed where she laid back against the heaping pillows. 

"What's the bad news, then?" Emma whispered. Ali swallowed hard, and Jasmine looked at her with a sad smile. 

"How do you know it's bad news?" 

Laughing lightly at Jasmine's question, Emma cocked her head slightly. "When is it ever good news?" 

"Jafar is gone. He - he was disqualified for an attempt at… He's just gone," Jasmine stated carefully. Ali looked angry for a moment before taking a deep breath. 

"Where is the bad news in that?" Emma asked carefully. 

"He took all the research, and ruined Hades and Arthur's. They were struggling to find a cure without this setback." Jasmine looked down. "We don't know -" 

"I understand."

"Emma -" 

"I don't need to hear it out loud. I don't need you to confirm what I'm already feeling. Tell me something else instead." Grinning, Emma pointed between Ali and Jasmine. "Like how your date was."

Jasmine blushed deeply, and Ali laughed with a smirk. 

"It was very nice." Jasmine smiled, looking to Ali with clear affection. 

"It must have been for you both to make out in the room of a sick person. It was an interesting wake up call." Emma giggled, Jasmine's eyes going wide as Ali burst into laughter. She blushed a bright red as he tickled her with the ends of her braid. "You two look happy. Not to rush things, but if you like him, fuck this entire suitor nonsense. Choose him."

"Emma!" Jasmine choked, laughing. Ali curled an arm around her and sat, nuzzling into her side. "It's - I want to know someone. We are doing just that, and I like this. Is that not what you are doing with Arthur?" 

"I suppose," Emma said coyly. Ali stiffened slightly, and she leveled her gaze at him. "Maybe tell me about this date of yours, and why it was so very nice."

Jasmine wove the tale of a starlight ride by magic carpet across her kingdom, shared honeyed fruits and tarts with pistachios baked on top. Aladdin showed her beauty she had never seen before, his modesty shining through embarrassment while he blushed. He occasionally added in moments, both of them laughing at the inside jokes they shared. 

Emma felt the same pang of sadness even through exhaustion, the same doubts that twisted into fear in her stomach. She could never imagine this with Arthur, and certainly not with Nil. The only one that had ever made her feel close to the warmth Jasmine and Aladdin gave off was… 

His eyes were soft, and she wished that he could just remember more strongly than ever as thunder rumbled outside her tiny cottage. 

"Stay here tonight. You… You told me once that you hate thunderstorms. I don't know if that has changed, if this you does or not, but…" Emma begged unabashedly, half asleep in his arms by the fire. "Please."

Even in her exhaustion, she reveled in his proximity. Looking down at her, he smiled sadly. “I'll stay, I always stay."

"Even if I don't remember you at all, please don't go," Emma whispered, and he nodded. 

"I'll stay. I always stay." Killian whispered again, holding her closer. Emma was sure her heart was breaking, the truth in his statement clear as crystal. He believed it without question, but Emma had heard the same promise fall from his lips before. "I will stay."

Burying her face in his chest, she prayed this time it was not a lie. 

Emma woke in her chambers, attached to various equipment by strange tubing, spells or wards hovering above her that rhythmically swayed. She blinked, confused, looking around to see Arthur by her bedside once more. He was engrossed in a book, his dark eyes scanning the pages. 

"Anything… interesting?" she asked, with a cough catching her on the last syllable. He held up a finger and continued reading several moments longer, then closed his book. 

"No, I'm afraid not. Mostly Naval tactics for bracing a coastal kingdom against raids." Arthur shrugged slightly. "Nothing I didn't already know, and certainly not reading that you would find interesting. You need to focus on getting better and not pushing yourself with such difficult topics."

He pressed a finger to her nose gently as if his quip diminishing her intelligence was amusing, then placed his book aside to get better seated next to her. Emma bit the inside of her cheek, irritation at his dismissal making her wish she could argue. Her lungs burned from the effort of a few words; the conversation that she wanted to have would be far more than that at best. 

"I like… Strategic… Planning… I like… Battlefield… Tactics… They are -" 

"Sure, sure, my rosebud," Arthur interrupted, patting her hand as if she was a child. "Now, I'd like to talk to you about something actually important, something that matters. Please pay me attention?" 

Emma stared at him in frustration, giving him a grunt of acknowledgement. 

"You fell asleep in the Sultana's chambers, so they brought you back here. You're pushing yourself too hard." He squeezed her hand, and Emma felt conflicted once again. Although annoying and pompous, Arthur was trying. He was attempting to be kind. "You need someone to help you, and to share your burden with. Especially now."

A spasm in her lower body sent her coughing, the intense fit making her back bow. She was sure that her ribs were close to breaking from the strain. 

Arthur wiped her forehead dutifully. He sighed again as she looked up at him, tears streaming down her face. 

"My sweet flower beauty, my dream, my Emma… Will you marry me?" 

Emma's eyes shot open wide, her heart racing. She could not speak, pained gasps catching in her throat as she stared at the ring box in his hands, the giant sparkling diamond in its center surrounded by rubies. The immediate hatred of its gaudy settings almost eclipsed her need for air. 

"Need… to think -" she tried, and Arthur nodded. 

"I understand, but I have something you need to see before you say no. It's important." His smile faded. 

Arthur began to talk, and Emma's heart sank. 

  *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Pacing the floor and practicing what he would say to Emma had become Killian's only way of handling her strange schedules of late. When he requested her, or simply strolled by her quarters as he often did due to their proximity, Arthur or Aladdin were not far off. Either that, or the princess had taken to small walks or napping which he could not blame her for in her condition. There had been minor commotions that he had heard the tail end of, but when he made sure that it was safe he only found servants, attendants, and perplexed doctors scrutinizing his presence. 

"Hello, Princess," he began, still not over his anxiety at trying to broach his distrust of the suitors along with their timing. "I have something of urgency to discuss with you."

"I want nothing to do with you, and your mood swings. Poison another Princess, Dark One."

The Darkness sneered in a falsetto impression of Emma's voice, and he felt like a green lad again. His heart beat rapidly as he gritted his teeth and continued. 

"Regarding the suitors and their timing -" 

"Yes, fortunately they came so I could be relieved of your presence. Thank the Gods for it; Arthur is a wonderful catch."

"- I believe that it is due to a planned surveillance attempt, and that they are seeking out our weaknesses. I think they are planning something -"  

"Planning a ball, or an event for me to be paraded at. I'll be a figurehead once more! I'll be better off with him and you will never have your freedom."

"To do you harm. I know that I have made many mistakes." Licking his lips, he swallowed hard. "But I would never let harm befall you if I could prevent it. Your well-being, your life being safe…" 

Understatement, vessel. You are the harm she needs to prevent. Her well-being is worthless as long as you and her Goblin betrothed exist. Except that your fate is me and her fate is to die some broodmare. 

"It's the only thing that makes it possible to ignore the Darkness," he whispered, and in turn the Darkness growled in a low rumble of fury. "Please consider what I've said."

He practiced repeatedly, until a knock came at his door. A voice called out behind the wood, one of the servants. "Ah, sir? Your presence is requested by Arthur in the library. Are you able to -" 

Killian opened the door, brushing past the messenger as he walked straight to meet Arthur. It was a bold play on their part, but if he could talk to Emma first… He passed her room, noticing the lights dimmed within. Jasmine and Aladdin sat on a lounge, whispering to each other while an herbalist created a purple smoke that smelled of thick mint and blackberry. It poured over Emma, who behind the veil of her curtains did not move much more than a shuddered wheeze. 

He couldn't risk it now; Emma would have to understand the delay in his confessions.

The walk was brisk, his haste to hold off the Darkness, any other visitors, and her illness setting him in double time. 

The library doors pushed open, the deep purple walls within lit by a fire bowl resting in its center. Arthur sat lounging on an emerald and magenta couch smoking a hookah in large puffs, smiling broadly as he saw Killian. 

"Well hello, Dark One. Nice of you to join me, care for -" 

"What is it that you need, Arthur?" Killian growled. The room was filled with a light layer of smoke. "I have things I need to be -" 

"I thought you and I might share a celebratory drink and smoke. I hadn't gotten a congratulations yet and it's probably untoward without her actual confirmation, but…" He took another long drag of the hookah's hose, puffing out a long tendril of smoke. "I digress." 

Killian grunted, waving a hand in the air to clear his vision. "I have no idea what you're talking about mate, but I don't intend to celebrate with you. If you'll excuse me -" 

"I proposed to her. To Princess Emma, I mean."

Whipping around, Killian took a step forward, staring at Arthur with wide eyes. "You what?" 

"I proposed to her," Arthur repeated. "She's dying, Jafar is gone, Hades can't find a cure, Jasmine isn't interested in me, and Emma is. I'm not going to waste the opportunity to be considered a viable candidate to rule in her stead." He grinned, rubbing his beard in thought. "If I can get her to last through a marriage ceremony, that's all the better. If she can stay alive longer than that, I can claim loss of an heir by her untimely end. She knows it's in her best interest to accept."

"She won't. She'd never -" 

"She would. A servant said she asks for a Goblin to dissect her dreams that I am in. It's just a matter of time." Arthur smirked, leaning back in the chair. "It's alright to be jealous, Dark One. For all your fearsome reputation, the fact that you haven't drank your fill of her is surprising. If I was in your stead, I'd have left her wrapped around my fingers both figuratively and literally!" he laughed, and Killian stood abruptly, storming away. 

Arthur sprinted up behind him, still chuckling. "Come now, don't be angry, I was only joking. She's a fair maid if I've ever seen one. Even this illness can't dampen her beauty or how her body moves with so much…" He gestured with both hands, making two mirrored curving motions. Killian's teeth ground together, his muscles tensing. " Grace ."

"Arthur, mate, if you know what is good for you, you will -" 

"Are you mad about her dying? Is that it? I thought the Darkness in you would rejoice at that, especially since the shard is in the care of the Sultana." Killian turned on his heel, the Darkness heavy as it pushed up from the binds he'd tried to place on it. Arthur followed, at his side hounding him with his mockery. Covering his mouth with his hand, he mimed a face of false confusion and shock. "Oops. I guess you didn't know? And here I thought you and her were close."

"I will tear you apart mate," Killian snarled. "I will rend you limb from bloody limb -" 

"So that's it then. She's your weak spot, the Darkness isn't at rest. I had guessed it was on a thin leash chomping at the bit, but no. It's right under the surface if you know where to dig." Arthur's smile was wide now, his eyes dark. "How very, very interesting."

Hades appeared from the gloom, becoming corporeal from a column of dense, black smoke. "Can we drop the charade then? I'm frankly ready for this to be over."

"I'd rather wait for Emma's answer to my proposal, as now that the Darkness is awake I believe it will be a long while until our cover is blown. The shard awaits you, Dark One." Killian felt himself slipping further with each second, the undertow pulling him down while raising the Darkness from where it had laid in wait. It had control now, its prior mutterings nothing compared to its screeching at him as Arthur smiled. "You simply have to take the matters into your own hands." 

"My… Own… Hands…" Killian heard it speak through him, his panic rising as he lost control. "The shard. The shard ."

"Go. Get what was taken from you," Hades added before disappearing. 

"It lies in the treasure vault near the Sultana's apartment. Get what is yours, Dark One. Get what is yours and return to glory." Arthur gave a small bow, and Killian felt the Darkness pull him away, moving him against his will through the palace. 

"No! This isn't right -" he gritted, and held on firmly to a carved column. A servant stared at him as he passed, hurrying away much quicker when a fresh snarl rose in his throat. 

Get the SHARD. 

Get the shard and be done with this! 

"No, I - I can't -" 

How dare you deny me? I am your master, I am you! 

"I won't. I have to protect her, I have to warn her!" He tried to move his foot, but lurched forward instead. In an instant, he was before the treasury Arthur had mentioned, the magic on him fizzing from the internal power struggle. The door locks were enchanted, but the Darkness controlled his left side, his arm lurching forward to touch the lock. It clicked open within seconds of dark magic drenching it in full force. 

"No! Stop!" His right hand caught the door frame and held tight, the left side of his body pulling him forward as the right held back. He groaned in pain as the Darkness attempted to tear him in twain. "I will not let you, I won't!" 

He violently slammed to the ground, his left hand pulling him forward as his nails dug into the marble tiling. Several guards approached in concern but the black magic of the Darkness spun around him like a cobweb, dropping him in front of the pedestal that held the shard. He heard shouts of confusion from a small distance as his left hand made a flicking motion, barring the door with a screech of the locking mechanism. 

MINE MINE MINE MINE MINE AT LAST YES IT IS MINE - 

Killian wrestled with himself as his left hand desperately tried to close around the chain, throwing himself back with effort. He pushed back at the Darkness desperate to get it under control as it broke him, bent him, and refused his hold. 

Realizing with keen certainty there was only one way out of this, he took a deep breath, then let go of control. The Darkness grabbed a hold of the chain, shrieking its triumph, and Killian used its momentary lapse to move them. 

As he appeared in Emma's chambers and stretched to throw it at her, the Darkness became aware at the same moment as him that something was wrong, his body frozen with his arm stuck mid-throw. 

His eyes widened further to look at the grim faces surrounding him, all but a grinning Arthur wearing varying states of disgust. 

"Emma, bloody hell, I -" 

"As you can see, we caught him using Kraken ink. It temporarily causes paralysis, even on the most powerful of dark magic." Arthur sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose dramatically. "He went for the fake shard without a moment's hesitation, and then I believe his return to your quarters, Princess, was with the intention of taking your life." 

"No! No, I swear it, Emma. I swear I realized that I was out of control, and I was scared for you. I came to return it. If it's left where I can find it, the Darkness will never stop. You must hide it again -"

"A likely excuse now that he's caught!" Hades pointed out. 

Turning his eyes towards Emma, he realized just how long it had been since he had seen her. She was a gaunt caricature of what she had been with hollowed cheeks, the skin beneath her eyes darkened to the color of bruises. Her hair stuck to her face in stringy strands as her chest struggled to rise, and she breathed using a strange line of tubing in her nose with obvious effort. Her eyes were still bright jade, staring through him as they grew glassy and she tore them away from his own. 

"Emma, please..." His fingers twitched at the attempt to reach for her, his arms stuck by the ink’s magic. 

Emma shook her head, unable to look at him. 

"I am begging you Emma. Aladdin - Ali - is a thief and working with these two; I don't know why. I don't know what they're after, but they aren't working on a cure. Don't listen to a word -"

"Princess, I'm so sorry for this. I didn't want you to have to know the truth when I thought the Dark One and you were so close," Hades began. "There is no cure I can find, because… Well, because Ali discovered from the Dark One's own admission, he caused this illness in you."

"That's - Emma please listen to me, I never - I wouldn't." Killian felt his other arm twitch upwards, Emma's eyes downcast. "Please let me explain!" 

"No. No, I think you have done enough," Aladdin said, quietly. "You told me that you were the cause, and I kept your secret because I feared for the Sultana and the Princess’s lives. Now that it's out in the open, we can admit that we are no match for the Dark One's handiwork."

"That's not -" 

"Take him away," the Sultana hissed. "I want him in the dungeons, lock him in the best cell we have. Unless, do you have objections Emma?" 

"I…" Emma looked up, coughing for a moment as she stared at him with clear pity. "I have no objections." The whisper of her voice made him swallow hard, managing a small nod. 

He was led away, placed in the dark damp of a cell so much like the one he had lived in before, wondering again if this was the punishment he so rightfully deserved. 

[doof-doofblog]

"I'm Going To Kill Him!"

Wednesday 10th February 2021

Hello again everyone! Hope your week is going well so far! Just want to say thank you for all your support over the past year! I'm really looking forward to seeing what the next year has in store for EastEnders. Already there are so many exciting storylines, characters coming and going. I can't wait for all of it to come!

Now following Wednesday's episode, the first thing I want to talk about is Max. I guess its fair to say that the poor man has been struggling over the past few days/weeks. After accidentally stumbling across a leaflet for a clairvoyant, he felt that possibly it could help with his emotions and maybe reaching out to his deceased daughter, Abi. When the lady arrives, she's nothing like you would expect … no turban on her head, no crystal ball, pretty normal from the looks of things. She slowly begins to talk and question Max about Abi, at first it seems that he doesn't seem to believe the nonsense about ghosts and spirits. She advises Max to not question it all, but just to talk and let it flow. He begins to talk about when Abi was a little girl and how he called her his "Princess". I have to say, when it comes to reminiscing about Abi, I also miss her character. There was a time when she did become a bit of a brat, but then what teenagers don't go through that phase? The one thing which Abi always loved though, was her Dad. He was her hero. I guess you could say that she was very much a "Daddy's Girl".

Understandably, as Max reminisces, its gets a bit too emotional for him. I do start to really feel for the guy, okay he has made (countless) mistakes in the past, but to be fair, he's not really a bad guy is he? The clairvoyant informs him that Abi remains close and states the fact that she does forgive him and she still loves him. This appears to be a comfort to Max, hearing confirmation that his daughter is always close to him. Later on in the evening, Jack returns home whilst Max is doing the washing up, when he notices the clairvoyant leaflet on the kitchen counter, at first he seems baffled that Max has gone ahead and approached one. Informing him that he needs to be careful as they are co-artists, however Max notifies Jack that there was no ghosts going around the house, but most importantly that he felt a close connection with Abi, which is what he's been needing for a very long time. To be fair, Jack can't argue with that, if his brother insists that he felt his deceased daughter, then there's simply nothing left to be said. We know Max's exit is slowly creeping upon us, but the one thing that I'm left questioning is - what will happen to baby Abi? Will Max take her with him? Or will he leave her with Rainie and Stuart and allow them to bring her up? Or maybe leave her with Jack? Who knows?

--

The next thing I've got to mention is Gray and the Carter family! After hearing news from the detective that Tina has been spotting shoplifting, Mick seems to feel that there could be some hope that Tina will come home. But Shirley still can't help but feel that Tina disappearing, living on the streets, shoplifting to survive is all her fault, even though Mick and Gray try to console her and inform her that she's not to blame. The horrible thing that they don't know though, is that Gray has paid a homeless woman to portray herself as Tina, to make the Carter family believe she could still be alive. As I'm watching this particular storyline continue, I really don't know how much further Gray can take this, what is he going to do next? If the scent goes cold once again on Tina's whereabouts, how else is he going to make it look like she's still alive? Does he still have Tina's phone? I have to say though, I do feel for Shirley right now, blaming herself for really no reason. Mick tries to console her, stating that she was also looking after her son during the time when Tina went missing, she simply couldn't be in two places at once. How was she supposed to know Tina would go missing?! I have to be honest though, I hate how much Gray is being so two-faced!!! Informing the Carter family that he's going to do all he can to help locate Tina, knowing full-well that she's dead and he in fact murdered her. That's just pure evil isn't it?!

Oh, I know I've said this many times before, but I really can't wait for Gray's secrets to be revealed! The Carter family are going to want to get their revenge! Suddenly Shirley makes the drastic decision that she's going to leave in search of her sister, she's going to walk the streets and possibly go knocking at Tina's friends in an attempt to find her. When Gray hears this news, he tries to persuade her not to as it would be like looking for a needle in a haystack, but Shirley has her mind made up and nothing anyone says or does is going to change her mind! Is looks as if as soon as Gray got past one hurdle, something else props up and he's got to try and find another way of stopping them from finding out the truth. How will he be able to stop this one?! Can I also just mention that regardless of hating the character of Gray, Toby-Alexander Smith is doing such an incredible job in portraying him, his performance is just - Wow! If it ever comes to it, I'd like to see him win a Best Villain award, it would be so well deserved!

--

The final thing I need to mention is the main focus of the episode, Lucas and Denise! At the beginning of the episode, we see that Denise is trying to get in touch with Lucas, after her discussion with Chelsea in the previous episode, eager to get Lucas on that plane to Ibiza and frame him. Eventually Lucas agrees to meet with Denise and hear to what she has to say. As they meet in Lucas's apartment, Denise tries her absolute best to convince him to make his relationship with Chelsea work. I just want to mention the specific moment when Denise is trying to persuade Lucas that their daughter still loves him, even though she knows full well that it isn't true, it looks as if she has to force the words out of her mouth as it makes her sick to the stomach to even say such a thing. The look in Denise's face I thought, was brilliant! She drops the biggest hint of all though that if he really wanted to go the full hog with getting his daughter back on his side, he should go to Ibiza with her. Now, this was really interesting - the look in Lucas's face changed slightly, almost as if he knew full well what Denise's intention was. He knows that Chelsea was going to plant drugs on him and frame him, but to hear Denise talk about it, makes him suspicious that she could be in on the plan also. Lucas isn't dumb, he knows exactly what they're planning, but without giving any hint that he knows, he gently nods his head and agrees to Denise's suggestion. However, later on Lucas is seen alone in the church, praying. Now I think this is the moment where people think "Oh, has he actually changed his ways?" Because it certainly had me thinking! He appears to be deeply upset to realise that the people he cares about the most, refuse to believe he's changed and is convinced that they will only ever see him as the killer he once was. He lets out a heartfelt, devastating cry which leads to the pastor confronting him and asking him what's wrong. He opens up to the minister, informing him about his knowledge about Chelsea and Denise coming up with a plan to frame him, it's then he questions the minister - What is the point in him trying to change his ways when his family don't believe in him? For a moment, it looks as if he really is going to stop trying.

Returning to the Square, as Lucas returns from the church, Denise is finding herself getting distracted in the salon. As Raymond sits happily with a ball, Denise is having to deal with irritable customers on the phone, suddenly she receives a phone call from the pastor who just so happened to be with Lucas earlier, as she goes to grab the phone, she notices that little Raymond has suddenly disappeared. Raymond had taken himself outside and began kicking his little ball around, but unbeknown to him, a cart had come lose from a car was slowly rolling backwards towards him. Denise pops out and sees the vehicle heading towards the small boy and desperately calls out his name - out of nowhere Lucas leaps into action, pushing little Raymond of out harms way. I have to be brutally honest, for a split second, when Raymond disappeared I had assumed that Lucas had taken Raymond, just to get his own back on Denise - but maybe Lucas really has changed his ways?! Denise is more than relieved to see that Raymond is unharmed. Later on, when everyone is gathered to the Vic and Denise is happy to see that Raymond has no lasting trauma, Chelsea subtly thanks her Dad for saving Raymond and takes the little boy home. It's then that Lucas and Denise finally get to sit down and discuss things, Lucas acknowledges that him saving Raymond isn't going to change people's opinion of him and it won't make up for the terrible things he's done in the past, but he pleads to Denise that if Chelsea is willing to give him a second chance, he really doesn't want to mess things up. It's then that Denise drops the bombshell that their daughter is actually in deep trouble, even though she doesn't explain details, Lucas seems to click on to the subject very quickly, acknowledging that he knows about Ibiza and the drugs and that she was attempting to set him up, which leaves Denise incredibly stunned! Eventually they arrive back at the house and Denise realises she can't hide what she knows anymore. She informs him that Chelsea has an ex-boyfriend named Caleb, and in fact he was the one who kidnapped her and hid her in a warehouse, it all makes perfect sense to Lucas that this Caleb was actually the one behind his attack, as a warning to his daughter, he did both of these things to her parents as a warning to her. They both come to realise that this Caleb is a very dangerous man and if Chelsea doesn't pay her debt, he will come after the whole family. Lucas steps into action, informing Denise that he's not going to stand for someone blackmailing his daughter, attempting to attack her family just to warn her. He informs Denise he's going to find Caleb and kill him!!

Is Lucas only going to go and make the situation worse?! How is Chelsea going to react when she learns her Dad knows the truth? Oooo has Lucas really, truly changed his ways for his family? What do you guys think? Once again there are all sorts of ways that this story could go, Lucas I think is also very hard to read, one minute I think he's still a very dangerous killer, and the next minute I think maybe he really has changed? Who knows? I guess we'll have to wait and see to know for sure! Overall a brilliant episode I thought, brilliant performances from everyone involved. Jake Wood, Diane Parish, Don Gilet, Linda Henry, Toby-Alexander Smith ... everyone is just brilliant! Thank you all for reading, it truly means the world! I'll be back again very soon! Love you all xXx

[the-witchy]

THE BLESSED PRATIBIMB: Chapter-2

As the Royal Family entered the temple after getting lots of love from the whole over the kingdom, the high priest and their family were ready to greet them. As they entered the gate, Raaj Mata was shocked by the decoration as she asked, "Who did the decoration?"

One of the girls from the family said, "Who else can be as talented as our Isha."

'So her name is Isha.' Arihant thought to himself as he smiled on his own. Raaj Mata said, "You must have got a talented girl."

Bowing the high priest said, "Raaj Mata I am really blessed with the goddess herself."

She nodded agreement as they moved forward to do the Pooja. But before starting one of the disciples said, "Isha is not in her room."

The color of high priest's face became pale as he asked in a complete sense of fear, "Where is she?"

Before anyone could say or do anything a voice said, "I am here father."

There stood Isha in full of her glory like before but with a basket. She said, "I thought Royal Family would like to use white lotus in the Pooja as they are Devi's favorite ones."

The priest asked in complete worry, "Where did you get them?"

She smiled and said, "I went to the lake and handpicked them myself. Since I got dirty I went to change myself and that's why I am late."

She came closer and bowing she said, "Pranam Raaj Mata, Prince Adhrit and our dear king Arihant, pardon me for being late as I was trying to offer you my best."

All three of them nodded and Arihant said, "We are well aware of your hospitality Miss. You don't need to be sorry for anything."

Frowning a little she admitted, "I quite didn't understand what you're trying to say."

He smirked and said, "Well, you served us such a good meal and also offered us Chandra kheer." He emphasized on Chandra Kheer to make her realize that they were the Rishis in disguise. She made and Oh face and bowed saying, "I am really sorry that I couldn't recognize you."

Adhrit was the one to spoke this time as he said, "No! No! No! You served us more than enough. Your thoughts and thinking is something to be rewarded."

Arihant nodded saying, "That is why you still have the boon miss, feel free to ask anything anytime."

She nodded smilingly and said, "Let's start the pooja because time is running out."

Everyone nodded and they all did the pooja. After the pooja, Raaj Mata was fed and the royal family moved to the palace, not before stealing as many looks as he can.

Meanwhile, Isha was not happy at all, she was really angry with the king's behavior but she has no one to complain. So taking her father's permission she went to bring water along with other girls. As they were heading towards the lake, girls being girls were chatting among themselves. One of them asked, "Isha, you're so lucky! You got to serve the king. He is soooooo handsome. You even got to talk to him. Now I am getting jealous of you."

But Isha kept walking leaving the two girls behind.

The other one said, "Hey we're talking to you."

But Isha just kept walking, then both of them went to her pace and lightly pushed her shoulder saying, "Can you not hear us?"

Isha was taken by a shock as she jumped a bit and looked at them, frowning she asked, "What?"

One of them said, "You okay? Didn't you hear us?"

She shook her head and they looked at each other. One said, "We were talking about king."

Hearing his name she just looked down and said, "Mina, Hina, I really am not interested in that guy."

Both of them were shocked by her reaction. She continued, "That man is not a good one."

Both of them exchanged looks before Hina literally shook her by her forearm asking, "You okay? You were interested in him this morning and now you're saying this?"

Isha replied, "I never was interested in him. I asked about him just to do the decoration according to him. He is Kshatriya and I am a Brahmin. We are not a match for each other, the destination you don't can't reach why we look at its pathway."

With that, she started walking again. But Mina being talkative one said, "If don't care about him then why care about his kind of decoration. Also, if you want something really bad, it will eventually come to you."

Isha frowned and replied, "First he is the king of ours, my liking or not won't change it. I have some duties towards him that I need to follow. One's duties are far more important than one's liking. And also who said I want him?"

They started to giggle and Mina said, "Well time will tell. We believe in our king for sure our king will make you like him."

She flared and said, "Isha doesn't like she only love."

With that both, the girls kept laughing and they kept walking to their destination

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

After such long day, Arihant was exhausted and was resting on his bed as Adhrit came in and said, "Today sure was an exhausting day, wasn't it."

Arihant hummed in reply and Adhrit joined him on the other side of the bed. Adhrit asked, "Finally no one's here. So tell me now, what's up with the girl?"

Arihant was shocked and looked away saying, "What do you mean?"

Adhrit smirked and said, "Don't lie to me. I can see it in your eyes."

Arihant just chuckled, "Fine, fine, fine. I like her."

Adhrit said, "What was her name again?" He acted as thinking and Arihant fell for it saying, "Isha... was her name."

Adhrit smirked and said, "You even remember her name."

He looked at Adhrit and said, "Don't you get yourself too much high. Think about what will happen when you will love someone."

Adhrit smirked and said, "First, that time is yet to come and till then at least I can enjoy myself. Second, if I would love someone I wouldn't hide it from her like you're doing."

Arihant got shocked and said, "I just met her today and didn't even get any free time with her, how can I admit to her like that."

Adhrit nodded and said, "Fine, I'll give you free time with her."

Before Arihant could ask anything he stood up and got out of the room. Arihant just sighed and smiled a bit at his brother's devotion to him. He suddenly felt a cold breeze on his ear and he went to the balcony to inquire more about the weather. From his balcony he could see all overview of his kingdom and direct to opposite to his room was the temple where she lived. He smiled in himself at her thought and said to himself, "I will make you mine, soon... very soon."

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

As sun invaded his eyes, he rubbed them sitting up. He looked at his surroundings they were not familiar but he took his time letting it settle that he has finally come back to his palace. He always dreamt of this thing to come back and look at how it feels like living in his own kingdom along with his own people. So he decided he would go and train in nature today.

He stood up and went to the bath which was already warm for his arrival. He felt a little shy as he never had maids bath him, only male servants were present on the battlefield, but nevertheless, he didn't complain and let them do their work. After the bath, he came back to his room to get ready and there a familiar voice invited him, "What's the plan for today?"

He looked at his direction and said, "I don't know Adhrit. You say what should we do?"

Adhrit smirked and said, "Why don't we go for a hunt?"

Arihant thought for a second and replied, "But we just reached yesterday. Everyone would be busy in maintaining the palace again. In such a rush I don't think so its a good idea."

Adhrit asked, "But what if we disguise again? Then no one would recognize us and we can also visit the temple."

At the name of the temple, his eyes started to shine and he replied, "You are right!"

Seeing his excitement Adhrit just laughed and Arihant sighed, "Okay you win. But can we go now?"

He started to laugh harder as he said, "At least get ready first."

Arihant nodded and they both got ready for their hunt. They were wearing turbans on their head and some different colored raged Dhoti and some copper ornaments. They looked themselves in the mirror and took some mufflers around their neck. Adhrit said, "Now no one can recognize us."

Arihant nodded and they went to Megh and Bali again. Travelling some distance they reached the forest. They were busy finding some prey for them as Arihant heard some movement around the bushes. He elbowed Adhrit and he nodded in return. Arihant stretched his arrow on his bow and as he realized his breadth he released his arrow too. As the movement was no more they went to see what happened. But as they reached there the site was out of imagination. The arrow was cut into two and a small guy was caressing a deer. Both of them hide their faces behind the mufflers and said, "Who are you? How dare you protect our prey?"

The guy stood up as the deer ran away. He was wearing all white and was hiding his face behind the mask of his turban. He stretched his sword towards them and said, "How dare you try to harm my people?"

The voice seemed familiar but Arihant couldn't understand where he has heard it. Although he was sure he met no guy with such a voice. Adhrit asked, "If you're blind Lemme tell you that, that was no human but an animal."

He humped and said, "What else can I expect from you people? Illiterate hunters."

This gets on Adhrit's nerve as he said, "What did you say illiterate? Who do you think you are? If you are so proud of yourself I challenge you to fight my sword."

He pulled his sword out and said, "I am ready when you are."

Arihant noticed something weird about the sword. He didn't know why but the sword seemed no normal. It was radiating a familiar kind of aura which it had seen somewhere else too, but he just couldn't remember. But Adhrit on the other hand pulled his sword out which was given to him by his Guru which he sure was really proud of. Adhrit attacked him without thinking twice.

The sword of theirs clashed each other. But the guy was able to push Adhrit back and then attacked again. Adhrit was able to block it but was having difficulty to hold him back. Adhrit slide to one side and dodged the attack as he stood up he forwarded the sword and the guy attacked him twice in a second. And he fell on the floor. The guy attacked him last time and before his sword could reach Adhrit it was blocked by Arihant's sword. He pushed the guy back. And said, "Now fight me."

The guy nodded and their swords started to clash each other like waves of water. The fight was going on and the guy was standing in front of Arihant really strong. 'He sure is a powerful one. But who is he?' Asked Arihant to himself. Soon with one blow he weakened the guy and he fell on the tree but before he could balance himself, Arihant caught his hands. 'Too lean' he though.

And he said, "Let us see who is the brave behind the mask."

As he started to grab his turban, the guy started to fight back but in vain because Arihant already had an upper hand. 'He is not strong enough but his sword skills are sure to be praised.' He thought to himself but as he removed the turban the picture that came in front of them was out of imagination. Two shocks in a day, destiny sure was cruel to them.

As he removed the turban long hair fell down and the eyes that were holding anger just a second ago gazed down and the heat flushed to her cheeks.

He was completely shocked finding his love in his arm in such a vulnerable condition.

He released her and started to note her. Her eyes were holding fear and she, from a fierce warrior become a shy girl who was trying to hide.

Arihant couldn't stop himself as he said, "Isha..."

As the word left his mouth, she looked up and asked, "Who are you?"

Instead of replying he removed his mask. As she recognized him, her eyes started to fill with tears and she felt her stomach twisting. Her body felt so week that even her sword fell from her hands. She has never imagined it could be him and she felt ashamed and afraid at an instant. She looked at him helplessly with tearful eyes and in a crack voice she said, "I-I am s-sorry king."

With that, she ran to a direction not looking back. As for Arihant, this was the best yet worst surprise...

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

Chandra Kheer: Kheer (Indian sweet made with milk and rice) charged with the moonlight.

Raaj Mata: Mother of the king.

[bluejaytaco]

Yet again DND with Jay

(Another long one, folks. In our campaign, we have something we call a “Daiquiri Night.” It’s used for when too many people can’t be there or in situations where people are too preoccupied to do anything deep and plot-heavy. It’s pretty much a filler episode where we’re free to fuck around with very little consequences and, towards the end, the DM throws in small plot hints so it’s not a complete bust. It’s good for character development and getting the party a little closer.

Last session, we all drank and were expecting such an session. What we got was heavy plot stuff and horrible consequences. Also, so far most of the Daiquiri Nights are run by Ticket Master; being the only god who follows us so closely.)

Ticket Master: (Stopping Hennessy B from killing us and dropping Alabaster back into our party) Alright, so! Who wants to die right now?

Everyone: .....

Ticket Master: No one? Great! Now, who wants to go on a fun-filled adventure?

Everyone:...

Art: (slowly raises his hand)

Koejin: (Pushes Art’s hand back down) No....

Ticket Master, ignoring Koejin: Everyone? Great! Let’s go.

-

(We get pulled into a world that is just one giant Carnival. After giving our tickets over to Ticket Master, We all enter and start to go our own separate ways. This is where things become very character plot heavy.)

Koejin: (climbs the Ferris Wheel to see if she can see anyway out)

People on the car she’s standing on: (her parents, who keep screaming about being abandoned and how she let them die.)

DM: You see the parking lot you walked through to get here and then, far beyond that, you see mist. Above you is the portal you came through; it’s still open.

Koejin, nodding: Alright, I’m gonna head back down

Koejin’s parents: (riding on the car she’s standing on top of) You left us! You took another woman as your mother! You can never be forgiven!

Koejin: (jumps down once she’s at ground level) I didn’t abandon you. You died and I was five.

Ticket Master: (pointing at the now faded parents) Yeah! She was five! See? I backed you up.

Koejin gave him a little pat on the shoulder and nearly lost an arm for it. She then heads over to the bar to drink her face off.

-

Theodora, on the bumper cars: (Getting blamed for the deaths of her soldiers. She bumps cars with a young, fifteen year old Koejin.)

Young Koejin: Ugh, what are you doing here? 

Theodora:...I....

Young Koejin: You should just leave! No one wants you here; you’re ruining everyone’s fun!

Koejin: (In the bar, drinking real alcohol and being served by a bartender that’s not Ticket Master. In other words, having a good time. A Ticket Master portal opens by her head to show her what’s going on by Theodora.).... (Pulls out her bow and arrow and aims for Young Koejin’s head.)

DM: I want you to think about what you’re doing here. You’re about to shoot young you in front of Theodora. (Sidenote: DM also implemented a “sanity meter” for us. Anytime we see something fucked up or extremely jarring, we become a little more insane.)

Koejin’s player: I know. I’m still doing it.

Koejin shoots Young Koejin right in the head and Theodora has to roll a Wisdom saving throw. Luckily, she rolled a 19.

DM: So, Theodora. You don’t see it as young Koejin dying in front of you. You see it for what it is; Koejin apologizing.

Koejin, from inside the bar: I was an asshole. Come drink with me.

(Theodora goes through the portal to join Koejin in the bar.)

-

Hennessy, at the balloon shoot: (All the faces look like his team mates, He sits in front of Theodora’s.)

Vincent (Hennessy’s fiance), sits down at the Hennessy head: I bet you I can get mine to pop before you.

Hennessy, immediately suspicious: Alright, what do you wager? (Rolls perception to find out for sure he isn’t Vincent. His suspicions are confirmed.)

Vincent: Well, if you win, you and Vincent live happily ever after and he never has to work again. If I win, you fall out of love with him.

Hennessy: No deal.

Vincent:... Well, how about just the ring then? He can always make you another one.

Hennessy, noticeably more hesitant:...Still no.

(A Ticket Master portal opens to show Vincent slaving away at his work for Mrs. Red. His pain has him in tears but he continues on.)

Fake Vincent: You would really not save him from this pain?

Hennessy: (just starts playing the game and shoots water into Theodora’s mouth. The portal shifts over to the bar.)

Theodora, in the bar: (takes a shot and it shoots right out of her mouth. Her stomach starts to bloat and she starts to spit up water.)

Hennessy: (Immediately stops)

Vincent: (stands up) you know, Hennessy, you can be a catty bitch. (walks away)

Hennessy: (watches him)....and don’t you forget it. (Goes through the portal into the bar.)

Meanwhile, at the bar

Ticket Master, sitting on the bar: (Watching as Theodora keels over) If only there was someone who could destroy that water, you’d be fine! ((Another running gag in the campaign; Alabaster casting Create or Destroy Water more than any other move.))

-

Wreybar, over at the Test your Strength

Wreybar: (Picks up the mallet)

(Her father’s head appears on the target as she swings down.)

DM: You still have the chance to stop.

Wreybar’s Player: ... I’m gonna follow through.

DM:...What, really? Shit, didn’t expect that! So, you smash in your father’s head. Blood, bone and grey matter fly everywhere. Then, you’re entire family comes running out cheering and screaming “Wreybar! you killed us! Yay!”

Wreybar: (starts crying) I’m sorry!

DM: As you see everyone praising and cheering you, you notice something weird. There is one person not doing that. It’s your brother.

Wreybar:(goes up to him)

Wreybar’s brother: Wreybar.... what’s going on? (Unlike everyone else, he seems real)

((I was drinking so this particular convo gets a little foggy. But it ends with someone killing Wreybar’s brother (Almost positive it was Ticket Master) and the DM pulling her aside to discuss something in private. I’m typically the one who keeps track of the story so I hope Wreybar remembers this part well enough. If not, its our DM’s job to remind her anyways.))

-

Art, At the Fortune Teller (Koejin’s player: Of course you would go there!)

DM: You step in to see a robotic person who is a very racist stereotype. He’s dark skinned, wearing a turban, talking in a thick accent and saying, in a broken robotic voice “I aM a Raacis-t dePICtion! Wo-ould you like your FoRTune?!”

Art: Uhhhh, wow. This was not at all what I was expecting... Uh, is there a way out of here?

Fortune Teller: A W-ay OuT? Whaat evR do you Me-aaN?

Art:....Nevermind. Can you just... not do this? Turn into someone else.

Fortune Teller: Wh-o would you LYKe?

Art: Literally anyone else would be better.

Fortune Teller: (Turns into Alabaster) Bet-ter?

Art:... Yeah, I can work with this.

Fortune Teller Alabaster: S-oo... WouLD you lYKe your Fooort-une?

Art: Sure. Uh.... what’s my future look like?

Fortune Teller Alabaster: BLEAK!

Art: Sounds about right.

Fortune Teller Alabaster: (Morphs into Hennessy. All robotic jerking is gone.) Now, how about we talk about why you’re a piece of shit?

Art: ...And that sounds like something you’d say to me.

FT Hennessy: And it’s true; you are a piece of shit. My hubby says you abandoned your sister and I’m inclined to believe him over your lyin’ ass.

Art: Okay no. Hennessy’s the smartest one out of all of us. I know for a fact he has enough sense to not follow Vincent blindly and think I actually meant to abandon my sister.

(A Ticket Master portal appeared in the bar near Hennessy. He tunes in just in time to hear Art speak.)

Hennessy: .... (reaches through the portal and smacks the Fake Hennessy in the face. It melts away to reveal Ticket Master underneath.) You’re right, Art. I am the smartest person here. And I’m smart enough to know you have a lot of problems; abandonment is not one of ‘em.

Art: ...Alright. I guess.... you’re not so bad.

Ticket Master: (Hand on his cheek) Hennessy just slapped me.... what an honor! (Hearts appear around him)

Art, noticing this: Okay, that’s not at all concerning.... (Goes through the portal and into the bar with everyone else.)

-

Alabaster over by the Carousel  (Everyone to the DM: You better not fucking hurt him, I swear to god. ((We are all a part of the Alabaster Protection Squad.)))

Alabaster: (Sees his family near one side, his old friend on another, and Eris (the daughter he recently adopted) on a third. Sidenote: Eris was his old friend’s and General Blue’s daughter. Blue left her to Alabaster, but we ended up killing her long before knowing about Eris.).... (Sits by his family being that he hasn’t seen them in 400 years)

Blue: So, you’re gonna completely ignore my daughter? Maybe I shouldn’t have trusted you with her. Maybe I should just kill her now and put her out of her misery now. 

Alabaster: There is no need to resort to....

Blue: (Goes to Eris)

Alabaster: (immediately dives for Eris)

(Ticket Master Portal appears in the bar next to Theodora. She doesn’t see it until Wreybar points it out to her. This turns into a fight for everyone to keep Blue away from Alabaster and Eris, which everyone learned was just a heated water baby.)

Alabaster: (casts blindness on Blue)

Art: (Reaches in for Alabaster)

Alabaster, to Blue: You’re sight will return momentarily. And I promise you, Eris will be well taken care of. There is no need to worry.

DM: Alabaster, Art; you two look at each other and remember the first time you met, back in that pit where Thia saved you. You think about how much you’ve been through together and start to feel a little more at peace. Both of you roll a 20. If it turns out you somehow get the same number, your sanity will be at -20 (The scale goes from -20 to 20. Negatives are more sane.)

(Alabaster and Art rolled an 18 and a 17 respectively. The numbers were so close, the DM gave us both a point for sanity.)

-

DM: So, you guys are at the bar, having a grand old time. The bartender, for each of you, looks like you’re ideal sexual partner.

Koejin’s Player: (laugh) does that mean Art’s is just Ticket Master?

Me:..... yeaaahhhhhhh.....

DM, looks at Alabaster’s player knowingly: And what’s Alabaster’s?

Alabaster’s Player: A giraffe with Jeff Goldblum’s head.

Everyone: (laughing)

Me: Can anyone else see that? Cuz Art might be judging his best friend if he can.

DM: Nope, you can only see your own. But you guys are having a good time. Alabaster and Wreybar are understanding they both have a similar history and have been through a lot of the same issues. That starts to bring them closer. Hennessy and Art; you two now understand there is more to one another that you didn’t know before. You feel as though you’re coming to terms with one another. And, Theodora and Koejin. The two of you understand now that the past should be left in the past. There is a lot to work on, but you’re on the right track.

....(Personally, I think this would have been the perfect time for Ticket Master to send us back and let that be the end of the session. We were all closer than before and all that.... but the DM had a different plan.)

DM: The bartender shifts from your ideal partners to Ticket Master... So, he stays the same for Art.

Ticket Master: Well, now that you’re all closer, I’d say this is a time well spent. Now, here’s something you can do for me. (He slides a blank piece of paper in front of everyone.) When you’re ready, all you need to do is sign the bottom. No rush.

Art: (Sees the actual contract and decides to keep it to himself.)

Theodora: (Takes out a cigar that Ticket Master gave her and hands it back to him.) Here, so you’ll have a last smoke (she throws the contract back) when I kill you.

Ticket Master, frowning(A rare occurrence):... you shouldn’t have done that.

Me: Oh shit...

Koejin’s Player: Byyyeee Theodora....

Alabaster’s Player: (covering his mouth) nononono

Ticket Master: (his face opens up to reveal unspeakable horrors. Tentacles move out to grab for Theodora and drive her to complete insanity.)

Wreybar: (Moves in the way to share some of the insanity. Both are now insane, but Theodora is at least able to function.)

Alabaster: (Casts create or destroy water over them. I think the purpose was to get Ticket Master away from them. Don’t remember; was pretty drunk.)

DM: Oh god... shit! No...(Sigh) well, I need to follow my own rules... As the water comes down, you see a giant minotaur come from the ground behind Ticket Master. It’s Shmoogie. Ticket Master stops what he’s doing but, before he can say anything beyond “you don’t-”, Shmoogie grabs him and tears him apart. In Shmoogie’s hand, you see Ticket Master’s face. He’s saying “You have no idea what you’ve done!” Then, Shmoogie crushes it.

Shmoogie: You’ve all done well. We will deal with him now; no need to worry.

Skelly, at Shmoogie’s side: Yeah, we did good!

Theodora: Skelly! How do you know our buddy, Shmoogie?

Skelly: Well, I like sand. And I don’t have any memories, but would really like to have some so.... God of Sand and Memories.

(Shmoogie then disappears back into wherever he came from.)

Koejin: Well, good work team! No more Ticket Master.

Art, who isn’t the happiest about this turn of events:.... but now we’re stuck here.

Koejin: That sounds like a problem for Next week Koejin!

(And this is where we left off. I have conflicted feelings about this situation. Art is.... a little less conflicted than me....)

DM: Oh shit! I almost forgot!... you guys are sitting around, thinking about everything that just happened and, suddenly.... Art dabs.

Art:.... (hating his life and his creator)

Theodora: Art..... you’re so dated.....

(Context: Me and the DM are close. So close that we have a tendency to argue about anything and everything. This doesn’t work when I’m a player in his campaign. Which means, he decided that, inspired by a miniature I just bought, any time I say no to something DND related, Art has to dab. It’s a stupid little thing, but a thing nevertheless.)

[sswwimagine]

Expecto Patronum || Fred Weasley

Original Post: on ssimagines

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Word Count: 2791

Summary: You need some help from a friend

Warnings: spoilers I guess?

Request:   Hi! Could you write a Fred Weasley imagine? Something fluffy? Like teaching the reader a spell? Thanks love! XOXO

Note: Not house specific. Reader is golden trio age and takes place during Order of the Phoenix. Also I had to do some research to figure out Fred’s patronus, but there isn’t actually a real answer. J.K. Rowling never specified on Pottermore, in books, in movies, or in any interview. There is something that says Fred’s was a hyena and George’s was a coyote, but it has no sources to back up this claim. The only thing about the twins and patronuses is after Fred’s death George could no longer cast a patronus. That being said it’s my headcanon that Fred’s patronus is a fox. I just think it fits him and it’s funny

This is obviously already been posted, but since I started my smaller blogs, I wanted all my work for each fandom in one place. Instead of just reblogging everything I figured that I would repost it. 

Request/Taglist

Masterlist

The meeting for Dumbledore’s Army had just wrapped for the day, and it was time to head back to your dorms. This week’s lesson was on the Patronus charm. You were having a hard time casting it, but that wasn’t your fault.  It was an advanced spell. You didn’t understand how Hermione, Ginny, Ron, Luna, and Harry could produce them already. Well, Harry had years of practice, so that one wasn’t that big of a surprise. 

It was actually the second week that you’ve had to work on the Patronus charm, but you still haven’t been able to produce more than a few wisps. That was the case for most people actually. Today though, more and more people in Dumbledore’s Army were able to produce a Patronus leaving you one of the only one’s who hadn’t along with Neville and a girl a year younger than you whose name you couldn’t remember. 

You collected your bag from against the wall where you had dumped it at the beginning of the meeting. You had lost track of time in the library studying for your O.W.L.S. when you realized you only had a few minutes to rush down to the Room of Requirement. It left you with no time to go back to your dorm to drop of your stuff. 

The room had nearly all cleared out when you were making your exit. You kept your head down and walked alone back to your houses common room. From somewhere behind you, two sets footsteps approached you. Thinking nothing of it, you kept your pace and moved closer to the wall so that they’d be able to pass. 

“Y/N,” a voice said from beside you startling you out of your skin. It wouldn’t surprise you if you had actually caught some air.

Turning your head, you were met with the sight of your close friends, Fred and George. You had been close with the twins since your first year when they bewitched snowballs to hit Quirrell’s turban. You had been so fascinated by it that you asked them how to teach you. You’ve been friends since.  

They were both giving their trademark mischievous smiles. The three of you were taking up most the hallway, but no one was coming either way at the moment, so it wasn’t a big deal.

“What can I help you with, boys?” you asked.

Those smiles always meant one thing: the boys wanted something from you. Usually, it was helping them find someone to try a new product of theirs and on rare occasions, actually trying out their new product yourself. Last year, you were often their guinea pig for new sweets, but after a bad batch of canary creams landed you in the hospital wing for a week, you told them you weren’t going to go anywhere near their products that case any physical change to your body in any way. 

“Not something you can do for us,” George started.

“Something we can do for you,” Fred continued. 

You furrowed your eyebrows at the statement. Now you were positive that they wanted something from you, but what. Looking them up and down, you found that they weren’t carrying anything. Whatever it was that they wanted under this guise of helping you must not be something physical. 

“And what is it that you think that you can do for me?” You said. 

It seemed that their smiles only grew as you said those words. You felt like you should be worried, but when you looked at Fred, your worries eased. He looked less mischievous and happier. Your initial assessment of their emotions you just assumed that they were both giving you the same trouble makers smile, but only George had the smile on his face.

“We noticed you struggling today,” Fred said. Though the words could have seemed harsh, his tone was made them seem hopeful.

“So, we were thinking that since Freddie here could also use a bit more practice,” George continued for his brother wrapping an arm around his shoulder. 

“That maybe we could practice together,” Fred finished. You looked between the twins again. It still felt like there was some sort of catch. Neither of the twins let on if there was one with their postures or facial expressions though. Other than George’s still mischievous smirk, the offer seemed genuine. 

“I could never ask that of you two,” you said. “Business is finally starting to pick up, and I can’t let you guys take time away just for some stupid extra practice.” “Oh, but you wouldn’t be taking both of us,” George said. “Just Freddie here. I’ll keep up with orders while the two of you get some extra practice.”

Fred just nodded. The twins had put effort in to make this work for you. You couldn’t lie and say you weren’t appreciative, but you were also still hesitant. It wasn’t just that you would be taking Fred away from their growing business that worried you. There was this small factor of having a small crush on the older of the two twins. 

You realized how you felt last year. You went to the Yule ball with George. He knew that you really wanted to go, but hadn’t been asked by anyone yet. He took it upon himself to ask you, and the two of you went as friends. You had a blast joking around with George.

During when of the slow dances, Fred asked if you’d like to dance with him while George danced with Fred’s date, Angelica. Of course, you said yes. At one point, Fred leaned in and whispered in your ear that you looked gorgeous in your outfit. The way he said it: so delicately and sweetly. You knew that he meant it, and from then on you just couldn’t seem to kick this nagging crush on the Fred Weasley. 

“I don’t know,” you said, every ounce of hesitation present in your voice. “I would feel bad about taking you away from all your orders and working on new products.”

“Oh, don’t be silly, Y/N,” George pipped up. “You’d be doing all of us a favor. It gives me some time away from his bad ideas and gives you both a bit more practice. Everyone wins.”

Fred looked insulted at his twin. George let out a laugh, and the interaction between the two of them caused you to laugh. Fred eventually joined in the laughter.

“Okay, where exactly are we going to practice?” you said after the laughter died down. You looked at Fred expectantly. The look on his face was just evidence that he hadn’t thought about that. 

“Easy,” George said taking the lead again. “You two will meet up in the room of requirement tomorrow before DA.”

George shrugged haphazardly like it was the obvious answer. 

“Yes of course,” Fred chimed in with a confident nod as if he had the idea in the first place. “That works for you, yes?”

“Yes, I can do that,” you said. 

You were planning on spending the afternoon in the library studying again, but you could really use the practice, and there wasn’t really another time that would work. All the educational decrees Umbridge has, well, decreed have limited just about everything but studying, so you could be put it off until later. Practice was more important and harder to find time for.

You gave Fred a toothy smile. He returned it, but didn’t say anything. The two of you just stood there smiling at each other not realizing that time was passing. George cleared his throat snapping both of you out of the smilefest that was happening between you. 

“Fred and I have somewhere to be,” George said as he turned to leave.

“Oh yeah,” Fred said in realization. “I’ll see you tomorrow Y/N.”

Fred took off to catch up to his twin who was only a few paces ahead. You watched them go happily. You were after getting extra practice tomorrow. That practice being with Fred was just a plus. 

“Okay, I will see you tomorrow,” you said calling after them as they turned the corner of the corridor. You stood staring down the corridor lost in thought. Daydreams of tomorrow floated around in our head. 

“Y/N, I thought you were gone by now,” Harry said behind you. Once again you were startled. What was with you today? It seemed like just about anyone could sneak up on you. 

“Oh, I was on my way back to my dormitory, but I got a bit sidetracked,” you said waving Harry off a bit. 

“In that case, maybe I can walk a ways with you,” he said with a smile.

“Sure, Harry, just remember to keep eight inches,” you said jokingly.

“Oh, of course,” Harry said laughing. “I would hate to break any of Umbridge’s glorious decrees.”

“We could never do that,” you said joining him as the two of you walked side by side down the corridor. 

~~~~~

You had just finished your last class of the day. You were swift to go back to drop your stuff off in your dorm before rushing to the room of requirement. The whole day you were on the edge of your seat excited. The extra practice would be a godsend, and the fact that Fred is the one you were practicing with was a major bonus. 

You’d never have imagined you would have a moment with just Fred. You loved George; he was your best friend, but being with just Fred, you didn’t know because it had never really happened before. 

You walked the hall where the door was known to appear watching the stone work as it magically revealed itself. You thought back to the first time you saw it happen. It had you awestruck the way the door seemed to grow and twist into existence in a place there was nothing.  Now, after going there so often, it felt like nothing. You were a little saddened that magic was losing some of its awe to you. 

When the large door settled into existence, you threw it open and rushed in expecting to find the room empty, but Fred stood by the fire place watching the flame. He was startled by the sound of the door opening and wiped around to see you standing just inside trying to close the door softly as not to disturb things further. 

You scanned the room. Aside from Fred who was making his way to you now, there was a bag in one corner and a mirror in the other. Other than that, the room was nearly bare. 

“What’s with the bag?” You asked. “You could’ve dropped it off before you got here. I wouldn’t have minded if you were a little late.”

“Oh, that’s just supplies,” Fred said as he took long strides across the room to reach you. He had a large smile on his face that was so pure and happy. You returned it with your own wide version. 

“I was not sure you were going to make it,” Fred said jokingly. 

“And why would I not make it?” You matched his tone.

“I do not know, but you are here now,” he paused like he was waiting for something before he cleared his throat and continued, “Shall we get started?”

Happily, you gave him a nod before the two of you got started.

~~~~~

You had been casting the same spell over and over again for half an hour now. Though the wisp that poured from your wand had started to become more recognizable, you had made little progress beyond that. You were growing more frustrated with every attempt. DA would start in ten minutes and you wanted to have this down by then. 

“I don’t think that I am going to get this.” You heaved out a long sigh and threw yourself to the ground next to the wall. Maybe it was less of throwing and more like just falling back on to your bum on the ground while leaning against the wall. 

Your head was starting to hurt. Magic was draining especially patronuses. You heard Fred take a heavy breath. He moved to grab something from his bag. He came back to you with a chocolate bar in hand and sat down on the ground next to you. After a bit of a struggle with the wrapper around the bar, Fred broke off a piece and handed it to you before he broke one off for himself. You nibbled a bit off the edge of your piece and let out a small moan.

“Dang, that’s good,” you said while Fred laughed. “Why’d you bring this again?” “Harry told me that we might need it.” Fred’s laughing had settled leaving the two of you in silence. You admired Fred as he took a small it of his piece of chocolate.

“Fred, thank you,” you said softly.

“What for?” he said matching your tone as he turned to look at you. 

“For practicing with me. Even though you have this down and totally don’t need practice.” You sighed and leaned your head on to his shoulder. 

Fred took another bite of his chocolate. With his free hand, he laced his fingers in yours. You turned to look at him which meant awkwardly craning your neck up to see him. Your face was really close to his. 

He looked down at you. His lips were so close to yours and drew your eyes to them. You quickly shifted your gaze when you realized what that might look like to him. He was just looking down at you with this look that you’d seen before, but could never decipher. Now being so close you were pretty sure you knew what it meant.

You moved your lips to hover just over his. He closed his eyes and you did too.

“Can I kiss you?” your words floated out of your mouth like the blue wisp of light flowed out of your wand. 

“Please,” his voice was barely audible even in with the close proximity in the nearly empty room. 

You gently moved your lips to touch his. The kiss was short and gentle. 

When the two of you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours. The two of you sat there a moment before you heard the door of the room open startling the both of you from your position. You had jumped to your feet and pulled Fred along with you. 

Through the doors were a small group of Ravenclaw girls (which included Cho and Padme) followed by Harry and Ron who were talking heatedly about something while Hermione trailed behind them, and then came George who made eye contact with Fred and just shrugged. 

Padme waved you over to the girls. You gave Fred a small sweet smile before you turned and walked away. He returned your smile just as George came to his side.

Padme and Cho were asked you about your Christmas plans to which you told them you were going home to visit your grandmother. More people came in slowly. When the majority of the regular attenders were there Harry explained that today there was no specific spell we would be learning, but he would just be helping those who needed on spells they were rusty on. 

Padme insisted that you join her and Cho who were working on their patronuses. You were glad to have even more practice, but you longed to join Fred and George on the other side of the room. You watched as Fred cast his Patronus. The beautiful fox formed from the end of his wand. George cast the spell as well. An identical fox came from his wand as well and started to play with Fred’s. You smiled at the two foxes as they faded away.

“Expecto Patronum,” you said softly not expecting anything to come from it, but to your surprise the wisp started to take form. A [your patronus] poured out of your wand. You let a small squeal of delight escape your lips as you watched the animal. As it faded away, you saw Fred come running up to you with a wicked smile on his face. 

“You did it!” He took you in his arms and pulled you close. You hugged him back. When you pulled away from him you felt his lips come in contact with yours. You were shocked when you pulled away from him, but you shock it off as you looked behind him to see George throw you a thumbs up. You rolled your eyes as Harry came over to congratulate you on finally getting the advanced spell. 

Fred’s hand wrapped around yours tightly. A smile plastered your face.