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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

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Good Omens - I Was Given Four Rules to Follow ... I Broke Every One: Chapter 1/3 (Rated PG13)

Summary: When Warlock Dowling is summoned to the old South Downs cottage of Aziraphale and Crowley to help clean out their attic, presumably after their deaths, he is given four rules to follow.

... He breaks every single one.

Notes: For @silver-colour

Written for the @tricketyboo2020 prompt "Creepypasta format story (like a found footage or witness statement kind of thing)" by silver-colour. It is a mild reworking of an older fanfic of mine, but that goes tongue in cheek with the ending of this story sort of. XD I would put this between Spooky Level 2 and 3, with 3 being "major and minor character death, disturbing images or concepts, major dark themes, major violence, etc." But there's only minor mentions of blood/body horror. But the whole undead thing is a trigger for some people and I lean into that imagery a bit. I wanted this to be a sort of leveled up Goosebumps tale. Tl;dr proceed with caution <3

Chapter 1

I am going to die.

I’m going to die, I’m going to die, I’m going to die.

I have to keep repeating it because I have to come to grips with it.

I am going to die.

Not in sixty years.

More like sixty minutes.

Oh, Amanda. I am sorry.

If you ever hear this … I never meant for this to happen.

My name is Warlock Dowling and I am 34 years-old. Devoted son and husband, I’ve spent over a decade working towards achieving my dream of following in my father’s footsteps and entering politics one day.

It’s a dream I don’t think I’ll be seeing through to the end.

I am telling you this because after reading what I’ve just read … and hearing what I’ve just heard … I am not certain I’m going to make it through the night.

I broke the rules.

There were four. Only four. And I broke them.

I didn’t break them by accident. I absolutely did it on purpose. I’m not suicidal or anything, but you only live once - am I right?

For the record, I don’t regret a single thing.

…

That’s not entirely true.

I’ll regret dying before morning if that’s the way things play out.

Today happens to be October 31st - Halloween night. I’d been tasked with clearing out the attic above a cottage in The South Downs which once belonged to a pair of old family friends. Technically, they were ex-employees of my parents from back when I was young, but I thought of them as surrogates. They practically raised me, educated me, taught me everything I know about coping in this cruel, pathetic world.

I held them in the highest regard.

They were the only people in my life who treated me as if I could become more than what I had been born into, that fate had something else in store for me. Because of them, I met the best friends a boy could ever have.

I will forever be grateful for that.

Cleaning out this attic was the least I could do to repay them, but to be honest, I don’t know who summoned me here. I assumed it was the executor of their estate, but now I’m not so sure. Looking over the letter in my hands, there is no legible signature. And the gold embossed emblem at the top that I took for granted as belonging to some upscale legal firm is, on closer inspection, gibberish - a mess of fleur-de-lis underscored by Latin words that roughly translate to “the cows shall rise”.

Ludicrous, right?

How did I miss that?

But more ludicrous - and confusing - are the rules.

I had been given rules about cleaning this attic.

The first rule on the list was to touch only what I could see. Under no circumstances was I to open any of the boxes or chests.

So, naturally, I opened every single one.

The second rule was not to put anything on. Fine by me. The only clothes up here are old lady outfits and a pair of white satin shoes.

But …

There was an awesome vintage leather jacket hanging on a dressmaker’s dummy in the corner and … well … it had my name written all over it! I had to try it on, see if it fit.

And it does.

Rule number three - keep to my torch. Don’t light any candles.

Nuh-uh! It’s Halloween! And torches are lame. So on the candles went. Jeez, there are a lot of them. Enough to burn down the whole place if I’m not careful. It actually seems like they’ve multiplied since I’ve been up here.

I won’t lie - it’s unsettling.

But according to the list, rule number four is the most important:

Don’t read any books I find. And definitely not out loud.

The first thing I saw when I entered the attic was a stack of leather-bound books. I scoffed at the sight of them, piled up to my chin, right inside the entryway. Isn’t that a bit like putting a huge bowl of candy front and center on your dining room table in the middle of dinner with a huge sign saying, “Do not eat?” If the most important rule about going into the attic is, “Don’t read anything!” why not put all the books on a high shelf?

Or the moon?

I’m not a book lover. I read hundreds of pages a day for work. I definitely don’t do it for fun. So this shouldn’t have been a hard one for me to follow.

But they looked like diaries.

And diaries hold secrets.

That made them a different matter all together.

I couldn’t resist.

But once I opened the top one, I knew I’d made a mistake.

These weren’t just any diaries.

They were the diaries of my two friends - Aziraphale and Crowley.

There had always been something odd about those two. I didn’t believe for a second that they were a proper nanny or gardener, not even when I was a young, impressionable child. But they were funny - a distraction from the dull as dishwater life of an attache’s son.

Yes, I was a spoiled little rich kid with everything I could ever ask for handed to me and, on top of that, diplomatic immunity.

Woe was me.

I realize how much of a douche whining about that makes me sound.

My life was still dull.

I was still lonely.

I never knew for sure what happened to them after they left us. I made assumptions - erroneous assumptions. I thought they lived happily ever after at least.

Now I know … that wasn’t the case.

I’m recording this in the hopes that someone will find it, so that you might know the true story of what happened to them …

… and why you might not be hearing from me again.

***

The Diary of Aziraphale Fell - Reluctant Widower

January 14th-

“Please, sir,” the decrepit woman hissed, but not unkindly. She came about her speech impediment by a mixture of symptoms - her thick accent coupled with her indeterminable old age caused her to talk that way. “Please, reconsider this decision.”

I glared at her regardless. I knew my eyes were bloodshot; my hair a mass of tangled, wayward strands; my lips quivered from constant, unrelenting crying.

“You said you had it!” I screamed, bypassing her arguments. “You said you would sell it to me! Wh---why else would I come here!?”

“You need to understand,” the woman implored, opening her hands in a pleading gesture. She fixed me with one clear blue eye, the other eye clouded – a useless, milky white lump of tissue bulging inside its socket, “what you ask for … it is unnatural.”

“But your granddaughter said it was a done deal!” I persisted, shooting a steely glare at the simpering young woman who ducked behind her grandmother to hide from my volatile stare. I wasn’t about to leave without the item I came for. At this point, I was willing to tear the place apart and everything inside - including the two of them - to get it.

They must have sensed that.

Even as the woman continued to defy me, she looked slightly more afraid than she had a minute ago.

“My granddaughter is foolish!” The woman directed the comment over her shoulder to the girl cowering there. “But she means well. We need the money. She was thinking with her head and not her heart.”

“I can pay you twice what you’re asking!” I reached into my back pocket for my wallet. “Three times! I’ll give you whatever you want!”

The girl, intrigued by my proposal, peeked over her grandmother’s shoulder, but the woman turned and barked sharply at her in a language I could not understand.

That was when I began to think I might be in danger.

I’d spent my entire life studying languages, so hearing one I didn’t comprehend, not even an inch, sent a shiver down my spine.

“Mr. Fell …” The old woman reached out, I presumed to comfort me, and took my shaking hand in hers “… your husband is dead. And I am more sorry than I can ever express at your loss. You carry your love for him like a beacon. I see it in your eyes. It shines from every part of you. With him gone, it is up to you to carry it. It will never fade as long as you remember him.”

Those were, without a doubt, the kindest words anyone had said to me since my husband passed. I crumbled, new tears falling hot down my cheeks. But regardless of her sympathy, sincere though it might be, I refused to relent.

I refused!

“I don’t want to remember him!” I whimpered, my anger renewed at the sound of my voice fracturing. “I want him here with me! I need you to help me bring him back!”

The woman sighed in pity but shook her head.

“The effects of life are varied, Mr. Fell. Our fate … it changes every day, with every choice that we make. But the effects of death should remain permanent.”

I flinched at that word as if she’d struck me across the face.

Permanent.

Crowley dead … my husband gone … and nothing for me to look forward to in life but emptiness. We’d had every moment of our lives planned together.

One arsehole drunk driver later and now I was alone.

I literally had no one.

I had lost contact with my mum early in life, never knew my father, didn’t have children of my own. My boss and mentor was an abusive prick who tormented me throughout the span of my career until I found a way out from under his thumb.

Until Crowley helped me discover a life where I didn’t need the man’s guidance or control.

But now I was going to lose him!? The only one who had stuck by me, who defended me, loved me through thick and thin!?

No! That was beyond cruel! And I wasn’t going to roll over and accept it!

I let the sorrow within me curdle, turn sour as I yanked my hand out of the old woman’s grasp.

“Your granddaughter said there are other methods of getting what I want!” I snarled. “Dangerous methods. Methods that might require payment in sacrifice … even blood. And not necessarily my blood. Innocent blood, if you catch my meaning.”

Both women gasped.

Despite the conversation at hand, I smiled.

Good, I thought. We were finally all on the same page.

Up until a few days ago, I never considered violence to be the answer to anything. But I had since come to a crossroads where an exception had made itself clear.

I was prepared to annihilate my humanity to get my husband back.

The old woman snapped her head over her shoulder, scolding her granddaughter in a harsh, guttural voice. The girl, who had started to brave coming out of hiding, shrank down once again.

“Be reasonable,” the woman begged, “please, and think about what you are saying. What you are willing to do.”

“No,” I said, my calm more potent than my anger … or so my husband used to say. “The time for me being reasonable is over. I will get what I want, no matter what the cost. The question is whether or not you will be the one to give it to me.”

The woman looked down at her gnarled hands and sighed a long, exhausted sigh. “Alright, Mr. Fell. I will sell the potion to you at the promised price.”

I stared at her for a moment in shock. I was relieved, of course. I hadn’t thought I would get this far. It frightened me how much I had begun looking forward to throttling her with my bare hands, imagined her neck snapping within my grasp, effortlessly like a twig.

That couldn’t be me though. I wasn’t that kind of person. It was this place - this shop and all of its trinkets, their age and professed magical abilities amplifying my grief, turning every rational thought I had into rage.

I had to get out of here and fast before I did something I might regret.

I opened my wallet with the onset of happier tears and thumbed through the bills, pulling out extra for the joy of getting what I wanted. I handed the money over, but the woman refused to touch it. She waved it away, her granddaughter popping up long enough to grab the money and then scurry off again. The woman reached into the folds of her skirts and retrieved a leather pouch that hung from a thin belt around her waist. From it she fished out a tiny blue bottle with a cork stopper sealing the mouth. She gave it a long, troubled look, then handed it to me.

For the first time, her hand trembled.

“Pour the contents of this bottle into your husband’s mouth, Mr. Fell,” she instructed, “and your husband will return.”

I held the bottle up to the dim candlelight of the musty Soho shop. The blue glass glimmered, a thick liquid inside swaying back and forth, shimmering like sun-tossed sparkles across a dark, foreboding sea.

“There are some rules that go along with that potion,” the woman said, her voice weeding into my head, summoning me back from my momentary trance, “and a few warnings you must heed as well.”

I sighed. I had hoped it would be a simple matter of giving my husband the liquid and living happily ever after, but I knew in my heart that nothing was ever that simple.

“Okay,” I said, slipping the bottle carefully into my pocket and patting over it twice to ensure its safety. “Tell me. What are the rules?”

“First of all, you will give that to your husband, but what will come back …” she paused, swallowed hard “… will not entirely be your husband.”

I nodded. I had expected her to say something along those lines, like a scene straight from an old time-y horror movie.

The woman locked both eyes, one clear and one clouded, on my face as I waited for her to finish her speech, eager to go back home and get on with my life. She realized, with regret, that I had every intention of going through with this, and took on the heavy burden of allowing this to continue.

“Be there to look into his eyes when he wakes,” she said.

I hadn’t dreamed of leaving his side, but since the woman made such a point of it, I asked, “Why?”

“He is being reborn, in a sense. And like other simple-minded creatures, he will imprint on the first person he sees.” She took my hands and squeezed them. “That person needs to be you!”

My gulp was audible, the weight of her words and of my plan suddenly settling within me. They pressed in on me, like that moment when the police came to my door. Their words – “Mr. Fell? I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but … it’s about your husband …” had turned me inside out, left my heart out in the cold.

I felt that cold now.

“Once the potion absorbs into his tissues, it will restart his heart,” she continued. “Then the potion will replicate. It will begin to take the place of his blood. It will make him calm, easier for you to control.”

I nodded again. I wanted to say something, assure the woman that I understood, but she didn’t pause long enough for me to speak. It wouldn’t have mattered. I saw the trepidation in her one, clear eye. I had no clue what to say to make this better.

“It will be a slow process, and you must learn to be a patient man!” She raised her voice, letting go of one hand to waggle an emphatic finger in front of my face. “You will be teaching him, raising him as you would a child. Remember, even if only a small portion of his soul returns, that soul belongs to your husband, and you must love him or this will not work!”

The woman stepped back, out of breath from her outburst, and her granddaughter (whom I had forgotten about) returned, pushing forward an ornate but dusty antique chair to catch her in. I held the woman’s arms gently and helped her into it, feeling strangely protective. The woman sat and waved us both off, not wanting us to make a fuss when she still had more to say.

“But most importantly,” she labored on, barely missing a beat in her speech, “do not let him taste blood.” I knelt down so that she didn’t feel the need to yell for her words to reach me. “He cannot eat meat, but most of all, don’t let him bite you or lick your wounds. Or anyone else’s – human or animal.”

“Will … will I become a zombie? If he does bite me?”

I’m not quite sure why the word ‘zombie’ leapt to my mind. In every interaction I had had with the woman’s granddaughter before tonight, she had been so careful not to use that term. She used other, more romantic euphemisms such as ‘bring back to the land of the living’, ‘re-associate with life’, and the most used - ‘rebirth’. But that’s what he would be, right? When we moved past the flowery vernacular and got right down to it? This potion I had pocketed would turn my husband into the walking dead, - a simple-minded creature that was once deposed from this Earth.

And that meant ‘zombie’.

As if I had nothing more pressing at hand, I suddenly recalled the Walking Dead marathon Crowley had convinced me to watch (against my better judgement). Crowley thought the show was hilarious, but I could barely make it to the middle of the first season. I had started watching with my hands over my eyes, then with my arm locked around Crowley’s, anxiously smacking his shoulder, and finally with most of my body lying over his lap and my face buried in his shirt.

It wasn’t just the gore in the show that skewered me, made me nauseous, unable to breathe. It was the fear and the pain those characters felt, being chased by a relentless enemy that needed no rest, constantly running into people they couldn’t trust, people who were so out for themselves they no longer believed in the sanctity of life, with nowhere to hide, nowhere safe at all, even behind thick, concrete and metal walls.

Watching your loved ones get turned into soulless monsters - still there, but everything about them that you had once loved out of reach.

And this ‘illness’ or whatever these people had - it spared no one. Even children had become zombies. And in the game that was survival for the remaining uninfected, children had become pawns.

Everything about it seemed so horrendous.

And while I suffered through my existential crisis, Crowley laughed at my antics.

I fought not to smile at the sound of his teasing voice.

“Uh … a little squeamish there, are you, angel?”

Angel.

From the first day we met, that’s what he called me.

Oh, what I wouldn’t give to hear him call me that again!

The old woman chuckled, bringing me reluctantly back from my daydream. “No. Not in this case. That’s not the nature of this spell. No, blood will give him back his memories.”

I looked at the woman, bug-eyed, and shook my head. “I … I don’t …”

“It will ignite his brain. He will begin to feel. In many ways, he will become more the man you married than in any other.”

“Wha---?“ I stuttered, baffled as to how that could be a bad thing. If drinking blood could make Crowley more Crowley, I’d set up an IV drip the minute I got home! I would serve him cups of blood with every meal! I’d make donating blood a requirement for entrance into my bookshop! (That one would definitely kill two birds with one stone. In fact, I might consider doing that anyhow.) “And why wouldn’t I want that again?” I asked, trying not to sound like turning my husband into a blood-sipping fiend was the greatest idea in known history.

The old woman smiled, but it wasn’t fond. It was shrewd, as if she could read every one of my thoughts.

And she didn’t approve.

“Once he has his memories back, he will start to crave it. Soon, drinking blood won’t be enough for him. It won’t work as well. It won’t keep the memories as fresh. He will have to go further, do more. He will become a killer.”

My face must have gone as green as I felt because the woman laughed again, this time with a touch of wickedness. A killer? My Crowley? My sweet, kind, compassionate Crowley?

Okay, maybe I was going too far with the endearments. He’d been a bit of a bastard, after all. Which was why I could picture Crowley becoming a full-fledged bad boy. With that leather jacket he wore like a second skin and his gleaming classic car, he’d been well on his way.

But a killer? No.

Then again, I was willing to become one myself a second ago, so maybe I wasn’t in the best position to judge.

“You are playing with the laws of nature, Mr. Fell,” she said, patting me on the cheek. “You are responsible not only for your own life, but for the lives of those around you.” The woman leaned in close, those eyes – one alive, one dead - more menacing than when I had walked into the shop; her face no longer that of a frail old woman but of a powerful witch.

This time, it was my turn to feel afraid.

“So don’t fuck it up.”

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #tricketyboo2020 #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #aziraphale #Crowley

42 notes · View notes

sagamemes · 4 years

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critrole sentences starters --- shadow of the crystal palace. under the cut, you can find a total of 137 lines of dialogue from critical role’s call of cthulhu one-shot. as this contains both in and out of character sentences, there are options for modern and old timey or more eloquent muses alike. themes of the paranormal, heists, secret missions, light and darkness are sprinkled all around this sentence meme, but a good chunk is also usable by just about any muse. oh, and a lot of cat talk. as always, feel free to alter to fit your muse!

❝ good luck, may light and knowledge prevail. ❞

❝ consider your words heeded, sir. ❞

❝ hopefully, you can carry it. ❞

❝ i didn't have time to have it actually translated. if i recall, that's a review of the latest sailor moon musical. ❞

❝ she just wished me goodbye a minute ago in a text, i don't know what it means. ❞

❝ i want you in constant communication with us if you feel anything untoward, anything out of the ordinary at all. ❞

❝ we're not alone. ❞

❝ i imagine no one really wants to stay to hear the end of this speech. ❞

❝ could you try to enjoy this a little less? ❞

❝ are you? /are/ you getting it out of your system? or are you just getting started? ❞

❝ i'm more like a... tuning fork. ❞

❝ there are definite... bonuses to this little adventure. ❞

❝ what am i gonna do to you? ❞

❝ you're a good scientist who follows data. ❞

❝ most things that die in here, they never really leave. ❞

❝ perhaps we should try to get the thing that the rich guy wants? ❞

❝ i think we're doing more than just delivery. ❞

❝ i am a little worried about us getting discovered sneaking about here, though. ❞

❝ man was not meant to live within glass. ❞

❝ i'd say it's been fun but i'd be lying. ❞

❝ i suppose that's just a loss on the champagne then, isn't it? ❞

❝ poor [name]. i picked you especially for this. ❞

❝ we may be able to walks around unencumbered tonight. ❞

❝ my pants are exciting, just in the wrong way. ❞

❝ is there anything you /can/ do? fight? run? be prey? ❞

❝ you like to lead---after you. ❞

❝ it happens, you know. sometimes you shatter... artefacts. ❞

❝ i am so delighted that you are stuck here trying to find a lightswitch. ❞

❝ my kanji is at about second level. ❞

❝ bless your ignorance, child. ❞

❝ i do love a good poker. ❞

❝ have you ever tried to pull the sword, the excalibur sword, from the stone at disneyland? it's got just enough give to irritate a child for hours. i say---definitely not from /experience/. ❞

❝ i am here to make sure we're safe from threats on the other side. ❞

❝ it is for people such as ourselves to know. and then we protect the general public. ❞

❝ jesus, why am i following you people? ❞

❝ you can make the story a little less about him and a little more about you. ❞

❝ he's been very good to me. ❞

❝ i'm here to make sure this car stays on the rails, as it were. and to assist, of course. ❞

❝ i was concerned when i first met you. ❞

❝ is it pictures of all of our possessed bodies? ❞

❝ grant me my wish, make me big. ❞

❝ we're just gonna go to the cat room and we're just gonna hang out there for the whole time. ❞

❝ i believe it's better for the general public to believe your [writings/stories/tales] are fiction. ❞

❝ i'm beginning to think i'm the only one with any sense here. ❞

❝ i may be requesting your services again in the future. ❞

❝ it's just a little trinket from my country. ❞

❝ you need to know when to cut and run! look, i've got debt across europe but it's not worth dying over! ❞

❝ it's like a script you keep reciting from. ❞

❝ they wish to talk, in their own way. ❞

❝ care to place a wager? i'm feeling very confident. ❞

❝ nobody knows the value of a good redshirt anymore. ❞

❝ oh, fuck a duck, where are we going?! ❞

❝ i'm so confident, i will put 10% of my earnings from this job on the line. ❞

❝ i had my suspicions, you fraud. ❞

❝ what did you do to the light?! ❞

❝ mirrors are liars. they only show us what we expect to see. ❞

❝ i have some contingencies if things go wrong and will be waiting for your signal. ❞

❝ i mean, if you're looking at it from the right angle, you're just taking it back. ❞

❝ i fucking love cats, let's go. ❞

❝ did you learn /that/ at the [institute/school/etc]? ❞

❝ nothing to worry about, just go about your business! ❞

❝ [you're/he's] a shower away from pretty again. ❞

❝ they've never hurt me. ❞

❝ i've had a string of bad luck for a while. ❞

❝ we've been speaking to the other side for thousands of years. and our understanding evolves and changes with the passing of the years, but the core remains the same. ❞

❝ there's so much sexual tensioooon... ❞

❝ no one ever goes to a museum and reads the labels, it's really frustrating. ❞

❝ i would ask you to leave and never speak of this again. ❞

❝ oh, you fucking brilliant bastard. ❞

❝ you're not really a cat person, are you, [name]? ❞

❝ i know how that sounds, i know what i saw. ❞

❝ i got it the last time i went to russia. ❞

❝ mommy and daddy don't need to know about the necklace, though. ❞

❝ and i do hope we meet again sometime, [name], before the next time world needs saving. ❞

❝ wouldn't you agree that there are dark corners in this world, easier to find than the light? ❞

❝ well, /i/ don't like to toot my own horn, but if [name] will, i can't forbid him. ❞

❝ we're gonna take a moment to collect ourselves and have a stiff drink of something. ❞

❝ god, you look like a ghost, [name]. ❞

❝ i may be the one non-believer in the group. ❞

❝ it was certainly someone who looked like her. could've been anybody. ❞

❝ i was so looking forward to murdering the rest of you. ❞

❝ i didn't go to medical school, /period/. ph., not m.d. ❞

❝ just don't make too much trouble, alright? ❞

❝ you've been hand-picked for your skills. ❞

❝ i've actually read it as well. i think you sell yourself short. ❞

❝ your pants are more exciting than mine right now. ❞

❝ i feel like i should be haunting a house right now. ❞

❝ he was a problematic mess even by the standards of his time. ❞

❝ oh, you know, just little things you learn at finishing school. ❞

❝ you're not a useful doctor, are you? ❞

❝ honestly, i feel quite ignorant that i didn't put it together myself. ❞

❝ i'm an archivist, not an adventurer. ❞

❝ just repress! that! shit! ❞

❝ oh, no, i'm just so enamoured. we very rarely have the ability to socialise with such esteemed guests. ❞

❝ we might've fucking killed ourselves. ❞

❝ i think i'll have a nightlight for the rest of my life now. ❞

❝ i love a good potato clock though, i almost bought one. ❞

❝ my mum said i'm the most handsome boy is school. ❞

❝ [chuckling] that's a little mythology joke for you! ❞

❝ there's minimal security as long as you don't go into the upper floors. ❞

❝ what have they done to you? have they hurt you? ❞

❝ this is getting a bit rich for my taste. [insititute/workplace] does not pay /quite/ that well. ❞

❝ i believe you are more spot-on than perhaps you even realise. ❞

❝ we will come up with a good excuse for your back. there's shattered glass in there. ❞

❝ it's a bit... dizzying in here. does anyone else feel that? ❞

❝ you do not know what this has cost me. ❞

❝ he stole it. so i punched him in the face. ❞

❝ i'm a book doctor, not a blood doctor. ❞

❝ the idea of walking home in a mist without another living human being there nearly gave me a heart attack. ❞

❝ i'd like to thank you for your discretion. ❞

❝ it's a little less of the killing of the dragons and a little bit more of running for your bloody life. ❞

❝ some of us are just so sharp we could cut ourselves. ❞

❝ one more pitch to run for the fucking door. ❞

❝ he's a charlatan, isn't he? ❞

❝ the trouble with sacrificial magic is it requires sacrifice. ❞

❝ there's something about you they really don't like. ❞

❝ the only way we can protect ourselves is to know what we're protecting ourselves from. ❞

❝ it's a bit of a lark, isn't it? that's why i agreed. ❞

❝ i know about this. this is my design. and some /asshole/ put his name on it. ❞

❝ never owned a cat in my life. ❞

❝ i say this with as much honest and relative humility as i can: do i look like the sort of person that they would tell where the champagne is hiding? ❞

❝ he didn't go into medical school for you to call him /mister/ [name]. ❞

❝ you have an honest face. ❞

❝ it never hurts to be prepared, and i'm a big believer in being prepared. and i'm willing to spend on it. ❞

❝ look you were very worried about this chest; we opened it, it's fine! ❞

❝ we will never see each other again. ❞

❝ we're all just reaching for the same truth and describing it in different ways, i imagine. ❞

❝ the things i've seen you wouldn't want to wish on your worst nightmares. ❞

❝ take a lantern, you piece of shit. ❞

❝ he wrote some very, very nice reviews of the best gay brothels of japan when he would walk around. and a pamphlet on farting. ❞

❝ [suggestively] well, if you're looking for a /heat source/... ❞

❝ few things in this world are not somewhat haunted. this, i believe, is very. ❞

❝ do you know that they invented an electrical device in japan in 1776? ❞

❝ i would really run. ❞

❝ i'm sorry, did you say ' paid off the judges ' ? ❞

❝ it burns like acid. ❞

#rp meme #rp sentence starters #sentence starters #sentence meme #rp sentence meme #* sentences.#* meme.#i did not expect the eldrich horror content sentence meme to somehow possibly the least triggering in here but-

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jkrobertson · 5 years

Text

UlquiHime Week 2019 Day 6: Possession

Read on Ao3 | Fanfiction.net

Or read under the cut. This is the last piece originally earmarked for a Vega + Altair UlquiHime zine that was cancelled, but it fits today’s theme in a lemon-flavored way. Enjoy! @ulquihimeweek

Also another shoutout to Beta @slytherkins! THANK YOU!

Vega’s Corruption

She was known as Vega to most, but to those who knew her best, she was called Orihime. Vega was a name passed down to her from her mother and her mother before her. Her line had been tasked by the gods to protect the pocket of brambleberry bushes she called home.

The problem was, no one really ever bothered to traipse through this dark, secluded area of the woods. Orihime often found herself lonely, and frankly, bored.

She filled her time the way her mother had, except that Orihime had no daughter to dote on and tell stories to. Her own mother had absconded with a green-haired centaur years ago. The previous Vega had told her that her time as guardian of the brambleberry patch had run its course and wished her daughter luck, presenting her with a golden lyre and hair ornaments in the shape of sacred six-petaled blackberry blossoms.

A clear brook cut a path through the forest, and occasionally a water sprite would pass through and tell her the gossip from upstream: general goings-on and who had been smote by whom; that kind of thing. She also learned who had been fornicating with whom. Just a fortnight ago she had learned that a beekeeper by the name of Nanao had been chased from her post by a jealous goddess after falling pregnant by the god of wine.

They were worrisome, all these cautionary tales. Orihime would listen to these sordid stories with rapt attention and then fall back, mindlessly strumming her lyre, sighing in relief that no charming demigods ever wandered into her brambleberry patch.

It wouldn’t be until after she retired into her thicket that the images conjured in her mind by those stories would replay behind closed eyelids, causing her belly to squirm and her thighs to tremble.

Her peace collapsed one evening when the forest stilled just after dusk. It was an unnatural silence. Orihime ducked into her thicket just in time to avoid a phalanx of bats coursing over the brook, chasing away the fireflies that had lit up the waning moon evening. After the shrieks and fluttering wings had quieted, she stepped back out of her den and cautiously looked around. She did not anticipate finding herself nearly nose to chin with a pale face containing large, deep jade and amber eyes.

“Oh!” she yelped, taking a hurried step back and observing his form. The face appeared to belong to a male, and as she looked down his body she found that she was correct. This satyr had unconventional characteristics, but she was able to place the tall, ear-like horns and long, prehensile, tufted tail. The wings were different. “Who are you, what are you, and what are you doing in my brambleberry patch?” she demanded in an unsteady voice.

The satyr’s heavy brows lowered, eyes narrowing slightly. “I seek the Vega.” He took a firm step toward her. “Have I found you, woman?”

“Who are you?” she asked again in alarm, taking a half-step back before her retreat was halted as her back made contact with the thicket.

“Like you, I have many names--Niulang, Bunji, Altair-- but you shall call me Ulquiorra. What shall I call you?” he asked, expressionless eyes boring into her soul as he voiced the question.

She sucked in a quick breath, responding before thinking about whether it was wise to share this information, “Um, uh, my name is Orihime.”

“Orihime,” the dark being let the name curl around his tongue and slide out of his lips with an understated sensuality. “I see. Orihime, I will return on the seventh night of the seventh moon, and on that night I will be prepared for you to accept me. Before then, I shall present you with three offerings.” Ulquiorra took another step toward her, his breath warm on her face and his leathery wings shielding her view from anything but him. “Until next time, Woman,” he said, then flew away.

Orihime released the breath she held with a gasp and clutched her chest, her heart racing below the surface. She did not sleep easily that night, her dreams plagued with images of reptilian eyes and black fur.

***

It was only ten days before Orihime was once again visited by a cloud of shrieking sky creatures announcing her strange visitor’s return. This time she cowered inside of her den and waited until he called to her.

“Orihime.”

Why her legs unfolded and her feet brought her to him mystified her. When she stood before him, they regarded one another in silence for several moments. The only sound that could be heard in the quiet was their soft breathing.

The pressure of the silence became too much for her to bear as those tense moments passed, but before she opened her mouth to speak, he relented, stepping to the side and breaking their eye contact. Ulquiorra pointed a clawed finger toward the heavens and asked, “Do you see that, up there, Woman?”

Orihime’s line of sight followed his arm towards the night sky and to a smattering of stars. “Yes. That’s Lyra. That’s where I am from,” she answered, referencing the constellation in the shape of a lyre. “The brightest of those stars is Vega.”

“You have learned well. And you are indeed brilliant, Vega,” he said, his voice dropping to a deep tone and his eyes returning to hers, this time with a hungry glint. “My first offering attempts to capture your nocturnal brilliance so that you may carry it during the day. Wear it and remember who gave it to you,” he murmured as he slipped a golden necklace, with a perfectly clear crystal amulet, over her head. “Until we meet again, Woman,” was all he said, without allowing her the chance to speak before flying off again.

***

The next morning, a friendly water sprite passed through Orihime’s brambleberry patch. The guardian of the berries was more distracted than usual, walking slowly, examining the sparkling ornament that she still wore around her neck.

“Vega? Veggga? Vega! Did you lose your hearing?” the sprite barked.

Orihime’s head snapped to look at the figure in the brook. “Ah! Rukia! I’m sorry, I was lost in thought.”

“I see that. I’ve stopped by to pass on a tidbit of information. The fireflies told the bees, and the bees told the beekeepers, and the beekeepers told the meadmakers, and the meadmakers told me, that a dark visitor has been through this part of the woods, not once, but twice in the space of two weeks. Rumor has it that the dark one is none other than new Altair, and that he seeks a mate.”

Orihime’s eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat as she fingered the amulet. “Altair, you say? What can you tell me of this creature?” she asked after finding her voice.

“Well,” Rukia began, her eyes darting from one side to the other before looking at Orihime with a knowing smirk, planting her elbows into the mossy bank of the brook. “I heard that he is a huge black demon with glowing red eyes and a cock the size of a centaur’s.”

“Rukia!” Orihime whined. She didn’t want to hear about something like that. Then again… She bit her lip and looked away for a moment, her cheeks turning pink before she turned to kneel on the bank before the water sprite, her brow worried and small fists pressed into her knees as she asked, “It can’t possibly be that big, can it?” She had to clear her dry throat.

An evil glint sparkled in Rukia’s eyes as they trailed from Orihime’s face down her neck, before landing on the amulet that now swung freely above her breasts. The sprite chuckled before responding, “Maybe not that big, but certainly impressive. The meadmakers may have exaggerated a bit, you know how they can get after a few mugs. Why does it concern you so, Vega?”

Orihime swallowed and nodded in understanding before she replied, “Oh, um, no reason. Just curious.” She took a small comfort in the fact that Rukia’s description was only somewhat close to the visitor she had received the night before… The one with deep green and yellow eyes that her memory got lost in…

“Vega? Vega… Yoo-hoo,” Rukia said, waving a hand in front of Orihime’s face. “Where did your mind go?” The sprite’s expression was suggestive.

Orihime’s russet hair whipped back and forth as she shook her head. “Um, nothing, really. Just, um, hoping that he doesn’t come to visit me,” she answered, her fingers closing over the amulet.

“Uh huh, sure,” came Rukia’s dubious reply. “Anyway, just wanted to warn you. Take care, Vega!” she said before disappearing under the surface of the water.

***

Only a soft flapping sound disturbed the silence of the night a week and some days later. No bats, no scattering of fireflies. “Vega? Orihime? Come out,” the now familiar voice called from outside Orihime’s den.

The woman came out quietly, stopping short when her eyes fell upon the figure waiting for her. The eyes were different, only green on white sclera. The wings remained, but now, regular, more human-looking hands replaced the clawed, furry ones she had first met with. She took a step toward him, examining the white robes and horned helm he wore. “Ulquiorra?” she asked after a moment, unsure that it was still him.

“Of course,” he answered, thrusting something toward her chest.

She looked down to see a bouquet of jasmine and other night-blooming flowers. “What’s this?” she asked, looking up from the flowers to his face, observing the black streaks that ran from his eyes to his chin and how his stature seemed slightly smaller and less intimidating than before. The corners of her lips tilted up as she began to realize what the object he held was before he had a chance to answer.

“They are flowers, Woman. My second gift. Their bloom and beauty are a pale reflection of your own, but by presenting them to you, I am attempting to capture your favor. Is it not a common wooing practice?” the dark-haired creature spoke in a flat tone.

Orihime choked on a giggle. What kind of person was this? Certainly a forthright one. “It is. And I thank you. I never had an opportunity to do it last time,” she murmured, blushing and smiling down at the flowers.

Heavy black brows rose marginally, and Ulquiorra’s chest expanded with a slow, deep breath as he took in the image of the bashful woman before him. “I must go. Our next meeting shall be on the date we previously discussed. Until then, Orihime,” he said thickly before he seemingly disappeared into the night sky.

“Until then, Ulquiorra,” Orihime replied in a soft voice toward the star that shared his other name.

***

The seventh day of the seventh month was upon her. Orihime spent the day pacing and nervous. Was she really going to do this? Was she prepared to submit to this mysterious being that had appeared to her only briefly on three occasions until now?

It surprised her as much as anyone, if she had the nerve to tell anyone, that her answer was yes.

Rukia had been by again in the days since his last visit, as had Rangiku, the frequently inebriated wife of a meadmaker. Others had come and chatted with Orihime, sharing stories of a dark being on the prowl.

She never let on what she knew.

This night, after twilight faded, Orihime did not retire to her thicket. She had prepared for this meeting, washing her body and hair, brushing out the long chestnut strands until they gleamed. She wore a fresh set of robes and waited outside, fondling the gifted amulet, and smelling the night-blooming flowers that had sprouted around the entrance of her den.

She did not have to wait long. This time there was no flapping of wings, only soft, steady footsteps that announced his arrival.

“Woman, you are not hiding,” he observed on seeing her standing amongst the flowers.

“I’m not.”

“Do I frighten you, Woman?”

“No, I’m not afraid,” came the honest reply.

With that, he strode before her, looking more like a man than he ever had. The black markings on his face were reduced to thin, teal-colored lines. His hair was shorter, and his overall appearance completely unmenacing. “Good. My final gift to you, Woman, are these words,” he said, taking her hands into his and looking into her eyes. “Your light has beckoned me from the heavens. Your beauty and brilliance are beyond compare. You are my star, my soulmate. We were born for each other; destined to meet. As you can see in the skies above, our celestial homes are linked together on this night. It is my intention to make this a permanent connection. If you will accept it, I will entrust my heart to you.”

She didn’t know why, and she didn’t know how, but her answer was effortless when she replied, “Yes. I accept.”

That was all it took. The impassive, stone expression she had come to expect cracked as Ulquiorra’s eyes narrowed and one side of his mouth curled up slightly into a pleased expression laced with desire. “Then, my woman,” he began, reaching out to touch her throat, trailing two fingers up the front of the delicate column until they stopped to grasp her chin, “are you prepared to unite with me and consummate our union?”

A gulp. Orihime’s mouth felt dry and her lips parted. Her eyelids felt heavy. This was really happening. “Yes,” she breathed, finding her subsequent breath difficult, shuddering past her wet lips.

Ulquiorra took another step towards her and tilted her chin up. “Then from this night forward, I belong to you, Orihime,” he whispered before lowering his lips to hers, their deceptively soft surface pressing against hers firmly; insistently. It felt like he was trying to pass a part of his soul to hers as his breath filled her nostrils.

Orihime was not prepared for her body’s reaction to his kiss. Her hands moved on their own to his chest, slowly sliding up to his neck until her fingertips reached the sides of his face. Her lips parted further then, and her sweet breath ghosted between their faces as she tilted hers slightly to the side.

A deep rumble that started in his chest and growled past his throat left Ulquiorra as his mouth opened and his tongue found its way to hers, its textured surface sliding against hers in a slow, dragging motion, in and out, pulling hers into his own mouth from time to time. He tasted like wine and she couldn’t get enough of it. As difficult as it was to breathe, Orihime found herself trying to drink his tongue into her body. Every time it retreated, she followed it, desperately whimpering for more.

His hands began to explore her body, the one on her chin sliding down her front to cup her breast, the other finding her ribs and sliding down the side of her waist to her hip. Both hands then reached around her back and pressed her body to his, breaking their kiss.

“Vega, I have waited for you for so long, you have no idea…” Ulquiorra’s whispers were harsh between heaving breaths as he held her tightly, burying his face into the side of her neck.

Her fingers wormed their way into his silky hair, and she felt a swell of affection bloom in her chest, temporarily drowning out the lustier thoughts clouding her brain. “I’m here,” she replied in a gentle voice.

She watched his pale face pull back from her and find her eyes. She was surprised to see a mix of emotion swirling below his row of long black lashes: longing, hope, lust, affection, and most surprisingly, fear. He swallowed as an ivory finger brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face and admitted, “I don’t know what I’m doing…”

The affection she felt earlier surged, and she smiled, pulling down at the base of his skull and rising onto her toes to kiss him. “Neither do I,” she whispered after the kiss was broken. “But I think you were doing just fine.”

He nodded, releasing her from his hold and taking half a step back as his hands began to release the fastenings of his robes. When they were free, he allowed them to fall to the ground and stood before her, his white skin luminous in the starlight.

Orihime was dazzled for a moment, breathing shallowly and letting her eyes wander over his form. She chanced a look between his legs and suppressed a scoff. She hadn’t seen that many centaurs, but what she saw now was nowhere near as intimidating as what those beasts carried. Her shoulders relaxed and she took another step back, this time releasing the pin at her shoulder that held her robes in place. All at once she was bare to him, and she stood still, watching his face as he gazed upon her.

It did not last long.

His eyes traveled from her face down her body and his nostrils flared. His eyes narrowed, and in the next instant they were on the ground, her discarded robes providing a slight cushion for their bodies as he ran his hands over her, from her throat to the tips of her swollen breasts, following them with his mouth. His lips left a trail of kisses down her belly. His hands paused at her pelvis, kneading at the sides of her hips as his mouth reached her curls and the scent of her arousal hit his nose.

One hand traveled from the side of her body to the juncture of her legs, spreading them gently and watching how her body parted for him, the glistening surface a pretty reflection of the stars; an intimate replication of the jewel she still wore around her neck. His long fingers reached out to touch the slick surface and he hissed.

He bit his lip as he allowed one digit to penetrate her, nearly choking on his own tongue in response to the sensation. His thumb drifted toward the top of her slit and her reaction seemed to please him as she moaned softly in response to it reaching her nub.

He could wait no longer. “Are you sure, Woman?” he asked, looking up at her face with fire in his eyes.

She nodded. “I’m sure,” she finally murmured, spreading her legs further still and raising her hips, pressing his finger into her more deeply before he withdrew it.

He slid both hands back up the sides of her body, pausing to press her breasts together, lapping at her taut nipples as he positioned his hips between her thighs. When his face reached hers, he looked into her eyes. He said nothing as he shifted his hips towards hers. The head of his cock dipped between her folds and wetted itself on her essence. He probed the space between her legs and watched her face intently.

She hummed and sighed and twisted her body, her instincts pushing her to find the connection to him it wanted. She tilted and squirmed, her movements lead by an increasingly frantic need that she did not understand until it happened; just the right angle, just the right twist, and the head of his cock breached her entrance. Her breath left her softly and she let her head fall back, her eyes closing. A small smile pulled on her lips, despite not knowing what to expect next.

Ulquiorra whimpered as he felt his member swallowed by what felt like a hot, damp sheath made to his exact specifications. He took several shallow breaths before working up the courage to push into her further, his brows furrowed and his eyes trained on her expression. What could she be thinking, looking so serene, so perfect? “Woman?” he breathed, not sure what he was asking.

“Yes, my love?” The words fell from her lips without forethought. Her heart had the reins.

It was all the encouragement he needed. His face relaxed a bit and he pushed into her with purpose, slow but steady, pausing only briefly as her brows twitched and her expression grew tense when he filled her completely. Once he was completely seated inside of her, he stopped again and waited for her features to relax and open up to him. When they did, and her eyes were open, he replied, “Tell me if it’s too much.”

She opened her mouth for him when his lips came down onto hers, letting his tongue fill it as he began to move inside of her. Her soft, high-pitched moans filled the brambleberry patch as their movements synchronized into a rhythm. She felt the heat within her grow and the tension between them intensify as their bodies slid against one another, slick with the sweat of their exertion. Her feet planted into the soil to help lift her hips up to reach his thrusts and her fingers clawed at his back as he broke their kiss with a snarl and latched on to the side of her neck, increasing the pace of his pounding hips and grunting into her skin.

This had to be heaven, she thought, as Orihime’s blood raced through her veins and her ears filled with the sounds of his growls, which morphed into pleading whimpers as he chased his goal. She felt her core pulse around him, her toes curling into the ground as she raised her hips and held, her entire body clenching as she cried out and the bliss of her undoing overwhelmed her. The patterns of the Milky Way appeared behind her closed eyelids with each beat of her heart. Her body drank Ulquiorra’s seed from his as he joined her, falling apart as jet after jet filled her body, his choked groan in her ear announcing her victory.

After the last spasms of pleasure sparked through her, she relaxed her legs, lowering her hips to the ground slowly and releasing the tension in her fingers to trail her hands up his body to his face. She cracked an eye open to see his flushed cheeks and swollen mouth. He looked stunningly erotic as his breath puffed past his lips and just a sliver of emerald green glimpsed through the thick black lashes that obscured his eyes.

“Are you…?” he asked her breathlessly.

“Perfect? Happy? Fulfilled? Yes,” she provided answers to his unasked questions.

He smiled then and let his face fall onto her chest, one hand grasping at his robes that had fallen somewhere off to the side, and then pulled them up to cover their cooling bodies. “Then we are both satisfied, Woman,” he murmured as his eyes closed.

“Ha,” she chuckled, her fingers raking through his hair lazily before she tilted her head to kiss his brow. “For now, anyway.”

A smirk and a sleepy laugh answered her. “For now.”

#ulquihime #ulquihimefic #jkrobertson wrotes #uhweek2019 #ulquihime week #ulquiorra cifer #ulquiorra/orihime #Ulquiorra Schiffer

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courtorderedcake · 5 years

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Hallow : ch IV - CSSNS 2019

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

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

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

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

Written for @cssns

Read on AO3 here.

Ch 4 / ?? - In which Emma hears Liam and Elsa's tale

Ingrid, Elsa, and Anna wasted no time at all, Emma appearing in the shop front slightly past noon. The older ladies buying bread and a teenage boy carrying several boxes of pastries noticed her first, their eyes snapping to the door she came from. The teenager made a noise between a wheeze and a gulp as the old women tutted, causing Killian to look up with his ever permanent annoyance. The smile under the loose waves of her hair was shy, and in the sundress of coral and cream, Emma was a captured ray of sunshine. Or she would be, if the smile reached her tired and slightly puffy eyes.

They walked to the park together, Killian’s annoyance tempered by her fascination with everything in the many touristy shop fronts. She marveled at stones and crystals that were marked as magical, whispering how clever they were if they'd gotten them right, and how sneaky they were if they tried to trick others. In another shop she questioned a well meaning sales clerk about corduroy and a peculiar blouse with capped sleeves that read ubiquitously, "Summer of Love", asking what other summers they observed.

When the shop clerk laughed her off, Emma shrugged and joined in. People loved her instantly, as if they had known her their entire lives; the Fae thrall of old that she unknowingly employed was a matter of charisma, combined with her natural beauty, an unerring grace, and her rapturous attention on every word spoken to her. Killian watched her in fascination as well, the Darkness puzzling over their observations. Emma shot him a happy grin, but beneath it was a foundation of the old world decorum that he had once adhered to religiously - she was weary, and the cracks in her undetectable armor were there. There was no reason for her to be doing this, he realized, especially with him of all people. It was a facade, and a very well polished one.

Moving to pull her away, they escaped from a store front caller who had been talking to her about the "future of sound" that was coming on eight different tracks, a large, flat, black circle in his hand. Killian could feel her sway towards him in gratitude, bumping him to the side. As sudden as her playfulness was in the gentle push, her mask was back up as they entered the gates of the park.

It took Emma all of four minutes to raise his hackles. He'd forgotten about the bloody fountain; one second she was by his side, then the next she was wading into the coin filled bottom of the pool, a geyser shooting from rocks above her.

"What the seven hells are you doing?" he’d called sharply over the roar of the water. Emma shrugged kicking a bit of water at him, looking for a minute absolutely impishly spiteful. "Just who are you, Swan? What sort of princess goes wading into fountains, especially those most definitely used for decor?"

She glared at him, but it was tempered by tiredness. "Wouldn't you like to know."

Perhaps .

"Perhaps I would, darling."

She hummed for a moment, watching another geyser shoot towards the sky. "I am not your love, or your darling." Emma fumed, eyes cast down at her feet, her face falling fractionally, allowing only the tiniest slip of her mask to happen quickly before she wiped water from her face with a pressed on smile. Anger gone, forced down to be forgotten behind thick walls.

Picking up a few more coins as she made her way back to him, she examined them in her palm. "These coins feel like… Are they enchanted?"

Killian shook his head, looking at a silver coin with the engraving 1967. "They're wishes."

Emma's eyes lit up brightly, and before he could stop her, Emma dipped a finger in the water. Several bubbles rose around coins, popping in a burst of pink sparkles.

"Do not use your magic -" he hissed, lunging forward into the water, eyes wild.

"Stop worrying, old man. I used only a tiny bit of magic. I only granted wishes for people who are here, and ones that wouldn't take a lot of power. A tiny bit will be fine."

She had to be insane, wet from the fountain and laughing at him, her walls as high as ever.

"No -" A bubble the size of a hippo floated past. "Bloody hell -"

“Isn't this what humans do here? Have fun in the park?” Her smile was pure happiness and joy, as bright as the midday sun.

He thought back to Milah, Elsa, Anna, and their schoolmates in ladies’ refinement courses. There had been a turn of phrase they parroted: 'Fake it until you can make it'.

The Darkness wasn't the only one perplexed by her willingness to push her other emotions down, at least; Killian found it vexing in its own right. Moreover, he hated that it reminded him of Milah, like a stab to the charcoal lump that had once been his heart.

“They don't wade into fountains, or do magic in front of unsuspecting passersby. They walk or read a book -”

“Show me, then!” Emma grabbed his hand. Instantaneously, two things happened within him, both unsettling. First, the Darkness shrunk back like a wild animal, practically spitting. Secondly, and more worrying, her touch lit something long buried that spread through his body, filling his chest with heat. Her magic pushed the Darkness down, while a sort of levity flooded his veins in its place, as if someone had thrown open a window to let in fresh air - and he could breathe easier than he had in a long time.

When she stopped to pet a dog, letting go of him, the feeling didn't fade. Instead, her laugh as she watched the dog wag its tail fueled it, and he felt…

“They don't talk here,” Emma murmured, leaving the dog's owner looking perturbed. “How peculiar.” She scratched under its chin, as Killian exchanged a nervous glance at the owner.

“Always joking, this one,” Killian laughed, trying to assuage the strange looks the owner gave them. Pulling Emma away, she spotted something else that caught her eye. She quickly led him through the dappled sunshine.

Following Emma around as she smelled flowers, describing the palace garden, or rolled down a grass hill, her laughter infectious, he felt a connection with her that he couldn't explain. Kinship due to nobility? Unlikely, and he hadn't been much of a noble in his own right. That was Liam, with his regimens and regiment, living up to long-standing expectations to fulfill the duties of their lineage.

When she reached for him, her hand outstretched and head cocked as the wind blew through her hair, he took it to test his theory. Resting his hand in hers she ran, pulling him across the park, the Darkness knotted itself up in hatred. It occurred to him that maybe she was sent by Ingrid to accompany him, some ploy in which to get them both away from the shop. It wasn't a bad plan at all, in retrospect.

All the while, even as it was caged, the Darkness puzzled at her actions. It squirmed in confusion as to why she was acting like she didn’t have a care in the world when it was obvious that her sadness and anger must lie right below the surface. Hiding her emotions with set shoulders, she blew raspberries at a baby that played in the grass near its parents, much to the small child's delight and the Darkness' displeasure.

In a secluded alcove off a deserted trail, she stepped barefoot into a meadow, letting flowers grow around her in the tall grass. Emma did cartwheels as people seemed to follow her, a group coming shortly to begin a drum circle, a small gaggle of girls making flower crowns, and another group doing cartwheels with Emma, their skirts all tucked in as much as possible. Even in its lessened noise, Killian could hear the ticking way the Darkness thought, and felt it grapple with hiding its ploys.

They fed ducks, and she made him smile as she made sure the ducklings got their fair share of the cabbage they had bought. While most creatures stayed away from him, a quick glimpse in her direction showed a menagerie of water fowl, along with two peacocks, all vying for her attention. Even brightly colored fish nibbled at her toes and for a moment, it was easy to forget the turmoil her life was in, until she looked up and the light hit her just so. There was no denying that her pain was there, but well camouflaged; there was a familiarity to it that made Killian uneasy. The Darkness retreated further, a sure sign that it would be back with a vengeance later. If he had learned anything from years alone with it in his prison, it was that its quiet was never good news.

A bubble blower showed her how to use a rope, and soon she'd created giant bubbles that chased the breeze in detailed, impossible shapes, the wish of a child that she had granted. A band performed in a pavilion, and Killian let her convince him to dance together for a song. She seemed skittish around other men without his company.

Killian tripped a few times, actually feeling shy with embarrassment and frustration when she winced at his attempts to lead.

“I'm sorry, it has been a while,” he mumbled.

“You're doing fine. This is fun, the music here is so wonderful!” Emma giggled in bubbly cheer, but her eyes were somewhere else.

The song continued, and he found his footing, leading her with ease. Emma floated in his arms, sundress flaring out beneath the hand resting at her waist with each turn about the plaza. She seemed to drift away into her thoughts for a moment, enjoying a simple waltz.

Another man interrupted and asked her to dance, but Killian found watching them brought another kind of heat that was unpleasant: something he’d almost call jealousy , if he didn’t know better. He didn't like the way the other man touched her, hands too low and his body too close to hers. The lewdness didn’t go unnoticed, and Emma removed his hand, whispering something that made the man quickly end their dance. If it rattled her, she only showed the slightest bit of distaste as she watched him walk away, her chin held slightly higher and fingers slowly relaxing from clenching. Her step was slower after, a little strain evident.

Interesting.

Killian suggested they eat when she returned to him, his mood suddenly soured as she waved goodbye to the band and the man she had danced with disappeared back into the crowd.

At a concession cart, he bought her some fairy floss and himself a dark chocolate ice cream.

They sat on a bench, Emma greedily picking the candy floss from its cone, bare feet swinging like they itched to be back on the earth. The princess hadn't said much since the man had groped far too low for her comfort. The Darkness made its tentative play.

"So, how many suitors did you have?" he asked, ignoring the beginning of his ice cream’s melted trail down his fingers. “I mean, before all this…” He made a gesture with his hand.

Emma looked at him doe-eyed.

"Suitors?" she laughed incredulously, head turned to the side. "None, I am not even allowed to be courted by anyone, let alone having -"

"So they don't just pair you off with someone in the court like you're chattel any longer?" He grinned when her lips thinned and her eyes slit into a glare.

"No." She looked down at the giant colored monstrosity in her hands. "I don't suppose they do. If I'm honest… I'm glad for it. My experiences thus far with men have been…" She trailed off, picking at the fluff.

“I suppose I don’t see why your charming parents didn’t marry you off to some honor bound Lordling then. Let him get you with child. It would have sorted this mess right out.” He crossed his legs, looking up at the flowering bushes around them. Emma picked at the fluff further, refusing to look anywhere else.

“They want me - they wanted me to marry for love. Like they did. Just not until I was ready, until I was safe. Although people say their marriage was a matter of ending the war or joining the realms, they loved each other first. They want… wanted that for me. Just without the constant threat of danger.”

“Want,” he gritted out on a laugh. The Darkness backed down, and Killian felt the tension within himself ease up . “They’ll be alright, Princess.” She pushed her hair back, and nodded without looking up. He was surprised at his desire to soothe her, but that impulse faded as the Darkness pushed back again.

Don't give her sympathy. You owe her nothing; she should feel guilty. Soothing her? You're a pathetic, hapless, meager imbecile - she deserves the pain!

The breeze blew through where they sat, and neither spoke for some time. He broke the silence with quiet bitterness in his tone. “They most likely would have killed your husband anyway, I suppose. Goblins don’t really care about sacrament or love.”

“I am sorry, truly. I -” She met his eyes, and he could see the sincerity. The Darkness in him wriggled under his skin and he looked away from her. “I don’t have words to say how truly sorry I am. You and Elsa both deserved happiness.” He felt his shoulders tighten, his body going taut. A warm hand touched his forearm, and he looked up to meet her eyes, the light of the summer sun making them viridescent. “You still deserve happiness. Dark One or not.” Sincerity underlined every word she spoke.

The Darkness under his skin shrieked, repeating its song.

You are nothing, nothing, you deserve nothing, to be pulled into nothingness. You will never find happiness, you will live an eternity of nothing!

Her thumb stroked gently, leaving the tiniest smear of pink from her sweet treat on his shirt. Everything was quiet except for the breeze, the birds around them, and the far off chatter of others in the park. He took a bite of his ice cream and she smiled thinly, pulling away and crossing her legs underneath her body.

"If I could change what happened, if I could have stopped all of this, I would have done everything in my power. I'm sorry the war ruined so many lives. I'm sorry I didn't know," Emma whispered quietly, the paper cone in her hands picked clean.

He felt his lips upturn slightly, the ghost of a smile starting as they sat in the sun. The Darkness was quiet, outmaneuvered by the princess' unexpected kindness.

“It's really beautiful here. It's so much more vibrant than the palace, and I feel so much more…” The sun started to set, thick swirls of pink and purple melting into orange lined with gold in the sky as she searched for the right word.

“Free,” Killian finished.

The Darkness laughed inside his mind.

She looked up at him, her head cocked. “Yes. Free. I feel free.”

The wind caught her hair and dress, making her laugh brightly. For him, it was a moment of strange lucidity and brought her into sharp focus: gentle curves, the soft Cupid's bow of her lips stained by sugar, long eyelashes that lay above blushing cheeks. The sea was a ways off, but he could smell the salty spray mixing with the warmed sugar.

“What would you do if you were king, Killian?” Emma asked softly, distracted, as her mind drifted no doubt to where her family lay.

He did not need to pause or think, the Darkness rising up to strike as he responded. “I would get revenge on everyone who ever crossed me.”

Despite how roughly his voice came out, Emma didn't flinch, only turned to stare back at him - through him, really - in a way that made him feel small. Even the Darkness squirmed under her scrutiny, as if she could see the half truth there, the fear that drove this vessel, and how much omission lay in that vast fracture.

Emma touched his hand again, giving it a gentle squeeze, looking at him again with those eyes that saw far too much. “And after that?”

Killian swallowed hard, unable to find words.

“Do you think… Do you think it gets easier over time, or harder?” she continued. “Do you think you learn how to stop feeling anything when you learn of atrocities, of people left behind, of people forgotten, of the hurt and of the people who set out to hurt you? How do you ever reconcile it all? Because I can’t - I can’t - ” Emma stood, taking a deep breath and walking stiffly to throw the fairy floss cone away. When she returned, the smile was back and firmly in place.

“Are you alright, love?”

She nodded, and he waited for her retort on his pet name. The desire to push her simmered to a boil, and he pressed her again.

"To answer your question: you don't forget. Actions have consequences, regardless of if they are necessary or of whether they look good on paper. Regardless of how you push them away by hiding in your palace, you don't forget or reconcile.” Abruptly, his understanding evaporated as the Darkness seized control once more. “Is the real world outside of your fairytale not living up to expectations, darling? A bit too much? Hm, love?" His tone turned mocking in its faux concern, but she only stiffened further, her fists balling and then unclenching as she let out a breath.

When no retort came as a response to his provocation, he threw his melted ice cream away, their silence in view of the sun’s last rays following them home.

Emma retreated to her room immediately upon their return, brushing past Elsa and Anna on her way up the stairs. Anna followed shortly after, calling her name, while Elsa just rolled her eyes, smiling slightly at Killian.

“What, did you make her cry again?” she asked sarcastically.

“I may have.” Killian grinned, stretching to look up the stairs, Anna staring back while giving him an angry glare. “She deserved it though if I did. She asked the most bloody ridiculous questions before we left -”

Ingrid’s voice came from behind them, icy and unamused. “Like what?”

Elsa froze, but Killian chuckled lightly. “Are you going to lecture me if I tell you, Ingrid?”

Ingrid stepped closer, standing toe to toe with him, a clear challenge in her stature. “No. I wouldn’t waste my breath if I had to lecture you after I specifically asked you to act with some humanity for a few hours. I’d expect you would know what bad form was without needing a lecture. So, what did she say to you?”

Killian’s jaw muscles clenched, and the two glared at one another. He scrubbed a hand over his face, letting it rest between them in the air as he started talking. “She asked me what I would do if I were king, and I told her I’d get my revenge on anyone who ever crossed me and the Darkness. She asked what I’d do after and when I didn’t answer, she asked if it gets easier for things. I didn’t answer that, so she walked off.”

“If what gets easier?” Elsa asked, no longer amused.

“I don’t bloody know, tons of things, the whiny brat.” Killian shrugged.

“What exactly did she ask, Killian?” Ingrid repeated, her low voice like gravel against glass.

“She asked if it gets easier or harder to rule when you lose people, and if you learn to stop having emotion about it. Then she kept saying, ‘I can’t do this!’ and walked away after I asked if this was not up to her expectations. What was I supposed to say, that like her magical fairytale castle life, it will be easy again? Let her suffer for a while. Let her feel the vice grip of reality.”

“You foul, rude, son of a bitch. What would your brother say?” Ingrid hissed, pushing past him to run up the stairs, the door of Emma’s room slamming shut behind her.

Elsa sat on the staircase in shock at Ingrid’s rebuke. Killian only grimaced and chuckled darkly. “Well, that’s an interesting way to thank me for keeping her out of your hair all day. What would Liam say? Probably that she should grow up, or that she sent him to his death.”

“Do you really have nothing else you’d do as a king but seek revenge?” Elsa asked quietly.

“Oh, come on now, love. Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not being ridiculous. Do you know how hard it was for me when I didn’t know if Liam was dead or alive? When we didn’t know if anyone survived at all besides us? With death you can at least gain closure. I waited for decades for our family, for Liam, for you without this hatred -”

Killian scoffed, rolling his eyes. “It’s not hatred. I tolerate the princess because I have to. Make no mistake, though, I’m not making these ‘fun’ little day trips and tolerating this cohabitation by any sort of choice.”

“It’s a choice to blame her for Milah, who I haven’t seen you mourn or mention besides to compare to Liam and I. Like we weren’t anywhere as devoted to each other. Like I should want you to rip Emma apart, just because she can get you this built up idea of your revenge -”

“You don’t understand - the war is her fault, her family's fault. Without the war, we'd have - "

"Killian, I can't imagine how different our lives would be, but that's not what happened. We reacted to a war, we all tried to survive and help others to survive - The Goblins did something terrible because they believed they could, that they deserved to have that right of dominion because women were lesser, because power and blood magic was more important. How is that Emma's fault? What happened to you?"

"Her family kept me rotting for centuries, Elsa! Milah and I had enchanted ink in our tattoos, a parting token when the Royal family sent Liam and I to the front. It let us hear the other's heartbeat as a steady rhythm when we were apart, her at home and I at sea. When they took her, that was the only thing - that was the only way I measured time in my days waiting in that cell, until I found that I could make the tiny portals to you and Ingrid. The heart on my arm grew slower until the day she died, when it turned black. I refused to believe it, to give her up, to admit that she… I lost myself in rage. I took it out on you, and on anybody who had more freedom than I. I thought we could save her. If I'm honest, I suppose I've known she was gone for centuries, known that crocodile-skinned rapist killed her while royalty locked me away so I couldn't do anything. I just couldn't…”

“It's fine to grieve, Killian. I still grieve, for Liam and his future, for our future. Revenge after this much time though? And revenge on them? No one could get to the Goblins’ realm; that was the purpose of locking them there, so they could not get out. The princess does not deserve to be a pawn in your scheme - ”

“You’re only a pawn if you don’t know you’re being used," Killian hissed at her. Elsa's eyes widened as he smiled maliciously."And you - you will never know how it feels to be so powerful and yet so helpless. Liam died almost instantly, and do you know how I know? Because I killed him. Milah took years to die, years I could have saved her, years where she was alive. I'd have gone to hell and back knowing she was waiting. Instead I was imprisoned there like some sick form of insurance for the royal family for centuries. You still have a school girl crush on the ghost of the man who didn't marry you after, what, eight months?”

Elsa didn't say anything, opening her mouth but not making noise as her eyes filled with anger. He realized his overstep too late, Elsa's head shaking in what looked like shame or pity. Pushing past him, he caught her wrist.

“Elsa, I'm sorry, I didn't think before I spoke and the Dar-”

“The Darkness is not you, Killian Jones. You have drilled that into our minds, and we… It wasn't only you who lost someone. We lost our parents, our brother, your parents, Uncle Nemo… Olaf was just a child, a child who had no idea what was happening. I lost a brother too, you know. We even lost you! I forgave you for what happened to Liam. I forgave you because you said it wasn't you, begged me to understand that you would never. Do you know how much I wanted you to be wrong? You were in love with Milah for longer, and she was alive longer. I understand that. But I still know he meant it when he said he loved me. I still love him and miss him every day. When I'm ready, I'll move on, but…” Elsa took a heavy breath that shook, “Reminders like this set me back, and I haven't found anyone remotely as wonderful as him.”

“I -”

They were startled when they heard Ingrid and Anna leaving Emma’s room, each heading to their own chambers as Elsa climbed the stairs.

“That was the end of our conversation. Good night, Dark One, if that is truly what still remains.”

Elsa entered her room, her door closing with a click, ignoring Killian as he whispered curses to himself. The whispers almost sounded like a conversation, two voices overlapping, hatred in each one. In a shifting mass of black he was gone, the hallway empty and quiet except for the ticking of a clock.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Emma let herself slide down her own door, ashamed of her eavesdropping, ashamed of too many things she could not control. Angry at the events of the day, angry at whatever it was - Dark One or man - that toyed with them like a bored housecat. And if it wasn't his presence, it was hers causing distress.

How was she supposed to save her kingdom, her parents, everything she cared about, when her presence only brought chaos?

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Elsa struggled to sleep after she fought with Killian, deciding instead to get a head start on the day's baking. She was often the earliest up of the three, starting her days on only a few hours of sleep.

She was surprised to hear a soft singing voice in the bakery and the sounds of a working kitchen. Poking her head inside, Elsa watched with awe as Emma baked with masterful efficiency and flitted around cutting shapes or pulling pans out to replace another.

The door squeaked slightly, Elsa and Emma meeting eyes.

"Um… Hi, and good morning - " Emma yawned.

Elsa pointed around before talking again. "You actually did all this?"

"I - Yes. I couldn't sleep, and my tutors always drilled into me that if I was going to do something, I should do it well and learn it fast. Moving around, keeping busy, it's all I know. It keeps my worst thoughts at bay, and I think clearer. I've also had several cups of your coffee, which is wonderful by the way. This isn't much different than my calisthenics or arithmetic after learning your measurements. I did experiment a bit with some of the recipes, adding ingredients while using the alchemical method of like things in small batches. I made an amazing tea cake of honey, some of the mint from the tea I recommended, rose, and lavender, if you'd like to try it, oh and - "

"You're… You're actually smart."

Emma hesitated, nervous and uneasy around Elsa. “Well. In some ways, yes. I'm well educated about my realm and its many subjects. Here, I'm nothing but some hapless - ”

“Emma.” Elsa pinched the bridge of her nose, then shook her head as she scooped up Emma's hands in her own pale palms. “The Killian I knew would never have called you spoiled or hapless. I shouldn't have called you spoiled or hapless. I'm sorry, and I beg your forgiveness. The things I said were terrible and out of anger, but Killian… The thing inside of him, controlling him, it's not what was - is - underneath. It's scared of you.”

Scoffing, Emma laughed, trying to pull away. “Oh, don't tease -”

“If there is still the man I knew under what he has become, he is lucky to have someone as clever as you in his care.”

"Thank you?"

"No, enough of that. I was a… I was awful to you and I don't need thanks for telling you what's true. We're family, and disagreements happen. I want to throw Anna three times a day, it's just what we do."

"Yes, it's wonderful to watch. I grew up very alone. That's why…" Emma trailed off, biting her lip.

"Tell me. You aren't alone now, alright?"

"That's why I… um. That's why I spoke to Liam's portrait. He kept me company."

"Ah."

Silence filled the bakery for a long stretching moment, Elsa looking down at her hands.

"I suppose, if there ever was a person to haunt people, it would not only be a Jones man, but Liam specifically. He couldn't go two feet without questioning someone's choices, or chasing them down to force them to be better. He expected perfection without sacrificing humanity and goodness. You'd hear his praises of 'good form' all over their ships, with Killian repeating it." Elsa looked lost in thought, smiling wistfully.

"To the ladies of the court it was a joke, they'd yell it down on the beaches at each other while wrapping a kerchief around their eyes, and we'd all echo it back for them to find. The Brothers Jones of Blackwater found it funny. Or Liam did at least. Killian may have been a bit sore, I suppose, but Liam joined us to play, which made it funnier. I always hoped Liam would find me; that was my secret fantasy.” She sighed, closing her eyes as if to savor the memory, then laughed lightly. “He never did. Always ended up with someone else, and I resigned myself. I was always shy outside of our kingdom, and kept to the gaggle of girls I grew up with.

"Killian struck up conversation with us first, because Ingrid helped tend to his mother before she passed, and our father and the Lord of Blackwater traded before the Lord abandoned his station to avoid war. Anna and Killian got along well, and then Anna, Milah, and Killian, and I all became friends. Liam always stood awkwardly and stared at me, just clammed up, and I was nice to him but he fled from me as if I offended him by my presence." Emma laughed with her, surprised to hear she had been shy, but more surprised by the cadence of her voice talking about Liam.

Rolling her eyes and using her hands, she continued. "Killian went on and on about his brother's love of debate, politics, theatre, the sciences… most of all, their mutual love of the sea and their keep. All things I adored, and what drew me to Liam at our primary sessions in the courts."

"Primary sessions?" Asking quietly, Emma looked at Elsa with confusion.

"Oh yes, we all, as in all the Fae nobility, used to take primary sessions of basic courtly education in the summers so the Lords could meet. It wasn't as segregated then, at least for the children and women. The ladies of the court had no roles in most things outside of the household, so they made good with those who lived nearby, were well titled, or were especially interesting."

Emma wrinkled her nose. "Oh."

Elsa straightened, explaining with precision. "It was before the population decline and finding the fundamentals of time and dimensional energies, creation of the pocket realms was just an idea back then. That changed so much, and truly allowed many more women to rule, lessening disputes about purity of lineage. Ironically, the best contributions to the Fae are exactly what sparked the war."

"Yes, I just... I never knew that world."

"I did. It was wonderful, while it was. It just took so much…" Elsa trailed off, until Emma touched her elbow gently, bring her back to the present with a question.

"You said Liam loved debates?"

"Oh, yes - Killian told me all these things and he just idolized his brother, who hated me. Would be around anyone else but me. So, I iced him out, and iced them all out in the process. By the time they realized something was wrong, Killian and Milah were done with their poor job of hiding their relationship from everyone, and I guess they realized that Liam was an absolute ass around me. It seems to be a Jones men trait.

"So one day, Liam stomps over to me as I sewed in our courtyard, and hands me a pair of gloves. Beautiful, soft suede leather, dyed blue. Periwinkle. My favorite. He grumbled something about meeting all of them back at the beach. So I met him and a few others, wearing the gloves, and we played a round of that silly game. Liam found me right away, and stayed by me the entire night. I was beyond confused and thought it was a joke, or a lost bet they put him up to."

"He kept asking if I was cold, because I was crossing my arms, and I finally yelled at him: 'The cold doesn't bother me, anyway!' It was time to end whatever this thing was. Liam sputtered out something akin to “You bloody Ice Queen!”, which had my sister, Killian, and Milah angry, and eventually the lumbering fool came to find me crying at the docks.

"He refused to leave, and told me that I'd trounced him soundly as a school girl, and he was terrified of me because he thought I was lovely and brilliant. He would have chosen me during that good form game, but could only see skirts and fingertips, and was unable to find mine before being mobbed. He liked the subjects I liked, and begged for tutoring in them on top of his rigorous Naval training. Killian had guessed, and hatched a plan with Anna, and then Milah, to push us together - but Liam had blundered every task horribly out of nerves.

"We admitted our feelings that night after pining for years. Only a few months later, whispers of war started. He bought a ring immediately, and told me it was insurance so he'd always make it back to me, jokingly begging me to wait for him to get back before running off with another suitor. It became a jest in his letters to me, and we'd count the days in our signatures. ‘Waited 32 days for your return. Waited 56 days for your return. Waited 110 days for your return.’

"Then it happened. The war hit a fever pitch with the Goblins capture of Fae women at a courtier function. Anna and I were there when the attack happened, but Milah was taken, our world was plunged into chaos, the Darkness destroyed the navy in one swoop. Suddenly, everyone was dying; we were fleeing, and my family was separated, but Ingrid refused to let us stop running until we were safe. We were never safe, so we never stopped. We didn't find out everyone's fate until we realized that there were no Fae besides us in most places. We returned home, but the changes were… There was nothing salvageable that wasn't subsequently destroyed by the shifting realms. So we took the gold we had, settled down here in Nemo’s summer home, and finally mourned. Put up pictures when we were able. Drew and painted what we needed to remember. Grew things. Learned how this new world works.

"Liam never returned, and we only heard of Killian’s betrayal after he visited us and told us of his imprisonment."

"How could he visit you? He had nothing there, and that cell was enchanted -"

"He was never able to truly leave that cell, but occasionally could make a portal big enough for us to speak through. Almost like a magic mirror. He was broken by losing Liam, desperate for news of Milah, and angrier than we'd ever seen him. Manic even. Lost and torn apart by that thing possessing him. Killian finally told me what he had done after he learned of Milah’s marriage, screamed his part in Liam's death at me because I couldn't help free his stolen love. We didn't speak again until years later, hundreds of years to him."

"Slowly, we grieved together again. The Darkness has so much control, but when he fights it, or it quiets, you can tell. There is a man still in there, a good man. The Killian I know, my only living brother, he is in there. Learn to read him, Emma. It may serve your cleverness yet."

"Elsa, I - "

"Save it, especially if it is any sort of apology. I… I'm tired." She wiped tears from her eyes, smudging trails of them off of her face. "I just… did you make pie today? I really need some pie. Or chocolate cake."

"Or? That is not the Elsa spirit I heard about! And!"

"And? Emma, what are you - "

"Pie and cake."

"Oh. Oh, Emma. I did mention you were terribly clever, did I not?" Elsa giggled, and Emma allowed herself a rarely held sly smile.

"If you'd like to mention it again, I'm certain it will not hurt."

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The Palace, Great Hall

Nil sat at the head of a long table with his father, Goblins on either side of them like some bastardized version of a royal feast. Carcasses of animals and Anisapi alike graced the long oak boards, with food ladled sloppily as the horde ate their fill. Various Fae struggled in their leg shackles to haul trays of potatoes and broken gnawed bones, their bodies aching for rest.

The large doors opened with a splintery creak, an axe that had been lodged in the jamb clattering to the stone floor. Pann stood in the dim shadow that was cast, straightening himself and gathering his nerve.

"Come forward, Pann." Nil gestured toward him, grinning. "Don't be scared now, or shy. Come, come! We're feasting." He gestured to the various meats laid out, Pann's blood going cold as he looked at what once was a female Satyr, now picked clean to just past the ribcage. Large wings and haunches rested on other platters, Goblins chewing and slurping loudly.

"I find I have no appetite, M'lord, but instead bring grand news." Pann smiled his reedy grin, the Goblin King waving a hand with a grunt at him.

"Whatever you want, my son. Just get the dagger piece; I'm tired of having to try to parlay with the dwarves. Their tribal names are as stupid as they are." He took a large swig of wine, splashing some on the Fae woman behind him. Pann shifted uncomfortably at the thought of either of them being with a woman, let alone a wife.

"What is this good news then? Have you found my betrothed?" Nil asked excitedly. When Pann nodded, the prince practically bounced in his chair. "Finally, I'd begun to think I’d never own her -"

"We have set a trap for them, baiting the Dark One with a contact I now control. Tink Rebel, a siren from near the Blackwater. She played her part beautifully."

"I don't care, tell me specifically how you'll catch my wife, how does she fit into your plans!" Nil raged, slamming aside glasses. His eyes bulged, a vein in his forehead visible even under scales. Pann took a calming breath.

"Not only will I capture her and the shard, M'lord," The Goblin King's eyes slid to look at the satyr, while Nil let his fingernails dig into the table in a long gash, but Pann continued faster, "I will give her to you completely docile and under your control."

Nil laughed, staring at Pann incredulously. "Impossible. You cannot tame that dragon bitch. I am glad you joined us, are you sure you’re not hungry?" Clapping his hands, Nil smiled a dangerous smirk as a great swath of Fae struggled to carry out a platter, still sizzling with crackling fat. Pann swallowed down his revulsion as the once great body of the King of the Anisapi lay before him, the great forest boar Heston reduced to being served with a watermelon in his maw instead of an apple.

"I swear it, I swear I can get her to break. I have a hiding place, a place I keep my… Human, Fae, and Anisapi menagerie. A discotheque club in the old realm. I make a potion that keeps them young and compliant, even the Fae. I have hundreds of them in my fairy circle, and they don't even know - "

Nil's eyes lit up. "You're luring them to Never-Wonder Land? Even I know of its debauchery."

"You and I know. The Dark One has no idea; he's missed every secret deal and smuggling scam while under lock and key. And the Princess? She is so sheltered I know she'll fall." Pann flashed a smile and after a moment, Nil and the Goblin King returned their own relaxed grins. "Your queen will drink some Ambrosia pollen and Nostras water, then listen to and obey every command you ask of her, like your own personal pet, in no time."

Nil gave a cry of glee, laughing as he ripped off a chunk of meat with his fork, happily tearing at it with his sharp teeth.

The Goblin King raised his glass, and lazily licked his lips with his viper tongue. "Begone now, Anisapi."

Pann practically ran from the room, his own magic wavering for a moment before his portal appeared. He landed in Greece, adjusting his glamor to fit his human disguise, leisure suit zipped halfway up as he stalked inside his club. No music was on in the warehouse space, but bodies writhed to invisible songs while his golden nectar flowed freely.

Yes, this was his home, and with luck he would escape the Fae political world all together with Nil as his ally. Now, it all rested on Princess Emma, the Dark One, and if they could survive Never-Wonder Land.

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astrodances · 5 years

Link

First Night (Should’ve)

Huey is right - Donald is rich in love.

Look at that though, three stories in and I'm already writing mini-arcs for my one-shot collection. That's a new personal record. XD There's one more chapter to come for this arc. Want a tiny hint about it? I've already posted the chapter name in the table of contents. ;)

Even though these chapters all stand on their own, I kinda picture this chapter as what Donald's thinking about when he's standing by the pool before Scrooge comes to talk to him in the last chapter. So many first nights. Next chapter will have a...similar theme.

See ya then!

Donald should’ve been happy, he really should have.

Sure, he’d been fired just under a week ago for blowing up company property (so he left the engine running on the tugboat—he was new on the job!), and he’d spent the past week bouncing between motels and José and Panchito’s couch while barely having enough to buy food, and his sister had been lost to the cosmic grasp of the stars right before all that.

But his yet-to-be-born nephews were safe, and he’d fixed up the tugboat enough to deem it habitable for the four of them as he continued to work on it. (The fact that his ex-employer had let him keep it, wreck or no wreck, still astounded him.)

It was the most triumphant Donald had been in a while.

But it fell on an empty soul.

Instead of celebrating their first night in their new home, Donald sat dejected at the edge of the booth in the dining area, his sailor cap within elbow’s reach on the table next to him. The moon peered through the window over his shoulder at the carriage in front of him, lighting up the three eggs that were never meant to be his, not like this. Outside, each knock of the waves against the hull hushed his thoughts to no avail.

He should’ve been happy. The boys would have a house to grow up in now.

But it should’ve been a home.

Loneliness had certainly made a home in Donald’s heart, and it seemed his old friend had moved onto the houseboat with them. He hunched forward towards the carriage, pushing it back and forth in time with the waves and the silence as his mind struggled to stay awake. Stay in the light.

Houseboat or not, Donald knew this was all wrong.

He should’ve been in the mansion right now, with Della and Unc- Scrooge flanking him as they all gaped at the three little bundles of joy that would be greeting them any day now.

He should’ve been getting ready to be a true uncle, not a de facto father figure.

He should’ve been supporting his sister as she got ready to begin the greatest adventure of her life.

He should’ve...he should’ve...

An ugly sob tore its way from Donald’s beak as he fell towards the carriage, his forehead resting against his arms on its edge. With sparse furnishings, the houseboat reverberated with his cries.

Should’ve was for a perfect world, and if there was anything he’d learned in life, it was that perfect wasn’t meant for him.

Perhaps this was what he was meant for—missing his sister and uncle in a foreign boat while planning how to go about raising three orphans for the next eighteen years.

No family, just misfortune.

He wasn’t cut out for this. Donald loved his nephews, and perhaps this was his purpose now, but he was going to fail. He had no clue what he was doing. He was going to fail the boys, and Scrooge, and Della, and–

Bap!

Something tapped Donald’s head, making him pop up in alert mode. Sniffling back his tears, he jerked his neck back and forth before his eyes finally landed on the intruder to his lonely night—a tiny duckling staring wide-eyed up at him, a piece of eggshell capping his noggin.

Holy duck, they’re hatching!

The thought halted all of Donald’s senses as the little one in front of him waved a yellow wing further and further forward until it made contact with Donald’s arm on the carriage. He watched the wing with fascination. This was real. They were here.

Well, one of them was.

Shaking out of the void of his mind, Donald looked to the other two eggs. A tiny fist had punched through the side of the middle one, but the far one remained undisturbed.

As he kept an eye on them (the middle one was really tearing through his shell), his attention shifted back to the hatched triplet. He carefully lifted the remnant of shell from his head and dared to brush his fingers across the tuft of feathers sticking up. They were fuzzy and soft, and if love had texture, this would be it.

Donald’s heart melted as the duckling reached for his wrist, and he lowered his hand slowly. The most the newborn could do was pat his wrist, but doing so made him giggle. Donald was ready to leave his hand there all night just to hear that sound.

As the firstborn continued to play with his limb, he used his other hand to pick bits of egg away from the second duckling, who had finally broken out of his shell and was looking every which way he could at the world around him.

Donald envied him; everything held equal fascination and potential to his new eyes. No hurt or fear, just a fresh curiosity for the start of his own adventure.

Just like Della.

The sudden reminder that this was supposed to be Della’s moment, that these were Della’s kids, brought a fresh wave of tears to Donald’s eyes, and his hand faltered. He wanted to be happy for the boys—he was happy—but he’d never missed her more than he did right then.

He stroked the feathers on the middle duckling’s head, unsure if he was trying to reassure him or himself.

Tonight it began.

Once the third triplet hatched, the adventure of a lifetime would begin for all four of them.

It left Donald in a strange limbo, being aware of this milestone. It reminded him of counting down to the turn of the century, those last ten seconds before the 1900s were gone altogether and the 2000s began, whether he was ready for them or not. A reminder to savor these moments, because his life was about to permanently change.

He decided to focus on keeping the first two ducklings entertained since the third was taking his sweet, steady time, and wondering about what this night should’ve been like was wearing down his nerves.

By the time the third duckling opened his sleepy eyes to the world over forty minutes later, the moon had wandered out of view from the window. Donald had fetched three baby blankets from a box, and now that all three boys were here, he set to work on swaddling each one with a nimble touch. With each blanket, the boys got their names: Huey, Dewey, and Louie. Just like Della had always planned.

Being wrapped up seemed to calm the ducklings' energy, so Donald sat back down and, with some juggling, came to hold all three of them in his arms, taking care to support their tiny frames. They looked so cute when tired, so much so that he couldn't resist nuzzling them closer and thinking, if just for a split second, Wow, I'm the luckiest duck in the world.

Because maybe his sister was lost in space. Maybe he didn't have his uncle's mansion to call home anymore, or Scrooge to have by his side through this new chapter in their lives, or even just a steady job to put bread on the table. Maybe the future, for all intents and purposes, was bleak.

But despite all the heartbreak, Donald still had love. The three tiny miracles in front of him were proof of that.

And that was all he needed to keep going.

#DuckTales #DuckTales 2017 #Donald Duck #Huey Dewey and Louie #my fanfics #angst #hurt/comfort #anyway baby Huey stole my heart in this

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nutsandlightningbolts · 5 years

Note

☎ for hima and ritchie!

PUT ☎ IN MY ASK FOR YOUR MUSES INFO IN MY MUSES PHONE

Name: Himashi (Princess of the (Galaxy? Universe? Cosmos? Consult for Confirmation))Ringtone: The Moon Theme (Duck Tales NES)Picture:

Last Text Received: Hey Clemont! What does :3 mean?? People keep sending me messages that have this in there and I’m not sure if it’s a code of some kind?Last Text Sent: Oh, that’s a sort of cat emoji that is associated with cute-tier characters in various forms of animation. It’s been adopted and co-opted into various other forms of emoji meanings as well.

—

Name: Ritchie Jayne (Friend/Victorious Challenger)Ringtone: Route 4 (Pokemon Red/Blue)Picture:

Last Text Received: I’d love it if you could send that recipe for that electric type pokemon chow blend you sent with us before we left the gym! Sparky can’t get enough of it and he seems even more energetic than usual when it’s in his diet!Last Text Sent: (attachment text file) Here you go! Just make sure you let it sit in open air for at least 10 minutes before you package it, otherwise it might be a big soggy from the steam that comes off it when you cook it if you contain it immediately after baking.

#}Non RP #}Memetic Mutation #I hope you don't mind that I used your icons for these XD #They work well for cell profile pics too :P #himacchu

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wakandasoldier · 6 years

Text

Waters of Chaos [Chapter 1 / ?]

[ Read The Prologue ]

Pairing: Horus!Killmonger x Reader

Warning(s): Explicit Language, Mild Violence, Sexual Reference and Suggestive Themes.

Word Count: 4.4k+

A/N: I have been waiting for this moment for a long time and it has finally come! I hope you enjoy this series to come! x. T

Your name: submit What is this?

Chapter One

Present Day | Cincinnati Zoo, Ohio

“Need one of these?”

Your bleary eyes blinked slowly at the foam cup thrust in front of you, the gears in your head churning until they clicked into place once you inhaled the steam that told you it was coffee. Gently taking the offering from the younger girl who didn’t seem fazed by your lack of response, you sipped from the scalding liquid to immediately wake yourself up. The girl was appalled as your eyes welled with tears.

“It helps me focus,” you managed through the pain.

The zookeeper staff room was filled with people much like you; tired and wishing the park manager standing in front of everyone would stop talking so they could check their schedules. It wasn’t long before you all were released from debriefing and you shuffled behind the girl who offered you coffee towards the bulletin board. As people trickled away to go care for the animals, you scanned for the paper marked with ‘Africa’ and found your name with “no special requirements” typed beside it, which induced a quiet huff before you headed out to just another day on the job.

You always chose to traverse the empty paths that would be filled with guests in a few hours’ time, taking that elongated moment to let the setting sink into your mind with a slight smile on your lips. The zoo was never more alive than it was at dawn as the creatures awoke to spread their symphony; birds chirping and screeching, the elephants trumpeting distantly, wolves and painted dogs howling, and the monkeys hooting and hollering. You also enjoyed the beauty of the sky over your head as the sun painted a tapestry of lavender and pink that melted into a deepening orange that all dispersed into the tell-tale pale blue.

The sky was always orange when you stepped out of the small building that you nicknamed the ‘House of Lions’, the scent of raw meat and blood clinging to your uniform from feeding the lazy beasts, but you had become immune after doing it for five years. The next task you had, after relocating the lions into a smaller part of the exhibit, was to clean the main enclosure and that smell was far worse than meat.

You ran your aching tongue over your teeth as you walked to retrieve a wheelbarrow and shovel, wincing at the pain that blossomed from doing so and cursing to yourself, before stopping in your tracks when you realized you had seen something in your peripheral vision. With a slightly furrowed brow, you turned to only lay eyes on an empty bench that was nothing out of the ordinary and you figured it was the early morning light playing tricks on you.

The more you kept going the more your skin crawled with the notion that someone was watching you, but every time you glanced back there was nobody but yourself in the vicinity. It was terrifying and strange and frustrating all at once, yet you couldn’t allow yourself to believe that maybe it was something of the paranormal trailing after you which would explain a lot, but this felt real in a way you couldn’t reason.

Quickening your steps, you repeated the mantra that you would be safe inside your head and zeroed in on the door concealed among a display that conjoined with the Giraffe Exhibit. That was safety and the brush of hot air on your back forced you into a sprint as you snatched up your key card and shoved it into the reader, your heart racing in your chest as the lock flashed green for you to open the door, and you yanked it open far enough for you to slip inside and slam it closed.

You were gasping for breath and hunched over your knees, attempting to regain composure now that you weren’t in the open and within the safety of a tool shed. Now that you were unreachable from whatever you felt out there, you stood up with a sigh of relief and pivoted to head down the hall to only see a figure blocking your view and with a yelp that was silenced by an arm shooting forward to clamp a warm-calloused hand over your mouth, you met the impossibly golden eyes that burned into your own.

When you came to, you took a moment to clear the blurriness from your gaze and blink slowly up at the ceiling before what had happened came rushing back like floodwaters after a snow melt. You ignored the muddy feeling between your ears and shot upright, clinging to the leather of your couch as if it would anchor you amid the panic that made the blood in your veins turn to ice. You were in your house, which is definitely not the zoo--where you were supposed to be--and you moved to get up only to freeze at the sound of heavy footfalls descending the stairs.

You took too long thinking about what you should do and when you reacted, your kidnapper ducked out of the way of the book you swung at his head.

“Hey! What the fuck!?” He barked out. He raised his hands up and slightly cowered in case you tried to whack him again, but for the most part you attempted to kill him with your eyes since he was too muscular and probably too practiced for you to overcome with a hardcover.

“Who the fuck are you?!” you snapped.

He took a step back and carefully lowered his hands to his sides, his gold eyes gleaming with caution, but the corner of his lips curled up into a smug smirk. “I’m Hor--,” he hesitated for a fraction of a second and smoothly recovered, “Erik. I’m Erik and yes, I kidnapped you from the zoo.”

“Erik,” you echoed tentatively.

Erik nodded slowly and relaxed further, his broad shoulders losing tension beneath the fabric of his red long-sleeve, and you lowered the copy of the ‘Book of the Dead’ in your hands. The breathtaking gaze of your kidnapper flickered to the book and he snorted, “Nice choice of weapon.”

You looked at the cover and found why he was amused by it, but you were slightly astounded that this had found its way off the bookshelf in your office seeing as it was a keepsake passed down from the women in your family. Understanding this was the least of your worries at the moment, you looked at Erik who hadn’t moved from his place in the slightest and raised a brow.

“What kind of kidnapper takes someone to their own house?”

Erik shrugged, “You fainted the first time you saw me and I didn’t want you to freak out again, which obviously didn’t work too well, so here we are.”

“Huh,” you retorted, “so you knew where I lived and decided talking to me inside my house would be a lot better than at the zoo… I-I don’t even know what to think, like I don’t know you! How the hell do you know where I live?! How did you even get in here?!”

Erik’s gaze flashed with frustration and his jaw flexed as he grit his teeth, sending a spike of fear up your spine before you closed your eyes and inhaled deeply. You exhaled slowly and murmured, “I’m dreaming. It’s a really vivid dream but I’m asleep and none of this is real.” You kept repeating the words under your breath to ease your racing heart.

Then, a pair of warm hands gently grasped your arms and your eyelids shot open to find Erik in a dangerously close proximity with his nearly glowing gaze boring into yours. The dreads of his dark hair having fallen over his brow but you were completely captured by the heat radiating off his chiseled form and the sheer beauty of the gold that swirled around his pupils like a sandstorm illuminated by the sun.

He took the chance of your enraptured state and whispered, “With the power within me, I send this maiden foretold by the stars into a slumber that will erase her memory of my presence and any of what happened between us in the waking world.” Your eyelids drooped and he added, “May Nephthys guide you, Y/N.”

You could only muster a soft whimper as your body failed to keep you awake. You fought the urge to give in for as long as you could and Erik caught you when your eyes no longer obeyed your struggle to keep them open, your consciousness quickly slipping away into the unknown as you sagged in his grasp.

The world around you faded eventually from black to muted colors that bled into a landscape you found magnificent; one you could touch, smell, and likely taste. You were in a savanna of tall grasses, the dark earth cold beneath your bare toes and the soft breeze gliding over your skin to rustle the undergrowth and the nearby acacia trees’ leaves, so when you breathed in, the fresh scent of the wilderness filled your lungs and ignited a foreign feeling of comfort in your soul.

Everything seemed endless, including the expanse of the inky sky above that appeared as if there was almost every star in the universe collected in the constellations you now gazed at. The sharp curve of the crescent moon shimmered the largest you’ve seen it and if you dared, you may be even to reach up and touch it.

“This is amazing,” you marveled, stepping forward to finally approach the tall acacia tree to your left and press your hand to its trunk. The rough bark dug into your palm, almost vibrating beneath your touch, but you sprang away when a husky voice split the ambient night.

“Quite the place you dreamed up here.”

A dark-skinned man wearing a simple red long-sleeve with black dress pants and matching oxfords weaved through the grasses with his hands in his pockets. He was one of the most attractive men you’ve ever seen, his build toned with muscle with the outline of hundreds of bumps tracing over his torso and shoulders beneath his shirt, and a dazzling smile spread from his full lips when he caught you gawking.

“Enjoying the view?” The handsome stranger chuckled and paused a few feet away, his glowing eyes not just gleaming with their brilliant color, but mirth as well.

A squeak was all you could manage and you ducked your head in embarrassment, clearing your throat and managing to say, “I just--I wasn’t really expecting..? Uh.. How do I say it?” You traced your right ear in nervousness as you formulated your jumbled thoughts. “I wasn’t expecting everything to be so real? Even--Even you are like an actual person in my dream. This is--It’s so strange.”

You gazed around at your beautiful surroundings, clutching your hand close to your neck and feeling your rapid pulse, still in awe at how aware you were of this being a dream. Your dream stranger drew closer, taking slow steps and pulling his hands from his pockets, and as you allowed yourself to take a seat in the dirt, you recognized the extreme caution in his movements and his over-attentiveness towards his own body language.

The soft vibrations of the acacia tree coming from it before were now absorbed through your spine and ignited that comforting warmth in your veins, the bark biting through the fabric of your white t-shirt. You stayed quiet as your stranger appeared to hesitate, a grimace crossing his face as fast as it appeared, before he sank down next to you into the dirt.

“Y’know, I don’t normally do this,” he said, staring out across the moonlit savanna with his thin brows furrowed.

You cocked your head. “Do what?”

“Take time away from much more important things to visit a mortal woman.”

You didn’t know if you should be flattered or offended. You now understood why he was so aware of his actions when he first showed up and with the undertone of arrogance in his words, he had begun to rub you the wrong way as well as pique your curiosity.

“So, what does that make you?” He looked at you, seeming confused by your words, but you couldn’t dare tear your eyes away from him even with the intensity of golden gaze. “If I’m a mortal,” you rephrased, “then what are you?”

The stranger turned away and his black hair--that had been styled into dreadlocks--fell over his brow, which forced him to flick the strands out of his face with a simple toss of his head. You noted how he was thinking too much on his answer and you couldn’t bring yourself to reach out and touch him, as much as your being yearned to be nearer so you stayed still in anticipation.

After the silence seemed to reach its two-minute mark, he finally answered, “Immortal.”

You scoffed.

“What? Like a god?” Your sarcasm laced your words.

The “immortal” remained deadpan. “Yeah, like a god.”

You wouldn’t believe him one bit. “Alright, then show me your godly powers.”

“Fine,” he said. He rose to his feet with ease and brushed the earth off his pants, walking a few yards away before tilting his head up to the sky, slightly splaying his palms out in front of him.

Nothing was happening as you sat and watched him just stand there, until a strange heat began to build in the air around you. A blistering breeze then brushed against your cheeks, carrying the whispers of a foreign and ancient language, before it grew more intense as a wind gathered and began to swirl around you and seemingly leave the stranger undisturbed. The whispers had turned into voices that echoed phrases as the whirlwind now whipped at your basic clothing and stung your skin. You were forced to shield your face as you braced against the earth, trying to catch a glimpse of the figure who was enveloped in the harsh layers of the sudden sandstorm. You squeezed your eyes shut as the tornado that carried the chanting overwhelmed your senses and became too much to bear, you anticipated the moment you would be ripped into the air and torn to pieces by the biting sands, but it never came.

Everything stopped all at once.

Your ragged breaths were the only thing piercing the gaping silence and you cracked your eyes open, blinking away the sand that clung to your lashes, and wiping the grit off your lips. When you looked to where the stranger had been standing, you gasped when you saw something else.

A god now stood in his place.

The tall, gold double-bladed pike in his hand was giving off a dazzling ruby light from a massive gemstone emblazoned to the base of each spear-head. His exposed upper body was laced in rows of tribal scars, appearing as bumps that covered his nearly glowing brown skin, before stopping below his navel. Golden bracers detailed with gems of every color and the head of a falcon clung to his forearms, a Usekh collar of gold and turquoise beads extended around his neck and the base of his shoulders, a white wrapped-linen skirt fashioned his toned thighs, a triple crown of gold designed to be the gaping beak of a falcon with glaring ruby eyes framed his smirking face and bearded jaw with the outline of jagged feathers, and with the man who you had spoken with dripping in gold and Egyptian garb, he looked nothing less of divine.

“Do you believe me now?” He called out to you.

You could only nod as you drank in the sight of him. Convincing yourself to stand up, you approached him in sheer wonder using your feet sluggishly to cross the distance. His mouth was curled into a smug smile when you halted just out of reach and asked, “Who--Who are you?”

“I am Horus,” his chin lifted in pride, “son of Osiris, Beholder of the All-Seeing Eye, Protector of Egypt, and the God of War,” he listed, his husky voice taking on the assurance of power as he peered at you. He then added, “There’s a few more but I’ll save you the time.”

You cracked a smile and marveled at how you read and learned about the Egyptian Gods throughout your life, but you never thought to be standing and talking with one in your dreams. Horus radiated a natural warmth that just begged to draw you in and encapsulate you in promises of safety and escape, a quality that came with being immortal, apparently. You tried to focus on the fact he had to summon a massive sandstorm to put on fancy clothing in a feeble attempt to resist the allure of his form, which could be deemed a little dramatic when you thought on it.

“Was it necessary to have all the sand and weird voices?”

Horus shrugged. “I was just feelin’ it.” He retracted his hand from the illuminating pike and folded his arms over his scarred chest, gesturing at your disheveled self. “Do you not like sand getting everywhere?”

You glanced at the pike that was just hovering in the air and brushed at your encrusted arms. “I don’t, in fact, like sand getting in every crevice of my body. Especially in places it isn’t supposed to,” you retorted.

His golden eyes flickered down and you gaped at the god, “I wasn’t talking about that! I meant my mouth, you imbecile.”

Horus’s brows shot up and he chuckled, “Already insulting a god? I could have your eyes gouged for that.”

A chill ran up your spine at the realization he had the power to do anything to you if you wronged him and you muttered an apology, knowing he wouldn’t actually do harm to you. The fear remained, though.

“Don’t worry, you have yet to feel my wrath,” Horus reassured darkly, before picking up his pike and moving past you to where you both had once been sitting. His movements weren’t stiff anymore and he seemed more sure of himself, something apparently only gold and jewels can do to a god.

“You trying to reassure me is terrifying,” you said, trailing after him. “When is the last time you talked to a… mortal?”

Horus tread beyond the acacia tree and kept walking across the night-lit earth, his pike haloing him in a red glow and leaving you in near darkness. You picked up your pace just as he replied, “There’s a first for everybody.”

Surprise splayed over your face, but only the reflection of yourself in his helmet was there to see. With a slight smile pulling at your lips, you impishly remarked, “So, I took your mortal virginity.”

The scarred muscles in his back visibly pulled taut and he waved his free-hand dismissively, his tone of voice being betrayed by his own body language, “If you wanna call it that, then sure.”

You chewed on the inside of your lip to refrain from grinning and shoved down the laughter that left your chest tight, but you didn’t make a peep. The air was instead filled with the collective noises of you both trekking on an unseen path, the chatter of crickets, and the rustle of the long grasses in the stifling breeze. Horus was not one to talk to just make conversation, you concluded after a few failed attempts of trying to speak with the Egyptian God, and so you dropped further back and ran your fingertips over the tops of the brush.

Something glittered in your periphery and you halted, sweeping the landscape to find where you had seen it. Once you were about to give up, a flash of silver came from a pair of boulders that jutted from the black dirt and you glanced at Horus’s ever-distancing form then back toward the rocks-- you reasoned that you could only experience this situation once in your life, so you ventured off the invisible trail and to whatever awaited.

Just as you were close enough to touch the stone, a gust of sweltering heat blasted you from your left and a golden gleam sliced before your face; halting you in your tracks. A wave of panic washed over you to only recede back once Horus’s glaring eyes were met by your own startled ones.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” he snarled, bringing the blade of his pike closer to your throat.

You swallowed thickly and stared at the weapon that threatened your life, simply unable to find the courage to speak as every muscle in your body was tense in terror. Horus did a double-take at what he was doing and swung the pike away from you before plunging it into the shadowed ground with a flick of his arm, exhaling loudly in vexation as the anger drained from his expression.

“You can’t just--,” he sighed and spoke gentler, “Look, this place is dangerous for someone like you and I’m your best shot for keepin’ you safe, so unless you have a death wish, I suggest you stick with me--the god, okay?”

“Y-You were about to kill me, though!” you stammered, clutching yourself.

Horus pulled a face. “I had to get you to stop.”

“By almost cutting open my throat?” Your voice began to rise, “I think I’d prefer it if-if Osiris--” You were cut off by his finger being pressed against your lips and his gold eyes narrowing.

“You can’t just throw around the names of the Gods,” he hissed, obviously you saying the name of his father having struck a chord.

You grabbed his hand and pushed it away from your face, the craving in the back of your mind igniting again at the exchange and it left your skin tingling after you were no longer in contact with him. You searched his expression, but Horus displayed no sign he had experienced the same and your emotions simmered down when he remained quiet, the tension in the air thinning.

“Sorry,” you retorted, “I’m not exactly from around wherever this is and somebody hasn’t bothered to hop off their high horse and explain anything.”

Horus’s fingers curled around the shaft of his pike and his gaze drifted away from you, his nostrils flaring as he huffed and gave in to the meaning behind your accusation. “Alright, I’ll start talking if you stay beside me this time,” he bargained.

“And no more waving around your deadly stick.”

Horus tugged the weapon out of the dirt and dropped it, but before it hit the ground the whole thing vanished into sand which simultaneously amazed you and also reminded you of how much actually still clung to your clothing and skin. You were satisfied the god complied to your demands, for the most part, and you said, “Looks like we have a deal, Horus.”

He nodded and you started on the way back to the path he had been blazing, managing to hear him say, “Mortals are insulting.”

You never looked behind you to witness how he swept over the boulders with his gaze, his hand extending to disappear inside the rock and retract to unveil a silver fang that shone in his palm, and with a glance back at where you were working your way through the grass, he created it into a thin necklace.

Sand fell out of his clenched fist and his fingers unfurled to have a delicate gold chain fashioned to the tooth; he looped it around the exposed part of his wrist and caught up to where you waited for the god.

The trek was much more enjoyable this time around and Horus kept true to his word, his answers were direct and mostly confusing at times, but you gained a decent amount of knowledge of the world around you and the Egyptian gods themselves. And history books don’t compare to the truth.

You were walking in the Kingdoms of the Gods, specifically the outer wilderness of the True Heliopolis that was home to Amun-Ra and Horus, and the god said the city made even the most beautiful thing from the mortal world look ugly.

Horus even told of his own story; how he was the child of Osiris and Isis, but Isis had gone missing after his birth and Osiris was killed by his uncle Seth so he was raised by Amun-Ra. He fought against Seth for centuries, acquiring the ceremonial and battle scars lacing his brown skin, and it all stopped when Amun-Ra seized the fighting to lay down the Laws of Power. Horus now only wasted his immortal life hunting, drinking, and seducing the women who devoted their souls in his service to repay the deeds that left their hearts heavier than the Feather of Justice.

You could sense the hunger and anger inside of the god who fought for millennium against the killer of his parents to only be restrained by the King of the Gods as he spoke, but what confused you the most was how you ended up here with Horus. He claimed he had no idea, but you knew he was lying straight to your face. Horus knew everything; every possibility, every path, every action that had and would take place in all of creation. To frankly not know why you now stood beside him was not a mystery, but a secret he knew and that spoke more than the concealed truth could.

Your journey ended atop the edge of a cliff face that overlooked the Desert of Dreams, the sun just rising from the sands as morning arrived in the heavens, and Horus’s golden eyes rested on you instead of the view.

You turned to him and smiled warmly, extending your hand out between you for him to catch on and grasp your fingers firmly, the warmth of his dark skin seeping into your body and heating your veins as you briefly shook hands. You both retracted and stared out at the magnificent desert.

“Thank you, Horus,” you said. “I will never forget how you tried to kill me.”

The god could only watch as you closed your eyes and faded from his sight, your presence erased from the astral plane and leaving a memory in his mind of the apparent kidnapping he had done and also the eventful night he shared with Bastet’s successor, but most of all it left behind a peculiar tingling feeling in his hand and an amused grin on his face.

Horus knew everything, that was true, but he did not know everything when it came to the fiery mortal who he did--for the most part--almost kill.

Tags: @pleasecallmecaptain, @sighodinson, @kingcarterprince, @anakin-skywalkers, @steampunkprincess147, @irenelove83, @carioquisse, @doodlemcfly, @somethingwickedthiswaylives, @marvelavengings, @desertrose-saku, @hisaeanzu, @xxdarkdarlingxx, @honestly-how-do-you-art, @aaron-is-a-pan, @royalpersianprince, @jacelynenursalim, @radrouda, @niluith-moonlady, @somethingwitty-somethingsweet, @sinnamonpeaches, @selmasemlan, @rkoleff, @staygoldsquatchling02, @thorodinsvn, @theavengers-trash, @here-for-your-bullshit, @fandamad, @hells-princess, and @lets-imagine-marvel.

#erik killmonger #n'jadaka #erik killmonger x reader #erik killmonger x reader fic #erik killmonger x reader fanfic #eric killmonger x reader fanfiction #erik killmonger imagine #erik killmonger imagines #erik killmonger fic #erik killmonger fanfic #erik killmonger fanfiction #erik killmonger au #waters of chaos series

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xinea · 7 years

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I’ve been thinkin’ a lot abt a Princess Tutu AU for BNHA.

Deku is the Prince, right? Cuz’ one, he’s always jumping into dumb situations as the risk to his own body. Everyone loves him by default, he is kind and protective of helpless things. This, even though his heart gets taken and scattered throughout the town, causing him to have no emotions to speak of. Dancing is the only escape before he even knows he wants to escape - his way of proving to the world that he’s more than the set of rules the Powers That Be set for him. When he slowly does regain his heart, his curiosity and drive begin to shine through. Also his name is not his name, but was given to him by none other than a little boy named -

Katsuki! Who is by all appearances a total jERKOFF, and lets be real, it’s not just appearances. Many people see him as a terrible friend to the precious and “vulnerable” Deku (who can take care of himself, tyvm, he’s just missin a few screws in the self-preservation dept, but he’ll get there) - really Katsuki’s just super pushy and grumpy and overprotective (and a little handsy...) But once someone calls him out on his insecurities and he gets his ass handed to him, he figures out how to pull his head out of his as, to trust people, and see those he once looked down on as equals. In particular, a young girl named -

Ochako!!! Wakes up at dancing school one day, sure she’s a real girl, with like, backstory, but who knows. At first it seems like she’s not really there for herself, but eventually comes into her own as both a dancer and human girl. She saves Deku from falling to his doom within a few hours of meeting him for the first time, beginning her mission to restore his heart. She’s ridiculously optimistic and just wants to help, she’s maybe not the best of her peers, but her passion and desire to succeed shines through. In PT, the princess is secretly a duck, to go along w the “ugly duckling”, but I rather see her as secretly a rabbit. She strikes me as quite moon-themed (to Katsuki’s sun, not sure if that’s a purposeful foil), and there’s that whole story of the rabbit and the man on the moon, so both clever and kind to go with common association of the rabbit in most fables and fairy tales. Anyway she admires Deku, and is scared of- but not afraid to stand up to - Katsuki

So that leaves Shouto for the role of Rue, the student body’s top dancer. Instead of the duck/swan vs raven dynamic, maybe a rabbit vs. tiger thing? So yeah, child of tigers, why not. And by god he is skilled. And pretty af. And popular. So it makes sense that he and Deku are together, and make the most beautiful couple in town, right? Oh, if only it weren’t for that shitstain excuse for a father constantly pushing his selfish desires on his kid and forcing Shouto to interfere with restoring Deku’s heart. Because surely, once the heart is restored, Deku will see how scarred Shouto is and leave him forever... btw if you think Shouto isn’t wearing a tutu like Rue’s bc he’s a dude u got another think comin bub he rocks that tutu and that lipstick and that eyeliner on and off the stage like whoa

#kacchako #ochadeku #tododeku #bnha #princess tutu #i mean katsudeku isnt end-game if ur sticking with the pt anime #but those who've seen it know how heavily implied it is....#fic/art ideas/prompt #au ideas #sometimes i meta

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moonshroooms · 7 years

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Unusual Asks

Yep, I’m in that mode again. Time to answer questions about myself that literally no one asked for :D

If someone finds this in the deep ocean blue and wants to answer the same questions, I found them here

Spotify, SoundCloud, or Pandora?

Pandora, I guess? But I don’t really use any of them. I only tried Pandora for a time because it told you what genre the music is, and that was how I learned I listened to completely random and unrelated songs

is your room messy or clean?

Yes.

It’s messy, but it’s only dirty clothes really? So the second we do a major Laundry Sweep it suddenly becomes clean.

what color are your eyes?

Brown baby come an get dat chocolatttte

do you like your name? why?

Yes, because it’s tomboyish. When I was younger for some reason I really liked my friend’s name Emily, and wished that was my name instead. As I got older I liked my name more and more. I also love the 30 bajillion nicknames my name comes with. And I love my nickname Moon simply because from that nickname are 30 bajillion more nicknames.

what is your relationship status?

Single and deathly afraid of romance probs

describe your personality in 3 words or less

0-100 spaz

what color hair do you have?

Black hair :3

what kind of car do you drive? color?

It’s a sentra because they get good gas mileage and I’m cheap and it’s a darkish red, cause it’s the only color they had

where do you shop?

Food Banks

how would you describe your style?

Don’t Notice Me Anyone I’m Just a Background Character

favorite social media account

I hate social media when I know people, so tumblr, because screaming into a void where I’m not known is fun. It’s like having an imaginary argument in your shower

what size bed do you have?

Twin

any siblings?

Three of them! Two half-sisters, and a half-brother, all older :3

if you can live anywhere in the world where would it be? why?

With my friends

favorite snapchat filter?

Pfffft I’m an antisocial dweeb and never bothered with snapchat because my phone is old and I rarely take pictures of myself or share pictures of anything else I capture

favorite makeup brand(s)

I don’t wear makeup, so none VwV

how many times a week do you shower?

Once a week if I haven’t done anything that makes me gross. Maybe 3 times a week if I went jogging and got all sweaty

favorite tv show?

Steven Universe, Last Airbender, Amazing World of Gumball, Star vs.

shoe size?

6 ½

how tall are you?

5”2

… and ½

sandals or sneakers?

w a t e r s h o e s

do you go to the gym?

No, I hate the gym. The air in there gives me a headache, everyone’s staring at you doing everything wrong, there’s people in general, and I just no. I like to work out either in the privacy of my room or out in nature (aka I started jogging at my library park and I’m very proud of myself hopefully I keep this up).

describe your dream date

A date that treats me nice and we have a good time

how much money do you have in your wallet at the moment?

13 bucks

what color socks are you wearing?

My skin

how many pillows do you sleep with?

Uhhhh. 2 for my head, 2 to hug, a beanie-filled duck thing, and also my cats old blanket. So like. 4 pillows if you wanna get technical, 6 if let’s be honest the duck and blanket act as pillows

do you have a job? what do you do?

I do. I clean trays and do numerous odd jobs for an oral surgeon’s office. It’s literally a part time job the employees often have their teens do. But it’s something for now

how many friends do you have?

7. The seventh one I just made recently, and it’s still sort of iffy if we’ll actively be friends. We’ve known each other for years, and she’s called me her friend before, but we’ve never like. Hung out, or talked literally ever. But I’ve always thought she seemed like a cool person and someone I wanted to be friends with, and sometime last month or so (she was staying on our couch due to family complications) I outright told her “Hey, you seem like a cool person, and I’d love to be better friends with you J” and by some miracle that WORKED. She called me a nerd for that and we’ve saw Wonder Woman with our moms. I lent her a book from the library (The Goose Girl by Shannon Hale, wonderful book, literally the first in my favorite book series!), and she’s really loving it so far! We’re gonna hang out Sunday, so hopefully we click well and I truly will have successfully made my first friend where I was the one who approached!

whats the worst thing you have ever done?

One time when I was younger I had a fight with my mom. Recalling correctly, I was upset that she ‘loved God more than me’ and during that fight she ‘let go’ and said that I was more important to her. Immediately afterwards I made her take it back, and apologized profusely, and never said anything about her feeling God was more important ever again. And she forgave me, because that’s the kind of person she is, but I still feel like shit for it, and I’m so sorry I ever made her say that, whether she meant it or not. I feel so guilty about it even today. She told me that night that she let go so she could grab onto me and save me from drowning, and that even if she had let go, God would have never let her go, and he would save the both of us. I still wish I could make it so I’d never said that.

whats your favorite candle scent?

MMmmm, I dunno. Do they have cherry blossom? Cause that one

3 favorite boy names

Devon (Deh-von), Aiden (Ay-den), and uhhhh? Naruto. (Nar-oo-toe)

3 favorite girl names

Astrid (totally from Phantom Hourglass), Anaise (yes that’s from the Amazing World of Gumball I fell in love the second I heard it), aaaaaand ermmmmmm. Buzz Lightyear

favorite actor?

Will Smith? Morgan Freeman? Yeah, let’s go with them

favorite actress?

Will Smith? Morgan Freeman? Yeah, let’s go with them

who is your celebrity crush?

Me™

favorite movie?

Bambi, Jumanji, Jurassic Park, Pirates of the Carribean

do you read a lot? whats your favorite book?

I do, I do!! I love Forest Born from Shannon Hale’s Books of Bayern! It’s the 4th and last book in her series, and I love it so much! I recommend it for everyone! Adventure, fantasy, a little bit of romance, fun, and honest-to-god you feel like you’re in an old folk tale the whole time. It’s all a beautiful series.

money or brains?

Brains

do you have a nickname? what is it?

Moon, Moo, Moonmoon, Moonie

how many times have you been to the hospital?

A lot for reasons

top 10 favorite songs

Fireflies by Owl City

Last Unicorn by America (yes, from the movie the Last Unicorn)

Tabi no Tochuu by Kiyoura, Natsumi (aka the Spice and Wolf Season 1 Theme)

Something Entire New from Steven Universe

Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing by Set It Off

I Ship It by Not Literally (An ‘I Don’t Care’ parody, it’s hilarious and I love it, please go listen to it)

Blue Lips by Regina Spektor

Miss Jackson by Panic! At the Disco

E.T. by Katy Perry (I’m not even sure why I like this one so much, but I dooooo)

Girl with One Eye by Florence and the Machine

do you take any medications daily?

I do, antidepressants, which I started maybe 1 or 2 months ago after people suggesting I take medication for years

what is your skin type? (oily, dry, etc)

Perfect™

No but I guess it’s fine? I live in a dry area, but my skin isn’t dried out at all, even before I put lotion on constantly. The crown of my forehead/my nose get a bit oily, but splashing my face every morning basically takes care of that. I feel kind of bad for saying I don’t really have any skin problems

what is your biggest fear?

My loved ones hating me, dying, or being hurt from my own inept, or me being unable to help them

how many kids do you want?

Two. One boy, one girl (or if one wants to change/be whatever gender later in life I really don’t care). One that’s mine genetically, one I’ve adopted. Before I would have preferred giving birth to a boy since Devon was always my favorite boy name (and my only favorite name period), but with my sister being pregnant recently I’ve randomly thought about girl names as well so now I’m chill with having a boy or girl first so I can name them either Devon or Anaise/Astrid. God forbid I have twins that are both boys/girls since A) twins run in my family, and B) I’m having only two kids period so if I got twin boys/girls then that’s it I’m done that’s the end for me

whats your go to hair style?

Two French braids that stay in my head for the whole week

what type of house do you live in? (big, small, etc)

It’s an apartment, so small

who is your role model?

My old cat Princess

what was the last compliment you received?

I legit don’t remember, but probably my mom telling me I’m gorgeous. Thanks mom, love you!

what was the last text you sent?

Me sending my group chat this

how old were you when you found out santa wasn’t real?

You think I put a date on that ish?? I dunno, I think I was still in my old house, so anywhere from 6-8 maybe?

what is your dream car?

A car that has no pollution/carbon footprint, runs on sunlight and electricity, and is reliable, also it doubles as a stray cat home that doesn’t kill them if I turn it on

opinion on smoking?

My entire older family (aunts, uncles, cousins, older brother/sister), smoked. My aunt is a cancer survivor and STILL smokes. My brother and sisters father died from lung cancer. My mother’s parents died from lung cancer. My father smokes (yet expects to live to 100???). My mother is probably the only person in her immediate family that was completely disgusted by smoking. My brother and sister vape now, in their attempt to quit, but my sister would take a hit of our aunts cigarettes every now and then. I hate smoking. It kills. It’s addictive. It’s a waste of your money and brain power. What’s worse is the people (like my sister and aunt), who don’t give a fuck if it will kill you down the road because, according to my sister, “once you reach like, 70, the fun parts over, now you start dying anyways”. Fuck you. What about everyone you’re leaving behind? FUCK you. If you get cancer it’s not just you that’s affected, it’s everyone you love and care about. Your parents, your siblings, your friends, your children. They don’t want to see you die like this, decrepit, and weak. They want to see you healthy, and having fun, and HAPPY. Do they really mean so little to you that you would LITERALLY KILL YOURSELF just because of a 2-minute dopamine rush? I hate people like that. I will never date someone who smokes. That is 100% a deal breaker. I will never, EVER go through what my mother went through with her husband, and what so many others must have gone through.

My opinion on smoking is that it needs to be buried, like all the people it’s already killed.

do you go to college?

I do! I just finished my first semester (just English 101 for my first semester), with flying colors! 940/1000 points!

what is your dream job?

Anything with animals and where I can make a difference in the animal community

would you rather live in rural areas or the suburbs?

Rural areas. I hate the city and people

do you take shampoo and conditioner bottles from hotels?

100% I paid a shit ton of money for this room and you don’t even provide free snacks. I brought my own shampoo/condition but you can bet your ass I’m taking all of theirs

do you have freckles?

Yes? No? Does it count if it’s like, one freckle? It’s not a cluster of freckles, but I have a lot of freckle-spots on the right side of my face, random other parts of my face, and various other parts of my body (and one where like, my dude the sun don’t shine there how’s you get there???)

do you smile for pictures?

Absolutely!

how many pictures do you have on your phone?

Currently? I dunno, 100 or so?

have you ever peed in the woods?

100%

do you still watch cartoons?

Absolutely, they’re way more entertaining than anything else anyways

do you prefer chicken nuggets from Wendy’s or McDonalds?

Wendy’s

Favorite dipping sauce?

Good ol’ ketchup

what do you wear to bed?

Mismatching pajamas, and gorgeous dark blue blue shirt and blue leopard spot Victoria’s Secret pajamas that came with a matching eyemask that my aunt got me for Christmas and they have a cute shirt cut, the pants make me look curvy, I look damn good in them, they’re my favorite color, and most importantly they have POCKETS and it’s literally my favorite pair of pajamas I love them

have you ever won a spelling bee?

No, but I was in a spelling bee! Literally no idea how I got in, I think the best speller of each class was just. Automatically put in? I was naturally good at spelling and randomly got in the spelling bee, was terrified of being on stage, and got my first word wrong because the fuck? How did I get in this?? I’m 9, I’m not studying for this get me off this Awful Stage stop looking at me

what are your hobbies?

Writing, drawing, video games, teasing my cats, roleplaying, and hiking if I was anywhere away from the city

can you draw?

Yes!

do you play an instrument?

Does my voice count?

what was the last concert you saw?

Hilary Duff, when I was like 12. First and only concert I’ve ever seen in my life. Almost the best night of my tiny 12 year old life, but my friend’s mom was a dick and told me to calm down when I was screaming, singing, and cheering, and I spent the rest of the concert sitting in my seat and feeling embarrassed and awkward. Who the fuck tells a 12 year old to calm down when she’s at her first concert with her best friend with their favorite artist in the world??? You’re a fucking dick biscuit, Friend’s Mom.

tea or coffee?

W a t e r

I hate both of those. Though peppermint tea is okay, not that I’d drink it outside of being sick

Starbucks or Dunkin Donuts?

Starbucks, but only for a cinnamon twist pastry thingy

do you want to get married?

I do!

what is your crush’s first and last initial?

I have never had a crush for realsies, only an ‘lol I thought I had a crush but nevermind’

are you going to change your last name when you get married?

If my name sounds good with their last name, yes. If not, sorry honeycakes, I’m keeping my name. They’re more than welcome to change their last name if they so choose.

what color looks best on you?

White, black, red

do you miss anyone right now?

Princess, my old cat

And Fern and Thatcher, my best friends

do you sleep with your door open or closed?

Closed, because I don’t want my kittens to get in. I used to sleep with it open exclusively so my old cat Princess could get in and out

do you believe in ghosts?

Sure

what is your biggest pet peeve?

Self-righteous people

last person you called

My mom’s case manager

favorite ice cream flavor?

Cookie dough without chocolate chips

regular oreos or golden oreos?

ReGuLaR

chocolate or rainbow sprinkles?

NO!!!!!!!!!

what shirt are you wearing?

Black superman shirt I wear for pjs

what is your phone background?

My old cat Princess

are you outgoing or shy?

Shy, unless I’m around people I’m comfortable with. Then I’m shy but a bit more sociable

do you like it when people play with your hair?

Oh god yes. I want to fall asleep if I ever have someone doing my hair and it’s at the Not Ripping Out Your Hair part. God it feels great. Tbh I wouldn’t be surprised if that was a turn on for me

do you like your neighbors?

Hell no they’re all awful

do you wash your face? at night? in the morning?

In the morning. And “wash” is a bit formal, my face-washing is more of a splash-your-face-wake-up-you-lazy-bastard kind of washing. Sometimes I splash it a few times to wake myself up more or take some oil off the oilier parts of my face, but I rarely/never use facewash or anything. It’s just water.

have you ever been high?

Nope

have you ever been drunk?

Nu-uh

last thing you ate?

Some cheap microwave chimichanga

favorite lyrics right now

Why not let me win? – You can’t dodge forever. Even if the pain is more fun together! You know I will just reset and come back newer :) and with every try I’m getting even faster than you are.

summer or winter?

Summer, if I can actually go outside and enjoy it and am not trapped in my black scrubs all day. Winter if I can look out the window and enjoy it

day or night?

Night

dark, milk, or white chocolate?

White chocolate when paired with other things, milk chocolate when by itself

favorite month?

April

what is your zodiac sign

Scorpio!

who was the last person you cried in front of?

My mom

#personal #asks #random questions #questions #ask

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paladinsheadcanons · 7 years

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Sha Lin seems to have this Aladdin fairy tale theme to him. So for fic friday: Sha Lin/Kinessa, where Kinessa is on a mission in Egypt or some stuff, and encouters problems... and an unlikely ally

Bless your kind soul for giving me life with this prompt. - Mod Mal’Damba

Kinessa was a world travelling bounty hunter. She went wherever money was good, and it just so happened someone was paying in the hundred thousands for the assassination of a tyrant ruler in the Delta City of Egypt. She did her research, scouted the place for a few days, before finally getting to the good part - the kill.

The bounty hunter sat up on a sandy roof, sheltered from the blazing sun by a thin canopy of cloth. As she set up her rifle, a cool desert breeze blew by, accompanied by a fleeting feeling of a strange presence. She paused in her work, checking around. No one was anywhere near. She shrugged it off as pre-work nerves, returning to her setup.

She took the time to set up and make sure nothing was going to go wrong half way before she began to lay in wait, peering through her scope and waiting for the exact moment to strike. It was a four hour wait under the sweltering heat before the exact person she was looking for wandered into her line of sight.

She waited a bit more, watching as the king walked into his throne room guarded by four guards. He took a seat, relaxing back into his chair. As far as possible Kinessa didn’t want anyone realising he was dead even though with four guards that close by it was bound to be found out. She waited patiently for him to completely sink into his throne, resting his head back before she pulled the trigger.

The body didn’t so much as jerk when she shot him clean through the head, but the guards noticed anyway. She got straight to packing up her rifle, feeling the strange breeze and presence come by again. With no time to think about it, she packed up her tripod and rifle, pulling her mini teleporter out from her pocket and throwing it to the next building to give her a head start.

Guards all over the city were alerted to her presence. Running on the rooftops was no longer viable for she’d be seen too easily. The streets below however, weren’t quite safe either with guards lurking all over on high alert. As she turned a corner on a roof, she came face to face with a guard she hadn’t realised was there.

“There you are!” The guard snarled, lunging for her. An arrow whizzed between them, burying itself into the chimney. The guard’s attention was drawn to the source as was Kinessa’s both of them laying eyes on a young man dressed in red with a bow. He drew another arrow, shooting the guard. There seemed to be a perpetual breeze about him, his scarf constantly flowing behind.

“This way!” He called to Kinessa. “I know where we can hide!” She had no idea what compelled her to follow - maybe it was the lack of other options. She had nowhere else to run, and he didn’t look like any guard or spy for the king. Running after him, she barely escaped a few shots from the guards on the opposite roof.

The strange archer leapt down from the roofs into an alley, pausing to make sure Kinessa was following him. When she got down into the shaded streets, he took off his scarf and dumped it on her. “Put this on. It won’t make you as recognisable.” From his voice his didn’t sound entirely native, though it seemed like he had some history here in the Delta City from the way he dressed. She pulled the scarf over her head, continuing to follow him as he weaved through the tight alleys, having to duck into buildings occasionally to avoid the guards above.

At some point they got cornered into an alley with guards all around on the roof above. “Good job, genius,” Kinessa hissed. “What are we going to do now? Call a magic carpet?”

The stranger grabbed her hand. “Don’t let go of me or they’ll see you.” He slammed down his free hand on a white crystal embedded into his bracer, flooding Kinessa with a sensation of being blasted with wind. He pulled her along, leaving Kinessa stumped as to why the guards weren’t following and instead staring down into the alley very confused.

He pulled her along until they reached an abandoned barn. Pulling her inside, he shut the door, bathing them both in darkness before he let go of her. The windy feeling disappeared and Kinessa took off the scarf while the stranger lit up a lamp.

“What was that? Why didn’t they follow us?” Kinessa asked, completely stunned.

The stranger took back his scarf and put it back on, flopping down into a pile of hay, immediately relaxing. “What, I just saved your life and not even a thank you? They didn’t follow us because we were invisible. Heat Haze, I like to call it.”

Kinessa nodded blankly, not really understanding any of it. She sat down in the hay next to him. “Sorry. Thank you. I really appreciate you getting me out of there. But why?”

He shrugged. “My way of saying thank you for getting rid of someone very evil. I saw what you were doing. I was right behind you a few times, but you didn’t seem to notice.”

“Oh I noticed. Wind and an eerie presence. I didn’t think much of it though.” She mentally kicked herself for not reacting to such things. If it had been someone out to kill her, she’d have been dead by now. “Thanks again, uh, what’s your name? I don’t think we’ve officially met.”

“Sha Lin, the Desert Wind. And you?” He asked. Now that there was a name to his face, he didn’t seem like such a stranger anymore.

Kinessa smiled. “That’s a nice name. I’m Kinessa. You’re not local, are you?”

Sha Lin shrugged. “I mean, I wasn’t born here, but I spent most of my life in these streets. So I guess you could say I am. You’re definitely not local. Bounty hunter?”

The sharpshooter nodded. Sha Lin rolled over on the hay. “I figure as much. Not a lot of foreigners come here and start shooting people for no reason. That’s a big sum you just cashed in right there.”

Kinessa normally never shared her bounty. She liked having all the money to herself. “I suppose I should share a bit of it with you as a way of saying thanks for saving my ass again. Meet me back here at midnight and I’ll split it with you.”

Sha Lin offered her a smile. “Midnight it is.” He got to his feet, brushing stray strands of hay off his clothes before disappearing out of the back of the barn.

That night Kinessa returned just as the moon reached its peak, hoping to find Sha Lin waiting for her. Instead she found a note left on the pile of hay where he’d been lying earlier. Picking it up, it read:

Thanks for the offer, but I don’t need the money. I just hope you’ll keep getting rid of bad guys regardless of how much they pay for you to switch sides. The world needs more people like you. I’ll be around, and hopefully the wind will one day carry me back to you again.

- The Desert Wind.

Sighing, Kinessa pocketed the note and exited the barn. As she did, she could almost feel a slight breeze brush past. She smiled. Yes, I do hope the wind brings you back eventually.

#paladins #paladins fics #paladins champions of the realm #paladins headcanons #sha lin #kinessa #long distance relationship #Anonymous

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ginnyzero · 4 years

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Completely Harmless Ch. 35

Completely Harmless An SSO SilverGlade Re-imagining Story (Or Fix it Fan Salt fic) By Ginny O.

When Lily and her friends wanted to buy horses and were directed to the Silverglade Manor and its myriad of problems, they didn’t expect to start a revolution. They were just a bunch a stable girls. Completely harmless. Right?

A/N: Things are only canon if I say they’re canon. Pre-Saving the Moorland Stables compliant for the most part. Posted in its entirety on my website. Posted in 2000 to 4000 word bits here. Rated T for Swearing Word Count 177,577

Chapter Thirty-Five Rainbow Week Fun...

It was Day 3 of Rainbow Week and everyone was still excited.

A frantic phone call from Derek didn’t dampen that excitement. He’d had a whole bag of letters break open and blow away on the breeze. And it would be a tremendous help to him if when they were out and about if they saw them that they’d deliver them for him.

They promised to keep their eyes open for them.

They decided to do their own area before heading to Cape West. Though Tony had tsked slightly over them having sherbet and a cookie for breakfast. She made them Swedish pancakes and dished up bowls of fresh fruit and fried them duck eggs. They couldn’t go until they ate it all.

They all hugged her. She was just trying to look after them!

Judy laughed at them all, “waiting until day three to do your own events,” she teased as she passed out the rose charms to them.

They teased her good naturedly right back.

The strains of the Silversong Quartet drifted on the morning breeze as they slowly rode through the rose arch path to the Moon Garden. Water poured out of the urn being held by Aideen forming a joyful waterfall to the pond below.

The tunnel had been finished with bas relief carvings of horses, roses, and the phases of the moon under the paddock. (Above them, the Jorvik Warmblood Sports had their own special dressage event to show off how they were perfect eventing horses.)

Ducks quacked at them and nosed in the reeds of the pond looking for food. Some swam in lazy circles around the waterfall or just rested letting the current push them about. The Folly gardens were a riot of roses and ‘wild’ blooms such as Queen Anne’s lace and Alium mixed with tall and low grasses like the white Pampas Grass and the aptly named purple fountain grass.

In the middle of the second terrace, inside the rose strewn bandstand, the Silversong Quartet played light spring sounding music. They paused to listen for a couple of songs, but none of them favored string music really.

“There’s classical string music and then there’s epic string music,” Regina said as soon as they were out of ear shot.

They all raised an eyebrow.

“You know, the stuff in movies and trailers,” Regina waved her hand.

Some of them rolled their eyes.

They made beaded headbands, and bracelets and earrings at the tent. They had the option of making topaz ones or making rainbow themed selections. Linda had helpfully provided a display of different gay pride flags.

They had to be careful not to lose any beads. There were ducks seeking attention down here too and no one wanted them to get sick. They scrambled after beads before they hit the floor and a poor duck mistook them for food!

After doing the showjumping event in the Riding Arena, they headed into Cape West.

Jasper was in charge of the Treasure Hunt as it started in East Glade. He provided them with the map, reminded them there was a race in the Golden Woods, and gave them their first clue.

He had races around his farm of course that they’d never tried, so of course, they did those first before going to the Golden Woods and trying the race there.

They were delayed by Chaun and his crashing rainbow. He was still muttering about Brogan.

“We’re trying!” Lily said.

The jumps in The Golden Woods were piles of birch tree trunks, thick hedges of smaller low growing shrubs they still didn’t know the names of, and piles of rocks with yellow flowers sprouting in the cracks. Things that if you didn’t know there was a race there that one could mistake for being natural to the forest. Though the forest was well kept without much dried grasses. The ground was covered in grass and flowers.

Which was good, because dried grasses would lead to fires.

Between doing the race and the finding the next clue of the Treasure Hunt. They found a letter swirling about in front of a gated area. They chased it around and caught it. Reading it over, they decided that it was meant for Captain Brus at Cape West. And surely, the treasure hunt would take them that way. The gated area was part of the clue.

The Treasure Hunt ended up taking up most the day. They ended up on top of a hill where the path was lined with scarecrows (and were chased back down by witches that had been terrifying.) The tree at the top had a golden apple hanging from it but they hadn’t been able to get close. They met Bob and Rob who refused to give them the next clue until they were given cookies.

Fortunately, they had some on hand.

The Labyrinth was a maze and they had to be very careful to look down to watch the water level. Rob and Bob had put floating barrel buoys to mark the path, but they didn’t always help.

In Cape West itself, there were several clues. One from Mayor Klaus who lamented missing his wife as she was still a witch in the Cauldron.

Lily wondered out loud if they had been chased down the hill by a coven of witches or one witch who was very clever with illusions.

“Does it matter? It was scary!” Melody shivered.

“Yeah, can we not do that again?” Stacey said.

The Flaming Trio was playing pop rock on the hill of the Lighthouse so their music could reach out over all of Cape West.

The club paused to have lunch at the café, and get some of the layered rainbow jello dessert. They ended up making suncatchers (and crystal earrings and bracelets and a couple of them cheekily made more headbands, because why not?) Linda had also provided a handy gay pride flag selection information board here too. The beads were different than the beads they had at their pavilion. These were faceted crystals rather than smooth round beads.

“All the better to catch the light!”

“Rainbow power!”

Captain Brus didn’t like his letter. He crumpled it up and tossed it into the Golden Bay muttering about it the entire time. They rolled their eyes and moved on.

The clues led them to the Cape West stable, where they were able to get their charm for their bracelet from the Stable Master.

The clues led back east across a fjord and up the hill.

“This is the path of the Light Ride,” Linn said. “It’s a trail ride that we do in the fall during Happy Horse Week.”

Tyra nodded. “It’s where Aideen first touched down on Jorvik as she raced across the island to give it life.”

“And the UFO behind our North Paddock?” Lily asked.

“Um,” Pauline said.

“No idea,” Linn shrugged.

“You can’t have it both ways,” Lily waved her hands. “So, either that is where the UFO crashed and they came out first, or Aideen, what jumped out before it hit the ground?”

They giggled.

They ended up in another cave of the smugglers and met Bob and Rob again.

“I’d ask how you got ahead of us, but we dawdled,” Lily said dryly.

They at least didn’t demand cookies again.

Brogan was jumping around the clover field. They caught up to him and before they could do much, he asked them to gather him clover. They did it, only for him to disappear again.

They went over the pass and the trees changed slightly, there were less birch trees, but they were mixed with beeches and quivering Aspen.

“This is still second growth forest for the most part,” Brittany observed.

“So, what is the Hollow Woods?”

“Third growth, with all the oaks,” Brittany said with a nod.

The clues led them up to the Old King’s Road. In the distance, they could see a castle.

“That looks rather frightening, like an insane asylum,” Grace said with a shudder.

“It’s a medieval gothic style castle,” Brittany argued.

“And it looks like an insane asylum,” Grace insisted.

They found a sign.

“Marchenghast Castle,” Lily read. “I’m going to side with Grace and say that doesn’t sound pleasant.”

“I wonder if that’s where our missing Count or Countess lives,” Jennifer mused as she gathered up the reins more in her hands.

“Yep, that’s the home of the Marchenghast family,” Linn nodded. “They’re the most powerful family in these parts outside of the Silverglades and the Winterwells.”

Stacey had her phone out. “Marchen means folk or fairy tale. It’s german. While ghast is either to meditate or frighten, afflict, or torment, from Old English.”

“Let’s just keep agreeing with Grace then,” Lily said.

“Why is the road blocked off though?”

“Probably an Avalanche and no one has been around to fix it. It can happen in the winter. They end up locking the Golden Hills off because of ice spirits that come down from the mountain.” Tyra shifted in her saddle seat. “Not that I’ve ever seen any of these ice spirits.”

They all looked at her.

“They say there’s an ice witch locked up in Dino Valley,” Tyra lowered her voice. “And if she ever breaks loose, she’ll try to bring eternal winter to Jorvik.”

“Like, Jadis, in Narnia,” Regina said.

“And never Christmas,” Brittany said.

“Anyways, the ice spirits were hers and now they don’t have a mistress, and they can’t do anything except in the winter,” Tyra shrugged.

“Or, it could simply be wolves,” Lily said. “I like the idea its wolves. Though wolves are pretty harmless unless they’re sick.”

“Like us.”

“No. We’re completely harmless. Not pretty harmless.”

“But I want to be pretty!”

The club members good naturedly bickered over what adverb or adjective they wanted to be as they went down the trail and around what looked like another mini avalanche.

The end of the treasure hunt was a huge fire, where they received a sun catcher they could hang in their windows in the inn. And by the time they finished it was late afternoon.

“Chaun’s rainbow has crashed in the Forgotten Fields,” Elsa observed.

“Somebody ought to go help him,” Theresa said.

“Yes, somebody,” Elsa retorted.

“It’s on the way to Jarlaheim,” Linn pointed out.

So with a few good natured sighs, they trotted off to the Forgotten Fields to help Chaun round up rainbow gold.

They were further later because the pass led past the Goldspur Farm and Idun Goldspur, the intimidating farm wife of Angus, mistook them for some of the Singing Swans and insisted they needed to help around the farm and pick flowers in the forest before they delivered sugar and chocolate to Catherine at the Stablebucks Café.

Brogan was jumping around Greendale Forest celebrating crashing the rainbow again. He wanted grapes and fortunately, they had grapes on them or else they would have had to run to the Storm Garden to pick some. He disappeared with a cackle and a pop.

And Catherine, who was raving over lasagna she’d had with her girlfriend one Rainbow Week, needed more strawberries and blueberries from the forest and would they be so kind.

So, the sun was setting by the time they were able to run the two special races at Jorvik Stables, get their charm from Stable Master Johanna, and make wrist bands. But that was fine because the best time to listen to a rock group like the Miscreants was after the sun set and they could hold up their cellphones. There were lights, lasers, and fog machines, and all in all it was a hell of a show.

They bought boxes of donuts to take with them for breakfast the next day. There were five different kinds at least, one was even filled with a rainbow colored Bavarian cream.

It was so late though when it was over, they ended up taking the transports back to the Manor. They hung up their sun catchers in the window giggling about placement.

But they were exhausted and more than willing to fall into bed.

FOR THE ACCOMPANYING IMAGES PLEASE DO NOT REMOVE MY WATERMARK AND CONTACT INFORMATION. THANK YOU. I get it. Some of you might get excited and want to see this stuff in the game, especially the clothes, tack, and pets. However, the only way I want to see this in the game is if I get paid for it. If I see it in the game and I’m not paid for it, there will be hell to pay. You think I’m salty. I’d be angry. Personally, I’m not going to send this info to SSO. If you do, leave my contact information there! Don’t give them any excuses to steal.

Now, I’ll know you haven’t read this note if you leave me comments about how ‘salty’ I am about the game and if I hate it so much I should do something else. I am doing something else. It’s called Mystic Riders MMORPG Project. Mystic Riders however is a very baby phase game. You can check out our plans on the game dev blog. (Skills, Factions, Professions, Crafting, Mini-Games, 25+ horse breeds!) If you know anyone who would be interested and has money or contacts about game making, direct them to the blog.

#star stable #sso #star stable online #fan fic #jorvik reimagined #star stable salt #completely harmless #rainbow week #silverglade reimagined #many nods to ruth westside

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airadam · 5 years

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Episode 125 : The Audacity Of Dope

"In the land of the free, the slaves are still here."

- Jerry Beeks

The grind continues, and as the autumn starts to really draw in, the selection gets you prepared for full hoodie and boot season with some rugged sounds from the old to the new!

A couple of events for you...

The Flyest @ Klondyke Club, Manchester, November 15th - guest starring me on the turntables!

Artifacts ft. DJ Mr.Len @ Joshua Brooks, November 30th

Twitter : @airadam13

Playlist/Notes

Royal Flush : Life Is Hard

Royal Flush is known to most for his debut "Ghetto Millionaire" album, but he definitely has had some other solid tracks over the years. While this is on the 2019 release "The Governor", it was first heard on the 2005 "Street Boss" album. The production (don't have credits for this one) is top-notch, with the eerie and dramatic instrumental sounding very noir - a perfect backdrop for Flush's grim Queens thug braggadocio.

[Maxmillion] Panda One : Elaborate (Touch You) (Instrumental)

There's another track on this 2002 12" that has been the favourite for me for a long time, but on a re-visit this month I had to give this beat a little bit of light! The sample it's based around has been used before, but not quite like this - good job by Maxmillion.

Phi Life Cypher : Earth Rulers

One of my favourite rhyme duos with a killer single! DJ Beware put me up on this one back in the day, but I only recently got my own vinyl copy. Si Phili and Life just firehose lyrics right down the DJ Nappa-produced track, in a way any fan of bars has to appreciate. The finishing touches are provided by the dancehall samples, which I think come from recordings of the veteran Earth Ruler sound system - the little one-bar sample that drops in in place of a hook is absolute fire!

Redlight Boogie ft. DJ Chainsaw : Hands Down

Amsterdam's Redlight Boogie yells, snarls, and spits his way through this cut from the "Dirty Money, Clean Hands" album - abrasive like a sack of Brillo pads. DJ Chainsaw drops in for some cuts at the close, which end up blending over the scratches from...

Gang Starr : Bad Name

Huge new single which the heavy Hip-Hop listeners will surely have had on repeat the last few weeks! Easily the biggest musical surprise of the last few years has been the news that a new Gang Starr album release is imminent, and that there have been unreleased Guru vocals in the vault all these years. The "Family & Loyalty" single stunned everyone, and this follow-up will keep the buzz going until the LP drops. DJ Premier on production, the late great Guru on the mic - it's what we've been missing.

Bronx Slang : More Grief

It's been great to see Bronx Slang getting momentum up this year off the back of their excellent debut album, and it just so happens that this track that I was planning to play anyway turns out to be their new single! Jerry Beeks gets busy on the mic with the kind of consciousness that a lot of people swear doesn't exist in music these days, while Jadell packs in the funk to complete the soulful stew. Don't sleep!

Jay Dee : Jay Dee #17

Big shout to Iain and Teresa for hooking up a release I needed in my collection - "King of the Beats" by J Dilla! Lots of unreleased beats on this one, as well as a few the hardcore listeners might know. This particular beat bounces along with that characteristic Dilla swing, focusing on the low end for a pleasing groove.

Skyzoo & Pete Rock : Ten Days

If you like Pete Rock beats, you want to get the new "Retropolitan" album - 100% Soul Brother #1, with Brooklyn's Skyzoo helming mic proceedings throughout. This isn't the kind of beat that you automatically associate with Rock, but it just goes to show he can be versatile with it. Skyzoo is on that "get money" talk here, with a hook that conjures up this scene from "Paid In Full". As an aside - I totally forgot that the closing track on this album shares the podcast title, which I've wanted to use with the cover photo for a while!

Black Moon : A Haaa

My goodness, what a wait - sixteen years since the "Total Eclipse" album (2006's "Alter the Chemistry" was dope, but essentially a remix project), but at last Black Moon are back in full effect on "Rise of da Moon"! One of the original Timbs and hoodies crews, this episode wouldn't have been right without them. This tune is short but a banger, with a heavy digital bassline anchoring things while Buckshot showcases the flow and flavour that made him famous. Also check that heavy boom that kicks in between the 1 and 2 beats of each bar!

Black Thought ft. Styles P : Making A Murderer

Devastation from last year's "Streams of Thought, Volume 1" EP. More bars than HMP, more bars than Temple Bar. Black Thought is one of the world's best MCs, who needs no hook and offers no reprieve on his fire first verse. It's a brave man who would get on the mic after him, but Styles P takes the challenge and does himself proud - rising to the occasion. 9th Wonder's instrumental beats you into submission in the best way with the heaviness of the drum track, but it's Thought that holds the murder weapon here.

Children of Zeus : Ghost

CoZ maintained their hot streak of great music with "The Winter Tape", and it's just about the season for those tunes to get a re-airing. Tyler Daly takes sole charge of the vocals for this haunting tale of lost love.

Vanilla : Sweet Talk

The title track from the last of the soul-inspired beat tape trilogy by this UK producer is a smooth one. Vanilla works a melancholy 70s soul sample, and the drums are suitably subtle so as not to overpower it.

Professor Griff and the Last Asiatic Disciples : The Verdict

This is the first of two tracks from albums that opened up the nineties, just as we start to look towards a new decade. Professor Griff's solo debut album "Pawns in the Game" came during his initial suspension/expulsion, and found him on unfamiliar ground as he was not a rhyme writer by trade. Still, he delivered the rhymes with conviction (no pun intended) on a song that opens with a take on Louis Farrakhan's short play "The Trial", and the rest of the L.A.D come through too. Beat Master Clay D provides the beat, based on a familiar break that never gets old but packed with other samples in a way that is unaffordable in terms of clearance fees these days...

Master Ace : I Got Ta

When the Juice Crew veteran's name was still spelled this way, the year was 1990, haircuts were angular, and Ace was making his solo debut on the highly regarded "Take A Look Around", from which this track is taken! Mister Cee takes a classic James Brown sample and keeps the Godfather's voice in for Master Ace to work around lyrically as he states his intentions.

Joell Ortiz ft. Jadakiss, Sheek Louch, and Styles P : Put Some Money On It

Second straight tune working a vocal sample into the lyrics - this time, from the 2011 "Free Agent" mixtape with The LOX making a great guest appearance. Straight street bars all the way through, and Sean C and LV with the uptempo soul/funk production for a big win.

Sampa The Great ft. Krown : Time's Up

Massive thanks to Agent J for gifting me this LP! From Zambia via Botswana and Australia comes Sampa, whose new LP "The Return" jumps around stylistically but never lets you forget that this is an MC of quality. She and the featured guest Krown take the machinations of the record industry to task on this one and announce that the clock has run out on their BS. Silentjay's beat starts off centred around those stick hits to remind you of a clock, then brings those lows in to drive it forward. Definitely an album worth a listen!

Boogie Down Productions : Duck Down (Instrumental)

Early 90s ruggedness on this 12" release from the "Sex & Violence" LP. KRS and Pal Joey smack the beat into the drum sampler here, and right at the end you hear the sound effect that plays under one of Hip-Hop's best-remembered calls for a rewind!

Edgar Allen Floe : Arrest The President (Cypher God)

We played the original version of this track to open episode 90, almost three years ago, but I only recently learned that there was a remake! Edgar Allen Floe of the Justus League does a solid job with this, covering similar themes as the original and even borrowing some of the rhyme scheme while switching up the words themselves. The dope beat is pretty much the exact same as the Marley Marl-produced original, bringing that hectic 80s urgency and just begging to be cut up every time. Check out more of Floe's work on the rest of the album, "The Streetwise LP".

Please remember to support the artists you like! The purpose of putting the podcast out and providing the full tracklist is to try and give some light, so do use the songs on each episode as a starting point to search out more material. If you have Spotify in your country it's a great way to explore, but otherwise there's always Youtube and the like. Seeing your favourite artists live is the best way to put money in their pockets, and buy the vinyl/CDs/downloads of the stuff you like the most!

Check out this episode!

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