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fallen-angel-92 · 3 years

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The Story of the Mouse

Chapter One: The Story Begins

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Yennefer of Vengerberg; Eventual Geralt of Rivia x OFC

Rating: G

Summary: There is a story. A story told by a lone mouse. The story holds all of her pains, sorrows and her defeats. But it holds her greatest triumphs and her hope. Here is the story of how the mouse became who she is now and how she meets the many animals that would become friends. And how one would become her heart.

A/N: I would like to thank @tilltheendwilliwrite , @bolontiku and @henrycavillobsessed for their wonderful support and for being wonderful inspiration! This my first Witcher fic. I hope you enjoy! <3

The wind howled into the deepest night. The trees of the forest bent forward and backwards under the winds might. The panes of glass rattled within its home on the small cottage, while the warmth of a fire crackled on the inside. A lone woman sat upon the ground in front of the fireplace listening to the winds and wolves that howled following it. She wrapped herself in the thick furs, that she had been gifted with not long ago by her husband. She lifted her hand to gently run it through her short dark brown hair as she allowed her hand to return to her side underneath the furs.

However, the sounds of small feet hitting the wooden floor brought her out of thoughts. Quickly she turned her head slightly to the opening to her right, noticing two sets of yellowish colored eyes staring at her with fear. Letting her plump upturn slightly as she called out softly,

“What's wrong my darlings?”

She watched as the two stepped into the light revealing twin boys, both were holding each other's hand.

“Scared. Mama..” Rezso murmured out fearfully.

She smiled at them warmly, lifting her arms up, causing the furs she was under to open up allowing her two sons to quickly scurry into her lap. She then wrapped them underneath the furs, pulling them closely to her chest. She placed a gentle kiss upon their heads, before running her hand through their soft silver white strands of hair. Despite both of them being twins, her sons were noticeably different, with Rezso inheriting more of his father’s personality, especially his stubbornness as well as his interest in fighting and manners of hunting. Tamaska, on the other hand, was more like her. Always wanting to learn something new, whether it was about crafting building or learning the spiritual arts.

“Would you like to hear a story, little ones?” She asked her children softly, as they nuzzled closer to her.

Her sons looked up at her and nodded their heads at the same time causing her to giggle slightly before she began to speak,” I’ll tell you about the tale of the mouse-”

Once she was sure she had her children’s attention, she began to her tale:

Long ago in a forest far beyond the realm of man. Beyond the realm of Chaos and Order. A lone mouse was born. The mouse, though small and insignificant to many of the animals that lived within the forest, was one of the most loving and caring creatures. Through her actions she gained the attention of the great Achak Tree. The Achak Tree could sense that the mouse was very lonely despite being surrounded by many other animals. As thanks for caring for others for her kind soul, the Achak Tree presented the mouse with a friend in the form of a large brown bear.

At first the mouse was extremely shy of the bear, as she was with any animal bigger than herself, but slowly as time progressed the two became inseparable. However, no happiness lasts forever. One evening, as the sun took it’s leave of the sky to give the moon its glory, a dark force slithered into the woods. The mouse could feel it coming, and began to shake her friend away as they two had fallen asleep for the night. Just as the bear woke, she could see the darkness heading their way, quickly the bear cradled the mouse close to her fur covered body before she quickly began to run. The mouse looked up from the bears paw and asks with fear,

"What is it? What's coming for us, Bear?"

"An old evil, mouse. They wish to take away something that you have," the bear replied, firefly.

"But what do I have? I am but a mouse. I am nothing special!" The mouse cried out with horror.

The bear did not have time to answer her small friend, as the darkness began to move faster the bear quickly made her way into a nearby cave. The cave was cold and damp. The walls were rough, jagged, and were littered with ancient glowing stones of the souls long since passed. Ancient symbols were strewn about the cave, however, neither the bear nor the mouse had the time to look at them. Sensing that time was short the bear ran deeper into the cave. Deeper and deeper the bear and mouse went until they arrived within a grandeur cavern. In the center stood a large tree; the bark an almost a deep blue, the leaves upon the tree were a beautiful bright white, some fell and reminded the mouse of the falling snow.

There was a blue light illuminating from the trees center with several blue lights brightly shining within smaller holes near the tree's roots. The roots themselves were vast, growing upon the walls, and from the earth beneath. As the two approached a bit closer, they realized a large body of water surrounded the tree. The bear gazed upon the water thoughtfully, however, a echoing male voice began to speak to them,

*You have come, young mouse. You as well young bear.*

The mouse blinked in surprise, however, she was unable to make words as she looked upon the tree in awe.

“Forgive us for trespassing, but I am in need of a hiding place for my friend! An evil approaches!” The bear whimpered out.

The mouse quickly turned her head to her friend with worry etched into her face. The Achak Tree began to glow brighter, suddenly, stones began to spring up from the water that surrounded it. The bear pressed the mouse as close as possible to her chest before she slowly began to jump from stone to stone. Once they were upon the earth that the Achak Tree sprouted from, a hole formed near the heart, small enough for a mouse to fit. The mouse did not have time to speculate what was going to happen before she was pushed inside the hole by her dear friend.

“You must remain here, Mouse. The Achak Tree will protect you. You are special!” The bear spoke confidently.

The mouse feeling tears well within her eyes was quick to try and run back toward her friend as soon as she was set within the hole. However, the Achak Tree quickly placed vines made of bark and plants in front of her.

“I am not special! I am not! I am but a mouse! Please do not leave me my friend! You are my only friend.” The mouse wept as she saw her dear friend quickly look at her apologetically.

“Good bye, my friend!” She called out to the mouse as she ran back out of the cave.

“No! No! Bear!! Bear, don’t leave me alone! Bear!” The mouse yelled out as she slammed her little hands against the bark. Loudly she wept, as she fell onto the ground, her soul felt tormented as she felt her friend was not going to come back.

*Forgive me, young mouse. She was your friend. You are special and you are needed.* The Achak Tree spoke softly, fatherly.

“Why am I special, Mighty Tree… Why me? I am but a humble mouse. I am weak and hold no special abilities like the rest of the world. And now I am alone once more…” The mouse wept.

*In time you will understand, young mouse. I am afraid there is no time to mourn, Bear. You must go where you are needed. No fear. For I will send you with someone to accompany you. You will not be alone. Safe travels, young mouse. Until we meet again.* The Achak Tree spoke with certainty.

Just then the small space that the mouse occupied within the tree began to slowly glow. Before the mouse could understand what was truly going on, she could feel herself falling and falling. The mouse closed her eyes wishing for the falling to stop and when she opened them up, she was greeted to the sight of an unknown forest. Slowly she stood up, looking around in worry when she heard a rustling in front of her. A small white head popped out of the nearby bushes, causing the mouse to jump slightly in surprise.

Her eyes gazed back into large black eyes, the white pupils seemed to light up brightly as if happy to see her and it was then that she wouldn’t be alone again. Despite the loss of her dear friend, she now had another to help her heal from her loss and help her in this new world she was now in.

“And thus started the journey of the mouse,” She finished, giggling when she saw her sons scrunching their faces into a pair of pouts.

“Next, Mama!” Tamaska demanded cutely.

However, before she could say anything more the sound of a heavy lock coming undone, echoed through the small house. Quickly, her sons removed themselves from her and began to quickly race toward the door. Just as the door opened the two boys launched themselves at the familiar figure.

“Papa!!” The boys cried out happily as their father scooped them up into his arms.

“I trust you pups have been behaving for your mother?” He asked with a chuckle as his bright yellowish eyes turned to look at her.

She stood up from where she sat, the fur blanket still wrapped around her as she quickly padded over to the door closing it behind her husband.

“Our children have been behaving, oh husband mine. But I would love it if you would have closed the door behind you. Don’t need our pups catching cold.” She playfully scolded her husband.

He let out a soft chuckle as she walked over to the three most precious people and wrapped her arms around them as best as she could. Looking up at her husband, she watches him with amusement as he bends down and kisses her on the lips causing her sons to playfully wrap their arms around his neck to try and stop him from kissing her. Breaking apart they both looked at their sons with amusement before saying,

“I am happy you are home safely, Geralt. Come, my sons, you need to be off to bed. Say goodnight to your father.”

Both boys allowed a small pout to appear on their faces causing her to shake her head as she gently reached to take the boys from him.

“Go with your mother, pups. You need your sleep.” Geralt stated sternly to his sons as he shifted them so she could take them from him.

Once she had her sons securely within her arms she looked at Geralt lovingly and spoke softly,

“I’ll get you a bath ready love and warm you something to eat. I know you traveled long and hard.”

“I can do my own bath, Ailbhe.” Geralt rumbled out causing her to roll her eyes at him.

Geralt narrowed his eyes at her, as he shifted his satchel off his broad shoulders, placing it near the door along with his sword.

“Careful, Mouse. You know what happens when you roll your eyes at me.” Geralt growled out playfully.

Ailbhe stuck her tongue out at him before walking past him, making sure to keep her backside to the wall, to ensure he did not get her behind as he often did when she gave him cheek. She could hear him chuckle under his breath, when she was out of his sight, she brought her sons into their room and placed them each on their bed. She made sure to cover them each with their fur blankets. As she did so Tamaska asked quietly,

“Why, papa, call you, mouse, mama?”

Ailbhe turned to her son giving him a smile as she softly replying,

“It is because I am smaller than him.”

As Ailbhe placed a kiss upon their cheeks, she could hear the sounds of little hooves hitting the wooden flooring. Turning her head she instantly took notice of the small white little figure who peered up at her before letting out a small excited noise and jumped onto the bed.

“Silly little Ori.” Ailbhe giggled quietly as they crawled next to her son Rezso, curling into a small ball and returned to sleep.

Smiling at the three sleeping, she slowly crept out of their room, closing the door behind her leaving it but a crack open. Slowly she made her way toward her and Geralt’s room, within which she could see Geralt relaxing in the large tub, opposite of their bed. After entering, Ailbhe closed the door behind her and walked over quietly. Despite his eyes being closed, she knew better.

“Asleep are our little ones.” Ailbhe announced as she sat herself on the edge of the tub.

“Hmm.” Geralt hummed back in response causing her to shake her head with amusement.

They both sat in silence for a few moments, before Geralt spoke breaking it,

“I was asked about you and the children today when I entered the town.”

“Oh? And what did they ask about?” She hums out as she gets back up, walking over to their bed and takes her blanket and places it upon the bed. She then begins to remove her clothing until she has nothing on.

“They wished to know when you would be visiting again,” Geralt replied as he slowly opened his eyes, turning them to see her approaching him.

Giving him a simple smile she gently placed a hand upon his back and said coyly,

“Slide forward, my wolf.”

Once more Geralt hummed, before doing as she asked, allowing her to carefully get into the warm water behind him. As soon as she was comfortable, Ailbhe hands went to Geralt’s shoulders and gently pulled him back toward her, causing him to lean against her. She hummed as she began to gently run her fingers through his long white locks of hair, causing him to hum and relax into her hold. As he placed his head upon her shoulder, Geralt placed his hands upon her knees and began to slowly rub circles with his thumbs on the sides.

“I never did thank you did I?” Ailbhe murmmed to him.

Geralt tilted his head slightly to look at his wife, though it wasn’t expressed on his face, she could see the confusion within his eyes.

“For loving me for so long. I know that I am at times I am not at my best, but despite those times you have stuck by me. You have given me children that I once thought I would never have. So thank you, Geralt.” She spoke softly leaning her head against his as she placed a kiss upon his cheek.

Geralt didn’t say anything as he shifted so he faced her, eyes glazed with a fiery passion. Ailbhe felt him shift around so he faced her completely, she could feel his large hands grip her thick hips and pulled her close. As began to stand, Ailbhe quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs wrapped around his hips. There were no words needed as Geralt carefully removed them both from the bath and brought them toward the bed. The candles that illuminated the room, went out leaving the couple in a dark room where the moon, now shining brightly, gave light.

As he laid, Ailbhe down into the middle of the bed, he gently laid his hand upon her cheek and used his thumb to caress her lips before dipping down and laying a kiss upon them. Underneath the moon, the couple gave their bodies, love and souls to one another once more. The stars shone brightly above the small house, and soon time slowly began to revert backwards as the tale once told became alive once more.

And thus the tale of the mouse began once more.

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savagetrickster · 4 years

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Red.

— BNHA BOOKCLUB BINGO EVENT —

anime | character: bnha | kirishima eijirou words: 2.5k prompt/crossed out: “Last Words” Themes/Warnings: soulmate AU, angst, character death

Inspiration/Song: “I Knew I Loved You” by Savage Garden

“...I knew I loved you before I met you I think I dreamed you into life I knew I loved you before I met you I have been waiting all my life...”

a/n: Imma tag the people who I have shared this plot with on the @bnhabookclub ‘s discord server HAHAH @pixxiesdust (enjoy the angst my dear zeze <3), @gallickingun (who suggested Kirishima and DAMN i was like hell yeah!) and @hawks-senseis (who came out with a crack idea that i’m SO gonna write it soon cos her idea is GOLDDD that i can’t help lmao-ing everytime I think about it XD)

No amount of time or research could ever unravel the mysteries of the world.

Why are the fate of the two people bounded by the words etched in their skin?

Why do these words only appear when one turns sixteen? And why sixteen?

There were so many questions but there were no answers.

Some gazed upon the heavens to find the lost meanings, while some dug for them in the earth beneath.

All these for the mystery etched in their skin.

But for you, you sought the answer through the seemingly endless scroll through forums on your screen.

Digitized words painting enthralling stories of how these sacred marks — dubbed as Soulwords by the millions across the blogs, forums, the news articles — on their skin led to happy endings, love, and happiness.

The common retelling of their stories mentioned the ‘unexplainable rush of warmth’, ‘the boost of bliss and spiritual strength’, and ‘the sense of wholeness’ they thrived upon finally meeting their fated partners.

Many who visited them gushed about their own, and those who haven’t, were longing and full of anticipation.

But not you.

You were shaking with anxiety and...desperation for a sign of hope.

“You’re beautiful.”

—ever since he turned sixteen and woke up to find these two words etched into the skin on his right, curving around his inner wrist like a permanent bracelet, he had waited.

Eagerness and suspense brimmed and shook inside him for the day to come with an intensity that could match a child’s, itching to open their Christmas presents or a puppy’s, sitting by the door with a wagging tail.

He hasn't met them, but he was already in love.

He kept his hands lonely for them.

His lips had never tasted the sweetness of a kiss for them.

It didn’t even matter how long it took.

Waiting was what he wanted to do because his every firsts belonged to them.

Even if it meant watching his friends around him, one after another, find their fated ones through their three-years long of hero education at the U.A. High.

He’d seen the uplifting effect the destined bonds had on them, even for Bakugou — the subtle spring in his usually hefty steps and the blissful contentment behind his scowling faces was obvious to those who had fought and struggled alongside him in the three years.

Even for someone as optimistic as himself, Kirishima often found himself filled with envy and doubts.

Still, he could never be tempted to let anyone else steal his firsts before he met them.

Every waking moment started with his hopes of hearing their first words. That she or even he would be somewhere out there, beyond his front door he was about to venture out from, arranged by fate to finally meet him.

Fleeting daydreams about how he could finally hold them in his arms and give them all his love. Even thoughts of doing things as simple as grocery shopping and taking naps together filled him with so much bubbling warmth.

Birthdays after birthdays, he wished before dancing flames, for the arrival of the fateful day awaiting them to come quicker.

Along with the wish for their safety and health, he never failed to add a silent promise to become a strong hero that could protect them.

“I did it.”

A bashful mumble turned his head away, the razored friendly grin he flashed at the passing giddy gushes of ‘Red Riot’ falling away.

Huh?

His puzzled eyes landed on Bakugou who wasn’t as enthusiastic about the gasps and admiring gazes on them.

Kirishima blinked. Once, twice. “Did what?”

“Were you even listening, shitty hair?” Bakugou’s impatience ripped through his words and faded with a sigh, “I said I proposed.”

His reminder nudged Kirishima in the direction of the phone conversation they had three days ago.

Understanding dawned upon him as soon as he pieced things together.

“....She said yes, right?”

The same razored grin he flashed to the faces on the boulevard they left behind brightened his face once more as his eyes danced excitedly.

“Of course, she said yes,” Bakugou grunted, fighting against the edges of his lips that was threatening to break a smile across his face. “We’re meant to happen after all.”

There was a short pause between them as the brightness in Kirishima’s eyes faltered slightly.

“You’re lucky, Bakugou.”

Kirishima felt the exhilaration he had for his best friend sink with a rising ache in his chest at the reminder.

He knew Bakugou didn’t mean any harm when he said what he said. He could tell it was out of happiness.

“I’m already twenty-four like you, yet I’m not even anywhere close.”

Under the cloudy sky, the dainty café huddled humbly among the huge city buildings, while hundreds of people rushed by it outside on the crowded street.

Half a dozen customers glanced up as the door swung open, announced by a rush of cold wind. Unlike the outside, the interior of the café was warm and cheery, with bright lights and colorful walls.

The customers returned to their conversations as the door swung closed behind the new entrant and the cold breeze was forgotten.

Your shoulders rose and fell as you breathed in the aromatic grounded scent of coffee lingering thickly in the cafe.

Even from the door, the stranger beside your best friend caught your eyes and you couldn’t help the bitter pinch of envy that sunk with your heavy heart.

Your brain instantly connected the dots as your legs brought you over to your friends at your usual corner.

Now, that explained the enthusiasm that seemed to leak through your screen when your phone pinged with a new text from her.

It was her turn.

You didn’t even need to hear the exuberance bouncing off your best friend’s voice when she introduced him to you, to know that those stories you’d read online were true.

Just like what you’d read on the forum, the abundance of happiness seemed to radiate off them; you could feel it the moment you slipped into the seat across them.

You were happy for her, really.

The blissful glow across you was practically tangible enough to be seen from the way their eyes smiled along with their lips.

And you forced yourself to smile too — like how you have always tried for your friends before her.

But the harsh whispers reminding you of your own reality just wouldn’t let you.

Being your best friend who knew where your heart dwelled, she noticed.

“Believe in yours, (Name),” The dull gloom glazed over your eyes disappeared at a snap in time for you to watch your best friend's hand leave his.

“Everyone has met their happy endings and I know you are bound to meet yours too soon.” Her hand slid across the table to squeeze yours. “Stop overthinking, okay?”

You wished you could.

“Don’t worry about me, Yui,” The brightest smile you could muster swept over your face. “We should totally start planning for our double dates once I meet mine!”

Her eyes lit up, the concern in them washed away and was replaced by the enthusiasm you knew so well.

Exactly the way it was, when you felt it with her back then.

Before your sixteen birthdays, the one thing you two always look forward to was double dates once you've met your fated ones. Then, you two had a notebook filled with giddy doodles of words you thought might turn up on your wrists.

But only hers was anything close to them.

Her comforting words...you wanted to cling onto them so badly. You wanted to believe in them.

You longed to feel the same kind of anticipation others felt waiting for their fated ones. And not dread and fear.

You tore your eyes away from the couple before you with a quiet pain and slipped a glance down to your wrist.

Jumping from forums to forums, glimpses of happy endings were what you’ve been desperately searching for.

For a hint of hope for the ominous words on your skin that spelled your fate.

“Don’t die on me— please.”

Her eyes roamed the chaotic scene before her.

The flashing red atop ambulances, the metal rattling of the wheels under stretchers delivering casualties and some were like her, crying helplessly.

The reassuring squeeze around her hand and his words meant to comfort her did nothing to stop the sobs retching from her.

The waves of angry, gray clouds rolling menacingly in the vast overcast sky over them made her feel so tiny.

“...Someone, please help her.” Her cracking voice could barely rise above the urgent cacophony around her as she begged, her mascara running down her cheeks with her tears.

A sight that she wouldn’t allow anyone to see if (Name) wasn’t buried somewhere under the rubble of what used to be the cafe they were sitting in.

“My best friend…” She cried, pleading left and right as she tried to find someone who could do something. Anything.

“Please—”

She knew it was futile for any civilians here, but she had to try.

“—she’s still in there…!”

Where were the Pro-Heroes?

(Name) may not be her fated one, but she was everything to her. A girl she laughed and cried with...She couldn’t lose her.

Hope widened her eyes as she spotted a distant recognizable figure that had just stepped into the chaos, and rushed forward.

“...Red Riot!”

You didn’t know how it happened, but you knew it happened too fast.

One moment you were staring back at your reflection in the bathroom.

The next moment you were lying on your back, eyes locked onto the hovering block of concrete that could have crushed you if not for the jagged crimson-stained one impaling your stomach.

The sticky warmth on the side of your heads and the throbbing that came along with it told you were bleeding from the head as well.

Even with you floating in and out of consciousness, you could feel the harsh ripple of the damages done to your body, spreading across you like hungry wildfire.

Every breath you tried to take into your lungs was accompanied by shards of stabbing pain.

All these pointed to one path you were heading to, but you clung onto the words on your wrist.

Those words...you haven’t heard them.

So you weren’t going to die yet right?

For once in your life, ever since those inscriptions appeared on your skin, hope bloomed across your chest as you desperately held onto them like they were your lifeline.

You will live.

You will survive this.

And die as you were meant to when time comes.

—you told yourself, repeating them in your muddled head like a mantra.

Then while fighting hard against the darkness dimming around your vision and reciting encouraging words in your head, the block over you was suddenly lifted off.

The burst of light that fell onto you made you wince instantly, your eyes squinting weakly against stark brightness that greeted you.

You heard or more than saw the block being shoved away and what towered over you now was a magnificent figure of hope.

It was a breathtaking sight for someone who was about to be swallowed by the clutches of despair.

Like a reenacting scene of Altas who had finally pushed off the weight of the heavens off his shoulders, that never came to be.

Standing tall and sturdy against the light behind him, the clad of strong red on him made you want to reach out to him so much.

It was like he was life itself, blazing gloriously in the light from the way the red on him seemed to be leaping off him.

Amongst the darkness clouding your vision from the corners, you watched him curl down into you, drawing closer with concern in those eyes.

You couldn’t help the words you uttered through your parched lips.

“....You’re beautiful.”

You saw him freeze, but you didn’t think much of it because you were still marvelling at the sight before you — he was indeed beautiful.

“No, no…”

You were too weak to notice the painful realization distorting his face or hear the panic he muttered under his gasping breath.

”...not like this.”

There was a starburst of pain amidst the red in his trembling gaze as Kirishima lowered himself beside your tattered body.

Red.

They were everywhere on you. Leaking from everywhere they could, seeping out along with the strength in your half-lidded gaze.

He knew what was coming. He knew there was no way you could survive this.

But it didn’t mean he was ready to accept the reality stained crimson red before him.

Kirishima searched around him, eyes desperately looking for someone…

Recovery Girl, a paramedic, a doctor...anyone that wasn’t as helpless as him.

You couldn’t see him that clearly now that everything was dimmed, but you could sense the turmoil in the body beside yours.

“...It’s okay.” Your lips curled weakly with your attempt to comfort him.

“No, no...it’s not okay.” There was a crack in his voice that made you wonder how kind this stranger was to weep so hard for a person they didn’t even know.

“Not yet, you can’t just go like this. I’ve waited for so long...” A choked sob broke into his plea.

“...Don’t die on me— please.”

A limp gasp sifted through your lips at the rush of a strange, honey-rich warmth that immediately flared within you to his words.

You thought you heard him gasping with you when it happened.

It died quickly, fizzling out as quickly it came.

It was only for a second but it was enough for you to feel it in you, enveloping you like the embrace of a gentle sun.

Was that the ‘rush of warmth’ so many talked about?

…But at death’s door?

“So,” A wry smile climbed across your face as a humorless chuckle left you, “....we’ve finally met, huh.”

Whatever hope you held onto to keep your eyes open just minutes ago crumbled.

This was it, wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry,” Tears welled in your eyes. “...I’m so sorry it had to be like this, whoever you are.”

“I’m Red Riot.” You heard him frantically answer after you, “I mean, Kirishima Eijiro.”

His hands clamped over yours and you could only think of how warm they were, mustering the bit of strength you had left to give him a squeeze.

The Red Riot, huh?

Who would have thought…

Another wistful chuckle left you as you tasted the bitterness of regret and sadness.

Tears brimmed over your eyes at the withering light in your vision.

The darkness was callous.

“I’m (Name),” You knew you were close. “...And I’m glad I’ve finally met you, Kirishima-san.”

It was only interested in pulling you in.

Your loosening grip around his hands jostled him into panic.

...and it was the clear victor.

He screamed for you.

He screamed for someone to help.

He cursed at fate.

“Please don’t leave. I beg you, don’t go...I love you.” — was the last you heard before darkness finally took you.

Yui was wrong; not everyone was bound to meet their happy ending.

Because you didn’t.

...And neither did he.

a/n: did you notice how differently they viewed the color red?

#kirishima eijirou #bnha eijiro kirishima #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijiro imagine #red riot #bnha kirishima #bnhabookclub #bnhabookclub bingo event 2020

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gusu-emilu · 4 years

Text

Cantatio: Chapter Twelve

Ship: Lan Zhan / Wei Ying (POV Lan Zhan)

Summary: Lan Zhan and Wei Ying face off with a guardian lion statue and rocky relationship issues.

Cloud Recesses AU, Rated T, No Warnings Apply - read on AO3

< Ch. 11 | chapter list

Lan Wangji tumbled onto a cold stone surface. He groaned. His robes were sticky with mud, and his entire back ached from sliding into rocks that lined the pitch-black tunnel. However, now there was some light surrounding him. He opened his eyes.

Glowing blue stalagmites illuminated an enormous cavern with twinkling sapphire light. Amber brown rock formations crept upward in jagged shapes, some even reaching the lofty ceiling and mingling with the blue stalactites that coated the ceiling like icicles. An underground lagoon stretched across the cavern floor. Not a single ripple tainted its clear cerulean water.

Lan Wangji had barely taken two breaths before the hollering of Wen Qing and Jiang Cheng echoed behind him. He scrambled out of the way just in time to dodge the two bodies that hurtled side by side out of the tunnel.

“Ow, shit!” Jiang Cheng said.

“What are you whining about? You were clutching my wrist so hard I thought you’d dislocate my shoulder!”

“Wha—I—"

Lan Wangji shushed them and nodded his head toward the water.

In a corner of the cave several hundred meters along the bank of the lake, there was a large, peculiar rock that looked like it had been carved to display clawed feet and a mane of fur around a snarling head.

It was the guardian lion of the mingshi. It seemed to be lying on the ground with its chin resting on its paws, as motionless as the water it stared at. Although its features were not clear from this far away, Lan Wangji thought there might’ve been a splotch of blood on its front paws.

Wei Wuxian and Jin Zixuan were nowhere in sight.

A puff of air in Lan Wangji’s ear. He flinched.

“The stone kitty is sad,” said a pouting voice.

Wei Wuxian had appeared at his side. Lan Wangji shot him a sharp, scolding glare, but within, warm relief swelled though him. Wei Ying was safe.

But he was not excused.

“Wei Wuxian!” Jiang Cheng hissed. “Are you insane? Why the hell would you chase after this thing?!”

“Shhh!”

“Excuse me, Lady Wen,” Jiang Cheng said, “but I think your shrieking already made the lion well-aware that we’re here.”

Wen Qing narrowed her eyes, piercing Jiang Cheng with a frigid glare. He shrank away apologetically.

Wei Wuxian laughed. “Jiang Cheng, that shrieking was you. I’d recognize your girly scream anywhere.”

“You wanna die?!”

Jiang Cheng nearly squashed Lan Wangji in his attempt to swing over and punch his brother. Lan Wangji caught both of their wrists and trapped them in his grip, just like he had done at the gate of the Cloud Recesses when the disciples first arrived. How much had happened since then!

“Wei Wuxian,” Wen Qing said. “You have a lot of explaining to do.”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

Lan Wangji turned to him. “How did you animate the pixiu?”

“Wait wait wait. Hold on.” Wei Wuxian pinched the bridge of his nose for a few seconds, then sliced his hand through the air, holding his palm open toward Lan Wangji. “You think I animated the guardian lion?”

Jiang Cheng’s eyes widened. “We think what?—"

Wen Qing’s expression remained calm and impassive as she spoke. “Lan Wangji and A-Ning both saw you animate the pixiu by yourself without losing any spiritual energy, which was supposed to be impossible for cultivators our age. And moreover, after what happened regarding Young Master Jin and your shijie last night, how much of a coincidence is it that the only disciple the lion went after was Jin Zixuan?”

Wei Wuxian’s lips parted slightly, their smile wilting. His eyes enveloped Lan Wangji, questioning and searching with an uncomfortable blankness.

“You…you thought I would do that to Jin Zixuan?”

Something awful panged in Lan Wangji’s chest. Gnawed at him. He turned away, unable to look at Wei Wuxian.

Rule #351: Do not make assumptions about others.

He hadn’t really thought that Wei Ying meant any harm toward Jin Zixuan.

…Had he?

This time, Lan Wangji had violated more than just a rule.

Jiang Cheng snorted. “I don’t want to say you guys are dumb. But you guys are dumb. This blockhead is too stupid to pull off something like that.”

Lan Wangji let go of the two brothers’ wrists. Cold mud from his slide down the tunnel seeped into his skin at the back of his robes, giving him goosebumps. The guardian lion statue at the bank of the lagoon did not stir.

Wei Wuxian grinned, but it was empty and distant. He might as well have been sitting as far away as the lion.

“Lan Zhan, Lan Zhan, I can’t believe you think I’m capable of such a feat! What a devious idea, I should learn from you!” He chuckled, a quiet, caustic sound. “But as much as I want to keep the secret to my success, it looks like I have to clear my name. I wasn’t the one who animated the pixiu in class. I didn’t do a thing, actually. My golden core is definitely the strongest in our generation, but it’s not that good. Never mind animating a real full-sized guardian statue.”

“Psh. Strongest my ass,” Jiang Cheng grumbled.

“Then how did it happen?” Wen Qing asked.

Lan Wangji still couldn’t look at him.

“It was…um…it was actually really scary. I thought I was going to die, to be honest. The pixiu’s spirit wanted to take my golden core. So I made a bargain with it.”

Jiang Cheng furrowed his brow. “Bargain?”

Bargain? Lan Wangji echoed the words himself.

Hadn’t Song Lan said that guardian spirits could not be easily communicated with? Lan Wangji hadn’t heard any type of language when he laid hands on the pixiu in class.

Wei Wuxian nodded. “I told it to take something else instead.” He looked down at the cave floor with a small guilty smile. “Under the ground, buried really far down, there were, um, well. You know how the world works. There were dead people and animals in the ground. Ancient remains. I gave it permission to drain their resentful energy instead of my qi. I think it turned that pixiu a bit crooked in the head…it kept running around in circles and then disappeared into the woods…” He shrugged and added, “But hey, at least I kept my golden core.”

Finally, Lan Wangji’s voice worked. It was cold and firm, as hard as cave floor beneath him.

“Wei Ying. This is the crooked path.”

Wei Wuxian’s only answer was a closed-lipped smile that said, I know. Disapprove of me any more yet?

Lan Wangji swallowed.

The crooked path. How had Wei Ying learned to do this? Why had that thought ever crossed his mind? Couldn’t he have just been more careful and not let his overconfidence get him in a life-or-death situation, forcing him to disrupt the graves of buried souls, forever stripping them from the cycle of reincarnation? This was evil work, even if he hadn’t wanted to do it.

He had been forced to step down the crooked path.

But what could Wei Ying have done? His wrongdoings were never out of malice. It would be an insult to think that he’d follow the crooked path with ill intentions. That he would use it to animate a guardian statue and harm Jin Zixuan.

The four disciples stared at each other: three coated in mud, one perfectly clean, in an odd subversion of what one would expect.

Jiang Cheng clenched and unclenched his fists. He seemed to have many words clawing up his throat, but none came out. Lan Wangji felt the same way.

Eventually, it was Wen Qing who spoke. “How did you communicate with the guardian spirit?”

Wei Wuxian rubbed the back of his neck. “Aha, about that. I…don’t actually know.”

When they looked at him in confusion, he raised his hands and hastily explained. “Before I touched it, I wasn’t too focused. I was actually just thinking about what puns I could make the next day in Lan Qiren’s poetry class.” He smirked at some private joke. “Once I touched the pixiu, it happened in a blur—before I knew it, it was already done, and I was doubled over on the ground. Since I was already down, I decided to play dead and scare Huaisang, but I ended up making Lan Zhan worried instead. It was a mess, it really was.” His eyes darkened. “Looks like Lan Zhan thought too highly of me after that. Or, maybe lowly.”

His last words were bitter. Spiteful.

“Wei Ying.” Lan Wangji placed his hand on Wei Wuxian’s shoulder.

Wei Wuxian brushed it off.

They stared at each other.

It…

That…

It hurt.

Wei Wuxian had shaken him off, when before he had been the one always initiating, always smiling, always touching.

A gaping hole was forming inside Lan Wangji. From guilt? Sorrow? Offense? He wasn’t sure. He only knew that it hurt.

This time, he was the one who had been insensitive. Who had pushed the other away with careless thoughts. Who was wrong.

Wei Wuxian donned another vacant smile, even less convincing this time. “Well, enough talk about me. Let’s find Jin Zixuan. I need him alive so I can watch him grovel at Shijie’s feet.”

Jiang Chen scoffed. “Psh. He’s probably dead already.” He nodded toward the statue. “That lion looks pretty satisfied.”

The guardian lion did not, in fact, look satisfied. It looked forlorn. Lan Wangji didn’t know how a block of stone several hundred meters away could display such emotion in its carved surface, but it was unmistakably miserable.

Wen Qing must’ve noticed too. “I don’t think it’s as vicious as we thought. Maybe we can talk to it?”

The four disciples rose and stood in front of the cave tunnel.

“It’s possible,” Wei Wuxian said, nodding thoughtfully. “But don’t look at me! I’m no guardian spirit whisperer. I really don’t know how I did that yesterday.”

“Should we really talk with the lion? I don’t buy it,” Jiang Cheng said. “If that thing isn’t vicious, then where’s the peacock?”

“WAAAAAAAAAAH!”

A flash of gold shot down the tunnel and crashed into them. Pain jolted through Lan Wangji’s legs as all five people toppled like dominoes into a tangle of bodies.

“Ow!”

“The fuck—”

“What are you doing here?”

“What are YOU doing here?!?!”

Jin Zixuan had slid into the cavern. He lay in the middle of the knot of limbs on the cave floor, hand rubbing the back of his head, chafing in disgust at the grime that soaked his priceless robes and stained them a snotty shade of tawny. One of his arms was bloody.

“Why aren’t you dead?” Jiang Cheng snapped as he jumped to his feet.

“I thought you were captured by the lion!” Wei Wuxian said.

“Well, I was,” Jin Zixuan said irritably, “and then I fought it off until it dropped me in some random part of the woods.”

Jiang Cheng scoffed. “You? Fight off a guardian lion? Bullshit.”

Jin Zixuan’s eyes darted from person to person. He rose to his feet and gingerly brushed himself off, which only spread the mud onto his hands. He scowled, his smarmy face looking rather like a lion itself.

“Fine. I did try to fight it,” he said, “but it didn’t work. It injured my arm. And all of a sudden it stopped and just…stared at me. Then it let go of me and ran away.”

“And why didn’t you return to the Cloud Recesses?” Wen Qing said. “The clan leaders are worried sick looking for you! Your father is going to have a stroke—and if not he’s going to give one to someone else with all his scolding.”

“Because, I lost my sword in the woods.”

Wen Qing raised her eyebrows. “Okay, so then why are you here?”

“I needed my sword to fight the lion.”

“You came after the lion to try to fight?”

Jiang Cheng curled his lip, shaking his head. “This peacock is as dumb as Wei Wuxian.”

Jin Zixuan unsheathed his sword from its golden scabbard. “I won’t let it defeat me. I must preserve my honor and tell my clan I defeated the monster.”

“Who are you to talk about honor?” Wei Wuxian yelled, his voice shaking with anger. “Do you even realize what you did last night? What you did to Jiang Yanli?”

Jin Zixuan lowered Suihua an inch. The sapphire glow of the cavern gleamed questioningly off its blade. “What do you mean?”

“I take it back,” Jiang Cheng said. “The peacock is a thousand times dumber.”

Wei Wuxian drew his sword and pointed it at Jin Zixuan. “That gift was from my shijie. Not only did you refuse to accept it—as if that wasn’t humiliating enough for her already—you gave the credit to a Lan Clan servant. She literally wrote you a note! Are you blind?” He gave a scornful laugh that could’ve cut the air itself. “But then again, you’ve always been blind to her. Always. Never gave one glance at your own future wife. She deserves so much better than the heap of fool’s gold trash you are.”

Jin Zixuan pinched the folds of his brow together, as if he were holding these words in the center of his forehead, weighing them, measuring them, right above the red dot of the Jin Clan between his eyes.

“Jiang…Lady Jiang made that gift?”

Wei Wuxian scoffed. “Yes, and you’re never getting another one.” He gripped his sword tighter and waved it. “Come on. Forget about the lion.” He stepped forward. “Let’s spar. You and me. We’ll settle this right now.”

Lan Wangji rushed in front of Wei Wuxian’s sword. Its tip nearly grazed his throat.

“Wei Ying.”

“Get lost.”

“Wei Ying!”

Wei Wuxian looked like he was about to cry. He turned his face away and absent-mindedly twisted his fist in small circles, rotating the blade of the sword in front of Lan Wangji’s neck.

“Wei Wuxian,” Wen Qing said sternly. “We have more important things to focus on right now.”

He lowered his sword. Avoiding Lan Wangji’s eyes, he sulked away toward Jiang Cheng, who had been braced in a martial stance with Sandu unsheathed.

Jin Zixuan nodded curtly. “Excuse me.” He stomped down the bank of the lagoon toward the guardian lion, then broke into a sprint.

He collapsed.

Wen Qing stood perfectly still, her expression inscrutable. However, Lan Wangji thought he had seen a flash of crimson sleeves from her direction.

She strode over to Jin Zixuan and pulled a needle out of his neck, jolting him awake. “Don’t fight it!” she snapped. “Can’t you see? It’s sad. It doesn’t want to fight you. It’s dishonorable to battle an opponent who is unwilling.”

“I—”

“You were very willing to fight the guardian lion when it captured you, as you’ve just told us.”

Jin Zixuan closed his mouth, biting back whatever he had to say until his expression dissolved into nothing but awkwardness. Then he stood up and brushed himself off again, as if it would be any more effective at removing the mud than the last time. He turned to face the statue. “Guardian lion! You will come with me back to the Cloud Recesses!”

Jiang Cheng rolled his eyes so hard that Lan Wangji could almost hear it.

Then a scraping sound echoed through the cavern. The turquoise water beside the stone lion began to ripple as the giant creature rose to its paws and snarled at the disciples.

It looked ready to pounce.

Jin Zixuan leapt forward and struck the lion’s paw with Suihua, only for the sword to bounce of the stone with a shing. The lion swatted at Jin Zixuan, trying to push him away as he dodged its claws.

“Do you have a death wish?!” Jiang Cheng shouted.

“Stop fighting!” Wei Wuxian said. “We need you alive!”

He and Jiang Cheng jumped forward to help Jin Zixuan fight the lion. Instead of a roar, a doleful moaning came from the lion’s mouth.

“This isn’t right,” Wen Qing murmured, slightly shaking her head, worry spread across her face.

The lion’s moaning sounded…familiar. It was almost like speech.

Where had Lan Wangji heard this before?

He spun through the last few days in his mind, images and voices whirring through his imagination as the three disciples in front of him slashed their swords at the lion and dodged its paws. Then he found the memory.

A textbook of barely legible poetry. Nie Huaisang’s face buried in his fan, Jiang Cheng bursting into high-pitched laughter, and Wei Ying making jokes about threesomes and facial hair. Lan Qiren yelling at all of them.

Uncle’s Ancient Texts class.

The lion was speaking Trans-Himalayan.

And it was very, very sad.

* * *

Thanks for reading! These chapters (and more to come) can also be found on AO3!

Ch. 13 > | chapter list

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leophnyx · 4 years

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Let’s Talk About Parasites for a Bit

This is the conversation nobody asked for, but you’re getting because I’m a parasitic alien-entity that has experiences. Tumblr has been historically parasite-friendly and I felt like giving back in a way, the parasites here helped me in my time of need so I might as well help future ones.

I’m going to talk about being a parasitic alien animal for a bit, so buckle up if you wanna know what that’s like. It took some self-discovery and poking and prodding to understand myself and the others the way I do right now, and it is worth some sort of essay.

First, lets get definitions out of the way. Parasite (the way I’m using it) refers to those who happen to be nutrient-consuming beings, in that they suck blood or plant nutrients from others. They do not eat it like normal animals, they have specialized tools for sucking these nutrients from their hosts. If you think of tapeworms, leeches, lampreys, these would be the types of parasitic relations I’m talking about. As you can probably tell by how often you hear about our experiences, we're a rare breed. Despite being an alien I do consider myself to be parasitic in nature and use parasite as an accurate descriptor of what my (and some of the others here) species is like. This is due to the way we'd take in nutrients being atypical, and the fact that even among aliens I never really hear of those who are partially or majorly parasites. I’ve heard of those who eat through their mouths or take in nutrients via technology or energy, but not through outright biological parasitism. The first time I started realizing something was up was when we were a teen, and I’d have weird nightly astral shifts in which I was using a strange body part to probe my environment. At this time I identified myself as a canid-like entity partially due to influence from other system members; this would change as I learned about myself more. This phantom part would come out of my mouth, long, muscular and full of jagged teeth, and in these shifts I was always hunting for prey with it. No information on parasitekin or parasite therians being available at the time and parasitism being the furthest thing from my mind anyway, I decided to go with demon, and spent years being confused as to why nobody else was reporting phantom parts like mine, wondering whether they just weren’t talking about them or whether I was just some rare breed of demon. Yet I had many things that tipped me off to not being a demon. From all my memories my species could reproduce, we were mortal, physical beings and we were like animals on earth in that we had similar limitations and thoughts. The odd abilities we did have, like shapeshifting, were not considered magical and came with no special effects. Magic was seen with some sort of skepticism by many in that world, and while we had some intelligence we were simply doing animal things-we had no interaction with humans from this world. I would drift from the demonkin label and remain unlabeled for a bit, assuming my parasitic nature was a random shift. Ohh, but it continued, and I soon considered the label again. When sick with a cold my phantom jaws would dislocate, revealing the proboscis I didn’t quite understand at the time. It’s not a normal body part-imagine an elephant trunk with sharp teeth at the end where the “tips” of the elephant’s nostrils would be. These phantom shifts induced phantom pain (not physical pain, but the pain that would occur if they were physical) and during these moments my thinking would change. I would become more relaxed, more calculating and less instinctive and predatory in nature. At this point I was understanding myself more as a feline-eqsue beast among other beasts within this system, but I still lacked understanding of what this proboscis was. I looked around for answers, because I didn’t think this was really demonic at this point but there was nothing even remotely similar online. I found information on spiritual parasites, but nothing on real parasites, creatures who had actual, literal parasitic natures in human bodies, alien or not. Following the logic of what I was doing when shifted and what it was made for eventually led to the conclusion that I was a blood drinker of some sort. It seemed as if I was coming closer to understanding myself as a parasite. Eventually I found the now-defunct parasitekin blog, and the writings from other parasites. I had come across it occasionally, but never taken it as anything more than interesting for other people until then. I read the information there and compared my experiences to theirs. Thinking about what I knew about vampires, sanguine and parasites, I managed to narrow down my experiences further, and eventually realized I was a parasite. I think the biggest tipoff to my parasitic nature in the end was the fact that my interest in blood was only nutrient-based? I don’t need blood to survive in this life like a sanguine vampire, nor do I feel I should have it like a vampirekin. In fact, I’m not transfixed by blood in any way. Instead, it’s like a biological need that has to be fulfilled under certain conditions, and I don’t crave blood but I would need it to survive if I were physically an alien. (I actually can’t taste blood through my proboscis.) I have special parts to extract that blood, which vampirekin seem to lack, and I’m not human in form either, which disqualifies me from that label. For me, parasitism is as natural as anything else, and it’s not to fulfill a supernatural need, but a purely biological one. I steal blood and I digest it to live, I don’t do that and I suffer. After realizing that, things slowly started to make more sense for me. No I wasn’t a demon, but a physical creature instead, an alien of sorts, and that was a part of my whole alienness. The reason why I was often experiencing this while sick? It was my mind’s way of seeking nutrients to help me get better, akin to how when you’re injured you might eat more, and was a part of my alien nature when I was physically one. The reason it came out at all? It’s a significant part of my species and its existence, of course it would come out. From my past life memories, I remember there being slightly more predators on the top of the food chain than on the bottom, and we were preying on other predators, some exclusively. Doesn’t make so much sense with what we currently know about the food chain, right? There’s usually a small amount of predators on the top and many many herbivores at the bottom. However, parasites (or at least earthly ones) have an inverted food chain-there’s more at the top than there are at the bottom.

This parasitism is not limited to me alone. After realizing this I soon came to understand that it wasn't just me who experienced this. There are members of our system who also experience the same sort of parasitic nature, who also share the same worldly origins I have. It seems like a fact of our world to exist with a parasitic aspect of ourselves and for us to use it when necessary, and has become one of the major ways we organize ourselves: do you take nutrients from others or are you proboscis-less? That all being said, I am not an earthly parasite but an alien one. My species (and arguably all species from our world) are obligate parasites by design. I can eat like a normal animal, I can hunt the normal way and eat prey the typical animal way, but at some point in my life I will feel the urge to parasitize another creature, and in fact it’s so integral to the animals of our world that even the herbivores are parasites, drinking the nutrients from trees with their own specialized probosci. My default state-of-mind is that of a large intelligent predator, however when a parasitic state is triggered my thinking alters to become more hyperaware while also being calm and focused, as is needed when you're using a new set of parts. This may explain some of the oddities of our world, since having blood as a secondary, possibly easier source of food would probably enable different sorts of behaviors that would be too energy-intensive and costly otherwise. Outside of that however, my behavior falls more in line with those of my particular species, and I behave more like an (intelligent) social animal like an ape or a primitive human being, than like a hyperintelligent extraterrestial being. I’ve noticed that community-wise I still feel a strong pull towards others who may identify themselves as parasites. Parasitism is a way of ingesting nutrients so it’s a bit weird to group us all together by how we eat (it’d be like grouping up therians based on whether they were carnivores or herbivores) but I guess there’s a lot in common anyway, with how we interact with the communities and experience ourselves? I don’t exactly relate to therians 100% of the time for one reason or another, and usually they don’t always relate to me, despite us both being kinds of animals. I don’t necessarily get the feelings of otherkin either, and despite being an alien if you push me in with other aliens simply on the basis of us being alien I’ll cry, because I don’t really relate to them at all as there’s a lot of variety under that label. Parasites...others like that feel right, when I'm not lumping myself in with the more common animals and beastly nonhumans. I don’t see a lot of people talking about their experiences if they’re parasites, but when I do see their experiences it just feels so familiar and relatable. This is not a part of myself I feel ashamed of, but that coupled with the extreme oddity of much of how I see myself and relate to the world can explain why I don't talk about myself this way that much. If people are going to have a negative reaction (and they can due to what parasitism entails and what images it conjures up, and it's not their fault, nobody can't help what they can't handle) there's no healthy way to talk about what I experience and go through with others, even if the parasitism isn't always center-focus. If people can’t relate to my experiences and I don’t see a place to talk about them, I might just avoid doing that at all. Just as well, I don't necessarily always feel like talking about my experiences if people are going to pigeonhole them or poke at them weirdly. It's not useful to me That all being said, if you were ever wondering how you figure out you're a parasite at all, here's one way. We exist in various forms and shapes, we’re not common but we’re not an urban legend either. If you’re a random stranger reading this and wondering what the hell is going on, hello, physically I’m human but internally I see myself as a parasitic alien. The above is how. If you’re skeptical about my experiences (especially seeing as how I’m posting this on Tumblr) I assure you, I post on other social media sites as well and I’m still the same parasitic alien being, I’m not talking about this to get a fun laugh out of you, and I take it as seriously as any other part of myself. If you’re questioning parasitism yourself (or parasitekin, parasite therianthropy, etc.) be aware that there are others who experience this, so you’re not that unusual or alone, even if it seems like you may be.

#parasite therians #theriovague #alterhuman #parasite alterhumans #alterhumanity #alterhuman experiences #parasitekin #therianthropy #theriomythics #theriomythic #person: soul

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thevengeanceuniverse · 4 years

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Truce? Ch.1

Summary: Someone leaked the video from December 16th, 1991 to the world, resulting in mass uproar of the Winter Soldier’s murder of Iron Man’s parents. When things take a turn for the worse and the public starts to demand for the Winter Soldier’s head, the most unlikely candidate of them all comes to Bucky Barnes’ rescue.

Honestly, when Steve called to ask for Fury’s help, he wasn’t thinking that Tony would be playing boyfriend to his boyfriend.

Disclaimer: This was meant to be crack with the depth of a donut hole. If it ended up with the depth of a pound cake hole instead, well that was entirely unintentional

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Just smile for the nice people holding the cameras, Barnes—no, not like you’re going to eat them,” Tony hissed out. God, he knew it took time before people adjusted to the media attention enough to have a press-ready smile, but surely Barnes could do better than the teeth-baring grimace that was marring his face. Instead of looking like a man in love, he looked like he was in imminent danger of explosive diarrhea.

“I’m not a performing monkey, Stark, you get what you get,” Bucky grunted back. He stood stiffly next to the billionaire at the press event that was supposed to be their “coming out” to the world. The public relations had concocted some story about how he and Tony had connected on a shared history of kidnapping, torture and nonconsensual body modification that had led to a whirlwind romance that they kept secret from the world.

They had been taking their time letting others “know” because though Bucky had been awake for various shifts over the last seven decades, Steve walking around in khakis for months on end had given the public the perception that super soldiers adjusted to the turn of the century very slowly.

Thanks Steve.

“I have no qualms about abandoning you and your freeze-burned friend to the sharks,” Tony grated out, smiling widely at the cameramen and throwing in a cheeky wink that had a woman swooning.

The only reason Tony had agreed to the whole charade was because Pepper, in all her boundless wisdom, had convinced them both that the public infighting between the members of the Avengers put a nice juicy target on their back—one that practically screamed that they were uncoordinated and vulnerable to attack.

“I don’t know about you but I’m not fond of the idea of dealing with another world-invasion right about now—or a delusional take-over the world scheme.”

“Fine,” Bucky melded his face into something less resembling a scowl, trying to convince all the people hounding them that he was in love with the billionaire beside him even as he struggled not to flinch from the hand that wound its way around his back to land on his hip.

Bucky didn’t understand how they didn’t see through their thin act. He knew next to nothing about Tony Stark other than the fact that the man hated him for killing his parents and hated Steve for keeping it all a secret.

They might have all been living in the same building for the last several months after the battle in Siberia (to try and mend the fallout from the Civil War fiasco), but the various floors could be entirely different galaxies for the amount of times they interacted. Tony stayed strictly in the penthouse or his lab, refusing to interact with any of the team other than Bruce or Thor, both of whom had the excuse of being off-world when the big throwdown happened. To this day, he hadn’t spoken a word to Steve.

Thankfully, after a few more pictures, Tony made some quip about getting his lover-boy home so he could treat him right with a home-cooked meal and the crowd ate it up like kids at a candy shop. They slid into the limo to take them back to the Tower, Tony sliding as far away as he could get the moment the door closed and sealed them in the dimly lit interior courtesy of the tinted windows.

Falling back into the watchful gaze of the sniper, Bucky observed the twitches that revealed Tony’s discomfort, knowing that if they wanted to play this dating charade well enough to fool the skeptics, they would need to do better.

“I feel a spiritual affinity for turtles.”

Tony turned around to look at him like he had gone mad—which, not fair, Bucky’s grip on sanity had been loose for decades, but he was finally getting a handle on it.

“I like strawberry cake more than chocolate or vanilla,” Bucky continued when Tony said nothing. “The pink is pretty and I like the fact that it’s just sweet enough.”

Tony’s brows screwed up in confusion. “I know you’re speaking English, but I’m not understanding what you’re saying.”

“I’m helping you to get to know me,” Bucky clarified, shrugging. “I don’t think we’ll make a very convincing couple if we don’t know anything about each other.”

“I disagree,” Tony contradicted. “I’m an excellent actor.”

“You may be, but I’m not and I’m never going to be comfortable at your side until you feel less like a stranger.” He didn’t move when Tony faced him fully, fury twisting his usual congenial features and flashing through his whiskey eyes.

“I have no interest in getting to know you,” Tony spoke coldly. “We are not friends. This is a job that will have an intense—but brief—moment in the spotlight and then after a few months we can have a quiet break up, go our separate ways and never have to speak outside of Avenger situations.”

“I know you want nothing to do with me,” Bucky acknowledged softly, watching as Tony drew back at his frank words. “And I don’t blame you for that because I cannot just wash away the pain that my actions resulted in. But I’m trying to get better and move forward. I already know you won’t forgive me, and that this enforced proximity will do nothing to change your mind.”

“But this is more than just us,” he emphasized. “I may not fully understand the scale of social media influence in the modern world, but I sure as heck remember propaganda during the war and know that this is no different. A good bluff can win the day just as much as a frontal assault, and I need your help to make sure our bluff is airtight.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed in a glare. “As much as it pains me to admit it, you’re right.”

Bucky held out his hand, “Truce?” Tony rolled his eyes, but he took the metal hand without hesitation and shook firmly. He showed no discomfort from the feeling of the metal, nor any fear of having the arm, which was basically a weapon attached to Bucky’s body, near him.

Instead, he actually gifted it a longer inspection then he had bothered to give Bucky the entire time they’d been in the car, thoroughly looking it over with undisguised interest before letting go and retreating back into his corner.

“So, what’s your spirit animal?” Bucky invited, hopefully.

Tony snorted, but after a moment where Bucky didn’t think he was going to answer, he did. “I think most people would argue that I’m more like a prideful peacock strutting all over and displaying his tail feathers than anything else.”

“Those people are idiots,” Bucky disagreed. “If anything, I’d think you’re like those meerkats from the Lion King.”

“Scurry, dig, freeze?” Tony raised a skeptical brow. “I think I preferred the peacock than an animal that’s afraid of its own shadow.”

“It was only afraid because it had the awareness of the world around it,” Bucky countered, just a shade defensively. He liked the meerkats. “They had knowledge of the threats that exist that could destroy their world. Yet at the same time, even when knowing destruction might be imminent, they spent all of their time creating, building, improving on what they had and industriously dedicating themselves to the future. Not unlike you.” His words came out less joking then he planned, ending up somewhere close to tender and Bucky tensed in preparation for Tony reacting to what he might take as condescension.

Tony said nothing, just stared at him for a moment and absorbing Bucky’s words.

“Did they give you a silver tongue with that metal arm?” he finally retorted, but the meanness that was there before was softened, no longer jagged with the intent to cut.

“Unfortunately, the silver tongue came with the package,” Bucky dared to tease. “Luckily enough for you enjoy, oh love of my life, fire of my loins.”

He savored the sound of Tony’s shocked laughter.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25622497 (theres a second chp out)

#winterironshield #winteriron #stony #stucky #fanfic #fanfiction #funny #this is pure ridiculousness #vengeanceworks #avengers #marvel #fake dating

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seriouslyhooked · 4 years

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Lost Souls and Reveries (Part 24)

25 part AU written for @cssns. Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6,Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23. Story available on AO3 Here and FF Here. Banner created by the amazingly talented @shipsxahoy!!

Killian Jones is a wolf shifter without roots, without plans, and without a pack. He’s a rogue, someone humans should avoid and shifters should be wary of given his lineage. But one night years back set him on a path he didn’t realize he was taking, a path leading to a future he is destined for. That future is tied up in one woman – a human named Emma Nolan. Together Emma and Killian will find not only answers, but a love that’s truly fated. But will love be enough to set them free, or will past demons win out in the end? (Answer: love always wins – I am writing this so despite some tiny pockets of angst it’s basically a fluff-filled insta-love fest). Rated M.

A/N: Hey everyone. So as you can probably imagine, this chapter is going to be A LOT It’s double the length of a normal chapter because the midpoint was too high stress for me to leave you all on. It’s going to be high emotions and very unstable. That being said, I totally understand if some of you just want to skip it all together. Keep in mind if you do, you will be missing the final show down with George and a lot of final puzzle pieces many of you have been trying to piece together. I promise you I will leave the chapter in a stable place AND I have an extremely fluffy chapter planned for the final installment of this fic. That being said, I hope you’ll all forgive me for the angst, and happy reading!

“So what exactly do you think George has in store for us?”

After a few hours of being holed up in the car together, headed north to face her father’s Uncle, the question from Killian was direct and precise. But there was a reason it had taken hours for anyone to ask. The truth was something strange and unnerving. Without having every detail, they all knew that this was a dangerous man with an unstable mind. George Nolan’s reputation preceded him and his craven desire to do harm was undeniable. Still there was so much they didn’t understand. The only one with first-hand knowledge was her Dad, and every time she looked to him for answers, he appeared grim and stony. To see her father’s light dim, to see his kindness cool, was completely foreign to Emma, and it made her hands tremble slightly with anxious anticipation.

“It’s not going to be easy to get to him when we arrive at this ranch,” Emma’s father said, continuing to discuss the task before them just as he had for the last four plus hours. “My Uncle has never fought in any human war, but his life has been one long series of battles. The stuff he’ll have lined up will be straight from the textbooks.”

“They’ve got textbooks on shifter hunting then?” Liam asked with a tone of feigned amusement that was largely laced in sarcasm. “Well look at that. Learn something new every day.”

“Kidding aside, surely George is more sophisticated than that. He must have some sorts of surprises in store,” Killian offered.

“Oh plenty,” David agreed. “I know many of his habits, his tendencies and quirks, but it’s been thirty years since I left home, and there’s no doubt he’ll have more up his sleeve by now.”

Emma continued to listen to the others discuss, but eventually their voices started to fade. The words became less recognizable, and more a continued thrum of energy in the back of her mind. This mental distance was a defense mechanism, a means of shielding herself until the last possible moment. If she allowed her mind to linger in the what-ifs she’d go crazy. Instead, she leaned her head against the window, her temple feeling the coolness of the glass as her eyes stayed trained out, taking in their surroundings.

As the others shifted their conversation from trap types and weaponry to debate about what the best routes in and out of this park reserve might be, Emma thought back to a time before all of this chaotic uncertainty. Her eyes cast out towards the northern woods, with mammoth pine trees filling in the forests all around them. The world was green and bright. The feel of summer was thick still, and the world, though sluggish from the heat, was very much alive. The further from home they drove, the more altered the land looked. Flat coastal spaces ranged from rolling hills to jagged cliffs. Terrain was denser with brush and canopies. Heck, they’d literally left the country and were now in a totally new place, but Emma didn’t think of that, or even really see the sights before her. Instead she recalled what things used to be like, before she met her soulmate, and before everything went completely off the rails.

Emma’s life in Storybrooke was quiet and subdued for so many years. She had her work, and her friends, and her family. Every day was different, but it was also just the same. The spice of her life came from being a vet, where she might encounter varying pets and animals with a whole host of ailments and injuries, but the ebb and flow of life was rather monotonous. Nothing really strayed from ordinary, and after everything that they’d gone through when Neal was sick, Emma was grateful for that. She lived in a little pond with the fish she’d always known, happy that the big and scary waves of their past seemed to be behind them. Things were small and seemingly unimportant in their little corner of the world, but as safe as she’d felt, and as untouchable as being in Storybrooke once used to seem, it wasn’t all that she truly wanted. Where she had consistency and companionship, Emma was missing passion. She was missing that all-consuming love that comes when meeting one’s perfect match, and in more ways than one, she was missing key insights into who she really was. Pieces of her had been, for lack of a better word, hibernating, and now they were awakened, never to be suppressed or forgotten again.

But so far, these beautiful pieces had come with a tainted set of conditions. She met Killian, igniting a spark that had fanned into unquenchable flames. She fell in love with him, opened her heart to him, and started to believe that a life with real love was something she was meant to be a part of, but then she realized he had secrets and a past still left to face. She learned the truth about shifters, and her family’s place in that world. It was confusing but amazing all at once, yet with that incredible truth came a good amount of fear. There was so much left unknown, and things that could hurt them down the line. Bonding together had made Emma and Killian so much more secure in themselves and in each other. She was meant to be Killian’s fated mate, and he was meant to be hers, and Emma would never ever regret that. But saying yes to each other and taking that step brought the threat of Liam and whatever darkness may consume him. Of course, Killian’s brother was no longer a danger to them, but only a few weeks ago they’d felt differently. Before they saw Liam and understood his intentions and his destined ties to Elsa, he was looming menace that Killian had run from for years. His sickness had eroded critical human parts of Liam Jones, and though Elsa had cured him, nothing could take back the panic, the angst, and the worry they’d all expended in the days and weeks leading up to his return.

When they realized Liam wasn’t truly the enemy, there was celebration and reason for joy. Killian had his brother back, and Elsa too was blessed enough to have a mate. But in a matter of days Emma was forced to face down the risks of fully embracing who she was. The tying together of Elsa and Liam was a gift, but it also thrust Emma into more action than she knew what to do with. In a move that completely defied her past human understanding, Elsa used magic to help Emma merge her souls on some kind of spiritual, other-worldly journey. She’d met Killian’s dead mother in another unknown plane of existence, embraced her inner wolf, all while dying for just a few moments. That was crazy, and obviously something Emma should have had more time to prepare for and come to terms with, but she survived, and after the dust settled from such a stressful moment, she thought things were truly okay. They’d made it through, they’d braved their trials. This was surely enough to merit a good old fashioned happily ever after, but no. Things were nowhere near through. Her long-lost, time-ignored grandmother returned, freed from a magical coma that had robbed her of an entire lifetime with her children and grandchildren. Her brother was approached by a mad man and his safety was thrown into jeopardy. Her town was attacked by a genetically modified monster shifter. And if all that weren’t bad enough, they had not one, but two genuinely evil men hell bent on destroying them. Bad intentions surrounded Emma and the people that she loved, aimed at snuffing out her happiness and their lives, and for all of this she was yet again knocking on the door of danger and bracing for another spat with life and death.

I just want this all to be over. I’ll do whatever it takes, as long as we can go back to something even remotely like normal.

The thought whispered in her mind, but it spoke her deepest truth. All she wanted was for this to be finished. Emma wanted to rid them all of any monsters that were lurking in one final stand, and then she wanted to get to living. She wanted to get married, even though she and Killian were forever bonded already. She wanted a special day just about them and their love and their future. She might not have the determination and unyielding vision of her mother when it came to planning this wedding, but Emma craved a feeling, the sheer happiness that must come when she and Killian would say ‘I do’ for real this time. At the same time, Emma wanted to make her and Killian’s new house a home, and to prepare for the baby who she would hold close very soon. She wanted lazy mornings and sunset walks. She wanted beach days and trail hikes and running in the woods. She wanted days where she and Killian did absolutely nothing except spend time together, and she wanted to know peace again in a way she hadn’t had in what felt like far too long.

“I love you, Emma.”

The whispered words that came from beside her made Emma turn to her mate, and the look of calm and fidelity in his gaze helped Emma breathe easier. She hadn’t realized her agitation was carrying over from her mind, but as Killian pressed a soft kiss to her lips, she felt warmed through. The shadows she was grappling with and the what-ifs that would ultimately do nothing but cause more stress retreated again. For a moment it was just the two of them, and she smiled at him, raising her hand to cup his cheek as she looked into his eyes. God did she love this man. He was so right for her, so good to her. She couldn’t imagine anyone else she’d ever want by her side for a moment like this, and though she hated that they had to be here, she was grateful for their bond now more than ever. In all honesty she was thankful for everything they’d been through, huge and daunting and exhausting as it was. For ultimately they were stronger for their trials, and they had used each obstacle and hardship as a chance to grow together instead of fall apart.

“You let the light in,” she said, her words still soft and spoken only for them. She watched as his eyes lit up with both enjoyment and surprise, and it made her heart clutch in her chest that even after everything he might not know how much he meant to her. “You make me feel like this will be okay, even when hope is scarce. I don’t know how I’d handle any of this without you.”

“You’d find a way,” Killian answered immediately, pulling her closer into his embrace. “But there’s no need. I’m not going anywhere, love. Not now, not ever.”

Emma promised the same back to him, and she allowed that promise to fill her with faith as the final stretch of the drive came and went. Soon enough they were passing into the territory of the mountain lions that had contacted her Uncle, and only a slight ways on they came to the sprawling lands of the long abandoned ranch where George and the shifters were expected to be.

“Taking the car any further will alert nearby shifters or your Uncle of our presence,” Killian said to her father. “We might already have been noticed, but reports from the other clans said this area had largely been avoided by the sick shifters.”

“How far out are we from the cabin still?” Anna asked.

“A little more than a mile. There’s a road that would take us all the way there…”

“But the chances George has lined that with explosives or traps is almost guaranteed,” Emma finished. Killian nodded and her father did the same.

“As it is, we need to all be on high alert. This area might be largely vacant because traps have already been laid here and the shifters can sense it.”

“I don’t think that’s why actually,” Anna said, looking to the tree line. Emma mirrored her movement, but there was nothing there, at least nothing she could see.

“Do you feel something?” Liam asked.

“I’m not sure, but you see that path? The grass is browning there, but everything else is perfectly green.”

“What would do that?” Emma asked, but Anna was already moving. Gently she reached her hand out, a swirl of her magic touching the dying blades and when it did a tint of red blipped into existence before puttering out.

“Gold.”

“He’s here too?” Liam questioned but Anna shook her head.

“Doubtful. This magic is fading, and see the way the blades are bent, they’re heading out not in.”

“But he was here,” David concluded. Anna nodded.

“Definitely. So it would make sense that no one has sensed any shifters. Gold has likely infused his magic in their sickness. Realistically he included a fail-safe to keep any of them from attacking him. They’re probably compelled to avoid him unless he summons them.”

“Do you think it’s a trap?” Killian asked and Anna shrugged.

“Only one way to find out I guess.”

With that they all moved through the forest, careful to stay near Gold’s chosen route without actually setting foot on it. They monitored the area around them for pitfalls and unforeseen complications, but aside from some old and rusted out traps of times gone by, the area was clean. They moved closer and closer to where the cabin was said to be located, but ultimately decided it would be better to take down as many shifters as they could before going directly to George.

“The nearest clan said there were fresh kills from yesterday seen here, here and here.” Emma watched as her father circled three places on the map. They were congregated in clusters around the property, all of them by the nearby river’s edge. “Nearly an entire herd of deer slaughtered up by this bend.”

“A whole herd?”

“These shifters killed mostly for sport, not food.”

Emma’s stomach curdled at the thought. She still felt adamantly that killing as her wolf and claiming an animal to eat was a bit beyond her. Sure, she could technically do it, but it was extremely uncommon. Liam and Killian felt the same way, citing that the only shifters they’d ever known to take advantage of that particular power were their father and some of his closest supporters. As such, the two of them never partook, and only ever killed a wild animal while in their wolf form if the animal was a threat to others.

“That’s where we need to start,” Liam said and they all agreed, leaving the relative safety of Gold’s carved out trail and heading for the nearby waterway.

In another situation, these woods would be beautiful, a place of reprieve perhaps, and an area filled with plentiful wildlife and natural bounty. But now an eerie quiet settled on this land. There were no bird songs through the trees, no rustling of squirrels or smaller wildlife to be heard. In a matter of days, the presence of these shifters had eroded any sense of peace or serenity that may once have existed here, and that unnatural decay left Emma’s nerves even more on edge. Only a subtle wind through the trees and the distant gurgle of running water filled the space around them, and even their footsteps were nearly undetectable, as all of them were taking great pains to stay quiet and unheard.

After a few minutes of steady movement, Killian raised his hand, motioning for all of them to stop as he took in their surroundings. “There’s a hostile shifter, fifty paces out,” Killian said, his head nodding through a canopy of trees. Emma was astonished. She hadn’t heard or sensed anything at all, but then she shifted slightly closer to Killian and she smelled it.

“Mountain lion?” Emma asked, as the ungodly scent filled her nose and left her with a need to gag. It was hard to place the exact shifter when the sickness loomed so large, but from her basic knowledge of shifter scents, she thought it was some kind of big cat.

“No. Jaguar maybe.”

“It could be a panther,” David said as he readied his dart gun, loading it with the intended tranquilizer. “George’s idea of vacation involves hunting in other parts of the world. He had a particular fascination with the amazon. Always said panthers were wily and the hardest to kill. He might have trapped one for his army.”

There was no time to really soak that in, as the element of surprise would soon be lost to them. Instead they fanned out, moving to better circle the beast without alarming it to their presence. Only when everyone was in place having created a semi-circle around the river did it occur to Emma that they had one real potential obstacle – panthers could climb a hell of a lot better than any of them, and if this big cat got in a tree with enough coverage to escape her father’s scope, they’d be in big trouble.

At that exact moment, luck went against them and the wind suddenly shifted, brushing against her skin and headed straight for the clearing at the water’s edge where the shifter lurked. Knowing time was up, she moved quickly, making enough noise that the others would know to move too and coming face to face with a giant black beast a few seconds later.

The growl of the animal was feral and loud, a snarl scratched out in a blatant attempt to intimidate. Emma’s instinct was to shift to her wolf form, but that wasn’t the plan. Liam and Killian were the ones who would be shifting, and Emma, Anna, and her father would try their best to hit the jaguar with enough sedative to put him under. Emma attempted to do just that, aiming her dart gun at the jaguar’s neck, but the animal was too fast, lunging away and charging at Emma.

With lightening speed, a fully black wolf leapt at the jaguar, taking it off guard and grounding it with excessive force. Emma knew this was Killian, and watched as he and Liam both took on the panther. But they didn’t try to kill their foe. Instead, as was the plan, they attempted to corale the big cat to a more open space, in an easy line of sight for her father to hit. They were nearly there when the jaguar changed direction, ambling for a giant tree trunk in an attempt to get away.

“Oh no you don’t!” Anna said, her hands flying outwards as she dropped her dart gun and used her magic, managing to make the tree actually shake, tossing branches down below to swat the big cat away. The animal roared again, hurt to some degree from its fall, but mostly agitated. It now saw Anna and hissed at her, ignoring Liam and Killian and moving straight for her. Emma’s heart caught in her throat and protectiveness flooded her system. She was a split second from shifting and sprinting in her friend’s direction to save her, but then the jaguar let out a pained cry and she saw that he’d been hit. Her Dad had landed the blow, and now the drug was overwhelming the shifter’s system.

“Perfect shot,” Anna said, sounding almost excited at what had just happened, as if her life was in no real danger. Emma just gawked at her friend until her Dad explained.

“Anna knew what the plan was. She was never in any real danger. I’d never let that happen.”

Emma knew her father was sincere, since Anna and Elsa were essentially honorary Nolans. Still, she wished they’d conveyed that to her somehow instead of nearly giving her a heart attack.

“Well that was easy enough. One down, three more to go.”

Tracking the other shifters ended up being a much easier proposition since the noise from this skirmish had sounded through the woods. One by one they came out of hiding, two wolves were first, big, but they lacked cohesiveness in their attack, and after a bit of wrangling Emma managed to hit one while her father got the other. Soon after that the bears came, first a giant black bear and just when he was put down another that was brown, but not as massive as Anna’s grizzly from Storybrooke. These two were a bit more capable than the wolves, but they didn’t manage any lasting damage on Liam or Killian. But just when they were trying to catch their breath back in their human form, a cackling shriek of a final frenzied foe sounded through the forest.

“What the hell was that?” Anna asked, looking towards the tree line for whatever had made that awful sound.

“Wolverine,” Emma’s father and Killian said at the same time.

“Like the weasel things?” Anna asked, thinking as Emma did that this must surely be easy.

“Yeah, but wolverine shifters are five times the normal size,” Liam said bulking up his stance before turning to them. “Be on your guard, this one’s gonna be nasty.”

They watched Liam and Killian shift back again as a giant brown burst of energy scrambled through the brush. With gnashing teeth and a rabid expression, the wolverine was terrifying, and also enormous. Emma lost herself for a second, stunned at the sight of it, but when the beast moved to swipe at Killian she gathered herself back.

“Get him to the river,” David instructed, yelling out the command so all of them could hear it. Emma realized right away that this was going to be a very different fight. Their foe was too fast and it had no instinct for self-preservation. All it did was lash out, aggressively trying to maim Killian and Liam to get what it wanted. With movements like that, she had no chance of hitting her target, so she shifted to wolf form to try and help that way. It was touch and go in a few spots, and more than once the beast almost managed to get a nip at her golden coat, but in a moment where she was one on one with the animal her father yelled for her to duck. She did so without question, and as the best lunged for her, she watched the dart hit him square in the chest, knocking him back and pulling another hellish scream from the animal.

“Nasty buggers, wolverines,” Killian said when they’d all determined the beast was subdued. “Even the healthy ones are horrors.”

“Could hardly tell that he was sick,” Liam joked and Emma let out a barked laugh, shaking her head.

“No way. They can’t be that bad,” she said looking to her father who only shrugged.

“They’re packless for a reason. Put too many together, and well, you just saw what can happen.”

Emma was amazed at that, and thankful that they’d managed to put him down for the time being. All of these shifters would be down for the count for at least a day. If Anna’s bear was knocked out for that long in the test, they’d surely be down longer, what with the difference in size and metabolic rate. As such they’d have time to gather them all together or have the nearby packs lock them down to a secured space. But in the meantime they’re greatest enemy was still before them.

“Did you notice the blood on him?” Liam said, drawing their attention back to the wolverine. “Right paw, encased on the claws.”

“Well someone had to have killed all those deer, right?” Anna asked but Liam shook his head.

“It’s human blood. I caught a whiff of it when he tried to strike me.”

“Human?” Emma asked, worried that these shifters had managed to harm an innocent hiker or something of the like.

“It’s got to be George. The packs were adamant that there are no humans in these parts and they checked with local rangers. There’s a warning out for hikers and campers for a twenty-mile radius and the packs have been circling from a distance for days. No one’s out here.”

“If that beast got a piece of him, then your Uncle’s in bad shape,” Killian said and Emma watched her father’s expression, wondering if anything like remorse would appear. It never did.

“Good. I’m not too proud to admit that we need the advantage. If George is at full health, he’ll be that much harder to stop.”

Heading towards the cabin once more, Emma considered what it would take to stop such a man. No one had said the words aloud, but they all must know that George couldn’t be allowed to leave this cabin. There would be no imprisoning him. He had to die and that was a dark cloud looming over them all. None of them would want to take a life, for Emma it was something she didn’t even think she could do, but in this moment she had to be ready to compromise herself. If it meant protecting the people she loved, she might have to take a life, and though that life would be an evil one, it would still hurt her. But despite that, she would still make that choice. Whatever the fall out, she would see her loved ones protected, no matter what.

“It won’t come to that, Emma,” Killian said, taking her hand as they moved through the woods. “I won’t let your hands be bloodied like that.”

“No we won’t. The person to handle this will be me,” her father said, and Emma looked to him, knowing that burden was something he would struggle with but that he was ready to take on. “I always knew this day might come. He’s my responsibility.”

No one argued with her father, instead allowing the last bit of quiet to consume their journey. They remained alert, moving towards the cabin, finally approaching it from the side. Emma was struck by how the quiet continued, but the air smelled now of smoke and burning wood, and when the dilapidated ranch came into view, there was a hazy gray smog coming from the chimney.

“Someone’s in there,” Anna said with conviction, her hand moving across the air in a wave, her magic feeling out for signs of life. “And they’re in there alone.”

Quietly they circled around the property, until they reached the front door. From the outside it was clearly barricaded closed, but traces of blood adorned the faded wood going up the steps. Fingerprints in scarlet red clung to the doorway, another sign that George was injured.

“We can’t take his weakness for granted. Even hurt, he could have traps in place.”

“So what do we do?”

“Leave it to me,” Anna said, bringing both hands before her and tilting her head in concentration. She held herself tight for a moment and then pushed her arms out with a violent force. As she did a strong gust moved in, visible in its intensity, shattering the windows and pushing in the door. A split-second later arrows shot from each direction, and Emma felt herself pushed behind a wall of muscle. Killian was huddled in front of her, and Liam had gone for Anna, but Anna pushed him away.

“Wait!” she said her hands still suspended. Emma waited for the sound of impact, but nothing came, and when she peaked around Killian she saw at least a dozen arrows suspended in the air, all of them stopped by magic.

“Anna,” Emma whispered, her feeling of awe over whelming her and Anna let loose a smile.

“You can say it, Emma, I’m a bad ass.”

“We can all say it the moment this is over,” Liam agreed, similarly impressed by Elsa’s sister’s show of magical control. But he was right. This wasn’t over.

“Do you think there’s more?” Killian asked, knocking down one of the arrows as he headed towards the door.

“It’s possible,” her Dad admitted.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Anna said taking the lead before whipping back to head off Liam’s impending rebuttal. “And before you say anything, we both know I can handle this. Plus Elsa will kill me if anything happens to you.”

They moved up the stairs, through the doorway of the house, all of them on alert, but no more surprises came. The place was bare, but clearly lived in. Dust remained, but there were well worn paths where people had been coming in and out. The kitchen had been used, and so had a bedroom, but they didn’t actually find George until they reached the back of the house. Only when they’d entered the great room, done in the style of a long-forgotten hunters lodge, did her Great Uncle appear.

His back was turned to all of them, though he must have heard the shattering of windows and them moving through the house. He stood facing the fire, unmoving for a while. His left arm hung down, but his right clutched at his side, pressing over a makeshift bandage. Emma could smell the wound from here and see the red beneath the white cloth. His wound was deep, and he had lost a lot of blood, but still he remained stoic and unflinching and uninterested in them all together. Only when he was ready did he pivot, looking back to them all and offering no emotion as he did.

“It’s been a long time, David,” he said, his voice more even and regular than a man with a wound like that should be.

Seeing his face now, Emma noticed that there were some similarities between her father and this man. Their size was similar, and Emma wondered if George had started shrinking in his older age or if he’d willed that nuisance away from sheer grit. Their faces held a similar shape, though there were marked differences, but their eyes were arguably the closest trait they shared. Blue and intense, Emma recognized the color, but all comparison stopped there. For her father was a person filled with life and kindness. It radiated from him, the friendliness, the want to do good. He was a good man, but George… his eyes were hollow and dulled. If eyes were a window to the soul, this man’s was lacking, hardened, and in some ways unknowable.

“I must admit I always saw this reunion very differently when I pictured it,” George continued. His free hand moving to a glass upon the mantel filled with what Emma believed was whiskey. He took a sip, seemed to revel in it and then put the glass aside again, looking back at her father once more and treating the rest of them like they were totally invisible.

“Why you wanted one at all, I’ll never know.”

“Oh but you do, David. The day you ran you ensured that this moment would come. When you betrayed your family legacy for the sake of that fool lion, you wrote this into fate’s design.”

Emma found it difficult to look away from George, knowing better than to take her eyes off a man this malicious, but she needed a better understanding of their surroundings. The room was unlike the rest of the house which was sparse for the most part. This room had clutter, knickknacks hanging everywhere, and though nothing looked overtly threatening, she knew more traps could be anywhere. As if she’d summoned one, a steal trap descended from a rafter above and only Anna’s speedy reflexes and magical ability kept it from getting a part of Liam’s head. The sound of snapping metal against shattering wood filled the space, but when it faded out there was only the sound of the crackles in the fire and Anna’s sharpened breathing.

“Oh joy, another witch,” George said, again looking cold and nonplussed though one of his attack mechanisms had just failed. He didn’t even blink at the wasted piece of equipment, instead reaching for a bottle on the table a few feet away. He poured himself another drink, and they all just watched, transfixed in a way by this clearly dying man. It dawned on Emma that this was their chance to take him out, but then she remembered that they needed answers first. If they were going to crack the code of this serum and cure this artificial alpha sickness, they needed to know more about it.

“Why this way? These sick shifters seem like an unnecessary burden. If you knew where I was you could have just come for me. It would have been a hell of a lot easier.”

“Perhaps,” George acquiesced. “But the trouble with training you in my image as I did, was you learned how to cover your tracks. I had no idea where you’d gone, and by the time I discovered your whereabouts it occurred to me – I could do more than just take you out and destroy your family. I could destroy all of them with one perfected remedy.”

When he said ‘them’ he looked to Liam and then Killian, having figured out their shifter status from the start. It made Emma’s skin crawl to think that this man had wanted to destroy so many people. Because ultimately that’s what shifters were. They were people too. But George clearly didn’t believe that.

“I thought many times over the years that your aid would be most helpful in this venture. You always took to the science so quickly, perhaps you could have been of some use,” George said thoughtfully, looking at her father in a way that told Emma that in some sick twisted way he had some kind of regard for him. George was filled with vitriol, but underneath it there was something else. Respect maybe? “Alas, the Nolan line is old and distinguished, and the stain of your choices could not stand. I could never allow it.”

“It must eat you alive to see what I’ve become,” her father said, standing strong in the face of his Uncle’s condemnation. “To know how many shifters I’ve healed, how many I’ve saved from men just like you. I spent each day doing anything I could to unmake your mess. For every life you ended I would prolong five, ten, or more. I figured I might not be able to stop you, I’d never risk my family to do so, but I could try to make some amends for the shame of what you’ve done.”

“The only shame belongs to your traitor mother,” George snapped out, his words sharp as the lashings of a whip. “You live because of her wicked sins. She bastardized the very fabric of our history. The lineage of our people was destroyed for her disgusting infatuation with filth.”

No one dared speak in the face of those hateful words. Emma merely looked to her father, who stood there unmoving. He didn’t tense, didn’t react. He waited there, almost mirroring his Uncle, unwilling to give anything up by revealing his anger and emotion. Emma heard something, like a wire being pulled and then watched as her father took out his gun and shot two portions of the wall on opposite sides of the room. When he did a bevy of arrows snapped, but were shot to the floor instead of out into the room at chest level as they would have without interference. Emma looked around the room to see if anything else gave away surprise attack, but she saw nothing. Killian however did, and he grabbed a stone paper weight from the pile of mismatched and chucked it at the back wall. Only when the stone thudded to the ground did Emma see the small fuse that had been lit and was now extinguished thanks to the hit of the rock.

“You killed my father,” David said, ignoring the added excitement of the would be surprise attacks, and when she could finally turn her attention from the unrest around them, Emma watched her father and felt how much grief that fact brought him. “You killed your sister’s true love, forced her to run, and to leave her two sons behind. Wasn’t that revenge enough?””

“Maybe it would have been, if his death meant anything to me, but truth be told he was just so… forgettable,” George said, his malice lacing every syllable even as they rang out with control and practiced authority. “I couldn’t even tell you what he looked like. He was nothing. Obsolete. Just another in a long line of shifter trash that needed disposing of.”

“When did you know?”

“That you were of mixed blood? I only discovered that recently. You see I too believed your brother’s illness was just that, and I didn’t think to question Ruth’s death when you were born. I saw it as a gift – two new warriors for the cause that I would raise for greatness. The magic that shielded your true nature was well woven, and it had to be, for if I’d known what you two were there would have been no need for sickness, I’d have finished you myself. But no. It took years to discover the truth. Only when Gold showed me Ruth’s sleeping body in his treasure trove did I discover just how deep her treachery ran.”

“You knew she was alive,” Emma’s father said, anger now beginning to rise as his fist tightened on the weapon in his hand.

“Oh yes. Long before she woke, I knew exactly where she was. Gold offered her to me if we made a little deal. I refused. She had no worth to me. I consider her lucky I didn’t kill her then and there.”

“You are a monster, you know that?” Emma asked, not willing to listen to this anymore.

“Ah, and there she is, the final downfall of the Nolan line. Our dearest Emma,” he said, spitting out the words and glaring at her, as if she was nothing but inconvenience to him. “You had a chance to be worth saving. Half breed as you are, you had Nolan blood and you were still human, unlike your cursed brother. But you couldn’t resist the filth either, could you? No, you had to go and choose to mate with one of those mongrels just like my wretched sister.”

Killian growled low in his throat as George looked his way and let out a choked laugh. It was sinister, and directed, but he quickly dismissed Killian again, looking back to Emma. “And then you let that witch remove your block. You tainted yourself. Your brother was already marked for death, I couldn’t let the Nolan line live on as shifter scum. But you – you I would have spared. You’d have been the legacy. The last hope of the Nolan line.”

“Never,” Emma swore, meaning it with all her might. “I would never have turned my back on my family, and I would never believe all this nonsense you hold dear.”

“Oh, it’s not nonsense, Emma. Shifters are despicable, a plague upon this earth, and there is no remedy for them except removal. You need only look to your mongrel’s father for proof of what I speak.”

“You knew Brennan?” Killian asked, the shock palpable in his and Emma’s mental bond, but his poker face holding firm, giving very little away.

“Did I know Brennan Jones? The single most conceited alpha on the continent? The one who devoured other packs for power and for sport? Yes, I knew the monster. Hell, I owed the beast a debt. Without him none of this would have been possible. In the end, he was the key to everything.”

“You’re lying,” Liam said, disgusted and disturbed. “Our father hated hunters and he’d never help one.”

“The bite hardly makes for a stable mind, but you know that don’t you?” George said with a sick and twisted attempt at a smile. He clearly knew of Liam’s prior ailment, and he was more than willing to use that against him. “Deep down you realize that if I told your father he could have power he’d have given me anything I dared to ask for. All it took was the promise that I would replicate the serum for his pack while making them still submissive to him. He wanted an army, the strongest pack the world had ever known. As if I ever would have let it get that far. Fucking dog. No, I take it back. A dog would be smarter.”

“And so Gold, he was just unimportant?” Anna asked, carefully dragging the conversation away from Killian and Liam’s father for the time being, and to another glaring gap in the fabric of this story. “You want us to believe you did this all on your own?”

“No, I will admit I needed his magic,” George said, as his face darkened for the first time since they arrived, giving away his extreme resentment. “The venom I extracted from actual alpha sickness wouldn’t spread without a curse to bind it all together. But Gold is not to be trusted. He made a mistake, and when the attack with the grizzly failed, he turned on me, leaving me here to die.”

“Why would he get involved? What did he have to gain?” Emma asked and George stared blankly at her.

“You know, I never bothered to ask what he wanted with you and the three witches. Truth be told, I never really cared. But I imagine it won’t be pleasant for any of you. And he assured me you’d never manage to reproduce with that animal, so I didn’t give a damn.”

“Did he promise you that?” Emma quipped, her fury rising in her chest. “Was that part of the deal?”

“Not explicitly, but if things had gone as they should, they would be dead,” he motioned to Liam, Killian and her father, “And you two would be Gold’s.”

“But it didn’t go to plan.”

“No. I could never have anticipated that of all the worthless grizzlies in the world this one would be tied to a witch.”

“Don’t talk about him like that!” Anna demanded, her hands coming up, ready to attack.

“Oh is he yours? I’m sorry,” he said sneering. “Sorry you too are tainted. Such a shame. But perhaps Gold will manage in the end. He’s a patient man, and really, what’s a few years matter? I waited nearly thirty for my revenge. It’s too bad I’ll only have a sliver of it.”

With lightening quick precision, George drew a knife from his hip and threw it towards Liam who dodged it just barely. At the same time more traps came from the wall and the ceiling. It was chaos, with arrows and steel traps and more, and all of it consumed Anna and Killian and her father’s attention. Emma though stayed still, not knowing how to react. She felt herself needing to respond, but then she realized that everyone else was focused on the other things and were missing what was right in front of them. Indeed George was more skilled than they were anticipating. And, having forsaken his hold on his wounded body, he grabbed a pistol from his waist and aimed it at her father.

“No!”

Without hesitation Emma jumped to push her Dad out of the way, successfully managing to force him from the trajectory of the bullet, but then she felt the blow of impact into her shoulder. There was no slowing down of time. This was immediate and instinctive, and the pain of the hot metal piercing through her skin set in just as swiftly. She flinched at the force of it, falling towards the ground as Liam lunged for the gun, disarming George, and Killian grabbed her, holding her close.

“Emma!” he cried, panic clear in his gaze as George’s laughter filled the room. Liam meanwhile, pinned the old man down and let out a ferocious growl. Through the pain of her injury Emma saw the fear in George’s eyes, but her body was chilled, her heart pounding loudly in her ears.

“What did you lace it with?!” Her father screamed and Emma looked down to where she’d been hurt, seeing the black inky lines that used to be her veins. Oh God she was dying. She was going to die.

“Nothing you can save her from,” George said, his voice labored as he lay pinned beneath Liam. “Gold procured it for me. It’s potent and powerful, and cannot be survived.”

The realization that this could really be it settled on her, and Emma felt herself slipping away. This was really the end. She was too far gone. There was no stopping this poison, this toxin designed to extinguish her father once and for all. The pain that flooded her system began to subside and instead she felt cold and numb. This was shock – the last bit of adrenaline before she’d be gone and she looked at Killian, desperate to say goodbye and say she was sorry, but unable to speak.

“Emma, no, you’ve got to hold on! We’ll fix this! We’ll save you!”

“Killian.”

“Don’t leave me,” he begged, his voice and face etched in the pain of what was coming.

Afraid to close her eyes, Emma looked upon the man she loved and she felt such unimaginable grief. She wanted to hold on for him, she wanted his pleas to be right. But she was falling under, the current of this poison too high. This was really it. She moved her hand, reaching for Killian and then she felt it, a flutter from her abdomen. Her hand changed course, and moved towards her unborn baby, tears streaming down her face. She’d failed her child. She’d failed Killian. She…

In an instant, warmth flooded from the space where her hand lay through the rest of her being. The feel of it forced Emma’s eyes to close, but when the warmth grew she opened them again, wanting to understand why she felt this way. Her eyes blinked open and the brightness in the room had totally changed. She was surrounded in a beautiful haze, and she wondered if the light she saw through her tears could be real. It had to be an illusion, right? One last crazy vision before death finally came, but Anna’s gasp filled her ears, and Killian’s whispered words, tortured and yet hopeful filled her ears.

“The baby.”

His hand came over hers, and the light grew stronger. Emma blinked away her tears and watched as an iridescent magic not so unlike Anna or Elsa’s moved over her skin. Swiftly it traced the tracks of the onyx-colored poison, soothing every line within her. Emma felt sensation again, as the magic traced over her, filling her with energy, and with hope she’d thoroughly lost. The cold she was feeling was eradicated, and when the magical light finally reached her initial wound the darkness that marred her once smooth skin ebbed away. The blackness was removed, and most of her pain went with it. The bullet hole was still there, and she was bleeding, but she was alive, and though she couldn’t truly, scientifically know for certain, she felt in her heart that she was going to be okay. She was going to live.

“That’s not possible. You should be dead! You should be… wait, did you say baby? You can’t be pregnant!” George screamed but Emma didn’t even bother to spare him a glance.

“She saved me,” Emma whispered, feeling the sensation that somehow her unborn child had stepped in. She had no rationale reason for it, especially given how early on it was in her pregnancy, but it was suddenly very clear. Their child would be more than a hybrid of a shifter and a human – she had magic in her, for whatever reason, and she had used it, even before her birth, to save Emma.

“You can’t be pregnant! Gold said -,”

“Gold is never going to beat us!” Anna yelled. “You’ve failed, and now you’ll die for nothing.”

“Oh not nothing. I still have my weapons. Mated or not, there is no cure for your wretched shifter, I’ve left no trace. It’s all gone and cannot be recreated. So you see, the secret dies with me.”

The pain on Anna’s face looked just as piercing as what Emma herself felt moments ago, but it culminated even more when Emma’s father stepped forward, raising his gun to deliver a final blow. She cried out for him to stop, but it was too late. The deed was done. Her Uncle was dead, and his secret died with him.

“Why would you do that?!” Anna screamed, and Emma looked to her father for answers. He had ruined her friend’s only chance, but he only nodded to the fire.

“I know George better than anyone, and I am willing to bet my life that he burned the secret away. It’s shifter custom..”

Killian sniffed the air and gave a slight nod. “There’s more than wood in that blaze. Paper – both old and new and a bit of leather.”

“I know that there are spells that can unburn what was destroyed,” Emma’s father explained, seeking to calm Anna and show her he was not forsaking her new mate for an easy kill. “I’ve heard about them while healing other packs. They’re not common, but possible. Call Ruby. She’ll know.”

They did just that, and through the grace of something larger than themselves, Ruby found a spell in great haste. With shaky hands and a wavering voice, Anna recited the incantation Ruby read to her, and low and behold the fire sputtered to a stop and from the flames scraps of paper formed, with scribblings of formulas and multiple solutions. A leather bound book also took shape, and there, within the pages were a scribbling of formulas and well-kept notes.

“This is it,” her father said, looking relieved that his hunch was proven right. “This is what Neal needs to find a remedy.”

“Oh thank God,” Anna said, nearly falling to her knees, but ultimately being caught by Liam. It was finally over, and in the end they had everything they’d set out for.

“We did it,” Emma said, looking up to Killian, taking in his expression of relief and some lingering pain. She could feel through their link that the trauma of thinking she would die yet again had rattled him. He was at wit’s end, and she clung to him, trying to prove to him that she was okay, and that they had both made it through.

“I’m telling you right now, Emma, there will be none of this, ever again.” His voice was stern and his eyes made a silent promise that if she ever even thought of fighting such a battle in the future he would chain her to his side and make it so she couldn’t leave. “We are going home. We are getting married. We are meeting our miracle child when the time finally comes, and we are living happily ever after. There will be no more fighting. There will be no more close calls. We’re done with this.”

“Okay, we’re done,” she promised, resting her forehead against his and soaking in the feeling of their mission being complete. “I love you.”

“And I love you, Emma. Far too much to ever walk this world without you.”

“Emma?”

The voice of her father pulled Emma from her and Killian’s embrace, and she could see in his eyes the pain of all of this. He’d almost lost her too, and he’d just taken a life. Her father, the man who was always a pillar of strength for her whenever he could be, was hurting and she moved towards him, hugging him close.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” her dad whispered, hugging her as tight as he could, with his hand cradling the back of her head like he always had, ever since she was a little girl.

“I’m glad I did. If he’d hit you, you’d be…” She trailed off as she pulled back to look at him, unable to face that he would have absolutely died.

“I know,” he agreed, leaving words that hurt to much to say unsaid. “I love you, Emma.”

“I love you too, Dad.”

Before she could so much as step away from her father, she found herself jostled into Anna’s waiting arms and her friend gave her a vice grip of a hug. Emma squeaked a sound of surprise out, and Killian moved toward her protectively, but she shook her head, knowing Anna needed this. A second later Anna jumped, remembering Emma’s injury.

“Oh crap, I hurt you!” she exclaimed, but looking at Emma’s wound, they could both see it was already looking much better. “I can’t believe it. The baby healed you. She must be a witch, right? But it shouldn’t be possible.”

“Maybe not,” Emma said, her hand coming back to rest on her stomach. “But somehow it is.”

“And every one of us grateful for that.” Liam said, with a warmth in his eyes and a nod of his head that told Emma Killian’s brother was glad for her speedy recovery. “But might I suggest we wrap things up and get back home? We might have slain a few beasts today, but there’s much more that still needs to be done.”

“Aye, brother, you’re right,” Killian agreed, taking Emma’s hand in his and bringing her close as he looked deep in her eyes. “Let’s go home, love.”

Emma couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than to go home and to be done with all of this, and with a swiftness she was grateful for, they managed to contain things as best they could. With the help of the nearby packs, each of the sedated shifters was returned to a cage here on the property. None of them took any pleasure in containing these animals, least of all Anna, who also needed a little magic to really keep things secure, but they knew it was for the best. Sick as they were, there was no telling what these shifters would do, and in the interest of protecting the nearby shifter clans, and any humans who may wander into this area in the future, they left these animals temporarily caged and under the watchful eye of the pack who originally called on Lance.

Driving home after that, Emma was surprised at how quickly the time went by, but that was largely thanks to the sleep she fell into once she was back in the safety of the car and nestled in Killian’s arms. Magical revival from her child or not, Emma was exhausted, and the wound she’d incurred did ache and aggrieve her. Knowing that this pain still lingered, Killian held her close, kissing her anywhere he could and whispering that it would all be all right. She trusted him in this, and slowly gave into the comfort of his presence, falling into a slumber filled with flashes of dreams. Some were blips of the fighting they’d just faced, but there were more that came later that were so much more beautiful and remarkable. Emma would never be able to explain them out loud, but these flashes were of her future, of that she was sure. She saw in them a life that was happy and bright. She saw Killian, her love, standing with her, never far from grasp. She saw her family and her friends also with her and not a one of them saddened or stressed out. And then she saw the children, glimpses of a beautiful baby girl with dark hair like her father and eyes that matched Emma’s to a tee. There were more behind her, but it all came so quickly. These flashes seemed to surround her while also staying just out of reach, but as Emma woke up, she couldn’t help smiling, and the first thought that came to mind was Hope.

“I think we’ve got a name all ready for this little girl,” Killian whispered to Emma as he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. She smiled, snuggling into him further and knowing her mate had read her mind, quite literally.

“I can’t wait to meet her,” Emma admitted, thinking back on her dreams and knowing in her heart that her child would be a blend of magic and love and endless possibility. “But at the same time, I can.”

“Is that so?” Killian asked, seemingly surprised by her latter admission.

“Yes. On the one hand I love her so much already. I always have, and I always will,” she said, and Killian hummed out a sound of agreement with that. “But on the other, we still have so much to do. We have to get ready.”

“In more ways than one.” Killian teased and Emma felt her cheeks grow warm as she smiled and nodded her understanding. He wasn’t just talking about furnishing their place or baby proofing their new home. Emma could see, hopefully, more than a few weeks spent relaxing, recuperating, and spending every waking moment that they could enjoying each other and strengthening the bond they’d found together.

“Speaking of getting ready, we’re nearly home, and we’re about to have a lot of explaining to do,” Anna said and Emma jumped, not realizing the whole car was listening in on their talking. “Oh sorry, were we supposed to pretend we couldn’t hear you?”

“Seems a bit late for that,” Liam replied, his voice gruff but his eyes sparkling with amusement at Emma and Killian.

“Anna’s right though. It’s best to get our stories straight now,” David said. “Better to frame some of this as, let’s say ‘kindly’ as we can.”

Emma knew her father was thinking of her mother and her reaction to everything. She appreciated that her Dad wanted to spare her Mom any more pain, but she also knew, even if he said this that it would never come to pass. Her parents never held secrets from each other, and this time would be no different.

“No need to bother. Chances are Ruby’s seen most of it anyway. She’s probably told half the tale already.”

Killian’s guess was soon validated, and as soon as they arrived, they were greeted with huge hugs and a million more questions. They might know most of what had happened, but there was so much more they wanted verified and expanded. Ruby had her visions that were helpful, but there were blank spots and things that couldn’t be explained. People wanted details of the shifters, of the fighting, and of George. They wanted to know what they’d learned of Gold and this plan and the evil that was done to enact it. But more than anything they wanted to know how Emma had lived. Emma explained as best she could, and the others stood by her description. One moment she was dying and the next she was cured. There was only one answer to the question, but no real explanation. No one understood how or why, but still it was true. Emma was saved and that was a miracle. Maybe someday they’d understand it, but for now they were just as grateful as could be.

Every query was ultimately answered, despite the exhaustion they were all feeling, and Emma felt it was better to get this done now rather than later. If they put it all out there, then maybe they could put it all behind them. Eventually they broke apart for the night, and by that time it was nearly sunrise of the next day. Just as Liam had said there was still a lot of work to be done and over the next few days they hit the ground running. Her father and Neal made a possible cure in a matter of days, and Emma did all that she could to help them. It was a long, laborious process, but it was made totally and completely worth it when she watched the moment that her best friend truly met her one true soulmate. Seeing that it worked, they made enough to get up north, and her Uncle Lance and Aunt Gwen brought the rest to other packs, making sure every sickened shifter was treated, and reporting back that they all were now freed, and were all on their way back to the homes they’d been forced away from.

In the meantime, Elsa and Ruby and Ruth worked long long days to try and track Gold. Using everything they could ,they sought to better understand the malicious mind of this maddened man. Anything they could learn could be a clue, but Emma knew this was just the start of their long journey. Her Great Uncle’s snide remarks rang true to Emma – Gold would remain hidden for as long as he could, but if they were all patient, surely someday they would find him, and stop him before any more grief could come their way. To this point Emma still didn’t understand his endgame. He wanted Anna, Elsa, Ruby, and Emma could easily understand that. Three strong witches must surely be a threat, but wanting her for her status as a hybrid… it didn’t make sense to Emma. The only thing she could think was that maybe it wasn’t her that Gold was after. Perhaps it was her baby, who would be a hybrid too, and in even more ways than Emma. But the others remained convinced that Gold could not know. He’d sworn to George Emma couldn’t get pregnant, and for now, that secret was protecting them all. And ultimately, despite the danger Gold still posed, Emma knew in her heart that she would never let anyone hurt her child. One life threatening instance was more than enough – and she knew, down to her bones, that there would never come another time when her baby was at risk from these terrible men.

And yet, in the midst of all of this work and all of this progress, Emma found a way to make good on her promise to Killian. She helped the others as best she could, but she also took time for herself and time for her love. They made their house a home, and found many new moments of peace and tranquil calm. They planned for their wedding, and for their family, and for their future. But more than anything they lived every day to the fullest, knowing that they’d never allow anything or anyone to take this away from them again. For love, in the end, was a powerful thing, and fate was a power even stronger than that. And as for Emma and Killian, fate had decided that they were meant to be, and that they were indeed meant to live a wonderful, glorious, happily ever after.

Post-Note: Hey everyone! So I know there’s still so much that I didn’t get to go into detail on. I wanted to do so much in this chapter, like see Neal make a cure and watch Anna meet Kristoff and all that cuteness. But it just wasn’t meant to be. Instead, I am working on the first epilogue of the story (which will include Emma and Killian’s wedding) and I am on track to post it next weekend. As I’ve previously mentioned, I will also be writing a follow up story to this one, that’s not just from Emma and Killian’s POV but the POV of the other central characters as well. In that story I will be including the Anna/Kristoff meeting and probably more of the process of healing Kristoff, so if you can wait you will someday get a snapshot into that. After that there will eventually also be a second epilogue of this story, where you get to see how everyone is doing in the future, and how life has shaped up for CS and the others. Anyway, thanks so much for riding through this with me. I know it was a really heavy chapter, and so much happened, but I hope that you enjoyed and that you trust me to make everything right with a cute and fluffy wedding chapter next time. Thanks so much to all of you for reading, and as always I can’t wait to hear what you think!

Tag list: @jennjenn615, @kmomof4, @winterbaby89, @teamhook, @ultraluckycatnd, @resident-of-storybrooke, @artistic-writer, @snowbellewells, @snarkycaptainswan4, @allofdafandoms-blog

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chershare · 4 years

Text

Snippet from Discord 26

Heart still pounding painfully hard in his chest like a fluttering bird trying to escape a trap, Wen Xu breathed carefully.

He did not wish to maim himself simply to escape, as animals often did.

Wen Chao had been unfortunate enough to run into them on the way to the throne room. His insides were now splattered across the central hallway, dying the whole area red with pulp and sticky copper coagulate.

His screams had indeed echoed through the hall for those too long moments of his death throws.

Cool hands coated in slick blood cupped his jawline as Wei Wuxian tilted his head this way and that, examining his features. The knowledge that this blood was from the slowly cooling corpse of his father was both terrifying and exhilarating. He'd been more conflicted when this powerful man shrouded in resentment had killed the twisted remains of his little brother.

Those red tinted eyes slowly dragged across Wen Xu's face, bloody fingers following the path of his gaze. He stuck on the slowly blooming bruise Xu could feel coloring under the small cut that leaked a warm trickle of blood to mix with his father's.

"You weren't especially shocked," the man mused, brows furrowed in anger as he leaned down ever so slightly to look into the wound. "He hit you often like this? For the things others failed to do?"

Wen Xu swallowed thickly while cool breath broke over his tacky skin.

Movement out of the corner of his eye, familiar Qi and he felt the first inklings of horror as red burned in Wei Wuxian's eyes. One blood stained hand lifted from his face, leaving a smeared imprint behind as the impossible man lifted his suddenly enraged gaze to Wen Zhuliu.

Without thought, Wen Xu grasped that wrist to bring it back to his face, other hand lifting to turn that burning gaze back on himself. The little splatters of bloody splashback that dotted pale features were dry under his touch on that cold, handsome face.

"Not him," fell quietly, hoarsely, from his lips. "Please, Wei Wuxian."

"He killed my family once."

Resentment pressed down like a physical weight and Wen Xu felt each labored collapse and expansion of his lungs. Behind them Zhuliu made a noise of alarm and probably stepped forward but Xu flared his Qi to warn him away. The ever obedient man halted in place, indecision clear in him even from a distance.

There were many things that Wen Xu could withstand, many that he could even agree with, but he didn't know who he'd be without Wen Zhuliu. He didn't want to know.

"Please," heart trembling in his chest at the actions of a demolished future, he felt his pulse race. "Wei Wuxian, don't kill Zhu-ge."

Red eyes which had been lifting to look at Wen Zhuliu with consumptive rage paused, tilted with canny curiosity. Too tacky hands and blood drying on his skin pulled uncomfortably as Wei Wuxian slid his grip down to Wen Xu's throat almost casually.

"Zhu-ge?" Without preamble, Wen Xu felt the man press their cheeks together, fingertips trailing over his too fast pulse point. "You are that close?"

Soft hair clumped with blood hovered in front of his eyes, shifting in an unseen breeze. He felt all the little hairs on his body stand up as his skin pebbled.

"Yes. Please."

"Tell me, A-Xu," murmured this terribly powerful man that inspired fear and desire in equal measure. "Why would someone you call older brother be with Wen Chao at the slaughter of a Sect?"

His heart hurt from how pinched his breathing was, and he steeled his nerves against his shaking limbs and wrapped his arms around Wei Wuxian.

"Because I would have asked him to protect Wen Chao when I could not," Wen Xu wondered if this would be what killed him. What would add the last of his bloodline to this man's dripping hands and his body to the pyre. "Because he might have been a monster but he was once my little brother. If I thought I could protect him from his own foolishness, it would have been through Zhu-ge."

In a time of war, Wen Xu knew himself enough to know that he'd have at least tried to protect his brother. Maybe he didn't like him, maybe he didn't grieve his death, but he'd loved him once.

Who else would he ask to protect him, other than the one who had tried to protect Wen Xu himself when he was a child? When he had been alone with his father's wrath?

A strange hum that throbbed in the very marrow of his bones had Wen Xu smothering a small sound of pain. It didn't quite hurt in the way someone might expect, to have resentful energy pushed through his body, but Xu was pretty sure that was just because it was this man.

Everything, even the hurt and sting, throbbed of potential.

"You didn't answer my other question," Wei Wuxian turned his head enough that his lips were pressed against Wen Xu's blood sticky cheekbone in front of his ear as he spoke, gaze likely still stuck on Zhuliu. "Did he. Hit you. Often."

Cool air blew into his ear and Xu's hands spasmed where they were tangled in black robes. One of Wei Wuxian's hands drifted from Wen Xu's throat and down to his lower back, leaving a trail of dried and coagulating blood smeared down his robes. That hand pressed him closer so that he was pressed fully against the body of this man who breathed resentment, the other sliding to curl around the back of his neck.

"Yes," the hand on his neck tightened, and he could feel Wei Wuxian's sternum pressing into his own, heartbeat a deep throb of almost agony. "Yes, he often beat me."

"Why?"

"I am unworthy," despite the precarious situation, he fell into the rhythm of his father's speeches. "I am not strong enough. The people that I lead are not strong enough. Wen Chao killed a servant that was more useful. Cousin A-Qing would not poison someone."

A deep, careful breath as Wei Wuxian turned his head farther, lips pressing directly against Wen Xu's ear and breathing into it. Vaguely, under all of the terror and almost arousal, he wondered what Wen Zhuliu was thinking as he watched them, silent, still and obedient. As Wen Xu had asked of him all those years ago, to not interfere and become a target.

To not be hurt for him anymore.

"A-Xu was not Wen Ruohan, and so you were given blame for things," was breathed into his ear, lips tickling his flesh and making him shiver. His whole body was throbbing like a bruise, a sweet ache of spiritual energy not his own. "Things that were never your failing."

Those lips trailed down from his ear to the corner of his jaw and then pressed over the bloody fingerprints at his corrotid artery. Heart shuddering in his chest as he shook with sensation, Wen Xu made a small sound without thought, Wei Wuxian's hand digging into his lower back with intent.

"I will spare Wen Zhuliu because he is yours, Wen Xu," was spoken lowly against his skin, tongue darting out to taste skin and blood. "And Wen Xu is mine now. Do you understand?"

"No," he answered honestly as he tightened his own grip on those dark robes. "But I'll learn."

A low, dark laugh edged with broken, jagged things and tangible possessiveness. Behind him, Wen Zhuliu's Qi flickered uncertainly before sidling quietly away.

He had always been good at following orders even if he rarely if ever liked the results.

"I like that, Wen Xu," teeth scraped across his throat and he swallowed reflexively. "I like when people listen to me."

His father's corpse was still only feet away from them, blood pooled around their feet. The hand on the back of his neck had tilted his head to the side so that Wei Wuxian would have more canvas to press crimson characters into his flesh. Fingers were clawed hard into fabric and muscle and Wen Xu felt his eyes flutter.

"I think I will like listening to you."

He was a Wen, and change was rarely bloodless. Now he knew that he could ask something of this terrifying, dark creature and have it granted to him. That he had even an illusion of control on which to cling.

Letting Wei Wuxian cling near painfully onto his form, heavy resentment curling around him, he let it go.

But he held tightly to this broken thing that could tear the world apart.

#the untamed #mdzs #mdzs snippets #time travel #wen xu #wei wuxian #yp!wei Wuxian/wen xu #wicked whimsy

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thejaggedpoisonpath · 2 years

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Datura Flying Ointment Please note: As I grow my own Banefuls, I have - and will continue to have - an ample supply of plant material for my Datura, Belladonna, Mandrake, & Henbane medicines. Native American tribes were known to imbibe a mixture made with Datura to induce visions, euphoric dancing, foresight, & spiritual harmony with the Divine. Datura has been linked to Witches & flying for centuries. Datura is ruled by Saturn & Venus. She has been used to break hexes, while also renowned for her aid in placing a hex. She is also known to induce dreams, to encourage connections with those who have passed, & in finding one’s totem animal. Datura helps protect her users from evil, encourages lucid dreaming, & aids with divination. She has been a recorded quintessential ingredient in many ancient Witches Flying Ointments. For centuries, Datura has been revered as a sacred visionary plant by virtually all people who experience them. Datura is a member of the Solanaceae family. Datura is known to produce highly visionary experiences, including visits and conversations with long-dead relatives. An experience with Datura can be mind-expanding and eye-opening in the same way as many psychedelic plant medicines. Many people find that the insight they gained from the experience was beneficial for their own personal growth and healing. Datura is helpful for headaches, insomnia, stress, rheumatism, new and old bone injuries, deep tissue bruising and/or bruising of bones, bone on bone injuries, arthritis, carpal tunnel, as well as joint and tendon issues.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ It also aids with depression and anxiety and helps to calm frayed nerves.⠀⠀ All plant material grown, harvested, and prepared by The Jagged Path.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ Datura Inoxia, poplar buds, organic sunflower oil, and vegan Candelilla wax. “These statements have not been evaluated by the Food and Drug Administration. This product is not intended to diagnose, treat, cure or prevent any disease. Sold as Curio only." #thejaggedpath #datura #innoxia #stramonium #deadlynightshade #solanaceae #occultherbaliism #flyingointment #bruja (at Galveston, Texas) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cm6RMPruHlX/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#thejaggedpath #datura #innoxia #stramonium #deadlynightshade #solanaceae #occultherbaliism #flyingointment #bruja

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captain-azoren · 4 years

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Spirit Forged OC Profile: Raiga/Lygron

So here’s a profile piece for my OC, who I’m also naming Lygron. I feel that name is a little too Western for Avatar, but may fit with Castlevani. Haven’t done one of these since my old RP days.

Name: Raiga or Lygron, depending on the setting.

Age: Early to mid 20′s

Place of Origin: The mountains (just outside Republic City for Avatar, the Swiss Alps for Castlevania).

Height: 5′9″

Weight: 170-185 lbs

Powers and Abilities:

Superior strength, durability relexes, agility and speed: Raiga is strong enough to lift an average car and can run up to 60 miles per hour when he has a straight enough path to build up speed. He can climb and jump great distances, and can shrug off damage which would knock out the average human.

Claws and Fangs: Raiga has razor sharp claws on his hands on his feet, and very sturdy and sharp fangs. Raiga is able to grow his claws at will, and he can make them as long as he wants them for combat and hunting. He cannot retract his claws, and has to cut them to shorten them. His claws are strong enough to tear through low grade steel and stone, but they will dull if put through extended use. He can regrow his teeth, but it takes more time and he can’t make them longer than normal. His teeth and fangs are even stronger than his claws and he can crush elephant bones with them.

Feeding: Raiga can consume and metabolize large quantities of food very quickly, whether cooked or raw. When well fed, Raiga’s physical stats and healing factor receive a major boost. He can practically consume food mid battle to heal himself.

Healing Factor: Raiga’s wounds can heal very quickly, but his healing is dependent on how much food he has eaten. On average, he can heal a cut in just a few moments. If he’s starving for food, his wounds will take much longer to heal, but still at least twice as fast as a normal human. Raiga cannot regrow limbs and bones however, and at best can regrow an eye, teeth, or an ear. He can still die of sudden blood loss, so cutting his throat can be lethal for him. Raiga is also not immune to suffocation or drowning, but he is resistant to toxins and can recover from poisons faster than most.

Roar: Raiga can let out a very loud roar or snarl (like a mountain lion) that can be heard for a mile around. It doesn’t cause actual damage, but can be very frightening to those around him, causing them to flinch and a small amount of psyche damage.

Super Senses: Raiga has a superb sense of smell and can track targets over a wide range. He also has great night vision and hearing.

Ferocity: Raiga draws on his reserves of spiritual and animal energy to enter a feral, berserker state, which makes him even faster and deadlier. This burns up energy and can only last a short time, leaving him fatigued and hungry afterwards. If pushed hard enough, Raiga can even begin to transform further into a werecat state, resembling Bao Hu itself.

Animal Empathy: Can sense animals' emotions and commune with them.

Survivalist: Raiga has years of experience living out in the wilderness and can survive many harsh climates and environments.

Personality: Very independent, somewhat aloof, crass, and fickle. Raiga has all the personality traits of a cat, and is very much a loner from having lived isolated in the mountains. He can be coy and playful however and is not above teasing.

He likes to sleep and perch in high places. Raiga has a strong love of nature and freedom, and becomes irritated when people try to control him or exploit the environment. He has a bed temper when it comes to that.

Raiga can be a glutton as he loves to feast. While he can take a while to warm up to someone, he will be fiercely loyal to those he considers friends. He has a hard time expressing more intimate emotions verbally, but he adores all kinds of pets and animals and talks to them openly.

Physical Description: Very lean, very muscular physique. Muscles and veins are very visible, and overall has a very hard body. Not bulky, but shredded with very low body fat. Very thick, dense, spiky hair on his head, with sideburns that go down to his chin. Hair is golden-brown in color, with slight reddish brown tips. He has prominent fangs that sometimes stick out from between his lips.

He has a fierce looking face and eyes. Raiga has dark red, jagged facial markings that go down from his eyes to his cheeks. His eyes are a striking electric blue, with slit pupils like a cat. Has wild looking eyebrows. Raiga has pointed, catlike eyes with reddish brown tips. His fingers and toes end in sharp, white claws which vary in length. Shoulders have reddish tiger stripes.

Clothing: Wears a cropped fur vest with a white fur collar like a bomber jacket. The pattern on the vest matches that of a golden tiger, with a tawny orange base and reddish brown stripes. Depending on the setting, the pattern may change to lynx spots, but the coloration remains similar. Underneath he wears a v-neck sleeveless shirt, and a necklace with blue beads and fangs hangs around his neck. On his legs he wears plain blue pants, which should match his eye color.

On his waist he wears a long leather belt, which buckles at the back, where the excess length hangs behind like a tail. The front of the belt has a brass plate. He wears leather arm and shin guards, which have white fur trim and brass studs. They have fingerless gloves and spats attached to the wrists and ankles. The leather materials are tawny orange like the vest, and the inner layer of the gloves and spats are reddish brown like the stripes. The belt leather is also orange.

History: A young man who lived in the mountains, Raiga was caught out in a blizzard one day and became stranded on the snowy peaks. On the verge of death, Raiga was visited by an ancient cat spirit called Bao Hu, the guardian of the wilds. It had a mix of Lion, Tiger, Lynx, Puma, and Sabertooth cat traits. Bao Hu was also close to death, as it had been all but forgotten by humanity and the destruction of the wilderness had diminished its power.

Bao Hu merged with the dying Raiga, and in doing so they were both reborn as a new being, a man-beast that was stronger and deadlier than any human, but with a human mind. Raiga now wanders the world, trying to find his place as a newly Spirit Forged, living off the wilderness as he no longer fits into human society.

#spirit forged #the spirit forged #avatar #tlok #the legend of korra #atla #castlevania #castlevania 2017 #Castlevania netflix #Avatar The Last Airbender #raiger #leodin #raiga #lygron

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coollearningmorenow · 4 years

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Full Sail Masters of Fine Arts Journal

Jacqueline Douglas

Design Integration MD650-O

Full Sail University

Overview of the material and concepts learned this month

Connecting/Synthesizing/Transforming

One example in which synthesis was done was during the voice and tone assignment. This assignment looked at voice and tone from multiple authors and sources. It gave different viewpoints on how voice and tone connect the brand overall. The sources provided included examples of different mediums being used to create a synchronized tone and voice of the brand. Multiple sources were used that demonstrated different examples to convey an overall arching idea.

Example below:

Motion Communicating Voice and Tone

The key characteristics of the brand were to be informative, approachable and empowering. As a result, the videos chosen for the dynamic mood board were realistic videos. I choose video’s that almost had a documentary-like feel. For instance, the shots in the videos chosen were often simple and static while straying away from using dramatic zooming in the video. Furthermore, the lighting in the videos also consisted of natural light. Megan Cunningham in the book, The Art of the Documentary, Fifteen Conversations with Leading Directors in the chapter called Cinematography, Cunningham describes how the purpose of the cinematography is to observe and capture what’s there (2014). Furthermore, the second characteristic of the brand is to be approachable. As a result, the videos in the mood board attempt to use everyday people that are reflective of the makeup of HealthPoint employees. The third characteristic of the brand is empowering. This is portrayed by the content of the videos. The videos showcase people celebrating and striving to complete different tasks. It is meant to portray a journey. The motion of the cameras when panning include panning upwards or forwards in some scenes. Including this motion further emphasizes, the use of vertical lines which portrays a sense of pride or having a positive as well as spirituality according Jirousek in the article Introduction to Design Elements (1995). The sense of approachableness is also portrayed in using the shapes of rectangles. This are familiar shapes and often gives off a sense of stability rather than using a jagged shape as overlay such as a triangle (1995).

References

Cunningham, M (2014). Cinematography. The Art of the Documentary, Fifteen Conversations with Leading Directors, Cinematographers,

Editors, and Producers. SECOND EDITION. Indianapolis, IN: New Riders Publishers.

This book details the differences between filming and creating for documentaries in comparison to regular films.

Chen, H. & Yang, Y. (2011). Overview of Emotion Description and Recognition. In Music Emotion Recognition. Cleveland, OH: CRC Press.

The book explores key features of music and the connection with emotion.

Jirousek, C. (1995). Introduction to the Elements of Design. Retrieved August 23, 2020, from http://char.txa.cornell.edu/language/ELEMENT/element.htm

This article reviews the basic principles of design.

Problem Solving

The larger problem I was asked to solve was how to integrate the consumer into the brand of the Kaizen Promotion Office (KPO). This is the larger branding problem I was asked to solve. This was demonstrated in the reflection piece submitted with the design brief. The solutions were taking into the consideration of the consumer behaviors for the media mix. The first solution is how the brand of the KPO spoke to the consumer. The solution included having the office have a more friendly tone and brand while straying away from technical vocabulary that could discourage users. This problem was solved in the voice and tone project as well attempted in the visuals and imagery throughout the dynamic and static mood board. The two solutions presented in the two-mood board varied. The first solution was not the right path to take as it lingered toward a more formal tone which may have continued to sway the user to disengage from using the lean methodology. The second mood board portrayed more optimism by the body language in the imagery as well as the wide array of colors. Furthermore, the first choice while free from borders and rigid lines, it did not convey the same sense of empowerment as the last mood board.

Innovative Thinking

The level of innovation was about the same or average as others in the industry. There was tension between innovation and staying within the brand constraints. This project was unique in that it was delivering a project for a brand within a brand. While attempting to push a mood boards that strayed away from using boxes within boxes, the delivery of the mood boards read more like advertisements than mood boards. Innovation was demonstrated in going out of the comfort-zone of doing a project that was the same design problem as the fellow classmates. In doing so, the breadth of the project was more unique, however, due to the nature of the project, certain delivery pieces were not very innovative. For instance, in thinking about the media plan, the envelope could have been pushed a little more to think about what applies in the office setting and the virtual office setting to create a unique product for the media plan.

Acquiring Competencies

1. Brand Persona - Occupational Concept

One large learning was the concept of the brand persona. This was mentioned in week one and then expanded upon throughout the course. Similar to an onion, the brand persona has many different layers and can be portrayed in many different mediums. It was really fascinating to learn about the different emotions that could be evoked strategically through design.

2. Voice and Tone – Occupational Concept

Another key takeaway from the lecture is the differences between voice and tone. During the lecture of week one, voice was described as the skeleton while tone being described as the show of the message (2020).

3. Tagline Not Always Speaking to the Exact Product- Occupational Concept

Dr. Baldowski brought up an interesting question when he asked if the tagline should always call out the type of product or service. This was mentioned during the lecture when

References

Baldowski, A. (2020, August 15). MDM620-O Design Integration. Lecture presented at Week 2 Live Session.

4. Sound as Brand Extension – Occupational Concept

It was especially enjoyable researching music and science of music in design through books such as Music Emotion Recognition by Chen and Yang (2011). If more time could be spent in the course, more time would be used really studying sound more as well as the relationship between sounds and branding.

5. Adobe Premier Pro – Occupational Technical

Brushing up on Adobe Premier Pro was a skill that was worth using again. Once again, if there were more time, improving upon light animation skills as well as sound mixing would be helpful moving forward. To demonstrate, in the following dynamic mood board, animations could have ran smoother to further emphasize the brand tone and voice (https://vimeo.com/user122315475/review/453095911/7a585e146e).

6. Mission Statement Development – Occupational Concept

Developing a mission statement was a very worthwhile task. Although this has been practiced before in other courses I have taken, it was an interesting viewpoint think of the mission statement as the lenses in which to create the brand identity. This is important because no matter what industry and no matter what employer I work for, doing the job that matches the mission statement will always be relevant.

7. Marketing versus Advertising – Occupational Concept

In week three a few articles were required readings that discussed the differences between a marketing strategy and an advertising strategy. To demonstrate, in the article, Marketing and Advertising Strategies, What’s the Difference Gordon discusses how advertising is a piece of marketing (2017). Gordon also discusses how an advertising strategy has a specific message in mind towards to the consumer while marketing deals with product placement (2017).

8. Mood Board – Occupational Technical

Creating mood boards is a skill in which I can definitely improve upon. To demonstrate, the mood boards created in the course read more like advertisements that mood boards. Mood boards are important in the design process because they provide direction and eye into the creative process with the design.

9. Designing for Emotion

This concept was mentioned in week two as well as while I was doing my own research. For instance, this was touched upon when researching the connections between sound while researching the book Music Emotion Recognition by Chen and Yang (2011). In addition, this concept was explored while I researched the book Tragic design: The impact of bad product design and how to fix it by Jonathan Shariat and Cynthia Savard Saucier. This is an important concept because what a person feels when they interact with a brand can have an impact with how they interact with the brand.

Reflection

The biggest learning from the course was the idea of brand identity and how the brand identity is perceived within its customer base. The first week explored this through creating the tone and voice of a brand assignment. This concept was first explored in the lecture were brand and tone were discussed as well as during assignment one where the class was asked to create the tone and voice for a brand. This is a key business concept that can reflect everything that a brand does. During week two the idea of creating the brand identity through a mood board was explored. The research and justification for why certain images and color were picked was important to align with the target consumer. This was especially enjoyable and if more time could be spent researching the elements of design and how the target consumer views them it would. Week two also highlighted the importance of understanding the design problem. Reading Stories that Move Mountains: Storytelling and Visual Design for Persuasive Presentations by A. Nicklas Malik, Mark D. West, and Martin Sykes was helpful in gaining knowledge of where to begin when defining the brand problem. It was interesting to see the overlap between the methods used in the book and process improvement methods outside of visual design. Week three, the brand was extended into a sound and motion. Once again, a key concept during those weeks was knowing how to give the brand synergy as mentioned in the book Tragic Design: The impact of bad product design by Jonathan Shariat and Cynthia Savard Saucier. Although the idea of a dynamic mood board was new, the idea of having a consistent brand identity was expanded upon from week one during the course. Furthermore, the video critique assignment was to help give students an idea of what it's like getting and giving critique. The final assignment was giving the full design briefs. The importance of this skills is packaging the design solution to the client. According to the video by lynda.com called Running a Design Business Creative Briefs Terry Lee Stone explains the importance of a creative brief being an actionable document (2013). Learning to use the creative as a medium to further establish the design solution was an interesting task during week four. For instance, the project that I am doing was for a department within a company. Therefore, being mindful of certain already established branding gave another layer of the design challenge. It was an enjoyable task creating the design brief as well as the dynamic mood board. As the project continues ot further understand the target consumer behaviors to create the media plan. Although this idea was explored when I was in Full Sail previously, being able to do the project in real life gave an extra-depth of understanding as well as assignments carrying a new level of importance and weight. As this project continues, it will be interesting to gain further knowledge of the target consumer’s behaviors and ideals.

References

Liker, J. K., & Convis, G. L. (2012). Chapter 3: Coach and Develop Others. In The Toyota way to lean leadership: Achieving and sustaining excellence through leadership development (p. 113). New York: McGraw-Hill.

Neumeier, M. (2016). Part 1 Flipping the Brand. In The brand flip: Why customers now run companies--and how to profit from it: A whiteboard overview (p. 147). San Francisco, CA, CA: New Riders.

Rea, L. M. (2014). Chapter 2: Designing Effective Questionnaires Basic Guidelines. In R. A. Parker (Ed.), Designing and Conducting Survey Research: A Comprehensive Guide (4th ed.). San Francisco, CA: Jossey-Bass.

Shariat, J., & Saucier, C. S. (2017). Preface. In Tragic design: The impact of bad product design and how to fix it. Beijing, China: O'Reilly.

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weaselle · 4 years

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Let’s talk about Witchcraft!

I used to pal around with people who considered themselves witches and pagans. California is a great place for finding people of a similar mindset, and I began a journey into what I then considered witchcraft with books by Aleister Crowley and a skill with tarot cards. Later, I celebrated a year’s worth of Sabbats with a group I joined in Germany. In Alabama I helped a couple people who were struggling with leaving christianity remain connected to a natural spiritualism through concepts such as the Lord and Lady. But my personal witching identity never truly fell in line with Wiccan paganism.

My grandmother had Gifts, I’ve written about them before. She had The Voice and she had True Dreams and some kind of Sight, all of which I personally witnessed before she passed. I share the same birthmark as she, and, present at my birth, she pronounced some kind of minor prophecy regarding me when she saw the mark. My mother died when I was very young and nobody else took it seriously enough to remember this ‘prophecy’; Grandma herself when she recounted the story seemed to feel telling me her actual words would... not be a good idea.

I have my own variation of her gifts, more like Charm than Voice I would say; nothing special about my dreams when I have them at all, definitely some kind of Sight. But these gifts are not the kind of thing that are controlled or used on purpose, and, at least in my own family, come rarely into our lives. Altogether I have had noticeable access to these gifts perhaps ten times in my 40+ years.

However, I have developed a brand of practical witchcraft that suits me and seems more (not to be dismissive of other folks but) more real than what I was participating in when I was spending time with wiccan flavored witchery. Perhaps an example is in order. Let us consider the Athame, the witch’s blade.

Most of the people I’ve known to have an Athame have had some silly ceremonial decorative thing. Some chrome plated jagged shaped enormous monstrosity, and they only use it ten times a year to salute the 4 directions and ritualistically sacrifice some cheese or whatever.

But witchcraft is old. The OLDEST magic, the FIRST magic -- witching is older than the very concept of a decorative knife. Witchcraft, in my opinion, is a very practical practice.

My own Athame is my chef’s knife.

I use it every day. I know its weight, the feel of it in my hand, I’m skilled with it, I care for it daily, sharpening, cleaning; it feeds me, a part of almost every dinner I eat. If I lost it I would feel as though I lost a part of myself. I can use it to create things that will, for example, win over a romantic partner’s family (let’s be honest, cooking and witchcraft are closely tied together). It is well suited to butchering a small animal, if I was the kind of witch that did animal sacrifice, this is the knife I would use.

This, to me, is a witch’s blade.

The rest of a witch’s tool box is just as practical. Knife, music, wand, chalice, candle, pentacle. Other witch’s tools are basically these same things, much the way a torch is basically a big candle. Mystical as they may seem in a modern setting, these things are, in their purest form, simply the things you would need to be different than an animal, and survive as a human being in the wild.

You have fire (candle). A musical sound (bell is often simplest but plenty of witch kits substitute a flute, or a small drum, or some other simple instrument). A pentacle is little more than a flat work surface, like a cutting board, which is far more rare and valuable than we take it for if you live in the wild. And lets talk about the chalice and wand.

A wand is a stick. Possibly the first multi-purpose tool humans ever regularly used. You can use it to dig tubers. Draw diagrams in the dirt. Stir a stew or poke a fire. It extends your reach when getting fruit from trees or poking into holes for small edible creatures. A spear is, at its base concept, a large wand (the chimpanzees we’ve observed making and using spears are mostly mothers btw). And there are two reasons I suspect one might attach significance to waving a stick around in the air.

1: if you see a group of people talking and gesturing, but one of them is gesturing with some kind of stick, that one is in charge or has some special say in things. Right? I mean obviously there will be exceptions, but that basic observation is pretty true. In this way, it confers an invisible power.

2: if you are entering an old holy place, one that you only enter a few times a year, some kind of cave, or small grove, or temple... I can tell you from experience you’re probably going to want to find a stick and wave it around in front of you, around the entire space. Or you’re going to get that icky startle you feel when you catch a strand of spiderweb to the face. Imagine how that whole process might look to someone who doesn’t know what’s happening.

But there’s something else about a wand. A classic wand will have a pointy end (of obvious use in a variety of situations) and a thicker blunt end. This is not just for grip. That blunt end can combine with the chalice or cup to be a mortar and pestle. Now your wand, knife, chalice and candle are really coming together, because when you are done making whatever it is with the knife and mortar and pestle (probably on the surface of your pentacle) you can hang your chalice over the candle and heat it. This is how a witch might make a medicinal tea, or potion.

Sometimes, one might attach something to the tip of the wand to specialize it, so a wand might have a rounded riverstone that would be a greater pestle. Or it might have a crystal that can make fire from sunlight. Or it might have a gem with a point hard enough to inscribe things on stones. All manner of things. Practical Things, though, is what I’m saying. Things that would have bordered on magic when the first humans had access to these tools.

So that for the tools. But what about Spells?

I don’t know how witching on the internet works. I’m old. But I’m going to tell you how a money spell I’ve used works, and that will give you an insight into my brand of witching and magic maybe. What you do is, you put a container on your altar (you have an altar. No, you DO. It’s either that place your keys and wallet always wind up, or the desk you do your creating at, or the spot next to the stove that’s supposed to be clear space but your cutting board and favorite knife is always there in front of jars of your favorite seasonings even though technically all that stuff has other places they are supposed to be kept. Sadly it might be your TV. These places fill altar functions. Unless you have a specially designated altar somewhere else already, of course) ANYway, you take a container, the bigger it is the stronger the spell but also the more time and effort it will take. Anyway, you put it on your altar. You stand in front of your altar and you make a solemn promise to put every penny you find there, in that container. Only literal penny coins, mind you. You vow to fill it to overflowing. You get an image in your head of what that looks like, and you concentrate on that, and you dedicate yourself to arriving in a universe in which this image is a reality. Basically, by spending time and energy on the promise, you make yourself take it seriously. You decide what you will do with those pennies. Be standing there making your penny collecting vow when you decide on that thing. It must be a whole thing, don’t add them to other money for anything, and don’t spend them on things you already set money aside for regularly; ideally you pair what you are doing with those pennies to concepts of reward and/or sacrifice. So you could vow to take them to a wishing fountain and throw them all in yourself or give them to other people to make wishes, or decide to take them all to a dessert place you like but rarely go to, and spend them on your favorite dessert they have for you or your bestie (fountain or cake, you walk away from spending them without owning anything more than when you started - hence an aspect of sacrifice… eating the pennies as cake or throwing them out as an offering is the same as burning them in a fire in many ways) And - this is important - you think about how money is desirable and vital enough that even the smallest possible increment, the lowly penny, is still worth handling and saving and spending in a planned and disciplined fashion. You THINK about that. Then you go about your life. But as you do so, you pick up and pocket every single penny you see. Pennies are worth so little, that we would often rather dump one in the garbage than pick through the dustpan to save it, but that’s not you anymore. Now, you will cross the street to pick one up out of the gutter if you see one. You’ll still put your change in the tip jar, but you’ll hold back the pennies. The more crazy into this you are, the stronger the spell… top-tier witches doing this spell would wade waist deep in cow poop to acquire a single shit-stained penny. You’re on a mission. You’ve made a promise. And you’re witching. When you get home with these pennies, at some point you’ll put them in the container on your altar. Each time you do, because of how brains work, you’ll be reminded of your promise. You’ll see your vision of overflowing coins again. You’ll imagine how fun the wishing fountain is going to be, or how delicious the cake is going to taste. And - this is important - you’ll think about how money is so desirable and vital that that even the smallest possible increment is worth handling and saving and spending in a planned and disciplined fashion. It may take you weeks to fill the container. It may take you months. But when you are done, when you have completed your vow, dispense the pennies as you planned. Don’t forget to give it extra time here. Look lovingly at the vision you have manifested, at the overflowing container when you have filled it. Feel the weight of it. Count them, roll them, recognize specific pennies that look different, think about pennies you collected in memorable ways. Fill yourself with pride and satisfaction, and carry that feeling with you to the fountain, to the dessert shop. Let your planned activity at that place magnify those feelings, reinforce those feelings. This is the culmination of the spell, the fireball leaving the tip of the wand -- experience the wonder and power of what you have done. See, true witching is, at its heart, extremely practical. It’s just a way for a human being to use intuition to reach truths housed in the dark mystery of our beings that science is only recently able to shed some light on. Things like how wearing clothes you perceive as “tough” will actually make you produce more “tough” chemicals like testosterone and adrenaline (according to studies that measured hormone levels of people switching between wearing leather jackets and pink dresses) or how if you BELIEVE a substance is medication, it can have some curative effects even if it’s just a sugar pill (placebos). Witching is often just working with these realities without access to detailed knowledge of all the science behind it.

Anyhow, when this spell is done, you will see money differently. Your spending habits will be different. You’ll think about money differently. Throwing your change in the tip jar won’t be a mindless activity, and maybe it makes you realize how little you’re actually putting in there and you wind up spending more money on tips than you used to - that’s okay, that’s good, the fact is, the thing you are doing with that money, how you chose to allocate your change from buying a cup of coffee, that is no longer an activity that you don’t really pay attention to; you put thought into it now. Money will have more value, now that not only are you WILLING to pick though dirt for a single cent, but it is actually habit to do so if you see one. Now something is no longer “just a dollar” it is ONE HUNDRED CENTS, and you have a visceral understanding of how much each of those cents is worth to you. And - this is important - you have completed an exercise in money management, wherein you dedicated to a planned expenditure, saved up the necessary funds, and followed through, laying paths in your neural network that take long enough to become habit and end in reward experience (it doesn’t have to be cake, simply completing your plan will give you the reward feelings, like finishing a video game level). You did this without having to change your finances, expenditures, or budget. It was just pennies, it wasn’t like when you try to save for a vacation and the saving is like a new bill you struggle to pay. This fit into your budget like it was nothing. Like it was extra money from nowhere, like it was… magic. The effects will keep spreading, rippling, transforming your life, your RELATIONSHIP with money will have been transformed, in a way too big to fully understand all implications - maybe people see a change in how you are with money and become more likely to trust you with it, more willing to loan you some when you need it. Maybe this will have filled you with ideas for other money management goals and the confidence to see them through and who knows where that will lead you? There is so much mystery and interconnection in this universe, the effects may well be long lasting and incredibly impactful. And that’s how a witch does a money spell. imo. Obviously, if you’ve read the first part of this post, you know I’m not saying this is how all magic works, or that there is no true mystery -- after all, did i not get suddenly taken to a casino for 15 minutes one morning so Grandma could win that poker jackpot with a royal flush in clubs that her late husband told her about in a dream? Clearly there is a great mysticism in the universe. But in my experience, much of the day to day experience of life and magic for a witch is rooted in practical practices.

Now go have fun darlings, and make magic happen

#witching #witchcraft #witch #witchery

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