#also yes these two are like in the same realm of just enough bullshit magic and horror

[wolf-and-bard]

Drown With Me If You Can

Prompt: White Frost/Apocalypse

Relationships: Arnaghad/Erland of Larvik (from one of the witcher-centric cards)

Rating: M

Content Warnings: swear words, grief, themes of giving up on life and hopelessness at the beginning

Summary: After the fall of Kaer Seren, all that is left for Erland to do in his gloomy cave is write his journal and let the cold take him. He doesn’t expect to be saved, especially not by his former-lover-turned-nemesis Arnaghad. In which: Erland wallows and Arnaghad calls him out on his bullshit. A lot.

Word Count: 5.6k

AO3 link

I.

I close out this account with a warning: the knowledge I hereby hope to preserve is essential for the day the monsters return to our crypts, our battlefields, and our gardens. It is a call to battle and heroism and in that it is treacherous. If you use these pages with the intention to do good in this world, you will soon find yourself to be an outcast among humans. You will save them and they will spit at you. You will beg for fair payment and they will burn you at the stake. Be prepared for that, and take up the sword nonetheless for if you do not, no one will. Peace, brothers and sisters of the future, peace and blessings of the Gods. May you never need this journal.

Erland signs the bottom of the last page with fingers gnarled by the cold, trembling from how his muscles have hardened as a result of his lethargy. When it is done, he grips the quill hard, clings to it. It is a childish instinct that makes him do this, but this feather has been his lifeline for the past… past. A lifeline to the past. Time flakes away from Erland the same way the tattered pieces of the quill do once it breaks under his tightening fingers. The last few pages of his journal are barely legible and he can’t tell whether that is because his vision is fails him, like a pane of glass slowly devoured by a sheen of ice, or because his script has fallen prey to his tremor. As Erland waits for the ink to dry, he uses his weak hand to arrange his good one into the proper gesture for an Igni and casts it down the dark tunnel of his home.

A perfect cone of lightly crackling flames shoots outward, illuminating the glazed rock all around. The sign holds for several breaths, steady and sturdy and its heat singes Erland’s frayed cuffs, has the ceiling drip crystalline melt-off.  Erland smiles grimly to himself and shuts the journal. This time can’t take from him and the ice won’t feast on, this his body will always know how to do. A perfect channelling of what Chaos he may access.

Shaking, Erland crawls over to his makeshift bedroll – a dirt-hardened pellet of furs he collected on his way up here, a long hike with Kaer Seren a steady ruin at his back and the names of his brothers and children a steady weight on his shoulders – and collapses on top of it.

It is done. His lips trace the outlines of these words, but his tongue is too heavy to lift. Erland sneezes into his pillow and draws a ratty quilt over himself. It used to be bursting with reds and oranges, a gift from an old woman for saving her granddaughter from an early death by harpy, but now it is faded and as grimy as the rest of him. Erland cannot distinguish the colours of his belongings any longer, not even in the stale light of the last sparks of the Igni that cling to the cave’s walls.

It is done.

His journal is finished, his life chronicled, his school honoured and his knowledge preserved. All that is left to the former griffin master is to wait for the sparks of his life to die out alongside those of his magic. Erland flops onto his belly and uses his weak hand to arrange the fingers of his good one into the shape of Axii. His wrist creaks when he angles the hand at his own face and he casts it with the same impeccable precision. The spell hits instantly and his body goes slack, his mind punctured through by holes. Erland sleeps and hopes a harsh wind will blow through his abode tonight.

II.

There is a long interval of darkness that is marked by bursts of hot and cold shivers that wreck his body, but Erland doesn’t truly wake and by the time he does, he isn’t sure that they were real at all. He goes through a stage of sleep paralysis in which all he can do is to stare at the coarse ceiling of the cave. It has frozen back over and if there were any light, Erland would see his own face reflected in it. Sunken cheeks, eyes reddened from burst capillaries, undercut grown out into shaggy strings of hair. The griffin tattooed on the side of his skull drowns in them, just like the griffin witchers drowned in dust and snow the day their school was buried in an avalanche.

Erland sighs. He cannot move a muscle for half an eternity. His nose itches and another sneeze finally frees him, releases him into an unsettled slumber that pushes him along the maze of corridors that is his own memory. He retraces every step he took along the Path, faces all the monsters he slaughtered and all the humans he failed to convince that he shouldn’t be slaughtered alongside them.

There is no lesson to be learned from these dreams. Only patience. Erland has long lived with his regrets, knows them as intimately as the beasts whose traits he noted down in his journal. Only patience, yes. In all his striving to be more than a mere mercenary or rat-catcher perhaps his most undervalued and least practiced virtue.

Erland can be patient.

He vaguely remembers one who never was, an old friend, a former lover who faced the world with steel first and foremost, steel accompanied by a detached pragmatism that was so at war with everything Erland believed in. That friend – now less than an enemy – would not have lain here so wallowing in the drawn-out pain of his end days. He would not have waited for his death, he would have summoned it by drawing his slowly rusting blades and cutting himself open, would have watched his hot blood hiss against the ice at the heart of this mountain and would have born a proud curl of his lip until the moment the fire in his own heart extinguished.  

Erland smiles and his jaw creaks.

He takes the high-road.

He…

He sleeps.

He thrashes.

He recites every lesson the knight Gryphon ever taught him. They are the foundation of his life’s work, they are all he has left.

He is patient.

III.

Erland is caught in a sleep paralysis once more when it enters the mountains. The monsters usually haunt him when he’s somewhere in the realm of insanity, but now he is wide awake, body one rigid line under the quilt that has long since lost its ability to keep out the winter, which means the thing could be very real and out for his blood. Its steps boom and quake through the rock for hours before the giant passes into the dead end that is Erland’s makeshift dwelling. Even with no light to illuminate it, Erland can see it glittering, can see its giant head swing left and right, can hear the scrape of its fragile marble skin against the walls.

An ice elemental.

If Erland is extra lucky, this used to be its lair and he accidentally usurped it. There is no moving away, no putting up a fight and he resigns himself to a quick and violent death after all. How graceful of Destiny to show her face now, after everything else has passed her by.

But then the ice elemental shakes off the snow, hundreds of flakes that rain down to cover the floor, and Erland blinks. The outline of the monster softens from harsh crystals to wet strands of fur that hug broad shoulders. A werewolf? Erland can’t draw breath, doesn’t trust his ears when the thing opens its mouth and speaks, a deep baritone. Not nearly raspy enough to be of anything other than human origin.

"Alzur’s rotten balls, Erland is that you?"

Erland wants to laugh. Of all the demons the depths of his consciousness could have summoned to this cursed place, it had to be Arnaghad. Arnaghad with his hulking form and his smooth voice, his tattered bearskin overcoat and his terrible timing. Always terrible. He can’t laugh, of course, can’t do more than wheeze faintly.

A torch flares up, casting eerily long shadows at the feet of the apparition, more real than anything Erland has thought in a long time. At the same time, Erland catches Arnaghad’s eyes – dark ochre with narrow slits, eyes that are set deeply under bushy eyebrows which underline the blocky shape of Arnaghad’s face as though it was whittled from planks of red birch – and Arnaghad starts.

“It is you,” he says and follows that up with a curse Erland can’t discern, courtesy of Arnaghad’s Gemmeran linguistic oddities that persist to this day. With them comes a harsh edge to all his syllables and a tendency to mouth-breathe. Funny how after decades of reciprocal avoidance, Erland still remembers these details. Casting his mind down the drainage canal of history, he also remembers himself: a young fighter, just two decades of age, stuck in a body that was overflowing with emotions of visionary self-determination, of rough-and-fast passion, of compassionate anger. Erland waits for the spark of that anger to rekindle, especially as he watches Arnaghad toss his swords and pack and drop to his knees by Erland’s pellet, the torch held close. It’s heat licks across Erland’s cheeks and cradles his skull.

It remains the only heat.

His anger is but a relic of a more complicated time.

“By all the gods,” Arnaghad breathes, hand passing over Erland’s sweaty forehead. His touch too feels familiar, feels too familiar, but his scent isn’t and neither is the concern that drenches his tone. “You look like a giant lump of bird shit.”

Erland’s nostrils flare. Slowly, ever so slowly, his lips peel back in a snarl. He still can’t move, no matter how much he tries. He wants the ice elemental back, if only for the simplicity of its puny gravel brain. Arnaghad’s may only be a smidge bigger and more substantial, but with that comes so much. Arguments that have been left unburied, thoughts that have been left unspoken, memories that have been left unfinished.

Erland hisses weakly through his teeth and Arnaghad growls in reply. He doesn’t extinguish the torch, he sticks it into the ground somewhere to Erland’s right and sits back on his heels, the growl building and building. Erland drifts off again, waiting for Arnaghad to speak. He hopes that when he wakes, the phantom will be gone.

IV.

If anything, Arnaghad has solidified by the time Erland opens his eyes again. He sits by Erland’s bedside still, even cross-legged tall enough that his head grazes the ceiling of the cave if he straightens. Before him he stokes a small campfire with several crude bursts of Igni.

“That is a waste of precious firewood,” Erland says, voice croaky. He pushes himself up onto his forearms, head sluggish to lift from the scratchy pillows. Arnaghad doesn’t turn around, instead he retrieves an iron pot from his belongings and presses it against the cave’s wall, using his dagger to scrape off the ice there. Practical, first and foremost, that is exactly how Erland remembers his lover of yore. Lover being a euphemism for something Erland still cannot name.

“I’m hungry,” Arnaghad says and fires another sign. Briefly, the cave explodes with heat and Erland just about stifles a vulgar moan. When did he last have the pleasure of warmth this intense and indulgent? The fire slowly seeps into his blankets and furs and nestles against his skin. He sinks back into them and closes his eyes. “Besides,” the bear witcher continues. “You might have died of hypothermia if I hadn’t started it. It’s almost funny, Erland the righteous asshole letting himself freeze to death, where is the glory in that? Alas, I find it hard to believe that you have developed a sense of humour since last we met.”

“Neither have you.”

“Ha,” Arnaghad says and that’s it for a while. Erland listens to the water boil, to Arnaghad hacking at dried vegetables and jerky. It doesn’t even smell bad and despite his self-imposed fast, Erland’s stomach rumbles and the inside of his mouth feels coated in dirt. How long has it been since last he drank? It didn’t matter until Arnaghad stampeded into his life again, shaking him awake.

Erland sneezes.

Maybe not all of him.

“Bless you,” Arnaghad grumbles. “So, how did you end up here, little birdie? Your wings broken?”

“I’m not little and griffins aren’t birds.”

“Smartass.”

Erland snorts. He isn’t about to stoop down to Arnaghad’s level and start bickering and he has no inclination for small-talk. That’s what he tells himself anyway. A part of him is almost… glad for the company. Glad for this company in particular. Fuck that.

“I will allow you to stay the night,” Erland says, and squints to see Arnaghad raise one of his caterpillar eyebrows at him. It isn’t like either of them can tell day from night, and depending on where Arnaghad entered the tunnel system of the Dragon Mountains, the last time he saw sunlight may have been weeks ago. “Fine, I will allow you to have a rest. After, I want you gone.”

“I don’t care what you want. If it hadn’t been for me you would be a corpse right now. Take a peek.”

Erland follows the gesture of Arnaghad’s hand and glances down himself, gingerly lifts the blanket. He is swathed in thick, padded linens, an extra pair of breeches and woollen-knit socks. The bearskin that usually hugs Arnaghad’s shoulders is draped across him and what is more, his lips do not feel chapped any longer. His hair curls around his head in a long, neat braid, like a viper in slumber. Shit, how long was he out for?

“Have you considered that it might have been my explicit wish to die?”

“I have,” Arnaghad says on a low chuckle. “A ridiculous notion. You’re sick, that is all. Sick people lean towards melodrama.”

“I’m not being melodramatic,” Erland replies and, oh, there it is. Frustration breaking through the hard-packed stratum of the years like a flower through the earth in early spring. It’s fast to burst and blossom. He does try and sit up after all, but before the world can start to spin around him, Arnaghad has roughly pushed him back into the sheets.

“You are always melodramatic,” the bear witcher replies and glowers at him, face cast in darkness by his bulky outline. Erland’s eyes narrow.

“One night,” he says. “And then you’re gone.”

“We’ll see about that. The stew is going to have to cook for a bit, and you should go back to sleep. Want me to Axii you?”

“And have you make minced meat out of my brain? No thank you, I can do that myself,” Erland snaps. He’s being petulant, why is he being so petulant? It’s all these rifts tearing open in his chest, all these holes he abandoned when he left the order with his friends to found the griffin school. These holes pull him back to life and reality, pull him back through time and into a persona he thought he buried. Erland is not a child. Erland is the griffin grandmaster, Erland is a knight, Erland is a witcher. It doesn’t matter that these functions are all theory now, they make up his identity. Not Arnaghad and his quarrels. And yet…

Erland turns away, facing the wall. When he makes the gesture for the Axii, he doesn’t even have to use his hand to arrange the fingers. He didn’t want to live. Now he does. And that’s more than he can take after everything he’s lost. More than he deserves, really. Erland puts very little force behind the sign, letting it spill to the tips of his fingers then gently touching them to his own face and thankfully, the world blots out around him.

V.

Arnaghad’s voice pulls him up again, like the detonation of a bomb.

“Wake up, stew’s ready.”

Before Erland is fully awake, a coughing fit grips his body and although it scratches at the back of his throat, it also feels freeing in a way, loosening the plaque on his bones and the dust in his chest.

“So you’re still a victim of your winter sickness,” Arnaghad laughs. “I wondered.”

“What do you know of it?” Erland’s voice is muffled as he wipes his mouth, the words come out spiteful, acidic. This time, he does have the strength to sit up on his bed, but he needs the sturdy stone wall at his back to keep him upright. It’s a cool antithesis to the slight swelter of the cave’s air, a gracious counter-force to the merrily burning fire and the bubbling stew.

“Erland, you have spent twenty odd winters in my embrace, would you not think some of that has stuck with me?”

“In the face of your betrayal, no, I would not,” Erland says, crossing his arms, though admittedly, Arnaghad is right. Erland has always been susceptible to the cold, more so than any of his fellow witchers. Perhaps that is because Skellige, in the shape of his mother, rejected him when he was young, or perhaps it is because of his father whose origin Erland still doesn’t care to investigate. Either way, when the frost’s first tendrils start to wind their way into the atmosphere, he falls ill with sneezes and shakes, fevers too. It must be winter already then.  

“My betrayal, yes,” Arnaghad mutters and retrieves a wooden bowl from his pack into which he shovels some of the stew. It smells prickly and hot, thick with Ofieri spices and has Erland’s mouth water. Now that he is fully himself again, his senses have returned, an assault on his mind. As with any battle he ever fought, Erland decides to be methodical about it. First the food, then the fight. He reaches out for the bowl, but Arnaghad scoffs at his trembling hands. “Don’t think I’ll let your atrophied muscles spill any of this. It’s too damn good, here.” Arnaghad settles into a cross-legged seat before Erland and the fire paints a halo around him. He’s so big that it cowers at his back, which suits Erland fine. This way it is easier to ignore the concentrated, caring expression on the bear witcher’s face as he submerges a wooden spoon, scoops up a chunk of whatever dried meat he put into the stew and gently blows on it before holding it out.

“Why do you care?” Erland asks weakly, lips parting around the spoon. As soon as it hits his tongue – the perfect degree of scolding hot and spicy – he can’t help a small groan. Blunt though Arnaghad may be, his cooking has always been phenomenal. Erland’s stomach mewls for more.

“I always cared.”

“Funny way of showing that.” Erland gives him a pointed look and Arnaghad’s eyes dart along the scar that neatly sections Erland’s face. He has yet to receive even an attempt at apology for it. “Back then you didn’t seem too caring with me. In fact, I acutely remember your sword flaying me.”

“If I’d wanted to kill you, you would have died. But I didn’t want that then and I don’t want it now. I hold to my promises, Erland.”

Accusation is slabbed thickly onto those words and Arnaghad holds out another spoonful of stew which Erland dutifully swallows. It’s not the first time the sickness held him down so hard he had to be fed, but it feels strangely agitating for Arnaghad to be the one to do it. After he left and founded his own school, the only snippets Erland ever heard about the bear witcher were rumours of his death, especially with the vipers splitting off the bear school. Perhaps, Erland liked to believe that Arnaghad was dead because that took away the possibility of whatever was happening now. Perhaps, Erland left the one promise he spent all his life circumventing at Morgraig Castle the day he set out for Kaer Seren. Perhaps, Arnaghad didn’t change at all and neither did Erland.

“Do you even remember?” Arnaghad asks quietly, then allows himself a few gulps of soup before refilling the bowl. He doesn’t meet Erland’s eyes, but Erland can see the faint glow of anguish speckling his cheekbones. Oh, but this is bad. If Arnaghad goes berserk in here, they’ll both be buried in rock and ice and Erland is too awake and vivacious now to want that.

“Remember what?” Erland asks, feigning ignorance as long as that leaves him the proverbial high ground, the only place from which he can match Arnaghad’s sheer height. He accepts another two spoons, then shakes his head. His stomach feels brilliantly full, close to bursting, and he rubs it weakly. Arnaghad puts the bowl to his lips and drinks the rest of the stew. They’ll both want more later, especially with the firewood dwindling, but for now the next field is to be played. It all gets muddled anyway, who is he kidding. Erland sighs and that lets Arnaghad’s gaze snap upwards, latching onto Erland’s. They silently glower at each other for a handful of breaths.

“Of course, you do,” Arnaghad says eventually. “Knowing you, you remember your exact words.”

“I do,” Erland says and the ghost of his own voice flashes through his mind.

My heart lies at the end of a dream, Arnaghad. And as long as that dream remains unfulfilled, I cannot give it to you.

“You lied.”

“I didn’t lie, I never lied,” Erland protests, but Arnaghad shakes his head.

“I don’t understand. You obviously felt something for me, feel something still. Oh, don’t give me that look, I told you I care. I always paid attention to you, you know that.”

Erland does. It pains him to admit it, but he does.

“I didn’t lie,” he repeats, hands balling into fists.

“You threw me scraps of affection when it would have cost you nothing to invite me to your table,” Arnaghad says.

“Do we really have to do this now? I told you I want you gone.”

“I saved your life.”

“UNBIDDEN,” Erland screams and his arm shoots out in an arc. It is only by Arnaghad’s quick reflexes that the Aard doesn’t have him fly into the back wall. Erland heaves, watching Arnaghad’s thick Quen dissolve with a buzzing static, and he doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. After everything, he doesn’t want to hurt Arnaghad, of course he doesn’t.

“Why couldn’t you love me?” Arnaghad says, so fucking stubborn in his resolve to have this conversation. What a stupidly vulnerable question.

Back then, Erland bought in to the delusions he liked to paint for himself in blood and gore. He was destined for more, he was a noble knight, he was to rid the world of evil forevermore. Arnaghad didn’t fit in with that dream. He would try and keep Erland from it because he didn’t understand, had no ambitions for himself. And while that was, and likely still is true, it was never the reason Erland didn’t allow anything more than physical between them. But it was the reason he clung to and dangled before Arnaghad’s eyes over and over. After the night of the sundering… it didn’t matter so much anymore and Erland locked the true reason away in a dark corner of his heart, huddled together with the feelings he held hostage in the hopes they would fade to nothing.

Erland listens to his own heartbeat thump at his temples in a nagging ache and he forfeits his answer. Arnaghad doesn’t deserve forgiveness for what he did to Rhys and Erland and whomever else his sword cleaved, but he deserves the truth.

“You really want to know why?” he asks weakly, cringing inwardly at Arnaghad’s curt nod. Erland continues on a sigh, feeling fragile now that his anger evaporated with the sign he just cast. “I was afraid. I ruined my mother’s life by existing and I couldn’t spare Jagoda the experiments Alzur put us through and I never managed to make the humans see us as anything other than aberrations. I can slay monsters and teach others to do the same, but I can’t save the people I love.”

“That is horseshit, just complete and utter horseshit. Your mother was a right old cunt and nothing could have saved Jagoda. All the girls died, remember? Do you blame yourself for their deaths too?”

“My school,” Erland whispers, blinking rapidly to do away with those questions. “I loved them too and now they all lay buried under rubble. My brothers, my sons, my whole life. I loved them and I couldn’t save them. I’m a curse.”

“…why did you never say anything?” Arnaghad reaches out and his thick fingers brush Erland’s scraggly face. Erland stifles a dry sob. Some truths are better left unspoken and this was definitely one of them. He never dared to utter it to himself, in the quiet safety of his own mind, and now Arnaghad knows it. Arnaghad his ex-lover, used-to-be friend, nemesis for some years, phantom of his past for more, saviour of his life. Arnaghad who does, when it comes down to it, have a claim to his heart.

“Because you would have ridiculed me, as you itch to do now.”

“It is true that I was never good at understanding how other people feel,” Arnaghad says and his thumbs come to rests against Erland’s temples, smoothing out the ache there. He shuffles closer and their knees bump together which sends a jolt through Erland’s weakened frame. “But if you would have told me this, I would have found it impossible to demean you. I care, Erland, why won’t you believe that?”

Because you don’t care about anything other than your own survival.

Because it took five years for you to ever look at me twice and double the time for you to answer my frequent knocks on your door.

Because you attacked our brother and cut me and your eyes were filled with pure hatred.

Because you spent decades on your mountain, pretending like that was the only life you ever knew.

Because…

Because…

Erland grasps for more reasons, grasps for the steely indifference he felt for Arnaghad ever since the day he left Morgraig for Haern Caduch. He stops. No forgiveness, not yet. But perhaps, in the face of his grief and all that he lost, it would do well to cast his gaze into the future. Erland releases his tense muscles and lets go of something. After, his breath comes easier.

“You would have me believe that your care is rooted in love? Even after all this time?” he asks.

“Yes,” Arnaghad replies. So simple, huh?

“So maybe you love me. That doesn’t change the fact that I would have let you down.” Or Arnaghad him. Or maybe they were fated to let each other down.

“Look, birdie. I don’t know what it means to dream big, but I know this, and I know it for certain: you did what you could and because you’re a persistent shit, you did it exceptionally well. There are forces at work in this world one man alone cannot overcome. You did what you could.”

Erland doesn’t know what to say to that. Because that isn’t simple, that is insightful and attentive and not at all Arnaghad’s usual refrain. Maybe he did change and Erland is the only one who stagnated. He feels stupid, all of a sudden. Stupid for holding himself up to such high standards, stupid for being afraid in the face of his own bravery, stupid for ever calling himself honourable.

What man gives up on love because he assumes himself to be cursed? No knight. A coward.

“Could I have stopped you?” Erland asks. “If I had loved you, could I have stopped you from attacking Rhys and from waging your war on the rest of us witchers? Could I have changed the course of history?”

“You’re doing it again,” Arnaghad replies with a sly smile. He shakes his head and leans over his own legs to press a dry and warm kiss to Erland’s lips. In a way, it’s a homecoming. In a different one, it’s completely novel. Erland tilts his head for a second kiss that has his body thrum with wanting more, and Arnaghad allows it, for a bit. It’s another kind of warmth, that of their bodies re-learning one another and before long, Erland finds himself on Arnaghad’s lap, held close in a way he thought he’d never be held again. It isn’t forgiveness. It’s far from forgiveness. But it’s a start.

VI.

“Erland, there is something I have to tell you,” Arnaghad says long after they have spent the pent-up emotions of the last centuries in drawn-out kisses and frantic clashes of their body. They’re both tucked under the quilt and the bearskin, Erland’s beaten body sheltered in Arnaghad’s mountainous embrace. Erland gives a sated mumble, basking in the magic of the moment for just a heartbeat longer. Of course it couldn’t last, contentedness with Arnaghad is always the eye of the storm. “Listen to me,” Arnaghad continues and a sense of urgency replaces whatever fluttery feelings Erland just had. “I didn’t come to the Dragon Mountains to find you nor had I head of Kaer Seren’s fall. I came here for a reprieve from the storm. Have you seen it before you entered?”

“It will pass,” Erland says, unwilling to match Arnaghad’s frantic cadence. His chest is a warm rumble behind Erland, an upset sky. Damn Arnaghad and his terrible timing. “Winter is always brutal in these parts and the storms bite, but they pass.”

“It’s not winter, we are coming up on Belleteyn.”

Belleteyn… that means it’s almost May. Erland blinks stupidly before the implications sink in. Snow storms in May simply don’t happen.

“By the gods,” he breathes, and grips Arnaghad’s hand which is splayed over his own chest. His body tenses up and the cave feels stuffy now. “How long has the storm been going on for?”

“October,” Arnaghad says warily and that is so much worse than Erland expected. A harbinger of conflict Erland can deal with, an old love he can squabble over, but he is not at all equipped to handle an apocalypse. It has to be the end of the world because October is only a month after Erland entered the mountains and straight-out winter for close to eight months can only mean one thing:

“The White Frost.”

Arnaghad nods, cheek rubbing against Erland’s head. A branch in the fire bursts with a mighty crack right then, as though it is afraid too. The prophesised end of the world. Erland always assumed it was a tale to scare children and he doesn’t believe in foresight. There is no other explanation. Arnaghad’s other hand draws Erland closer and his steady mass of muscles help anchor Erland as the emotional storm resumes alongside the one that rages outside.

“I know this is a lot, but we don’t have much time. Is there anywhere we can go? You are weak still and these peaks will not protect us for long.”

“I… yes. There is a gulf that runs deeply under Kaer Seren, it carries heat out of the earth’s core and disperses some leagues out into the ocean. We have dug our cellars deep enough to tap it for the winter months… we might have food stores left too, but… I don’t know that there is a way in any longer and with a snow storm we might die trying.”

“Better to die trying than to die giving up,” Arnaghad says.

“If this truly is the White Frost, is there any chance of survival?” Erland asks closing his eyes. This is not how he wants to go out, not when he still has so much grieving and loving to do. Not when he just discovered that he can.

“I’ve never been through an apocalypse before, I couldn’t tell you. We got this far, though, so we might as well try.”

“Might as well,” Erland sighs, pulling on Arnghad’s fingers to bite the tip of one of them. The other witcher grunts indignantly. “But I’m not spending the rest of eternity stuck in a damp basement with you if you are going to keep wearing that bearskin. My nose may be clogged up with snot, but I can still smell it and it reeks. Did you piss on it?”

“I didn’t, but you might have with all the feverish thrashing and moaning you did.”

“Fuck off,” Erland snaps and they both laugh. It’s a glimpse of a relationship they barely scratched the surface of back then. If they survive now, they could learn its ins and outs yet.

And if Erland is anything, if he’s ever been anything, it is determined. He is determined to give his long life one last purpose. It’s a selfish purpose, lacking chivalry and heroism, but Arnaghad was right. He did what he could and now he can allow himself this, a shot at love in the middle of the apocalypse. Erland’s had more idealistic and futile dreams.

“What a horrible retirement Destiny has chosen for us,” he says.

“This isn’t worse than being dragged away by an ugly mage and suffering his experiments for years and years.”

“Speak for yourself, big bear, speak for yourself.”

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@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo , @littoraly-art

[darkpoisonouslove]

I'm offering you an empty salt shaker - asks 2, 5, 6, 15 (go ahead, I know you have something XD), 16, 20, 25 (about Bloom searching for her parents storyline)

Starting this again because guess who accidentally hit the key combination for undo and lost half an answered ask! This bitch right here.

I answered 2 here.

5. Has fandom ever ruined a pairing for you?*

Not that I can think of. It’s usually the source material that ruins things and fandom is tasked with fixing them later.

6. Has fandom ever made you enjoy a pairing you previously hated?*

I didn’t hate it but Bloom x Icy was incomprehensible to me. Fics helped a lot and so did other posts from here and there and I can see it now. Also, I totally couldn’t see Griffin x Codatorta but that changed, too. Though, that was less fandom and more trashcankitty12 with an ask that made me think about it a little more in-depth so it was pretty much me roping up myself into yet another ship. But ooh, I also don’t think I had considered Palladium x Avalon before fandom but, yes, indeed, it is right there in canon. And I was so puzzled over the Riven x Nabu content I was seeing but after watching seasons 3 and 4, I can totally see where this is coming from. The people are right. That is a bromance right there.

15. Unpopular opinion about the manga/show?

I have no idea what is popular and what isn’t (but you’re right that I have something aka A LOT) so I’ll just list my strong opinionsTM, okay? I will try not to dump on Bloom too much also because it is not a secret that I don’t like her so there is no need for me to go in too much detail.

4kids is the superior dub. That is probably the most controversial opinion I hold. But don’t worry, I’ll try to top it and up the ante. XD

I love Enchantix but it has so many flaws as a concept and even more as an execution and the thing that is really pissing me off is how obviously centered around Bloom’s arc it is. It was clearly created for the advancement of her character and the other girls’ stories came as an afterthought which is why Tecna’s Enchantix was total bullshit. And for having a transformation that is specifically created around Bloom, hers was bullshit as well. I think they should have let her reearn it in order for her to be able to use all of its functions like miniaturizing. Also also, at so many points it totally sounds like Bloom is not upset about the fact that Domino and all of its people were destroyed but about the fact that that means she won’t get her Enchantix. Which btw was a hasty conclusion because at the time Enchantix became a thing, she was still on a mission to find her parents which would have definitely been a way to earn her Enchantix and she had a sign that they were alive. So her angsting over not getting an Enchantix because of what happened on Domino was bad form on the writers’ part.

That spell for good decisions in 1x05 was one of the show’s lowest and most ridiculous moments. It was only included to flaunt in your face how naturally being a leader comes to Bloom because “See? See!!!!!! She can make a good decision without using magic to help her!” So can the majority of the population (note that we are talking about ONE good decision, not an unbreakable sequence of such). She ain’t all that special. Plus, Tecna was written wildly OOC there in order to boost Bloom’s stats so to speak. I’m sorry but Tecna would’ve known that three against four doesn’t give them advantage since they are freshmen and the Trix were seniors at the time. God, that scene was stupid.

Flora is the most boring character in seasons 1-3, fight me about it.

The writers totally had no idea what they were doing with the witches throughout most of season 1 which is why Griffin’s characterization in that season is so inconsistent. Also, wtf was that in 1x06? She straight up tried to kill a bunch of 15-year-old girls. Take a chill pill! I’m glad they figured out a much better balance with her later on.

Not using the fact that Cloud Tower is a living organism more was a fucking wasted opportunity. Especially in season 3 when Valtor took over it. That could have made everything so much better. Also, the witches should have been used more. They were interesting but deserved so much better in terms of development.

Sky should have just fucking died in 2x10. What were these resurrections and Bloom getting healing powers out of nowhere for a total of 5 seconds? You know, that could have been a good setup for a Bloom x Diaspro romance. It would have been so much better if they’d gotten together right after 1x17 and dumped Sky’s sorry ass. Also, Diaspro deserved better.

Riven is the best Specialist but he is especially better than Sky. Remember 1x22 when he was trying to escape CT? He was trapped deep in enemy territory with monsters everywhere and so high above the ground, yet he found his way out. Sky would’ve fucking died out in the open at Magix against one single monster if Bloom hadn’t shown up to rescue him. And the show has the gall to imply that Sky is a better Specialist than Riven is? Please!

The teachers should be fined and sued for emotional and physical damage they haven’t protected their students from. Especially the Alfea teachers who in 1x02 practically admitted that the witches might maim a fairy and they still won’t do shit about it. Nice one!

Griffin and Valtor is canonical subtext and I have nothing more to say about this. It is all there.

Valtor up until 3x18 and Valtor from 3x19 to 3x26 are two different people and the prior is superior in every way. The show ruined him in the last third of the season because there was no other way for Winx to defeat him.

Speaking about Valtor, his whole thing with the Trix is despicable and I hate it so much. It is extremely cringy on their part and extremely underhanded on his and I can’t stand it. Not to mention that it is wildly OOC for the Trix because they are obviously better than that.

I cannot understand saying that Bloom x Valtor is love-hate. I see only hate.

It is ridiculous how easily the Trix beat Griffin in season 6 and how they nearly take control over CT in season 2. And it is also ridiculous that she had to wait for Winx to unspell CT in season 3. She is a teacher, the headmistress of the most prestigious school for witches, a veteran and has been Valtor’s partner (and he himself admitted that together they were unstoppable which means that she has to be pretty powerful and even somewhere close to his level of power). Can the show stop acting like she is defenseless?

The teachers should have been used more. It would’ve been so much better if they were there to at least help Winx if not lead their battles. And it would have made much more sense. Also, how come Ediltrude and Zarathustra literally disappear when it’s convenient and then reappear again (like they did in season 1 when the witches went to Alfea)? That’s just bad writing.

Sky is adopted. He doesn’t resemble Erendor or Samara neither in appearance, nor in character and I hate them enough to headcanon that he was adopted but nobody knows because they don’t want to have claims that he is not an “official” heir of the throne because he isn’t part of the bloodline.

Mike and Vanessa are much more parents to Bloom than Marion and Oritel are, especially when the latter were first released from Obsidian, and the fact that Bloom starts calling them Mike and Vanessa instead of mom and dad after she learns she has other parents is abysmal. Also, they are literally the best parents ever and I love them to death. (I also like Marion and Oritel but Mike and Vanessa are definitely the superior pair of parents if we’re ranking them. I like the idea that the two couples are actually super close and love each other like relatives, in fact.)

What the fuck is up with the magic in this show? There is literally, like, NO FUCKING CONSISTENCY WHATSOEVER! You can’t blink without the rules of it changing in some way. But what am I saying? That would imply that there are any rules which is just not true. Also, there is no clear distinction of how powerful anyone is after season 1. The balance of powers especially between Winx and the Trix is pretty much whatever works for the episode. Same for Winx vs Valtor. The fuckery on that account is unreal. Plus, some of Bloom’s major power explosions happen due to her getting angry. According to the official Wiki - “While practicing or harnessing positive magic, one must keep a compassionate heart, primarily by keeping their thoughts and feelings clear of all negativity, making them capable of attracting positive energy more easily. Thus, if one is plagued with negative thoughts or feelings such as sadness, anger or fear, then their magic will grow   weaker until they may even be left incapable of casting magic until said feelings pass.“ Read that and then read it again, let it sink in. According to the rules of the Winx universe, during some of Bloom’s most powerful moments she was actually using dark magic, not light such because it was fueled by rage. Way to keep it fucking consistent. And that is not just Bloom! FLORA out of all people attacks the Trix in rage in 3x12 when they hurt her sister aka she was also using dark magic at that situation (and then you have Wizgiz scolding Mirta for it in SotLK like it is a sin to use dark magic, smh). In some instances I would argue that it was more of determination to protect rather than anger which I would say would still result in light magic. But The Flora thing, Bloom vs Stormy in 1x09 (Bloom even says she got so angry so that was not a case of protectiveness), Bloom vs Icy in 1x26 and Bloom vs Valtor in 3x14 were definitely rage aka dark magic. And then Bloom is all “fairies don’t have any demons”. Guess again, bitch! Also, writers, you need a dictionary to start comprehending the words you are actually writing?

Now that I think of it, the whole arc in the Resort Realm was bullshit. If it is a magic-free realm, nobody should have any magic in it, period! What is this bullshit that you can use Charmix and Gloomix there because they have higher magical energy? That absolutely doesn’t matter! If there isn’t any magic in the entire realm, having a higher amount of magic in you will not matter because you still can’t use it... because there isn’t any in the realm!!!!!! What the hell! Honestly, the writers can’t comprehend what words mean and that is not the only instance in which it shows.

Someone told me that SotLK is better than Magical Adventure and I don’t mean to offend but that is simply not true. Magical Adventure is leagues above SotLK even if it has some structural problems. Like, literally everything is better. Bloom and Sky are even likable and communicate!!!!!!!! Literally when have you ever seen a better moment for their relationship than in Magical Adventure? If it had been all like that, I would have liked them as a couple.

I think I got everything that comes to mind rn out. Might think of more at some point. I was done and then came back to rage some more because I remembered I had more material.

16. If you could change anything in the show, what would you change?

I would have them make smart decisions because 99% of the shit they pull is so stupid it is unreal. I literally cannot tell how they are still alive. Oh, no wait! Plot armor. Yep, that’s it.

But if I had to pick something specific? Bring Nabu back. I sure as hell wouldn’t have killed him. That was an asshole move and I have no idea what the hell the writers were thinking when they wrote that.

And my second choice is - implement a magical system into the series because there isn’t one. Magic always works the way the writers need it to work to pull off their bullshit plot even if it contradicts everything that we’ve seen before. Please, for the love of god! Consistency is already dead; stop stabbing its corpse!!!!

20. What is the purest ship in the fandom?

Purest ship? Lmao, asking me this question is underhanded. XD If you mean no drama, then Flora and Helia Mike and Vanessa. But I think my actual answer would be Griffin x Faragonda because they have been through so much that we know of or we can deduce and they still stuck together. Sure, they had their ups and downs but it is obviously a love for life that has lasted through so many obstacles and keeps lasting. The reason why I can’t say the same for Mike and Vanessa is because we don’t really know that much about their relationship with each other. But anyway I love both these ships so much.

If you’re talking about a canon ship, though, then Brandon and Stella (I do not recognize the stupid relationship drama in season 4 as canon). He did lie to her about his identity in season 1 but it was for his friendship with Sky (alternatively, for his job and duty as Sky’s squire). I just love how obviously in love Brandon is with Stella and how much Stella doesn’t care about anything but him. She didn’t care that he was a “commoner” and - one of my fave moments - in 1x08 she only cared about his well-being rather than the competition. It was adorable and they are adorable and I love them so much. Pure serotonin, right there!

25. How would you end the Bloom searching for her parents storyline/Would you change the ending?

I would certainly change the logistics of the whole thing because, boy, did it make no sense at all. As for the actual ending, I’d argue that physically finding them is not the end of that storyline and she needs to “find” them emotionally as well which would definitely take more time than SotLK cared to address. Like, she got them out of Obsidian and boom, everything’s fine! She literally doesn’t know them! Those are her parents and she doesn’t know anything about them! Their touch and their voices are unfamiliar to her even and they have missed on so much that they will never be able to get back and you’re saying that everything is fine? Yeah, right.

I would have had her spend a year on Domino with them before season 4. The school year that started in SotLK? She spends that with them. Possibly even the one that starts in Magical Adventure as well. She learns everything she can about them and the family history. She also learns how to be a proper royal because she is the Crown Princess now and she has no idea what the fuck she is doing. I would have made seasons 4 and possibly 5 about that and added more politics in it. Layla and Stella are also princesses who will run their kingdoms one day so we could have had adventures in political relations with Winx Club. They are pretty famous so I am sure there would be rulers of other lands that see them as threats and don’t like them. There could have been tension about that and the whole thing with Domino being the planet of the Dragon Fire could have been addressed. Who would dare oppose them when they are the most powerful force? Are they the most powerful force after the 17 years the planet spent as an ice block? Are there old alliances to be reforged? What is the political climate in the Magic Dimension? All absolutely fascinating questions that would have helped the worldbuilding and made place for Marion and Oritel in Bloom’s life and in the show. We could’ve gone back to the feel of season 1 when they also had other things going on besides the big baddie of the season and it could have been a little more episodical with a loose theme to connect the season and the overarching story of Bloom finding her parents and her place in the world she was born in. That could have been positively epic... And a great way to retain the cast because the Company of Light were allegedly friends so we could have seen Marion and Oritel reconnecting with Griffin, Faragonda, Saladin and Hagen. There could have been resurfacing debates left over from the war. Kingdoms angry at Domino for something that happened back then in order to include flashbacks with the events. AND that would work out with the fact that the Ancestral Witches were still around and could have led to another epic battle that wouldn’t end with the destruction of a whole planet. Like I said, there were amazing possibilities... and they were all wasted.

Well, this was long... and just what I needed. I hope some (civilized) discussion will spark out of that because I am tired of screaming in a void and I want people to talk to me.

[offtopicoverload]

alright, i was on the fence about the oc weekend idea, but fuck it i have a bunch of shit made why not? block “oc weekend” tag if you don’t care cuz same

so have some cleo (and nia) headcanons to kick whatever the fuck this is gonna be off

super long cuz i have a serious problem

So her starting skills were bow, charisma, and wildlife, then woods lore, then blade, medicine, deception, brawling, seduction

She made some money hunting, which is where the bow and animal skills came from

With being an elf, her and Kade were orphaned together in a massacre and taken in by a local farmer

Absolutely got into so much trouble, usually Cleo getting a bad idea and dragging Kade along, but could always talk her way out of it, hence the charisma

MC canonically has relationship experience, right? I think she had a short term partner, maybe some flings with travelers or something, but never really got invested in relationships, just wasn’t her thing

Especially in RIverbend, where everyone knows everyone and it’s awkward if you break up

She’s pretty similar to canon MC, wild and goofy and somewhat reckless

But also really determined and caring and sweet when she needs to be

I adore her if you can’t tell

The first time she saw Nia, totally tongue-tied and a flustered mess, she’s smooth when it’s a joke but incapable of any coherent words when it turns real

She’s pretty awkward, definitely stiff at first, but slowly loosens up as she gets closer to Nia, letting her goofy side show

She for sure pines and gets made fun of for it by Kade, then Mal and Imtura every time she gets flustered 

And Threep likes to rub it in too, occasionally threatening to say something unless he gets snacks he does the same to Nia askjksdf

I’m also in love with the idea of Mal and Imtura playing matchmaker and constantly trying to set them up in situations where they have to be close, and the two of them losing their minds when Cleo and Nia get stuck in that pit

The night at the cabin in the Deadwood was the first moment Cleo realised that there could be something real there, like it just never clicked until Nia was straight up telling her she liked her

From then on things definitely change, and Cleo starts being a lot softer, like at the masquerade and stuff

But the argument in the cabin always sticks out in her mind, she defended Nia’s right to spend her life as she chooses, but she doesn’t necessarily like it

She always tries to find work arounds for Nia using her light, like using her own before Nia can get the chance

She for sure nearly decked the High Priest, just for all his bullshit, and was very happy to get that tracking orb from him to make sure they would be safe she had some plans already

So I don’t accept MC being cool after Nia straight up gets yanked into the Shadow Realm, Cleo absolutely was about to jump in after her until Imtura grabbed her and jerked her back like “what the fuck are you doing”

Cleo was about to snap the entire time they were working their way through the Shadow Realm, definitely wrecked Vonstratz on Nia’s behalf

I also don’t accept the “single tear” line when MC fucking KILLS Nia, Cleo would be bawling her eyes out and refusing to let go of her when she dies

There not being an ily felt kinda weird to me, and cuz Cleo’s a sap, I feel like she’d either say it before stabbing Nia or during the diamond scene where they’re looking out at Whiterun

In the first instance, it’s more for her piece of mind, that Nia knows what her sacrifice means

When Nia comes back, Cleo whispers it a million times into her shoulder as she hugs her, until she sounds like a broken record

For the second one, it’d be a bit spur of the moment, she’d just be looking in Nia’s eyes as the words spill out, but she wouldn’t even care cuz it felt so right

And now I’m going to ignore book 2 and make up my own shit

So immediately after, Cleo and Kade go back to Riverbend to pack up their lives there, Kade in order to stay in Whiterun cuz King Arlan made him a librarian or something, idk but he’s in Whiterun at the royal library and archives

Cleo ends up running a few odd jobs out of Whiterun for a while, helping Mal out quite a bit as Nia ends up with a lot of responsibilities at the temple after the High Priest gets axed

Cleo ends up quite well known as a good adventurer/travel mate by the time Nia ends up quitting the temple

Before they leave on their first trip as just them, Cleo takes her up to that terrace overlooking Whiterun after taking her to the market

They stare out at the city for a while, until the sun’s setting along the horizon

Cleo pulls out a ring from her bag, fiddling with it as she shifts on her feet nervously. She’s wussed out like half a dozen times already, and this is her last chance to do it somewhere so special

Nia figures out something’s up and starts prodding to figure it out, poking her and stuff and laughing the whole time

Cleo’s kind of found out, and turns to her blushing the ring held between her thumbs and index fingers as she avoids eye contact, “So, um. You wanna get married?”

Not what Nia was expecting at all and she kind of just 👁👄👁 for a while, until Cleo starts trying to back out of it, thinking she fucked up

And then it’s Nia’s turn to stumble over her words something along the lines of, “No, wait! Okay, um, no, so - No, I don’t mean no, just - Yes! Of course!” 

The ring’s super basic, like plain silver without even a gem 

I feel like Cleo found it on a trip with Mal, and immediately thought of Nia and proposing and freaked herself out a bit, but that’s why she didn’t look for another cuz shes a sap

They travel around the realm a bit, stopping in Undermount so Cleo can look into House Nightbloom, and getting rides from Imtura when Mal gives them a tip on a relic or something

All the while Nia’s trying to spread the Light in small villages, using her magic for little things as Cleo works favours again

At some point they get a cottage a ways away from a village, I’d say not too far from the Deadwood and things slow down for the most part, only the occasional trip for the temple

It’s a really cute house, small and surrounded by flowers and huge trees, Cleo builds a swing on one

The others visit occasionally, Kade and Threep the most often, and I almost want to say they take in an orphan, but I can’t decide if Cleo would trust herself enough for that

Though I feel like Nia would love to have pets at the least cleo always compares threep to the cats to annoy him

Elves canonically have longer life spans than humans, and Nia’s is even shorter from using her Light, so I’m sure you can tell where I’m going with this

Nia passes in her sleep before anyone else in the gang and it really fucks up Cleo, like the way she wakes up to it and can’t even stop it

And the worst part is that she’s always hoping just a little bit in the back of her mind that it’s like the first time, and Nia’s just going to wake up or knock on the front door

The gang meet up all together for a funeral, and Cleo plants the flowers from the bouquet from the end of book diamond scene

She ditches the cottage cuz too much of it is Nia, and is just kind of aimless for a little bit, staying with Kade in Whiterun, but ultimately hates not having a purpose

She moves to the old elven cabin in the Deadwood cuz shes a sap cuz it’s one of her favourite places

She devotes herself to fixing it up and making it better, helping travelers through the Deadwood cuz I feel like Tyril would open Undermount up

Everyone’s stayed in relative contact and tend to invite Cleo on adventures if they don’t hear from her for a while, just to keep her from isolating herself in the woods

Mal works with the monarchy to make things better in the Nooks and Crannies while still thievin, and especially when he’s older settles down more

I feel like he lives pretty long, but ends up sick and passing away, second to go and he kinda laughs about it his mum was sick right? and he jokes about the irony to feel better?

I doubt Imtura really accepts being a princess, I think she keeps captaining and fights it as long as she can until she really doesn’t have a choice

But she’s not like her mum, actually leaving Flotilla and like working with the guard and stuff

I think she’s third, dying in battle like a badass and saving her crew. She’s honored by the clans, and the monarchy and even Undermount declares her a hero or something idk how it works there

I feel like Kade would keep to stories, but maybe spend a while just moving about the realm, stay in Undermount to explore it and stuff, builds up his name as a bard

He dies in his sleep too cuz he deserves it, he passes when he’s visiting Riverbend again, he’s buried there and like the whole village shows up

I feel like Tyril’s significantly older than everyone else, but being an elf hides it

He always gives Cleo tips on artifacts, or asks her to escort travelers through the Deadwood or around the realm if they’re important to keep her busy

He’s not the head of House Starfury, but he’s still pretty involved in elven politics, mainly focused on opening up Undermount, educating people on the elven empire and spreading the wealth and stuff

He’d go before Cleo, just running out of life force after all his magic

After Tyril passes, Cleo’s just done, he was the only thing giving her purpose, and she’s spent decades cleaning up the Deadwood as best she can

Threep’s joined her after Tyril’s funeral, staying with her for a few days and how following her out into the forest

She walks out to the clearing they saw the unicorn at and stops right on the edge, sitting down and setting up a purification ritual

She’s known how for years, she learned after Nia passed so she could spend some of her life completing one of her dreams like a sap

She clears out the darkness from a lot of the Deadwood to drain the last of her life force, stumbling over to a tree and sliding down to the ground, her back pressed against the bark

Threep flutters into her lap, her nails scratching behind his ears as he licks her chin comfortingly, a final goodbye

Her breathing starts heavy, growing slow as her chest feels far more hollow than it did a moment ago, and her eyelids slowly grow heavy

A breeze brushes her hair, stirring her awake. The lake’s shimmering before her, bright and magical as she stumbles to her feet, Threep gone from her lap

The Deadwood’s healed, more than she could possibly have managed on her own, and she has so much more energy now than when she fell asleep

She trips through the trees, running for what feels like hours until she’s back at the cabin, the stone bright against the trees as it sits, whole again after all her effort

She shoulders the front door open, freezing when she sees the fireplace, or rather, what’s before the fireplace

Nia’s there, her back to the flickering flames as she smiles, cheeks redder than the curls falling down her shoulders

And Cleo doesn’t stop running, tackling Nia into a hug and squeezing with all she is, tears dripping down her chin as she laughs, carefree and disbelieving and happy. So, so happy, for the first time since she last saw that smile

[dearlazerbunny]

Can I have Kylo for fluff alphabet please? Thank you!

All of them?! I mean if you ~insist~

(Alphabet prompt here)

Kylo x Reader Fluff ABCs 💜

Activities: Free time is scarce, so he’ll mostly visit you at night when the two of you can curl up in bed, watch the stars, and talk about anything and everything. Technically it’s always night in space, but when he’s with you the black seems to dim a little, and the stars shine brighter. It’s the best sort of night, the ones that make you think there are as many possibilities as there are planets in the sky.

Beauty: Kylo LOVES your smile. You smile so easily, whereas he can count on one hand the number of times he’s smiled in the pas year- each time because of you. And he still has to remind himself how to breathe anytime he makes you smile.

Comfort: He’s excellent at holding you close and just letting you cry it out, running his fingers through your hair, and keeping his lips pressed to the top of your head so you know he’s there. Sometimes he’ll tell stories- the same ones his mother told him, about adventures in space and good defeating evil and how hope makes the universe turn. He doesn’t know if he believes in those old stories anymore- but he knows you do.

Dreams: Somewhere quiet, somewhere far away from any war or light side and dark side and Jedis and metal monstrosities that destroy planets on a whim. It’d be a simple house- maybe in a forest, set away from a tiny village- with just enough space for the two of you and maybe... maybe a child. The three of you would lie in the tall grass- a little boy or girl tugging on his mother’s clothes and giggling at the feeling of the dirt beneath his feet- and tell new stories. Because now he doesn’t need those old stories telling him about light and hope- he has his own, sitting right in front of him.

Equal: Kylo is not used to someone standing up to him and calling him on his bullshit. Kylo cannot remember the last time someone called him “Ky” without having a rather vicious meeting with the glowing end of his lightsaber. Kylo definitely isn’t used to someone being in his personal space- a touch on his arm, holding hands, a leg wrapped around his when the two of you are in bed. He might a six-foot-something menace in all black and a scary sword, but you have an infinite amount of little ways of telling him that he is not the boss of you. Period.

Fight: Fighting is loud- there’s a good amount of yelling and stomping around. Most of it stems from insecurities: he can’t get it out of his head that you aren’t going to drop him on a whim someday when you realize how broken he is; you hate that he’s constantly diving headfirst into a war where you can’t do anything to protect him. One night, after a particularly horrible bout, you voice the idea that the insecurities get smaller when the trust gets bigger. So now, any argument, big or small, is only over when the two of you can look at each other and honestly say, “I trust you.”

Gratitude: He knows you’re doing... something, but he doesn’t really realize how much until one day he’s sitting with you, your fingers intertwined, laughing at something ridiculously stupid and only funny to the two of you, and he’s looking at you and how your eyes sparkle when you laugh and he notices he hasn’t heard any of the voices in his head since you started giggling. He’ll tell you later- he wants to hear your laugh for just a little bit longer.

Honesty: Kylo definitely keeps secrets- mostly his fears. He’s scared you’ll leave him, that one day you’ll walk away and won’t come back. He wants a future with you- not just a future, but an endgame- and every day it seems less and less likely. He worries he isn’t what you deserve. He’s scared he’ll hurt you accidentally; he’s terrified he’ll hurt you intentionally. He’s never told you any of this, but the funny thing is- you kind of already know.

Inspiration: You’ve changed him for the better, and keep doing so every day. Much like the realization from Gratitude, he won’t quite know the extent of it until one day it smacks him in the face and he finally thinks, oh.

Jealousy: Yes, and it’s something the two of you have to work on. Constantly. To his credit, he went from hunting down one of your work friends in the middle of the night after he gave you a hug in the mess hall to (occasionally) haltingly and frustratingly voicing his feelings. It’s progress, and you’re willing to stick by him for however long it takes.

Kiss: Your first kiss was incredibly tentative, soft, and barely there. You weren’t quite sure it even had happened, except Kylo’s look of absolute shock clued you in that it very much did. Then about five seconds later you realized that was probably Kylo’s first kiss. Ever. He doesn’t really get it at first- he’s stiff and awkward and at one point frustratingly blurted out ‘but what do I do with my hands.’ He’s much better now. Practice makes perfect after all, and let’s be real, kissing this man is a hardship you are more than willing to bear.

Love Confession: He wanders into your room one night, antsy and agitated and very thrown off by... something. You don’t know what, because he refuses to tell you- just paces your room clenching and unclenching his fists while you desperately try to figure out what’s wrong. Eventually, he faces you, bewildered, looks you dead in the eye, and says I love you- which spirals you into a cacophony of relief, giddiness, happiness, and laughter all in about five second’s time. While he’s looking put out from you laughing at him, you kiss him on the lips once... twice... and say, I know.

Marriage: He thinks he’d like to marry you someday. It’d be simple- you’d carry a bouquet of wildflowers, maybe with some braided in your hair as well. The rings would both be a beautiful smoky grey, and yours has a small piece of his kyber crystal set in the center. He doesn’t know who would be there... Hux? The two of you are friends. The people you work with... well, they don’t know about you. He knows it’s impossible, but he always pictures his mother there too, to give you away.

Nicknames: Kylo isn’t really one for nicknames. You call him Ky, love, babe when you want to get a rise out of him- but every so often, in the dead of night, when you’re half asleep and not quite sure if you’re dreaming it, he’ll pull you close and whisper my queen before pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

On Cloud Nine: Nobody knows. Not a single soul. Have you seen that man’s poker face? Hux and Phasma can guess something is up, but that something being ‘Kylo Ren in love’ is so far out of the realm of possibility that it doesn’t even make the top 101 Things That Might Be Going On With Ren. You think it’s hilarious, and also kind of sweet- he saves that side of himself for you and you only.

PDA: See the above. PDA is not a thing with him, for a multitude of reasons: he has an image to maintain, he doesn't want you to get hurt if potentially being used against him, he simply doesn’t know how to initiate such things. You respect his want for privacy- you don’t want to be rumor mill fodder either. But on the very few occasions you find yourselves out and alone together, you’ll give him a peck on the mask where his cheek would be. That’s enough for you.

Quirk: I don’t know if the Force counts as a quirk, but it definitely makes you laugh when he decides to do stupid party tricks in an effort to cheer you up (think Aang and his marble trick in A:TLA 😂). In the back of your mind, you can’t help but imagine him doing the same innocent magic tricks to the delight of your son or daughter someday.

Romantic: He’s romantic while having no sense of traditional romance. If you mention a favorite flower, there’ll be a vase of them in your room the next day. When you tease him for doing something sweet, he just looks baffled. “You said you liked these. So I procured some. You’re welcome?” The fact that he doesn’t get how much his gestures actually mean makes them that much sweeter.

Support: Kylo thinks you could probably end this whole war single-handed if they plopped you down in the middle of the battlefield. Not that he’d ever test that theory. But if someone has the capability of making him start thinking of things like a future, they have more power in their fist than he does with the entirety of the Force.

Thrill: Considering this is all still fairly new to Kylo, even something like kissing the back of his hand sends him into shutdown mode for a second or two. You’re taking it slow. It took him a whole two months to even get used to the idea of holding hands on the regular.

Understanding: Kylo worries this is an area he’s lacking in. What he doesn’t know is that he instinctively knows when you need a hug, picks up on your moods before you even know what that mood is, and often knows what you’re thinking before you say it. He doesn’t think highly enough of himself to say that he knows someone as wonderful as you so intimately, but the truth is he’s pretty much got you on lock.

Value: You are everything. If he knew there would be no repercussions, and you’d be safe, he would drop everything and move to that little house in the forest with you, War, Skywalkers, and Snoke be damned. At some point, he stopped fighting this war to rid himself of his past and started fighting it so that you and he might have a future.

Wild Card: You have a tendency to pull hair whenever you get really frustrated, so Kylo offered to let you play with his instead- obviously, you are infinitely more careful with him than you are yourself. This eventually morphed into you being able to craft Disney-princess-worthy braids and updos with his hair. Sometimes he’ll let you tuck a flower in it if he really wants to see you laugh.

XOXO: This poor man is touch s t a r v e d. The second you start being physically affectionate with him, he never wants you to stop- laying by his side, holding your hand, playing with his hair, wrapping himself around you. Not that anyone outside of the two of you would have any idea.

Yearning: You aren’t a Force user, but you’re connected to the point where when he’s away on a mission, he can send you a thought or a feeling to let you know he’s thinking of you. More than once you’ve felt the slight sensation of his fingers on your cheek or him walking beside you, even though he’s lightyears away.

Zeal: if you and Luke Skywalker were standing side by side, and he could only reach one of you, he’d grab you by the hand, start running, and never let go.

[wxldchxld]

[ What is Beck's worst fear as an adult? Does her magic react to her fears and instincts or is it all purposeful? How does Beck feel about other magic users?

In our verse, where does Beck run off to from time to time when life in the Tower and the city in general gets to be too much? What is Beck's honest opinion of Nat's job? What could Nat do to make her leave, and why does Beck want to stay, aside from them being soulmates (if there is a reason at all)? ]

What is Beck's worst fear as an adult?

I’d say it’s a toss up? Beck has two major driving fears. 

The first is very straight forward and that’s that she is terrified of losing a familiar again. The pain she suffered witnessing Dawnbreaker’s death is the worst she’s ever felt, and she genuinely doesn’t believe she would survive the death of another familiar. 

The second is living her life in a cage or under anyone’s thumb. Beck spent half her life being controlled and locked up, desperately fighting to be herself while being brutally punished for it. So one day she learned to unlock doors and break binding spells, she learned to run, and in running she found freedom. It didn’t matter if that meant an empty stomach or a night out in the rain. And one of her greatest fears is having that taken away from her. 

There’s a very finite amount of time Beck will tolerate people locking her up (like I have verses where she’s been arrested for certain periods of time). But eventually she’ll lose control of herself and find a way to escape. If she can’t escape... things will get bloody. Even toward people she knows and loves.

Does her magic react to her fears and instincts or is it all purposeful?

Her magic is very emotion and intuition based, so yes, it can happen involuntary. In a dangerous situation her effort is spent restraining herself and using her magic strategically, not in mustering up the spells themselves. As a feral witch (aka an incarnation of the Earth/Nature spirit my witches come from) the power will always come, but sometimes the control doesn’t. 

I will say generally Beck is very in control of her magic in her human form. The worst you might get is like, if you startle her she might shift without thinking and then be like “oh shit sorry” or like, if you have animals around, they will naturally listen to her emotions and heed them. So you might have a trusty dog that you’ve kept for years and all the sudden he’s snapping a hand off because he is sensing her fear/anger/etc.

In other forms it is harder for Beck to control herself, therefore it’s harder for her to control her magic. And how in control she is in depends on the form. As a fox or a cougar, she can maintain the same level of control as a human, but as a horse, despite mastering the form as a little girl, she’s still very much at the mercy of her emotions. It’s kind of a running joke that you don’t jump on Beck as a horse because she will take off running, and then her magic will respond naturally, making her run impossibly fast and for way longer than a horse should. So it really depends.

How does Beck feel about other magic users?

Depends on the species and the kind of magic they’re using. Other witches are usually pretty ok with Beck, even if they aren’t the same kind of witch she comes from. From there things can get rocky. She tends to get on well with gnomes and trolls she comes across. Once she had a dalliance with a mermaid. Werewolves it really depends on the kind. Vampires are usually something she stays far away from unless they’re the sort that don’t eat people.

In like Marvel where the MCU is trying to say Wanda is an actual witch I would say Beck would be pretty ok with the premise of a witch being artificially made by an infinity stone, even if she doesn’t know what that is. But in reality she’d probably give a HARD side eye to Wanda because of the choices she’s made with that magic. Whether or not she could get past her own worries and moral qualms with mind control is---questionable.

What I will say is people like Thor or Loki in the MCU that pull that “magic is actually just like science” bullshit are not ok with Beck. Because she practices magic that is not at all like science. It cannot be wielded by anyone who learns spells or comes to an understanding of it. Witches are born or they’re made by other witches, and my magic system is VERY different from Marvel. While I’m happy to allow it to coexist with my lore system, I will not go with Marvel canon when it comes to magic because frankly it’s a mess. So I just have Beck be like “no you’re stupid and you don’t understand actual magic.”

In our verse, where does Beck run off to from time to time when life in the Tower and the city in general gets to be too much?

Ooof Nat might not love this answer. So I imagine at nights since Grani can’t/won’t be dragged into a city with her, Beck travels through the spirit realm and materializes wherever Grani is as a horse and they spend the night running around and being feral horses. It’s probably the only time she gets to really spend with him, which is a major strain on her in general because witches can’t indefinitely be away from their familiars it causes them pain. So it’s a good compromise. 

But especially while they’re living in the tower Beck will probably take long trips. Like if Nat goes somewhere undercover or something and when this happens Beck will go---anywhere? You really can’t know. She disappears into the woods or the canyons or prairies or sometimes even travels north to run along the polar ice of the arctic as a snow white bear. She’ll travel to places on the Earth the non-magical folks aren’t even aware of, places hidden from maps and outside eyes since the dawn of civilization. 

If we’re talking about like short breaks like “Jesus this place is too much and I need to breathe” she’ll probably turn into a hawk and fly out of the city to whatever wide open space and clean air she can find. Once her mother is no longer a threat (Idk if they’ll still be in the tower or not) she may go see her grandmother or Cora or visit one of her friends. Dori and Frankie both live in NYC itself, and so does Harper (they’ll probably be good friends by that time), and Jari lives just outside of NYC so like, visiting them and being with people who are like minded would really help.

What is Beck's honest opinion of Nat's job?

sdfgdsfgsdfg Don’t tell Nat but she thinks it’s dumb. She doesn’t get why anyone wants to risk their lives for mortals that don’t give 2 shits whether they live or die. She doesn’t trust SHIELD, she barely likes any of the Avengers, and she’d be very relieved and happy if Nat all told them to go fuck themselves and moved away with her to a farm in Montana. 

Like, even if someone were to be like “well by helping protect the world she’s also protecting you” Beck would just be like “I don’t think I’d care much about dying because I’d be too dead to be bothered, but I do think being forced to live every day without the woman I loved knowing she died a horrific death of self sacrifice for people I don’t think matter would rot me away on the inside so...”

What could Nat do to make her leave?

Hmmmmm. Beck’s pretty determined to stay... But like, Beck really struggles tbh. Nat isn’t great at giving her the validation she so desperately needs from a partner. And that’s because of her own trauma, so once Beck knows that she tries to be more forgiving. But it is emotionally very hard on her to not feel like Nat is as into her as she is into Nat. I don’t know if that’s enough to make her leave.

Over all I don’t think Nat would ever say something so intentionally cruel to make Beck pack her bags and go for good, but over the years if Nat never starts to open up and reciprocate the kind of affection Beck needs she may eventually leave for someone willing to give her that (which, I’m sorry, it would probably be Harper), or also a little more likely, Beck might just go feral. Which is essentially her death. Because I feel like if she felt like even her soul mate couldn’t love her that she would truly believe she had no place with people and it would be easy just to wander off into the forest and merge with the spirit she came from. Which is, essentially the death of the individual of Beck, even if technically she lives on.

Why does Beck want to stay, aside from them being soulmates (if there is a reason at all)?

But all of that is near impossible based off of what we’ve discussed and how Nat has reacted thus far. 

Nat’s big selling point is that she has no interest of taming Beck or making her behave a certain way. Her whole life has been a series of “no” and “stop” and “why can’t you just be this way.” And I think especially once Nat knows that, she will empathize personally because of all she’s been through. So while she’ll probably be like “please stop chewing up Tony’s stuff and stealing everything that isn’t nailed down” I don’t think she’s going to ever really try to like, seriously try to change Beck. 

Another thing Nat has going for her is that, believe it or not, I actually think they have a lot in common? Maybe not on the face of it, but as far as like, suffering trauma as children and feeling estranged from people/displaced. I feel like they both enjoy nature and (tho Idk for certain about Nat) traveling.

It’s going to take a lot of work and compromise for them to work, and Beck knows that. I feel like the biggest reason she stays is because she believes and wants for it to work between them.

[ohmightydevviepuu]

our little life (rounded with a sleep) / chapter 12

our little life (rounded with a sleep) chapter twelve [12/12] AO3

--

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful detective. She had blonde hair, green eyes, no family, and she was good at finding people; in fact, she proclaimed this on her office door. “Swan and Humbert,” it said. “Private investigations, missing persons, and bail bonds.”

Only lately, she’s been thinking that maybe it should say “Emma Swan: Loner, Loser, Complicated wreck.”

Her partner’s been killed on a case after she made a deal with her landlord to find what had been taken from him. But when she tracks a possible perp to a bar on the outskirts of town, Emma will find out exactly how deep the rabbit hole goes.

--

this is it, guys.  THE END.

i need to take a moment and thank everyone who’s been here following along with me, especially @carpedzem​, @stahlop​, @snowbellewells​, @searchingwardrobes​, @kmomof4​.  i would have been lost without @thisonesatellite​, @profdanglaisstuff​ and @katie-dub​

to the fam in the @captainswanbigbang​ discord: truly, without you, none of this would have been happened.  i am so honored to have spent time with you while we all embarked on these journeys together:  @shireness-says​, @spartanguard​, @optomisticgirl​, @justanotherwannabeclassic​, @distant-rose​, @eirabach​, @winterbythesea​, @scientificapricot​, @phiralovesloki​, @thejollyroger-writer​.  thank you again to mods B, kait, phira and @shippingtheswann​ for running such a tight ship.  i was thrilled to be part of the crew.

this chapter is dedicated to robbie, a true hero with a happy ending.

--

cw: canonical character death rating: T/M (implied violence, language) word count:  ~5k AO3 chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter six | chapter seven | chapter eight | chapter nine | chapter ten |  chapter eleven

--

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.

The Tempest Act IV, Scene 1

--

Emma exhaled a strangled gasp. She felt like she had been through a wringer--literally flattened and squeezed out until there was nothing left inside of her--and then a pulse of warmth and light had traveled through every part of her, like lightning pulling at her cells. The room around her seemed brighter and there was a quiet in Emma’s mind, peaceful and happy.

read the rest on AO3 (full chapter below the break)

chapter twelve

Emma exhaled a strangled gasp. She felt like she had been through a wringer--literally flattened and squeezed out until there was nothing left inside of her--and then a pulse of warmth and light had traveled through every part of her, like lightning pulling at her cells. The room around her seemed brighter and there was a quiet in Emma’s mind, peaceful and happy.

“What’s going on?” Regina asked. She sounded far away, her voice somewhere on the edge between suspicious and--what else--angry.

“That, Your Majesty,” Gold said, “was True Love’s Kiss.” He was all crocodile as he said it, his voice smooth and smug. When he smiled, it was not a pleasant expression.

“The curse,” Henry said. “Emma broke it.” He was smiling, and Emma grabbed him, squeezing him so tightly that he grunted, and there was a commotion all around them--

“Snow?”

“Charming?”

“EMMA!”

“She found us--”

“Did you ever doubt that she would?”

--and Emma found herself wrapped up in an embrace that squeezed her so tightly that she yelped in pain, being held by her mother and her father, her father’s hand cupped against the back of her head as he cradled her body in a group hug straight out of--well, a storybook.

“She saved everyone,” Henry said.

Mary Margaret’s--Snow White’s--hands cupped Emma’s cheeks. “I knew you would,” she said.

“Me?” Emma said. The peaceful feeling in her mind faded, just a bit. “I didn’t--”

“You did,” Snow insisted. David’s--Charming’s--hand was on her shoulder, rubbing the back of her neck. He couldn’t seem to move himself away from her, or from them.

“True Love’s Kiss only works,” he said, “if there is love and belief on both sides. And, Emma--I love you. We love you so much.”

“I just hope that now we can show you,” Snow said. She faltered for the first time as she said it, as though the weight of the better part of three decades was suddenly heavy on her mind.

“You believed,” Henry said. He was still smiling. “That’s what a hero does, Mom.”

“Henry,” Emma said, “I love you.”

“I love you too, Mom,” he said. Emma kissed him, hitting the crown of his head just like her mother had done--and she swore that, just for a second, she could feel that warmth pass through her again. The magic.

“Rumplestiltskin?” Lacey--Belle--dropped her bag and walked to him, nearly hurling herself at him instead of taking the last step, stopping herself and reaching instead for his arm. Her hand found his on top of his walking stick as she said, “I remember.”

Emma tried to extricate herself from her family--her family--waiting for his voice and the way it would say something stupid like “Hey, beautiful.”

Belle repeated herself. “I remember.” She said the syllables slowly, as if she was feeling each one in her brain and in her mouth before she spoke them. “I love you.”

Gold was very nearly in tears as he hugged her small frame. “Yes,” he said. His voice almost broke. “Yes, and I love you too.”

Where was Killian?

“Mom,” Henry said--

“What’s wrong with my brother?” Liam said.

“There will be time for that, Belle,” Gold said, and the way he articulated the words reminded Emma of that first meeting in her office--the way he sounded as though he was tasting them--his voice full of relish. It was creepy, and it meant nothing good. “There will be time for everything.”

The “later” was implied, but Belle heard it all the same, because she backed away, and that’s when Emma realized: Killian was still unconscious, comatose--cursed--on the cell mattress. Unmoving and even paler than he had been.

Emma went back into the cell and winced as her knee hit the floor, wanting to trace her finger along his jawline and settling for rubbing her thumb against his wrist.

Gold clicked his tongue and smiled, clearly unsurprised. “Why,” he drawled, “Hook is still under the effects of the sleeping curse. Naturally.”

Emma’s fingers reflexively curled around the dagger she still held as she reacted to his voice. Naturally. But there was no way, no fucking way this had been part of his grand plan--

Liam went at Gold, a fist already raised, and Emma grabbed his arm just as he tried to strike. She came up behind him and pulled him back. “Liam, no,” she said. “Not that I don’t applaud your initiative or anything, but--”

Liam glanced back at his brother. “He wouldn’t want this, would he?” He seemed to deflate slightly as he said it.

“No, kid,” Emma said. “He wouldn’t.”

Regina laughed. It was, truly, more of a snarl. “How do you feel about your brother now, Mr. Jones?”

And--dammit--Regina had read him correctly, because Liam flushed.

“I love him,” Liam said--insisted. “He has raised me as his brother with love and kindness for almost thirty years. He is my family, and I love him.”

“Perhaps,” Gold said. “But that anger and betrayal you still carry means that you cannot wake him. It must be her.” He lifted the tip of his cane two inches off the ground and used it to indicate Emma.

“Wait,” David--Charming--said. “Wait, is that Captain Hook?” His mouth opened to say more and--

“Charming,” Snow said, “now is not the time.”

Charming gave her a look that was fond but somehow grudging at the same time and Emma’s heart clenched at the affection there.

“I still have the bottle, Miss Swan,” Gold said. “I can offer you a deal.” The cane moved again, this time pointing at the dagger still in her hand.

He was calm, and he was composed.

But Emma could sense something beneath the layers. Liar. He was scrambling, Emma realized. His plan had failed, his grand big plan of several centuries was over, and there was still something he needed--something he wanted her to do, in exchange for the dagger.

Emma was not going to fall into his trap, or be ensnared in any more of his deals.

They would find another way.

They had to.

“No,” Emma said. “No, I’ve had enough of your bullshit, Gold, and don’t think for one minute that just because your magic curse grand plan didn’t work out I am not throwing your ass in jail for murdering Graham. You still killed someone, buddy, and in this world, that has consequences.”

Graham had died for this blade; Killian had crossed realms and time and still balked at using it. No way in hell was she giving it back to the Dark One.

Belle gasped. “You killed Graham?” She looked from Gold to Killian and back again. “This was all part of one of your plans? You knew this--” she gestured at Killian, dropping Gold’s arm “--was going to happen? Because Hook came for me in the asylum. He gave me a home. He was my friend.”

“He also tried to kill you,” Regina said. Gold growled.

“You locked me up and took away thirty years of my life,” Belle said, all five-foot-nothing of her with hackles up as she faced the queen. “He gave it back to me. I think--I think he changed.”

“Only I was given a gift: To wake up, for twenty-eight years, and not dread the day before it began" "...a life, and friends, and lovers, and none of it was real.”

“He did,” Emma said. She caught Belle’s gaze and held it as she said it again. “He did change, Belle. He is your friend.”

Belle’s expression looked suddenly very far away again, but not cursed; it was as if she was concentrating, searching through a mental catalogue of something until she found the answer.

“This is about the magic,” she said. She looked up at Gold. “Isn’t it? That’s what you meant when you said there would be time for everything later.”

Belle reached for Gold’s arm again. “Swear to me on your son’s life that this isn’t about the magic and I will believe you.”

Gold said nothing.

“Rumple,” Belle said, and she was pleading. “Swear to me. I will believe you. I still love you.”

Gold looked away.

Belle looked at Emma. “You said this was about Bae, and you weren’t wrong,” she said. “But in order to find Bae, he must need a tracking spell. And that means magic. That’s what he wants.”

“How would he bring magic to this world?” Snow White asked.

“There’s a lake,” she said. “In our land, we called it Lake Nostos. It has the power to restore--”

“What’s been lost,” David said. Charming. Whatever. “I’ve seen it. I’ve been there.”

“Assuming that everything in our land has a corollary here, there must be a well nearby that connects to the lake.”

“The wishing well,” Henry said. “It’s in the park just on the edge of Storybrooke.”

“That’s what he wants,” Belle said. “The potion must allow the waters of Lake Nostos to have power here. That’s how he planned to do it. Emma--you can’t let him. It’s wrong. And--”

“Hook wouldn’t want this,” Emma said. “I know. I won’t.”

She repeated to herself, almost like a mantra: they would find another way. They had to.

Emma stood beside her parents, her arms crossed over her chest, the dagger still in one hand.

David looked like he suddenly remembered something as he reached for his belt--the cuff clip he wore there. He handed the cuffs and the keys to Liam and said, “Cuff him.”

“Try it, dearie,” he said. “I’ve been imprisoned before.”

“There’s no magic here, Dark One,” David said. “And there won’t be. I think we’ll be able to hold you this time.”

“No deals,” Snow said firmly.

“Emma can do this,” Henry said.

“I--” Emma said.

“Emma,” Snow said. “We believe in you. So did Hook. That curse only works if you take it willingly. He wanted to save you, and to save Henry. He believed in you.” Her eyes were only on Emma, and on Killian. Her eyes with nothing but warmth and compassion and understanding and Emma had no idea what she was meant to do, or how she was meant to do it. “You know what you need to do, Emma.”

She didn’t. She fingered the ring around her neck and felt hopeless.

“I’m not okay with this,” her father grumbled, then grunted when her mother elbowed him.

“Mom,” Henry said in a loud stage whisper. “You have to kiss him. That’s how the curse works.”

Snow smothered a laugh.

“But--” Emma said. “He has--had--I’m not--”

My Milah. My dead lover. She knew I was motivated. Any port in a storm.

Emma stood motionless.

“Oh, dear,” Gold giggled. “Has the good captain infected you with his ghosts?”

Emma stiffened.

“Milah wouldn’t have wanted this. I would have done anything for her, but she wouldn’t have wanted this.” Think therefore on revenge, and cease to weep.

“He always did favor brunettes,” Gold said. He was taunting her, he wanted to make her doubt, and it should have worked--hell, five minutes ago, it would have worked; five days ago, it felt like, she hadn’t even met him yet, or Killian, and yet--

Emma closed her eyes and could feel it, the way his breath warmed her skin when they were close together, when he had been so close to her; she could feel it, the way it had been in his office, in Jefferson’s house--that moment between ‘what was’ and ‘what’s next’--and she wondered.

He had loved Milah. But--”It’s you. Don’t you know, Emma? It’s all for you”--and in her dream, it had been an inferno, the magic pushing everywhere in her body, the silver strands of light burning through her.

They’d known each other for five days.

But those moments still felt worth fighting for. She couldn’t lose him before she’d even had the chance to know him, or to know what it was that tied them together.

She already wasn’t the same person she had been before they’d met.

You should know better than anyone that Lost Ones recognize their own.

And she wondered.

“There’s hope, Swan. All you have to do is believe.”

What would it be like, to finally give in, to feel something instead of nothing?

“Just look at me, and believe.”

His lips were cold. Smooth, and cold, and Emma held her breath, waiting--

Waiting--

Come back to me, Killian.

And then she felt it, felt the moment he woke up even before he gasped.

(an inferno, burning everything in its wake as the energy rushed through her. It was raw and unfettered as it pushed every molecule in her body, electrifying her senses until she couldn’t feel anything but him)

“Swan,” he said, his fingers brushing against his mouth and his eyes wide open and so very fucking blue, “what did you do?”

Snow squeaked. Liam and Henry rushed for the cell door and Charming held them back.

But Emma wouldn’t know any of that until later.

She smiled. A real smile, the kind that lit up her face and her eyes and showed all of her teeth. “I’ve been wondering if I would like it,” she said.

His eyebrows went up, and he smiled back at her--a real smile, that softened his entire face. “So what’s the decision?”

“I don’t know yet,” she said, closing the infinitesimal distance between them, and there was the metal of his rings, cool as his finger traced the line of her cheekbone, and when his mouth opened and a sound escaped Emma wasn’t sure if it was him or her. She felt like she was being devoured, if the gentlest touch she’d ever felt in her life could eat her whole and make her crave it. It was everything--his fingers, the metal, his lips and tongue and the way he opened for her--

And it felt like magic.

Killian was breathing heavily, brushing his fingers against his mouth again, and she said: “It’s even better when you help.”

There were a thousand emotions flickering through his eyes, and Emma saw all of them: sorrow, remorse, understanding, desire, longing.

Love.

He was an open book.

Emma blinked. There was no way for her to look at him, to see him when he was like that, and pretend that she didn’t feel--all of it. Anything. Everything.

He smiled--a shy smile--and Emma realized that he saw all of those things in her, too. She leaned forward, feeling his forehead against hers when he met her halfway, his eyelashes fluttering across her cheek.

“What I wouldn’t give,” Regina said, “for another sleeping curse.” She sat on the cell mattress as if it was a throne. Her face was a mask of icy indifference.

Snow White stood in front of her, regarding her through the cell bars.

Emma tried to stand, but--

“Worry not, Swan,” Killian whispered, and she stayed with him, enjoying the weight of his hand on her arm.

“I agree with the pirate,” Charming said.

“Ah,” Gold sneered. “Twoo Wuv.”

“The curse is broken,” Charming said, ignoring him. “Neither of them can hurt us any more.”

There was a knock on the station door, a heavy object of some kind being battered against it.

“Open up,” Leroy’s voice called.

Snow walked to the door, slowly and with deliberation. “The curse is broken,” she agreed. She reached for the doorknob. “And now--we have a lot to figure out.”

“Together,” Killian muttered into her ear, and Emma nodded.

“Together,” she said, feeling the magic inside of her settle at the word; the inferno banked down to something warm and comforting and tied up between both of them, inextricable. “We’ve got all the time in the world.”

--

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful detective. She had long, blonde hair that curled just so at the edges of her face with skin as fair as snow. Her eyes glinted green, like emeralds in the sunlight, and the fall of her lashes was thick and dark.

Her name was Emma Swan.

Sheriff Emma Swan stood up, remembering at the last minute to turn off her oversized CRT monitor before she hit the light switch. On her desk there was a picture of her son; it was hand-drawn, in pen and ink. There was a pair of boots on the shelf behind her. One of them was missing a shoelace.

“I’m heading out, Red,” she called.

“Mmmm?” Ruby murmured, not looking up from her makeup mirror as she fluffed her waist-length, red-streaked black curls until she was satisfied with their volume. “You coming by later? I think Ursula’s got something new she wanted to try with the music tonight.”

“Tempting,” Emma said, “but no.”

“Belle’s gonna be there,” Ruby said, her dark eyes glittering. “And Will.”

“Poor Victor,” Emma sighed.

“Who said he wasn’t invited?” Ruby asked. She smacked her lips and blew a kiss.

“Yeah,” Emma said. “That’s my cue. Besides, I gotta go home first.”

Emma was very, very good at her job, even though there was one mystery she couldn’t solve: how to mend a broken heart. She had once believed in love--in True Love--but now she wasn’t sure if it even existed. She had been given up by her parents, Snow White and Prince Charming, minutes after she was born, sent through a magical wardrobe so that she would have her best chance--so that some day, she would find them again. She would break a curse, and bring back the happy endings.

But Emma Swan didn’t know any of that. All she knew was that she grew up alone, moving from city to city with no one on her side, and no one who knew her.

The logistics were the easy part.

Well--the logistics were the part that was less hard, because magic, it turned out, was a very funny thing. It had no rules but its own, and the more questions Emma had, the more she had to shake her head and move on.

You really could handwave away anything in Storybrooke by the simple expedient of magic being involved.

Cursed neighborhood in a thriving city? Magic.

Mary Margaret Blanhard as the only living heir of Regina Mills? Magic.

“Not really,” Mary Maragaret--Snow White--had said. “She is, after all, my stepmother.”

More surprising was the fact that Henry Mills turned up as the legal heir to Robert Gold.

“How,” Emma wanted to know, “did the curse know that Henry was his grandson?’

And the Blue Fairy just leveled a glare at Emma, a superior air about her--a Mother Superior air--and said, as if it should have been obvious, “Magic.” She still wore her religious habit, the one Emma had noticed at Graham’s funeral, and it clung to her curves in a way that suggested “magic” had a sick sense of humor.

She didn’t know it, sent away from her family to live in a land without magic, but Princess Emma was going to grow up to be the savior.

There was no justice system in the city equipped to handle the murder committed by Robert Gold or the Dark Curse committed by Regina Mills. Storybrooke was its own jurisdiction; a mysteriously unincorporated neighborhood with no relevant law enforcement agency except a small, understaffed sheriff’s department. Then again, the former residents of the Enchanted Forest--two words Emma still struggled to say with a straight face--

“If it helps,” Killian had said with a wry grin, “we always called it ‘Misthaven’ on our navigational charts.”

Of Misthaven, then, were perfectly prepared to administer mob justice against the two people most responsible for their current predicament. Turns out, a ride with a Dark Curse was a one-way trip.

“When someone casts the curse, it’s a sacrifice of one world for another,” Blue said. “That’s simply how the magic works.”

Of course.

Nurse Ratched was perfectly happy to keep them in her asylum for a continuation of her current pay--plus dental. Emma agreed immediately. Anything to make the goddamn dwarves subside and leave her the hell alone.

Snow White looked on serenely. Prince Charming regarded her with pride.

Emma Swan was no stranger to tragedy, but she eventually made her way to Storybrooke, and found herself a home there. She had a home, and friends, and a job that she loved, until, on her twenty-eighth birthday, the curse struck her. It was a day like any other: she got up, went to her office, took on a new case.

But then her best friend--her partner--was murdered.

It wasn’t like the salty, half-assed dinners she’d had in so many foster homes--instant soup, just add water.

“Instant family--just add magic!”

It wasn’t easy. (That’s not how the magic worked.)

But heroes, Emma had learned, didn’t do what was easy. They did what was right.

Emma knew that she had no choice but to pursue justice for her friend, and to punish the person who had committed the crime. But when Emma tracked down a possible lead to a bar on the outskirts of town, she didn’t find a suspect. She found an ally.

And she found out how deep the rabbit hole really went.

“Wait,” Emma said to her mother one night at dinner. “Let me get this straight: you’re the head of the Mills Organization.”

Family dinner.

“You’re a teacher,” Emma said. “And you’re just going to--”

“She was raised to be a queen,” David--Prince Charming--reminded her with a smile, and Emma scowled. She had really, really wanted to hit him in that moment.

It must have shown on her face, because her father laughed. “God,” he said, “you’re so much like her.” He said it with wonder and pride and a lot of other emotions Emma was still learning how to deal with.

The emotions were the hard part.

Well--the emotions were the part that was less easy, because Emma.

Family dinners and Killian sitting next to her, squeezing her knee under the table to let her know that he was there.

“So,” Emma said, “how rich are we, then? Like, King Midas rich?”

Snow looked at Charming.

Charming looked at Snow.

Something passed between them.

“It’s kind of a funny story,” David said.

The night that Emma Swan met Killian Jones, she didn’t know his real name, or who he was, or where he was from.

She didn’t know how much she didn’t know, or how all of it would change her life. All she knew was that her partner was killed on a case after she made a deal with her landlord to find what had been taken from him.

All she knew was that something inside of her recognized him, like she had known him in another time and place; as if she had known him from her dreams. From her future.

Nights were the hardest, the part where the logistics and the emotions all bound up in each other; the part where she wanted, needed, desired Killian, to have him with her and to be with him. It was overwhelming, but the only part of it that terrified Emma was the part where it didn’t terrify her at all.

That first night--that first time--it was hot and raw and unchecked, all of those feelings, all of those emotions, that Emma had been denying herself coming up to the surface. She could feel it in her breathing, in her heartbeat, in the way that he laid hands on her and in the way the magic flowed through her, and it shouldn’t have been possible.

That’s not how the magic was supposed to work.

He was reverent and it left her trembling. It was too soon, too fast, too much.

But she slept, sated and spent in the arms of her True Love, and she dreamed.

She walked along the rocky shoreline, tilting her head toward the sky and feeling the sunlight on her face, and she looked for him. The sky was a perfect shade of blue and the air was crisp and clean and it was a perfect quiet moment; there was no sign of him.

Emma closed her eyes and took a breath, counting three before exhaling, and she was in Granny’s. It was empty: a glittering jukebox lit up in the corner, the wall clock set at 8:16.

Another breath and another three count and Emma opened her eyes, feeling something inside of her. A point of warmth that was getting warmer and the asylum laid out in front of her. The blind janitor watched her as he mopped the floor.

“That’s not how the magic works.” Regina’s voice, disembodied and hollow, drifted down the corridor. “Magic here is...unpredictable.”

“You know this isn’t right, Swan.” The whisper felt like it came out of the warmth, the warm spot that was still getting warmer. “Trust your gut. It will tell you what to do.”

The sheriff’s office looked like a dungeon, the bars made of fire, and Emma exhaled; Killian sat in the corner. She called his name.

“Swan,” he said, gasping, his fingers going straight to his mouth, “what did you do?” He didn’t look at her. “Why did you do it? Why did you not take the deal for the potion?”

The fire began to spread. He didn’t see her--he couldn’t see her.

“Killian,” Emma said, “come back to me, Killian--”

Emma turned, concentrating on the warmth inside of her, and pulled.

She held him against her, their backs toward the water as a wave crashed and bubbled up along the rocky shoreline.

He blinked. “Emma,” he said. His hand came up toward her face, and she leaned toward him. Their foreheads touched and his fingers were in her hair and he said her name again. “Emma,” he breathed. “What did you do?”

“I kissed you, Killian,” Emma said. “I kissed you, because you’re my happy ending.”

Emma closed her eyes. One, two, three--

And woke, Killian sweating and shivering in her arms.

Killian Jones was a complicated man. He had wandered, and traveled, and suffered many hardships. He had been a slave, and a naval lieutenant. He had been a brother and a pirate and, some would say, a villain. He had given himself to vengeance and turned himself toward the darkness after his first love was murdered. He had willingly subjected himself to the Evil Queen’s plan, to the Dark Curse, in the hope that he might finally see his vengeance delivered.

For the first time in her life, Emma asked her mother for advice.

She’d always wondered what it would be like, to ask her mom about clothes or makeup or boys or--life. It never occurred to her that she’d need to ask about a sleeping curse.

“What was it like for you,” Emma said, “after dad woke you? From the--from the thing?”

“Oh, Emma,” Snow said. There was so much understanding, so much sympathy, so much empathy in the single word. It shocked Emma how much her mother immediately understood, and how much of a comfort that was. “Is he having the nightmares?”

Killian Jones--Captain Hook--had spent many years in Neverland, the home of the Lost Ones, and still had not realized that he, himself, had been Lost. Until he met Emma Swan, and found himself again.

They found themselves in each other.

It wasn’t easy.

She had a kid who believed everything was going to be okay. He had a brother with a lot of justifiable anger issues.

Emma had literally never in her life lived under the same roof as her parents.

“You never even got to spend a single night in the nursery,” her father said, and Emma remembered the page in the storybook, of Prince Charming fighting off a horde of Black Knights and nearly dying in the process, all while protecting the daughter in his arms.

“There were unicorns on the mobile over your crib,” her mother said, and Emma could picture it, the colors and the crib and the toys, the hopes and the dreams manifest in a single room.

Emma had never gotten to spend the night with her kid, either.

The loft, Mary Margaret’s loft, was barely big enough for two. It had not been designed for six.

Fuck logistics.

But the nights were the hardest.

Because when Emma and Killian were apart, that’s when he was afraid to close his eyes.

That’s when the nightmares were the worst.

The night they met, Killian told Emma about the Dark Curse, and her parents, and about a creature known as the Dark One, who had killed both his first love and Emma’s partner. The Dark One had lived for centuries, immortal, his powers seemingly limitless. But here, in Emma’s home, in Storybrooke and the Land Without Magic, the Dark One had no power. He only had plans. It was his curse that had brought Storybrooke into existence, and forced Emma from her parents.

It was his curse that, unbeknownst to him, would bring the savior and the pirate together.

It wasn’t the same, every night--every time.

But Killian had so many regrets; when he slept, it was as if his body became, again, that prison--until she found him.

She always found him. She found him, and pulled with her magic, and they would stare at the ocean.

Peaceful, quiet moments. Together.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he always said.

“Killian,” she always said. “You’re one of the strongest people I know. You’re a survivor.”

“The only one who’s ever saved me is you, Swan,” he said.

It’s you, Emma. It’s all for you.

“Any port in a storm,” she said.

“That’s just it, love,” he said. “I’m not in the storm, not any more. Not since I met you.”

And when they were together, she could feel it, the way that her magic would settle around them.

No one knew why--that wasn’t how the magic was supposed to work.

Twoo Wuv, Emma thought, and held him tighter.

The nights were the hardest, with the emotions. And the logistics. And the fact that there was no goddamn space in the loft--no doors, even. Four adults--two couples--and two adolescent boys, or near enough, and Emma learned very quickly that when her mother sent her on a grocery run in the middle of the afternoon to take her time and knock very loudly before she used her key.

Not that Emma didn’t find her own ways--The Rabbit Hole had doors that locked and a bedroom and an office with a large desk and that one time up against the hallway wall, in between the kitchen and the restrooms--Killian did, after all, still work most nights. But they always came home, after. They always spent the nights together, all under one roof. It was a family rule.

And then one night, as Emma kicked off her boots, as Killian helped her off with her coat, the door barely shut behind them, there was Snow White sitting at the table with cocoa and cinnamon and Scotch and rum. “We should talk,” Snow said.

“Pleasant conversation then, innit?” Killian muttered in her ear.

Henry was already using his cinnamon stick in lieu of a spoon but Liam looked suspicious. He was quiet and reserved and holding himself back, like he was afraid everything would shatter around him. He had seen everything he thought he’d known change twice in the space of mere days, but Emma was determined to do what she could to erase the haunted lost look from his eyes in the way that it never had been in hers, or in his brother’s.

“Everything okay, Mom?” Emma said, sitting down.

“Your father and I--” Snow paused and smiled. For an instant, her parents were the only two people in the universe.

Ruby had only fifteen minutes ago been throwing French fries at her in an attempt to divert Emma’s attention from Killian--but, gross. Emma didn’t need to see her parents like that.

“We think it’s time to make a few changes,” her father said.

Emma stiffened. It was an instinct, and the habits of a lifetime were not going to be broken by a few weeks of relative peace, but--her breathing hitched and her heart rate sped up and then she felt Killian’s hand on her knee, squeezing gently.

“Like what?” Henry asked, slurping his whipped cream. Henry had nothing but glee at his suddenly expanded family. It would shock her ten-year-old son to know that in that respect, Emma wanted nothing more than to be like him, her amazing, empathetic, achingly open kid who wanted all of them to have their happy endings.

One roof, three floors; the Mills Organization, and therefore Mary Margaret Blanchard, owned the building and all three apartments tucked into it.

“Okay,” Emma said. “But seriously, how rich are we? You sure it’s not, like, Midas rich?”

Her father laughed. “I’ll leave that to Kathryn,” he said.

“Kathryn really did go to Boston, though,” Emma said. “So that’s relevant how, exactly?”

“She was Princess Abigail in our world,” David said. “Abigail, daughter of Midas.”

Killian’s eyes lit up and his eyebrow went up and the corner of his mouth went up and Emma knew it was going to be trouble before he uttered a single word. “And why,” he said, “would you want to give up an opportunity like that?”

Snow let out an indignant sputter as she choked on her cocoa, but Charming laughed again.

“You of all people know why,” he said.

Killian’s arm snaked around Emma’s waist and he pulled them closer together. “Aye,” he said. “That I do.”

It wasn’t easy. It was too soon, too fast, too much.

But they found a way; that’s what this family did.

Killian wasn’t someone who trusted easily. Emma wasn’t someone who trusted at all. But they quickly realized that together was the best way to get through, to get justice for Emma’s friend and partner--and to break the curse. When Emma’s life was threatened by the evil Queen of Hearts, it was Killian who was able to defend her. And when Killian put himself in the way of a sleeping curse to protect Emma’s family, Emma was able to awaken him.

It was True Love’s Kiss, and it sent a pulse of magic through Storybrooke. Emma realized that her feelings gave her strength. She broke the Dark Curse. She found her family. She brought back the happy endings.

Including for Killian Jones.

Once upon a time, after a long day at her new job with her best friend, Emma Swan came home to the apartment she shared with her family. She pulled off her boots, stepping over them into the apartment, and hung her red leather jacket on the hook by the door.

Killian Jones--Captain freaking Hook--was sprawled out on the couch, his hand over his eyes. In his lap was a black-and-white speckled composition notebook; there was no sign of the work crew that had left a small pile of equipment in what was slowly becoming her--their--kitchen.

In the apartment she shared with her family--the second-floor apartment. The one that was currently being fixed up with extra bedrooms and talk of breaking through the floor to the flat below, to make a duplex.

“‘Ello, love,” Killian called softly, and Emma smiled.

She did that a lot more often now--the real kind, that made her eyes light up and showed all of her teeth--and her smile didn’t fade as she stepped into the living room and took the notebook out of his lap.

“He told you the story again,” Emma said, gesturing at the sleeping form curled up in the oversized chair and the goddamn domesticity of it--

“Aye,” Killian nodded, scrubbing his hand down his face as he sat up, and she still wasn’t used to it, what happened with his face when he got all soft like that talking about her kid. “Your boy spent the entire day working on it with Belle, and he was quite insistent. Seems to think hearing it will--”

“He worries,” Emma said. The lack of walls when sleeping upstairs left no room for secrets, and Henry did worry. He’d come up with the idea, to write down their story like a fairy tale, about Emma and Killian and Liam and their family and it made Emma’s heart hurt, sometimes, when she thought about all that Henry had brought into her life. “He just wants to help.” She paused, then: “Does it? Help?”

Emma Swan hadn’t been looking for someone who would give his heart to the world, or some True Love riding to her rescue. The only one who saved her was her. But she had always hoped that somewhere in the universe, there might be someone who would keep her warm when she was cold, feed her when she was hungry, and maybe--on occasion--take her dancing.

No one was more surprised than Emma when she found her True Love in the Storybrooke Sheriff’s station, when she kissed Killian Jones and saved him from eternal sleep.

No one was more surprised when she found her family that night.

“Hearing a story where I’m not the villain? Yeah,” he said. “It helps.”

“You’re more than that,” Emma protested. “You’ve got a mark in the hero column, at least.”

“I’m not so sure about that, love,” he said. “I don’t believe I ever--to use your phrase--rode to the rescue, or gave my heart to the world.” Killian’s words were teasing, but his eyes were serious.

“You gave your heart,” Emma said. “You gave it to me.”

“I did,” he said. “But you have given me use for it: a double heart for my single one.”

Emma grinned. She could always tell when he was quoting something.

“Shakespeare?” she asked.

“Aye.”  He smirked.  "I'm getting a mite predictable, then?"

"Maybe you should try something new, darling," Emma said, her voice a terrible imitation of his accent, and he laughed and stood up and pulled the notebook from her hands, placing it with some care on the couch cushion.  

Killian's voice was low and sleepy as he began to speak.

"'i fear / no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want / no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true) / and it’s you are whatever a moon has always meant / and whatever a sun will always sing is you'," he said.  He pulled her until she was flush against him.  His finger traced the chain around her neck.

'"and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart,'" he said. 'i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)'."  He kissed her, starting at her forehead, trailing down to her mouth, and whispered against her lips.

“Dance with me, Swan,” he said.

And they all lived happily ever after. The End.

--

Our revels now are ended. These our actors, As I foretold you, were all spirits and Are melted into air, into thin air: And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, The solemn temples, the great globe itself, Ye all which it inherit, shall dissolve And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff As dreams are made on, and our little life Is rounded with a sleep.

The Tempest Act IV, Scene 1

-30-

[ionlydatesassyelves]

been dabbling a little more on that fic concept so here’s the next little bit of Mr. L holding Dimentio hostage

"This is a touch obvious, is it not?" Dimentio noted, glancing around. The small house L was dragging him towards was, indeed, the only residence in the surrounding area. But it was also standing in a vast clearing, closer to the empty shoreline than the thicket of trees they were leaving the safety of.

L approached the house anyway, quickly skirting along the edge of it and glancing inside the dark windows. "Out of the city," he quickly reasoned. "Vacation house. Winter's 'round the corner. Too cold for beach trips."

The house was, indeed, entirely empty. It was also locked, L discovered when he tried the doorknob. He jerked his arm that was tied to Dimentio's and prompted "Get us in."

"With what?" Dimentio laughed incredulously.

L rolled his eyes and muttered "useless motherfucker" as he shoved the pistol into the waistband of his pants. He ran his fingers around the top of the doorframe, the welcome mat, the pathway stones, until he produced a spare key that had been hidden in the dirt of one of the window mounted flower boxes. "You got no fucking magic either?" He snapped, a little louder, as he opened the door and let himself in.

Dimentio stumbled in after him with another small chuckle. "Had I a single drop of magic in my blood still, be certain I would not have allowed you to wrestle me to the filthy ground."

L slammed the door shut and locked it behind them, then shoved Dimentio's back against the door and held him there with an arm across his chest and the gun pointed under his jaw. "This funny to you?" he growled.

"Comedy and tragedy are but two sides of the same coin," Dimentio said playfully.

L just snarled in anger and grabbed the collar of Dimentio's cloak to drag him further inside. He selected one of the wooden chairs at the dining table to push Dimentio into. Then he took the scarf binding their wrists in his teeth and tried to pry the knot undone without dropping his weapon again. Dimentio helpfully held a palm up and offered "Shall I hold that to my own head for you?"

L knocked the blunt end of the handle against Dimentio's head, startling a sharp cry out of him. He did, somehow, manage to untie them and wriggle his own wrist free. He knelt down and set his gun on the floor to properly secure both of Dimentio's hands behind the back of the chair, and even tied the scarf to the framework itself for good measure.

"If you split my skull, we will both be quite out of luck," Dimentio quietly complained, gently shaking his head to clear his viion somewhat.

"Don't be a smartass," L advised. He stepped over to the adjacent chair and angled it to face the magician before collapsing into it. The gun raised to point at Dimentio's head again, and L prompted "You come up with any good answers yet?"

Dimentio shifted in his chair, trying to wiggle his shoulders into a more comfortable position. "Well, I would venture to guess you have no answers of your own."

"I don't have a gun to my head," L pointed out.

Dimentio flicked his gaze to the weapon again, then back to L. "Where did you obtain that?"

L narrowed his eyes.

Dimentio let a sort of frustrated sigh escape him. "Honestly, Mr. L, we are like blind leading the blind down a cruel and treacherous path. We can compromise, at least, can we not? No tricks, all cards on the table, and we can sort this mess out together."

A very tense silence filled the room.

L's rather displeased expression did not shift, but he did eventually mutter "Nicked it off a d-man. A dead one."

Dimentio's brow rose at that claim. "So, they are slaughtering d-men? No wonder Jaydes has yet to regain control of the situation."

"What are they?" L prompted again, tipping the gun to redirect Dimentio's attention.

Dimentio sighed. "Something long forgotten. 'Inklings' they call themselves. Only fragments of memories of what they used to be."

"What did I say about your bullshit riddles," L snarled.

"You asked what I know, and that is what I know," Dimentio said. "They are unknown. They are nothing but an idea of something that no longer exists. They are not made to exist and live in a world that has forgotten them."

"Then how are they here?" L argued. "That's not a small group, either, that's an army."

Dimentio took a moment to very sincerely flounder for words. "I… do not know," he admitted. "I had thought these worlds safe from them, because it rejects them. I am unsure how they were able to cross over."

L frowned, obviously unsatisfied with that answer. "What're they after you for?"

Dimentio shrugged and leaned back in the chair with a heavy sigh. "Who in these worlds does not have some grudge to settle with me? You, yourself, delayed your own escape from the depths of hell to seize the deliciously irresistible opportunity to smite me."

"You shouldn't have- …been there…" L said, impulsively angry before he managed to bite back his tone and stop volunteering information.

Dimentio met his cold stare evenly. Eventually, he took a very deep breath and looked around the room, shifting his feet anxiously on the floor. "My magic missing is no happenstance…" he said slowly. "I do not feel… complete. I believe I may have miscalculated when I took my final bow. My soul is rather damaged."

L shifted in his own chair and felt his finger itch at the trigger. "Yeah. Mine too."

Dimentio laughed once. "Ah, yes. Unfortunate that we had to part ways on such terms."

L didn't have a response to that beyond raising his other hand to steady the gun. Not to take aim and fire. To hide the shaking in his hands. Dimentio noticed anyway, but decided not to comment and instead tilted his head back inquisitively. "No. I should not have been at the castle," he volunteers. "I suspect I was being pieced back together before Her Infernal Majesty could weigh my sins and decide how to dispose of me."

Dimentio shifted, slowly, to lean forward. L flinched when he did and jerked the gun as a warning. "Do tell me, Mr. L…" the magician continued. "What were you doing at the castle? When I beckoned to you in the depths of Luigi's mind, my call went unanswered. I had assumed that you were eradicated from him completely."

"Dunno," L snapped, his voice tight with anger. "Just woke up. Last thing I remembered is you fucking lighting me on fire."

Dimentio grinned, and flicked his gaze over L. "Ah. Then these are not from our final act."

L's brow pushed together in confusion, caught somewhat off-guard by the comment. He was caught more off-guard by Dimentio's face suddenly falling, the magician's gaze darting across the floor as he thought frantically. He slowly sat back up in his own chair as realization began to dawn on him. "...Luigi did not fall with me. I left him behind."

"The fuck's that mean?" L pressed.

Dimentio surveyed his captor again. "We may have been in the castle for the same reason," he said, slowly and carefully, as if he were defusing a bomb. "Perhaps your soul is incomplete as well. Waiting on what remains to join it in the afterlife."

L shifted uneasily. "...you think… Luigi's not dead."

"I would wager, yes," Dimentio confirmed.

L squinted at him. "But, I am."

"I assure you, Mr. L, I am no less baffled by the situation," Dimentio said with a small smile. "Listen to yourself… do you know him? Your memory troubled you greatly when we both toiled under the count."

L shifted again and felt his heartbeat somewhat falter. It became more of a conscious effort to not let his gaze drift from Dimentio. "It's… fuzzy," he decided at length. "I know he's… me… or, I guess I'm him. He was here first."

Dimentio nodded calmly. "Nastasia hypnotized him to serve the count. It pushed aside his memories of a former life and old allies to make room for the unwavering loyalty she required. I thought, when I killed you, that I had successfully reversed the process to - how would one phrase it… 'switch back' to Luigi. But, as I have previously lamented, I failed to switch him back to you."

"Because I was gone," L supplied. "Because I was dead. You killed me."

Dimentio shrugged. "Luigi survived. Enough that the Damned Queen herself recognized his soul as one of the living, and allowed him to walk out freely."

"But you killed me," L growled louder. "You fucking said it, that's what you were trying to do."

Were the glowing sockets in his mask any less empty and vacant, Dimentio might have rolled his eyes. "Linger on faults of my improvisational skills all you like - or, we could move along to the moment at present and begin the arduous process of remedying the situation."

A bark of shocked laughter escaped L, and he couldn't help smiling. "I'm not helping you! Are you insane?"

"Why not?" Dimentio asked, clearly baffled. "We are in the same situation - incomplete and unstable. Our souls could not last inside the realm of Her Lowliness' protection, much less beyond it. But, perhaps if we could locate our missing- "

"You're not gonna touch him," L snapped.

Dimentio's face fell, and he narrowed his eyes. "Mr. L… do try to be reasonable about this."

L's lip curled into a snarl, and he cocked the hammer on the gun as a warning. "You're not gonna touch him," he repeated louder.

Dimentio's hands snapped forward and grabbed the gun, yanking it aside just as L instinctively pulled the trigger. L let go with one hand to elbow Dimentio in the face, and both of them tumbled out of their chairs and onto the floor. L tried to keep a sturdy enough grasp on the gun to take another shot, but he was so focused on that endeavor that Dimentio managed to get the upper hand on him and end up straddling his waist.

The gun slipped from his fingers, and a wave of sheer panic crashed over L as his arms flinched over his head reflexively.

The noise that halted the brawl was not a gunshot, but the clattering of metal against the wooden floor. L glanced in the sound's direction and saw the gun several yards away from them both.

As he shakily struggled to breathe again, Dimentio grabbed his wrists, pulled his arms away from his face, and pushed them to the floor on either side of his head. "So dramatic," Dimentio muttered. "Calm down. It would do me no good to kill you now."

L's wide eyes flicked over Dimentio's calm face, then glanced to the hands holding him down. One wrist still had the scarf loosely wrapped around it. L took a stuttering breath to settle his nerves and took care to clearly pronounce "Get the fuck off me."

Dimentio adjusted himself to sit more squarely on L's stomach and stop him from trying to squirm away and made no effort whatsoever to remove himself from L's personal space. "Let me speak. And then I will be silent," Dimentio promised. He waited cautiously, and when L did no more than narrow his eyes angrily, he continued. "You know I am not dangerous unnecessarily. Luigi has been - and still is - safe as long as he is useful to me."

L sucked in a sharp gasp through his teeth, and a tremor of anger swept over him. "Get fucked, psycho," he decided to spit out.

Dimentio sighed, somewhat disappointed. He deliberated internally, then he slowly pushed himself up off the floor. Landing his foot on L's chest to step over him was probably on purpose, but L could really only manage to grunt and roll over in response, pushing himself up onto his elbows to watch the magician carefully.

Dimentio stopped by the gun and stooped down to carefully pick it up. "I would prefer to handle this in a civilized manner," he said slowly. He turned the gun carefully in his hands to examine it as he drifted back to where L laid on the floor. "How is this? I will not pursue Luigi without you at my side. We can stay put in this pleasantly shabby abode until you decide that you realize I am in the right and elect to join me."

Dimentio grinned down at L's very confused face. L glanced the magician up and down, then finally took the bait. "...and I should just believe you?"

"I am stranded, lost, and magic-less," Dimentio reminded him. "And Luigi has bested me in battle previously. The task would be easier with a companion."

"I'm not gonna help you fight him! What's wrong with you?" L snapped angrily.

Dimentio shrugged, and he took the pistol by its barrel to safely offer it to L. "Then you are gambling that the fragmented mess you are presently can survive without him. You will see I am correct, and agree to aid me. Or you will destabilize and vanish entirely - at which point I will simply proceed without you."

L snarled up at him. He snatched the gun from Dimentio's hand a little too forcefully before he pushed himself up off the ground. L swallowed the urge to punch Dimentio to the floor, and instead pushed him aside with a hand in the middle of his chest and gruffly stated "Start looking for food. Don't leave the damn house."

"As you wish, my liege," Dimentio said with a grin and a small bow. He made his way into the kitchen, carefully unwinding L's scarf from his arm as he went. L chose a door in the opposite direction to investigate and did his best to stop thinking too hard about what was happening.

[jemej3m]

incarnate (p3)

Hheeere uuu goooooooo (OooOoooooOOooOOoOooO) - p2

*

Andrew rocked up to the weekly gathering, basically in his pyjamas. Neither him nor Kevin were early risers, but Kevin had the gall to actually come to these things appropriately dressed. 

Andrew had just chucked a sweater over his t-shirt, tucked his pyjama pants into boots, yanked a beanie over his head and shuffled into his overcoat. Erik and Nicky - who lived in the second bedroom of their apartment - didn���t look much more presentable than he did, slomping around like zombies until they’d knocked back some coffee. 

Why Wymack and Dan held these gatherings at sunrise was beyond Andrew. He hated every single fucking time the little fox dropped off the acorn message at their door. How the fox even managed to get inside the building without triggering security was a wonder in itself. Andrew couldn’t wait to move out into a house. 

They’d all crammed into the car, revved up the engine way too loud for almost five in the morning, and cruised till they arrived to the edge of town. 

They all trudged through the forest till they’d arrived at the clearing where Palmetto held all their most powerful rituals and flamboyant gatherings. It also happened to be where Andrew had summoned the demon - Neil - maybe two weeks ago. 

He still had no idea what he wanted from the thing. He didn’t want anything, really. He’d never wanted anything. 

Andrew lit a cigarette when they arrived to the clearing, waiting for the others to show up. Renee, Dan and Allison were already there: Renee, smiling like an angel, Allison, looking like a god-send and Dan acting like she owned the place, formally greeting the others upon their arrival. 

Renee sidled up to Andrew, nudging their shoulders. “Something’s changed about your aura. Something lighter.”

Odd. He would have thought a demon summoning would’ve put a blemish on his soul, or whatever bullshit Renee actually bought into. He just shrugged. 

“The whole place seems a little different, really.” Renee said. “Like its recovering from something big. You wouldn’t have been here recently, would you?”

“Everyone hangs around here.” He said flatly. “We’re a bunch of witches and this is the coven’s gathering circle.”

“Of course.” Renee said easily. “It could have been any one of us. It’s definitely not Kevin, though. He looks far too guilty.”

Andrew’s gaze travelled across to where Kevin was mulling about the exact spot Neil had appeared the first time. Andrew muttered angrily under his breath and stalked over, dragging Kevin by the arm. 

“Hey!” Kevin complained. “I was just checking -” 

“Shut it.” Andrew hissed. “Fuck this up and I’ll tell everyone exactly who hexed the coven in an attempt to get rid of his tattoo and ended up giving everyone shitty tramp stamps. We clear?”

Kevin gulped. “Crystal.” 

The recognisable footsteps of Wymack were heard by everyone: They all stood to the clearing’s edge as he arrived, flanked by Abby and Bee. Bee smiled at Andrew warmly and tapped her wrist ( “Talk later?” ). Andrew rolled his eyes and nodded. 

“Boyd and the neophyte will get here soon.”  Wymack said gruffly, brushing himself off. A twig was still stuck out of his hair and Abby plucked it out fondly. “Yes, that’s why I’ve called you all here. We’re initiating a witch into the Palmetto coven this morning.” 

Two sets of footsteps neared the clearing. One set familiar - heavy and rhythmic, like Boyd’s heart rate - and the other flighty and nervous. As they appeared, Andrew’s heart bottomed out into his stomach. 

“Neil Josten.” Wymack gestured for him to step forward. “Welcome to the Palmetto coven.” 

Neil nodded gently, eyes scouring the circle that greeted him. He looked human - the scars on his face and arms were gone, and his eyes were a normal (still devilishly gorgeous) shape and shade of blue. When his eyes flit to Andrew and Kevin, he had to stifle the hints of a grin. 

“Step into the centre: everyone else, join hands.” Wymack instructed. Andrew hated this part of the initiation, twisting his fingers with Renee’s and Kevin’s. Everyone’s energy flowed freely between them. He could feel the valliant leadership from Dan, Allison’s lures and illusions, Bee’s soothing calm, Abby’s healing tisanes, clarity and forgiveness from Renee, strength and loyalty from Matt, Kevin’s logic and perfection, Nicky’s boisterousness and sunshine and Erik’s curiosity and perseverance. 

When Neil bowed his head, they all took a startled step back. Of course it’d be something unlike any of them had ever witnessed: Neil was a creature of pure magic. Not like humans, who were poor conductors at best. His power glossed over Andrew’s skin like gold dust and he opened his eyes. 

Neil’s glamours had held up, but they wouldn’t be good enough for Renee and Bee. Regardless, they both smiled and went to Neil to welcome him alongside the rest of the coven. He looked lost and somewhat uncomfortable with all their friendly introductions, looking frantically from witch to witch. 

Andrew kept back: Kevin did too. Wymack glanced to them only once, shaking his head. 

“He’s so strong.” Kevin murmured. “He could - Andrew, he could teach us stuff! Will you ask him to?”

“Like I’m going to waste my one wish on your needless pursuits for knowledge.” Andrew muttered, letting his head fall to one side. Even Kevin’s rattling couldn’t distract him from the way Neil’s eyelashes fanned out across his cheeks, the way the tip of his nose curved perfectly to his lips. 

Andrew would never ask for that. There was no consent in magically inclined bindings. But so long as he could appreciate from afar, it wouldn’t be a problem. 

Oh, how Andrew hadn’t had a clue. 

*

three moon cycles later 

“It’s the fall equinox, it’s the fall equinox!” Neil crowed, sitting on Andrew’s dresser with his ankles crossed and rapping against the wooden surface with his knuckles. “Wake up, morons. Is that an appropriate insult? I’m still not very good with insults. Although I have decided that you humans are rather feeble: Almost pathetic. So maybe dweebs is a better term?”

Andrew blinked awake blearily, not realising he’d set a hyper-active demon to go off at six o’clock in the morning rather than his usual Kevin-Day-Getting-Bored-And-Wanting-To-Research-Or-Practise alarm. 

“How’d you get in here?”  Kevin said, waving his hands around in a futile effort to block the rays of sun that peered through the window: Neil, the little bastard, had opened the curtains. “Andrew, didn’t we set up protective wards?”

“Neil’s a part of the coven.” Andrew muttered. “He can bypass them. He’s been bypassing them for two and a half months now.”

“Who decided it’d be a good idea to bring a demon into the coven?”

“Matt’s.”

“To be fair, he still doesn’t know.” Neil chirped. “And I’m right here: I can hear everything you two are say. And some things you aren’t saying.”

Kevin sat up, shirtless and still half asleep. “What, you can read minds now?”

“I’ve always been able to read everyone’s intentions and emotions.” Neil corrected him. “It’s rather necessary for one’s survival. I’d teach you how to block it, but that wouldn’t be any fun.” 

“You’re the worst.” Kevin groused, stumbling to his feet and disappearing into the bathroom. 

Andrew finally sat up and checked his arm-bands were there, pulling a hoodie that’d been stuffed between his bed and the wall over his head. Neil watched him with his head cocked to the side. Andrew didn’t care. It’d been three months of having a pet demon and Andrew really couldn’t care less about the five-foot-three nuisance. 

“I lied before.” Neil said, softly. He was still sitting atop of Andrew’s dresser, effectively blocking Andrew from grabbing a clean pair of boxers. “I can read everyone’s intentions and emotions - except yours.”

“Now that’s some Twilight bullshit.” Andrew grunted, checking over his plants with careful fingertips. “Do you glitter in the sun, too?”

“I hate it when you make pop-culture references.” He complained. “I never understand them.” 

“Forget it. Why can’t you read me?”

He shrugged. “Most demons back home are very good at concealing themselves, but humans have never been. Renee is also practised, as is Bee, but your soul is far more intricately protected.”

Andrew closed his eyes momentarily. “It needs to be.”

“Right.” Neil said, unconvinced. “I just hope you’re not constricting yourself in the process.”

Andrew flipped him off. 

“What? I’m just making observations.”

“Well, make your observations elsewhere. I need to get to my drawers.”

Neil, in a rare moment of complacency, did as he was told. He sat on the edge of Andrew’s bed instead and leaned forward. “Have you thought about what you want from me?”

Andrew ignored him. 

“Because it’s the fall equinox, and I can draw a lot of power tonight. I should use it to escape.” Neil admitted. 

Andrew slowly turned. “What?”

Neil looked up at him from under his curly fringe. He’d let loose his glamour again - fuck, those eyes got Andrew every damned time - and he hadn’t really cut his hair for however long he’d been here. It was getting ridiculously long. Andrew wanted to run his fingers through it. 

“I can’t stay.” He said. “My father will find me. He’ll break into this realm somehow and ruin everything. I have to leave before he does.” 

“Fuck that. You’re not going anywhere.” 

Neil looked back down at his hands. They shook slightly: He balled them in his trousers, a pair ratty pair of jeans. Andrew crouched in front of him. 

“Neil,” He said. “I have the journal. I have you. If he wants to cause trouble, I’ll send him to Hell’s ninth fucking circle, got it? You’re staying.” 

“But -” He tried. 

“No.” Andrew reached out to pinch his lips shut. “Quiet, before you say something ludicrous. Stay out of trouble and I’ll watch your back. Clear?” 

Neil’s lips fought free of Andrew’s fingertips to smile, a small thing that was so reserved but unrepentant all the same. Andrew hated it. “Crystal.”

*

[roxasboxas]

An Exhaustive Post About WHY I Hate Eraqus So Fucking Much

*back on my bullshit voice* so the thing about Eraqus, right

We don’t see a lot of him, so when analyzing him we have to focus on his impact on other characters. And the first thing to note is how a lot of people in canon consider him pretty great, for whatever reason. But, again, we don’t see him being much of anything. So, his lasting effects on other characters are where it’s at.

Terra

Terra doesn’t display any actual skill when it comes to being able to tell who’s trustworthy.

Some of it comes from him not having grown up on Disney movies like we have, but even then a lot of the people he falls in with over the course of BBS are pretty blatantly suspicious. A lot of people put this on him as a personal failing, but I’d argue that a good deal of that falls on Eraqus, his fucking teacher-dad who was supposed to help keep him safe and know how to keep himself safe.

Although, in all fairness, this may be a skill Eraqus lacks, too, as he hangs out with Xehanort.

Still, though, Terra seems to trust people (especially authority figures) with an almost unnatural absoluteness in most circumstances (ie, any time outside of that scene where he saves Ven from Eraqus), which plays into my next point.

Terra is ridiculously hard on himself.

Terra: *makes one mistake while acting in self defense* Terra, literally: “I can never go home” (in the scene it’s a bit more obvious, but it’s implied that his thought process is that Eraqus would never accept him home after, yknow, him making a literal mistake)

Xehanort kills Eraqus, but who does Terra blame? His own damn self, to the point of telling Aqua that he Terra killed Eraqus, rather than that Xehanort who literally killed Eraqus did it.

Where did Terra’s darkness come from, anyways?

We don’t really have a solid idea of how hearts and light and darkness work in Kingdom Hearts (despite how often they’re brought up) but darkness at least seems to be pretty heavily sourced from negative emotions (Ansem SOD possessing Riku via him being upset about Sora not needing him, Vanitas’ entire character, etc.)

So. Terra’s darkness. Terra has enough negative emotion for it to apparently be a palpable problem that we are concerned about. Like, does he have a genetic predisposition to depression or anxiety or something? Are there any therapists in the Land of Departure? What’s going on there

Terra has so much going on emotionally that he literally gets possessed. He needs some milk therapy

Aqua

Aqua is the golden child and the eldest daughter and it. fucks. her. up.

She’s two years younger than Terra but she’s taking the Mark of Mastery at the same time as him. Did she just start at the same time as him? Why did she start so young? this is ridiculous

She absolutely puts herself in a caretaker role (definitely to a higher degree with Ven, but also with Terra at times). Her fellow apprentices are almost more her responsibility than Eraqus’ at times, which should absolutely not be the case. My girl is 18 in BBS she is too young to be raising a 16y/o boy and a 20y/o man.

What parental stuff does Eraqus do on screen? “Terra, you are like a son to me” fuckin act like it then

If anything Eraqus encourages this thought process and behavior when he tells her to keep an eye on Terra as he sends the two of them off to punch monsters. This aint healthy man. shut up

Even when she’s hanging out in the realm of darkness for a hot decade her focus is less on taking care of herself and more on getting back to Terra and Ventus because she feels so obligated to take care of them

She’s only IN the realm of darkness in the first place because she hopped in to save Terra, who was kind of. hella possessed and evil at the time.

I feel like this actually shows up in her game mechanics as well. She’s a glass cannon. She’s out here solving other peoples problems and killing monsters like a champ but shes got no health bc shes not taking care of her own needs.

All of Aqua’s problems really fall under that one category but hoo boy it is a doozy huh

Ventus

im going back and getting the exact dialogue for this part because holy shit

Eraqus: “Ventus, you’re alone? I thought Aqua would-- Well, what matters is that you’re home. You don’t belong outside this world yet. You need to stay here, where you can learn--” Ventus: “In your prison?” Eraqus: “What?” Ventus: “That’s your excuse... for keeping me imprisoned here, isn’t it?” Eraqus: “What did you hear?” Ventus: “That I’m supposed to be some weapon... Some kind of... ‘X-blade”!” Eraqus: “I knew it. Xehanort-- He could never let it go.” [pause for flashback] Eraqus: “I failed. I had the chance to stop him and couldn’t do it. But I will not fail again.” [Eraqus summons his fucking keyblade to kill a child] Ventus: “Master! What are you...” Eraqus: “The X-Blade has no place in this or any world. Xehanort has made his purpose clear... and I am left with no choice. Forgive me... But you must exist no more.” [Terra steps in and saves Ventus.] Eraqus: “What?” Terra: “Master, have you gone mad?” Eraqus: “Terra! I command you-- step aside!” Terra: “No!” Eraqus: “You will not heed your Master?” Terra: “I won’t!” Eraqus: “Why do all my attempts to reach you fail?” [side note: this is its own fuckin loaded statement but its in terms of his effect on Terra’s own self doubt rather than what Ventus is up to] “If you don’t have it in your heart to obey... then you will have to share Ventus’s fate.” [Terra and Eraqus begin to fight] Ventus: “Enough, Terra! He’s right...”

Or, tl;dr, Ven literally believes he should fuckin die just bc Eraqus said so. What the FUCK

Ventus: hey did you know about this Eraqus: yes. die Ventus: shit ok

Things to keep in mind:

Ventus has about 4 years of cumulative memory due to magic heart shenanigan induced amnesia

Eraqus was technically responsible for him this whole time, and claimed to Ventus (getting Terra and Aqua to lie about this, BY THE WAY) that this had been the arrangement since forever.

Xehanort and Yen Sid

Xehanort

Okay, we can’t blame Eraqus for Xehanort being evil as shit and we’re probably gonna get more info on that in the new Xehanort game, but. Eraqus fucking cheats at fantasy chess. Probably didn’t contribute that much to Xehanort’s darkness problem, sure, but probably didn’t help at all, either.

Yen Sid

Dude just lives in his tower. doing jack shit. making Sora and Riku teach themselves during their final exam. Making Merlin teach Kairi and Lea. do something my guy you’re irrevocably caught up anime drama anyways

this is the joke section. to lighten the mood after talking about the whole child murder thing

And then Eraqus had literally no direct effect on anyone else in the whole ass series. His entire impact was literally negative. I hate him

[enchantedbride]

Some Obey Me Verse Stuff I’ve Worked Out

In General:

-As I’ve mentioned in previous posts the MC is a separate OC name Kat/Katherine, and I now have some more details about her. Specifically, she has ginger hair like Beelzebub, she’s 22 years old, and she’s really tall. (Everyone for the longest time thinks Kat is older than Joey due to this and the fact Joey dresses more cutesy than Kat a lot of the time.) She’s also on the impulsive and headstrong side, but she’s very kind and protective of her friends (and eventually newfound family). 

-Kat has more of a found family dynamic with the seven brothers in this version of events rather than the seven brothers falling all over themselves romantically for her like in the game. The MC has good parents, but was sort of isolated growing up because she didn’t really have any extended family to speak of, and really envied her friends who had uncles, aunts, cousins, etc (she kind of had a lonely childhood in general tbh). She comes to see the brothers are her six weird uncles and weird cousin (Satan), and they see her as being like family, both before and after the reveal that she’s distantly related to their sister Lilith. 

She and Simeon wind up having a strong bond and the two eventually start dating. 

-In order to keep the numbers balanced, in addition to three humans, there are now three angels. The third angel has been kind of in limbo for a while, but I knew for sure that said she’d be a girl and would be on the older side, probably in the same age group as Simeon/Lucifer/Diavolo/Barbatos. Originally I was going to name her Noel but I got to thinking about giving her a saint name like Simeon and Luke, so henceforth, her official name is Tabitha.

-Tabitha seems very matronly at first (dignified, practical, no nonsense), but she can easily relax and have fun too. Originally she was one of Luke’s mentors back in the Celestial Realm, and volunteered to be one of the exchange students when she discovered Luke was selected to go. (She was concerned by the fact he’s just a kid and he was going to be attending demon college for a year. Granted, he’d have Simeon with him, but even then she was still worried.)

-Tabitha gets along best with Simeon, Barbatos, and Satan, and is almost like a mother to Luke. She also gets along fairly well with Lucifer and Diavolo, but they tend to rub each other the wrong way at times. (She can and WILL call Lucifer out on his bullshit, and Diavolo too, but she’s more subtle about it to match Diavolo being a more subtle style of demon.)

Regarding a Pact between Lucifer and Joey:

-Joey initially is very against having any pacts, period. She doesn’t like the idea of having that much power over anyone. (And she doesn’t want to hand over her soul to anyone thank you.)

-However, when things get very serious regarding the demons who oppose Diavolo and the exchange program, Lucifer becomes agitated and worried about what could happen.

-At this point, they’re dating/in a relationship. 

-Lucifer winds up bringing her the offer of making a pact as a way to safeguard against the possibility of someone getting a hold of magic that could harm himself or his brothers. At this point he doesn’t trust Kat quite enough to make the offer (but he makes a pact with her at the end of the year just like in game, the way it happens is different though). But, he trusts Joey and he knows she wouldn’t even use it unless absolutely necessary.

-She initially turns him down, because of not wanting that kind of power and not wanting to give up her soul for something she doesn’t even want (because demons often ask for a soul or something else almost if not equally costly according to Leviathan in game). 

-But Lucifer is desperate, and this is really his only good option for a failsafe to guard against magic that could control him or his brothers against their will. After some arguing and back and forth, he assures her that he had no intention of asking for her soul in return.

-They iron things out, and basically the pact is: in return for using the power of her pact to protect Lucifer and his brothers, Lucifer will come to her aide to protect her at anytime. (This translates to him being able to know where she is and appear at her side instantly if she’s in danger.) Neither of them may intentionally harm the other. But Lucifer being embarrassed about his desperation and the whole thing (him offering the pact, doing so out of desperation, and being willing to be so light on the conditions for it), he also asks that she may not speak of this pact to anyone, which she agrees to (and this is added to the terms of the pact). The pact will dissolve if/when she dies. 

-...Which it does when she dies and becomes an angel. 

-That said, even with a gag order written into the pact it doesn’t take too long for certain folks to figure out what happened, so it’s something of an open secret in the Student Council+House of Lamentation.  

- Lucifer sometimes calls Joey ‘Master’ in private in order to tease her. (I think I’ve mentioned this already but ye!)

[danetobelieve]

Threat Level: Pizza || Ricky and Winston

Honestly, Winston was tired. In the last week, between them, Ricky and Dee they had spotted and dealt with four alghouls and what Ricky referred to as a spawn. Then last night a pack of three spawn had attacked the house and Winston and Ricky had been forced to deal with them. Winston was pretty proud of the fact that they had managed to immolate one. That had been a feeling like no other. Yet as they stood with a broom in hand, brushing vampire dust off of their porch, Winston couldn’t help but feel like it was time to make a change. Two attacks on their home in as many months wasn’t their idea of fun. Turning to Ricky, who was fixing a window before moving onto the porch railing that had been shattered during the commotion, Winston sighed. “I think that it is time that you and me start thinking about installing some security, and I’m not just talking about the mundane type of security. I think that we need to consider the fact that it might be time to have something other then a kitchen knife available when the next grizzly beasty comes after us.” 

Pausing from his repair work to pick alghoul out of his fangs Ricky nodded emphatically. “I mean. Setting aside the fact that the last time the last time that you and I were involved in some magic together we ended up in a strange prison demiplane inspired by my woodwork and fueled by your magic…. I agree. This is becoming fucking exhausting.” The unending night had made some things that were only comfortable at night far more brazen than they normally were, and a whole subset of those things viewed Ricky as a particularly choice piece of steak, and the house constantly being under siege was wearing on him super fast, “So… I am open to suggestions. As far as super fun magic home defense systems go. All I want you to keep in mind… is that I am very very open to the idea of flame turrets. Very very very open to that idea.” He leaned against the frame of the window and looked out at Winston on the porch, “But, practically, how does it work?” 

“Yeah, I’m not necessarily talking the same sort of magic. I don’t want to get stuck in a pocket dimension that is also a puzzle box.” Winston wasn’t sure what they were thinking, but if they could centralise a number of security features to a central console, then Winston wondered whether including spells into their code as data flags would cause any change in the potential effects. “I don’t want to mess around with magic just yet, for now though we should think about making some supernaturally minded upgrades.” They paused as they considered a few options. “Well first of all we could look into installing motion sensors in the grounds around our house and Dee’s these could activate UV bulbs as security lights, that should at least give any vampires a little bit of trouble.” They considered other options. “Maybe something with salt and iron for ghosts …” they were still so new to this, they weren’t entirely sure what else they could include. “If it isn’t too expensive we should consider getting CCTV, maybe I can work out some enchantment that allows us to see things approaching. Infrared or heat sensitive cameras or something…” they paused and pulled their glasses off, rubbing the end of an arm against their scalp thoughtfully. “Any eureka moments?” 

“Oh come on didn’t you enjoy our little demiplanar excursion into the realm of ‘oh god I hope we’re not dead?’” Ricky paused his repair work and joined Winston out on the porch, sitting down with his back against the warm wood of the porch, “Well… You’re already talking outside my scope of knowledge, but I think you’re right, we don’t really need to be focusing on the human threats, it’s the supernatural ones we need to be worried about.” He pulled out his phone and started to type out notes as Winston was talking. He was more of a old-school kind of guy; the security enhancements that his roommate was talking about were way out of his scope of knowledge, “Are ghosts really a problem though? I think it’s the physical things we have to worry about more. As for CCTV that shit isn’t too expensive anymore with like Ring and Blink and all that shit you can just control it from your phone. And I do mean you I’m sure I’d break it if I tried to control it.” He kept typing as Winston talked before looking up with a raised eyebrow, “if you’re expecting me to have a eureka moment about technology you are in for a dismal disappointment. You’re gonna have to take point on this and I’ll help out however I can. But if you think you can work enchantments into it I’m absolutely down.” 

“No, for some reason I did not enjoy having to endure a minor existential crisis as to whether or not I have died, although I will admit that it is nice to know for certain that I am indeed relatively alive and well.” Winston shrugged before continuing. “No, I think that Dee and her shotgun are more then enough to deal with the potential human criminals, but if we draw the attention of something like Hunters or Vampires or I don’t know, something along those lines then I think that I would want to have something else. I also think we should think about setting up a communication tree with others.” Winston nodded. “I know that it sounds ridiculous, but the one exorcism I saw, back in the library at UMWC was terrifying and I don’t really want to experience it again if I can help it. But I need to really work out how well these cameras will work against fast moving and potentially magic critters.” Chewing on their lip, Winston shrugged. “Maybe you can help me by telling me how feasible it’ll be to set up stuff and we can begin working on sourcing all the things I’ll need to set this up. I can do the techy stuff and you can help me with the actual skilled labour.” 

“Well I had a delightful time so your negative experience is on you. I enjoyed our one on one time inside a magical prison. I think we could market the whole experience to white people with too much money and too much time on their hands. Throw in some bullshit about it being meditative and shit. We could be super rich.” Ricky couldn’t help but laugh at Winston’s mention of their land lady, “Yeah I know one day I’m gonna have to have the “hey you probably shouldn’t have a loaded shotgun in the house anymore” talk with her but we’re a ways off from that and she’s a crack shot with it.” he kept typing away, looking up periodically at Winston as they talked, “Well we’ll add ghosts to the list of things to keep out. I mean I don’t think I can tell you how feasible it all is until we get an actual plan in place but it shouldn’t be too bad. Don’t think it’ll require any actual like renovations to the house, unless you’ve got a plan for a garlic filled moat you havne’t told me about yet.” He dashed inside to grab a pad of paper and came out again, starting to scribble down some ideas, “Wanna order delivery and hash this out?”

“You’re also completely barking mad if you thought that our time in a magical prison was anything like fun,” Winston laughed and shook their head at Ricky, “I think that you could market that shit to normal White Crest people and they would still eat it up. But I don’t think I want to get super rich based on whether or not people are going to make it out of a trick prison.” They paused for a moment and slipped down onto a bench on the porch overlooking their property. “Well make sure that I am nowhere near you or her when you have that conversation.” They raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Yes, that sounds like a great idea, and I can use your sketching skills to try and visualise where we are going to put this shit and how it is going to work. We’re going to need shit loads of rock salt, iron fillings, holy water, maybe even silver. Stakes wouldn’t be a bad idea either. I also need pizza and probably some beer too.”

“What can I say, I like puzzles and I’m good at compartmentalizing my feelings. So. I made it fun.” He pulled out his phone and started thumbing through apps, “is that not exactly what an escape room is? Ours would just be a magical escape room where you’re not sure if you’re dead or not! It’s an extra perk; existential crisis added on for free.” Ricky brought up Grubhub with one hand while the other kept scribbling the supplies Winston was listing off, “Meat lovers no cheese extra anchovies for me, what do you want? I’ve got beer in the fridge, I made a supply run when the darkness hit because I didn’t want to leave the house if possible. I’m a vamp magnet.” He started a very basic sketch of an aerial view of the house and the property that surrounded it, “Are we going to have auto turrets for the stakes? I think that’d be noticeable. We should try to be as discreet as possible. Don’t want to draw attention, just protect ourselves.” 

“That sounds like something that a crazy person might say, I think you’re just an adrenaline junkie who likes to put their life in danger because it gets their heart racing.” Winston raised an eyebrow and shrugged gently. “I don’t know if anyone is going to play for a healthy dose of Nihilism Ricky, and also in escape rooms you can usually guarantee the safety of your customers and I’m not convinced that I could.” Winston swallowed gently and decided that they wouldn’t try and recreate the mistake they previously had. No they had other plans, a type of magic that they had yet to find any information on. It made them wonder what could be achieved if they tried some new stuff. But now wasn’t exactly the time for them to do that. Now they had other things to focus on. “Can I get a meatlovers with extra cheese and extra mushrooms?” Winston replied. “I can leave the house if needs be, plus I’m sure that people can drop stuff off to us if you don’t want to risk it.” They were honestly a bit shocked at Ricky’s suggestion of auto turrets. “Dude, this isn’t Doom Eternal, we’re not installing auto turrets mainly because I don’t know how to build auto turrets. NoI think it would be better if we can go with high powered UV lamps and a few well placed stakes around the house. At least until I get better at this stuff, I’m a computer programmer not an engineer.” 

“At absolutely no point in our cohabitation have I ever fucking told you I was a sane person. No false advertising here. That’s just because you haven’t figured out the right marketing spin for it yet. You can market Nihilism to anyone you just gotta put a pretty enough bow on it. But, we’re getting away from the main topic here.” Ricky tapped the orders into his phone, adding on a couple of 2-liters just so they’d have something in the fridge where they didn���t have to leave the house for supplies. “I’d rather you not take any unnecessary journeys since, you know, once again it’s fucking nightmareville up in this place. But if worse comes to worse we’ll make a group run for it.” He laughed at the reference, shaking a fist in the air, “Rip and tear, until it is done!!! You know it may be eternal night right now but it really makes for some amazing ambiance when I’m playing that game.” Ricky nodded and started a shopping list on the side of the paper titled “Death-based Doodads”, “Stakes and UV lamps it is. Though too many UV lamps and people are going to think we’ve got a grow operation here.” 

“My apologies for not considering your sanity as something that could be in question, most people usually don’t expect other people’s sanity to be in question. As for marketing existential crisises and nihilism then that is something that I will leave for you.” Winston replied with a small grin decorating their face. Winston was glad that they weren’t going to have to cook for themselves. They were feeling incredibly lazy after fighting for their night in the middle of the day, even though it was dark. “Don’t worry, I don’t really want to risk facing alghouls and vampires if I can help it, especially not when I know better. I’m not going out as much as I possibly can, I’m just trying to stay home and when I do go out I am making sure that I’m not alone.” Winston shrugged and smirked. “You know, it is not Overwatch, but it is still a lot of fun to kick the shit out of demons, even if I can’t do it in real life.” Winston frowned and nodded. “You’re right, we’ll have to be sensible about where we plant our weed crop, don’t want people to catch us doing anything illegal.” They were being sarcastic, somehow they thought that they would manage to get away with it. They worked for the Police Department after all.

“I really feel like you should have seen that coming though. Marketing existential crises and nihilism are definitely something we could get away with with Gen Z I’m sure of it. Just make the marketing laden with memes and we’ll be all set.” Ricky slid his phone back into his pocket after receiving the text notification that their order had been confirmed, “See. That’s some solid planning right there. In the end it’s gonna be the goddamn buddy system that saves us all.” Rolling his eyes he pushed himself to his feet and wandered back into the house, spreading the papers out on the dining room table so they’d have more room to work, “Yeah yeah yeah you and overwatch. That’s way too much for me to try to wrap my head around. I’ll stick to chopping demons apart with a chainsaw and a variety of super fun weapons. That’s more my speed. Mindless platforming, puzzles, and mayhem.” He laughed as he drew a stool over to sit on, looking down at their plans, “We’ll add a grow operation after we figure out how to protect our home from the supernatural. Even if regular weed doesn’t really affect me much. It’d be a good money maker anyway. But for now we’ll use the UV lamps to attempt to vaporize some vampires.” 

“If we marketed using memes we could, but then that would cut out an entire demographic of baby boomers and the older millennials that wouldn’t get it, so you know, you win some you lose some.” Winston shrugged gently and settled in their seat, looking around them trying to decide what else they could include. “Is stuff like wolfsbane a thing?” Winston asked trying to think of the most generic supernatural stereotypes that they could implement here. “Obviously it is going to take a bit of time before I can really get any of this stuff working, but better to start now rather then later.” Winston was terrified of what some of the things that were out there could do to them and their friends. “Everyone has different preferences and enjoyments, it’s not my fault that your tastes are so far separated from mine which are obviously far superior.” Laughing, Winston shook their head and smiled. “Bro, you remember that I work for the police department. They’re not huge fans of illegal grows that aren’t regulate by the tax man.” 

“Listen. Boomers had their time to shine. They don’t deserve targeted marketing anymore. They can take or leave whatever we give them.” Chewing on his pen for a moment, Ricky pondered for a moment, “I honestly don’t know. You’d have to ask Morgan. Seems like she’d know more about that sorta herbology shit than me. I know there is a whole subset of supernatural related herbs. But I’m right there with you; this will definitely take some time so we might as well get going. Because knowing this town… this darkness could last for quite a goddamn while.” The doorbell rang and Ricky went to retrieve their pizzas, heavily tipping the put-upon looking driver to make up for the extra anchovy stench undoubtedly filling his car, “Grub’s here. And my taste in video games is impeccable. I’m sorry I’m not into games with a gay cowboy, weird angst cyborg asian stereotypes, and people screaming in the headset about their skill rating. Gimme that sweet sweet ‘don’t talk to other people’ gaming.” He set the pizza down on the counter and got them out a couple plates, “Oh I didn’t forget. But I like to think I’m above certain aspects of the law given the great ease with which I can implement plan ‘just hide in the fucking ocean forever’. Which is a solid ass plan.” 

“It doesn’t matter what they do or don’t deserve, proportionally speaking they hold far more wealth then Gen Z or even a good proportion of the millennial population, targeted marketing takes that wealth away from them.” Winston scratched at the thin film of stubble that had sprung up over their jaw. “I’ll put some feelers out and try and find out what else we could to do to really sure up the defenses here, if I was better at magic then I could enchant some more shit but after the last time that went I’m a little bit weary of trying anything big without more practice.” Winston sincerely hoped that whatever it was that was causing this darkness would get resolved soon, but they weren’t about to charge into the darkness and try and change any of it. Not yet anyway. They weren’t that desperate yet. “I love the inherently racist stereotypes that Blizzard brings to me, and if you keep talking McShit about McCree then I’ll cut you.” They grinned and grabbed their pizza from Ricky, slipping down onto the sofa and laughing as Ricky continued their tirade against multiplayer gaming. The irony was that of course in real life they were the exact opposite. Winston was the introvert and Ricky the extrovert that adopted them. “Unfortunately I cannot hide in the ocean forever because I am not an aquatic animal, but you go off.” 

“This took a weirdly capitalist-centric turn; but, I’ll keep all this in mind when I’m planning out how to launch our magical escape room empire. Which is going to have a terrible pun of a name but I haven’t decided what it’s going to be yet.” Nodding along with Winston’s train of thought Ricky opened his pizza box and put a couple of slices on a plate, “I’ll do the same. So we’ll see who knows what and we’ll protect this bitch.” A thought crossed his mind as he chewed on his first piece of pizza, “They’ll have to be disableable though. Things to keep werewolves and vampires and ghosts out. I’m… well Remmy and I… are trying to put together an interspecies clan. To at least offer some sort of unified protection against the hunters. It’s harder to pick us all off if the various species have each others’ backs.” It was hard to laugh and not spit a mouthful of various meats and fish all over his couch, but he managed, “They are really bad about racial stereotypes but you’re more than welcome to McTry. It’ll be super messy though, I’ve got extra blood.” He made quick work of the first piece of pizza and set to work on the second one as he kept sketching things out. “We should have some sort of motion detector at the end of the drive, connected to some kind of camera.” 

“I never knew that I would be starting an escape room empire, but I guess if I was going to do it with anyone then I would want to do it with you.” Winston smiled gently as they placed a piece of pizza in their mouth and chewed on their pizza straight from the box. Winston nodded. “Of course, they’ll be disable-able and hopefully eventually I’ll be able to write something that is sophisticated enough that it will be able to distinguish between who needs the measures in place. But no offense, we’ve not seen any progress there for a while and I know that you want to help these people but we can’t do anything until we’ve made sure that we’re safe. Once we’re looked after then we can look after others, but not before that.” Winston was a realist and they knew that this wasn’t going to be resolved straight away, this was something that they would need to really work on. “Gross, who needs extra blood. Seal it away in my opinion.” They winked and wiped grease from their hands with a piece of tissue from the takeaway before nodding. “Motion detectors at the gates, not to mention in the grounds hooked up to security lights so if anything moves everything gets lit up.” 

“Tides… I would have never considered starting an escape room empire but you and I have some of the weirdest things happen to us, so, I think that that’s pretty on brand for us.” It was a truth; Ricky was realizing. He and Winston definitely had a relationship that seemed to be a magnetic force for strange situations, and he loved it. Life was infinitely better now that they lived together; it was definitely one of the better decisions Ricky had made at a party. “Ooooh I have some bad news for you. We’re never ever going to be totally safe. Welcome to the supernatural life. But, I take your point. We can’t form the Justice League until we lockdown the Fortress of Solitude. Did I mix references there? I don’t really care just roll with it.” Another slice of pizza disappeared into his mouth and he rolled his eyes at the pun, “Alright well for how terrible that was I’m just going to go offer myself to the vampire hordes now. Thanks. Your terrible pun has damned me.” Scribbling at the margins of his page he attempted to not get pizza grease on the plans, “I like that. Plus it makes us look real important.” 

Laughing, mouthful of pizza, Winston looked into the moon for a moment before shrugging. “I think it is pretty on brand, we always end up doing the weirdest shit.” They settled into the silence for a moment and shrugged. “Watch tower not fortress of solitude, though I guess both are DC so it doesn’t count as much? I don’t know. Anyway, you know Orion Quinn right?” Winston was considering their next words carefully, “I think that I’m going to offer him one of the rooms if that’s cool, it seems like he could use a place to go because he is currently staying in that Scribe building way too much for the amount of living that someone our age needs to do, obviously we don’t know him but I think he’s a good kid. Just be careful about your skin, I know you are careful, but Orion found Skye’s seal skin after that time we all watched anime together and I want to believe the best in him, but I’m not completely sure we can trust him, I guess we’ll just see, but he needs somewhere to go and I’m offering him this place.” That was one of the reasons that they wanted to sure up the security, to make sure that everything was safe. “I’ve got some more stuff I want to work on, but now we’ve got the basic designs down I can start shopping for the parts and we can look at introducing all of this stuff onto a central system.” 

“We have a weird fucking life. But. When you’ve got a seal and a mage living together what the hell do you expect. I love it. This is me living my best life.” He listened carefully as Winston laid out the situation that Rio found himself in and Ricky ended up frozen with a piece of pizza halfway to his mouth, “I’m sorry. He’s living at that creepy fucking abandoned building you found while you were sleepwalking?! Of course he can stay here what the fuck. That’s not even a question.” He took the bite that he’d been frozen about to take and rolled his eyes, “Winston. I’ve been successfully hiding my skin from people for almost a quarter of a century. Have you ever found my skin accidentally? I didn’t think so. I’ve got it nice and hidden so that’s not really an issue. But I appreciate you looking out for me.” He finished the piece of pizza and moved to another. “He’s more than welcome here. I like him. He’s a good dude. So he can absolutely stay with us. I’ll clear out one of the rooms upstairs for him. We do have the basic design down though. Start putting together a shopping list and keep track of costs and we’ll split it up.” 

“I don’t think that he is officially living there, he told me that he is living with his parents, but they sound … not great from the very little that he has actually told me about them.” Winston fiddled with their glasses. “Anyway, I feel like they use that place as a way out of the house but they don’t want their parents to find out and it would make sense for someone of their age to be moving out of the house, we’ve got the room and I knew that you would say no without hesitation.” They paused and shrugged. “I know you’ve got this dude, but you’re my rock and I definitely wouldn’t be able to do all of the stuff that I’ve got to do if I couldn’t rely on your safety.” Winston nodded. “Cool, well, I gotta admit that isn’t how I thought this would end, but I’m glad we agree. We can get started on this all tomorrow I think.” 

Ricky’s face immediately went pinched and narrow. As someone with his own latent parental issues, he had remarkably little patience for homes where parents mistreated their children. It was part of why Skylar’s defence of her abusive parents had rubbed him so much the wrong way, and why his tone took on a decidedly dull and stony timbre “well. Of course he’s always welcome here. For a couple of nights or for the foreseeable future. Whatever he needs; at least there’s an easy cover with the whole ‘oh yeah I’m just striking out on my own’ excuse. When you do bring it up to him, let him know that there’s no rent. I don’t pay Dee anything so he doesn’t have to pay me anything. Eventually he can chip in on the internet bill, but getting on his feet is more important.” His expression softened and he smiled, “If it makes you feel better… it’s not in the house. It’s hidden and locked away. He won’t find it by accident. You’re stuck with me for a good long while, don’t you fear.” Closing the pizza box before he ate the entire thing he nodded, “Good. We’ll start in the morning and turn this estate into an at least somewhat-secure fortress.” 

[thearcanaartificer]

Hey, I would to like to know answers to questions 2, 3, and 7 please.

All excellent questions! Hard ones too, but I will do my best to answer them!

2. What things does your character love about their LI?

If she was musically inclined, she’d write sonnets about all the things she loves about this boy. Alas, she’s not. So she’ll more than happily write all the ways. The biggest thing she loved about Julian is his heart. He’s kind and caring and altruistic and charismatic. Ready to jump in to help others in need at the drop of a hat. Not only that, he’s adventurous and not afraid of getting rowdy. Yes, he can get really nervous and cowardly in elements he’s not confident about (i.e. ALL OF THE MAGIC REALMS) but, as long as Odelia’s there, he’s also brave despite going with knees shaking and proverbial tail tucked.

She loved his ability to talk too. Especially his stories. She never cares if he repeats them, because its a little different each time. Maybe a tidbit more detail in one spot than the last time or perhaps a bit more exaggerated in another detail. She doesn’t care if its a tall tale or an outright lie, he weaves the stories so well its engrossing to listen to- especially when he starts re-enacting the whole scene. She loved his grandeur, verbose vocabulary, and endless creativity.

And he’s so tender and thoughtful to her needs. But at the same time he doesn’t treat her like she’s fragile- simply someone he treasures. He never tells her that she can’t do something, always confident in her ability to succeed, even if others aren’t so certain. Being handicapped, that really means a lot to her. Yes, he still frets about her at times, but its never because of her handicap.

However, it has to be his intelligence that makes her heart pound and her face flush with passion. She’s a genius very smart woman, and, unfortunately, not a lot of people can keep up with her mentally. She finds it very hard to have a real conversation with others because she’s always having to mind that they won’t follow if she gets too far down a more advanced subject. But Julian? He perhaps struggles at a few subjects, but give him time, a few books on the subject, and something to take notes on and the man will come back much more acquainted with the topic- enough to understand what Odelia is telling him and offer useful insight.

3. What things about their LI annoy them?

Oh, for how much she loves him, there are still things about him that grate on her nerves, just like there are things about her that make Julian want to tear his hair out sometimes. Here are some of the bigger things though:

The biggest thing that annoys her is his tendency to drive himself into the ground trying to help or please other people. She loves that he wants to help others. She’s happy to support him in this mission, but when he’s driving himself to the point to of mental exhaustion, where he breaks down crying in frustration over simple things or tries to work through the night to make sure he’s got everything done or skips meals to push through- no, she’s annoyed. What’s worse is that he stubbornly refuses to see that he’s making it harder than it has to be or even accept her help. Everything turns into a minor fight when he’s like that and it takes her threatening him with a lockdown to get him to even concede that there might be a problem.

Another thing that annoys her is when he drinks too much. She doesn’t mind alcohol. She’s not super into drinking and only does so socially and never more than a glass or two, but Julian can and will drink like a fish when the good times are rolling- and she’s not had great interactions with drunk Julian. It’s not that he ever lays a hand on her. Goodness, he’d never mistreat her, but he can turn into a weepy, depressed drunk that verbally abuses himself in the worst ways. She can’t trust him to be by himself if he turns into that version of himself and he has scared her on several occasions, so no, she’s annoyed if he comes home drunk off his ass- because the only time he’s drunk anymore is when the friend he was entrusted to didn’t stop or encouraged the behavior. On a side note, there are friends that are blacklisted from drinking with Julian alone ever again- because he doesn’t like the fact that he goes blackout drunk and wakes to his wife being super distressed.

And the last super big thing that annoys Odelia is Julian’s perchance of being overbearingly protective and then not allow people to be remotely worried about him. If she’s not up to snuff, he’s right there fussing over her and making her rest in bed and ‘don’t you dare get up, my dear, doctors orders’. However, if he has a high fever or a grievous injury, he’s waving it off with some bullshit line like ‘I’m fine, I’m a doctor, I know my limits’. She’s tied him to the bed before because his stubborn ass wouldn’t rest despite how high his fever was or how much he was swaying. Also, on that note, she gets annoyed at how terrible he is at letting someone doctor him. He’ll happily let her fuss over small cuts and ‘boo-boos’ he wants her to kiss better, but she sometimes has to tackle him, hold him down, and do a body search to even know if he has a serious injury (and she usually only suspects him when he’s turning down sex to avoid being caught). And then forget about even treating it without him fighting every step of the way. Yes. Julian can piss her off at times with his more annoying habits.

7. What are some private jokes they share?

Haha, the biggest one is from when they first met. Well, more like, re-met. It was right before Asra had left on his journey and triggered the start of the whole nightmare called ‘Let’s not resurrect the Red Plague or, ya know, merge the dimensions, k, thanks, bye’. She ended up doing Barth a favor of getting him out of the Raven after he had passed out drunk by carrying him out princess style. The whole event ended up with him landing a rather embarrassing moniker (Pretty Princess Jules) at the Raven and no one let’s him forget it.

There are also a few jokes about Odelia’s habit of ‘attacking first, asking awkward questions after’ when spooked. She’s, uh, gotten Julian really good a few times when she had been badly startled- though the first time was the most embarrassing because she nearly did almost kill him.

Also there was an incident involving the mispronunciation of quiche. Odelia, Nadia, and Portia still laugh about it, though Asra and Julian definitely don’t.

Those are the main ones, at this moment, but I’m sure I’ll be thinking up more inside jokes as I keep writing.

If anyone else wants to ask me questions, please do! I fixed my blog site because I had made a mistake in a design choice that ended up with there being no button to ask questions. As you can see with this one, I have fixed that. Please feel free to ask me the April Apprentice Asks or just send me any free form questions you want to know!

[storiesofwildfire]

One Wrong Turn

          { @whitefoxed -- plotted starter }

♔—- “Are you sure about this, Loki?” Fandral asked, eyeing the massive tree warily. “It doesn’t... look much like a portal or a passageway.”

To Fandral’s credit, he was right. It didn’t look like much but a tree with a massive, split trunk. Ordinary eyes would not be able to see that within the split sat an ancient power used by generations long forgotten to transport off-realm. Not many knew these passageways existed anymore, aside from Loki--who had found them through relentless searches of the realm he’d been raised on--and Heimdall, the watcher who stood guard at the end of the Bifrost, who saw all things, no matter how small.

“Would it not just be easier to take the Bifrost? Heimdall would surely be willing to assist us--”

“Yes,” Loki agreed, glancing back at Fandral and the small group that he’d been charged to lead on this expedition. “The Bifrost would be easier and Heimdall’s help would be very much appreciated, however, the Bifrost doesn’t exactly make a subtle entrance, does it? We need to slip into the realm unseen and without causing a disturbance, otherwise, our task becomes five times more difficult. I’ve used this passage before. I assure you, it’s safe. Trust me, please?”

“You know I do, my prince,” Fandral agreed and he did mean that wholeheartedly. Others likely thought him daft for trusting a sorcerer so gifted in the art of deceit that he could lie to even the best of them, but they did share a bond most didn’t know about and wouldn’t understand. Fandral trusted Loki with his life enough to concede to this now, regardless of how... off it seemed.

“Good, then I’ll go first. Follow after me quickly, but one at a time.” He didn’t linger for any more complaints or skepticism and, instead, stepped forward. Reaching out, he placed one hand on the massive trunk of the tree, followed by his second hand. Hoisting himself up by gripping at a warped knot in the trunk, Loki stepped into the split and immediately disappeared from view. 

“What the Hel?” a couple voices murmured in unison. 

Fandral looked back at the small group and shrugged his shoulders. “You heard our prince. We best not keep him waiting.” Before anyone could stop him, the swordsman was following in Loki’s footsteps, hoisting himself up into the split in the tree and disappearing from view.

One by one, the small party tumbled out the other side of the hidden passageway. Much to most of their surprises, too, because they all believed this to be one of Loki’s jokes or Loki bullshitting them in some capacity. 

What they found, however, was not a realm any of them were familiar with. They were supposed to let out on Vanaheim, but rather than wander into magical forests filled with strange and lively creatures and a rippling power that stood as a solid defense to outsiders, they were in a thick, dense fog that stretched on for miles, so much so that it became difficult to see anyone even if they were standing directly in front of you.

Fandral’s hand reached out to grab hold of Loki’s shoulder, gripping it firmly more to ground himself from the sudden shock that transporting across realms could do to the body than anything else, but also to ensure his prince hadn’t wandered too far without them. Getting lost in the thick of this place seemed like an impossible endeavor, one that could have a person lost forever.

“This doesn’t look like Vanaheim,” Fandral breathed, his eyes closing for a moment so he could try to keep his head from spinning anymore violently than it already was. How could Loki do this on a regular basis? Had he just built up a tolerance for it or was Fandral just weak? Maybe a mixture of the two?

“No...” Loki murmured, his tone even, though Fandral knew the sorcerer well enough to sense that edge of worry creeping up into Loki’s usually calm demeanor. “It doesn’t. Not that I’ve been to every region of Vanaheim, but this... definitely does not look to be the right destination. I don’t? Understand. I’ve used that passage plenty of times. It always took me to the same spot on Vanaheim.”

“And this is not it?”

“No...”

“All right,” Fandral murmured. “Let’s not panic. We can just go back through the passage and step back out on Asgard, yes?”

“Wrong,” Dahlia’s voice called, a sorceress slightly older than both Fandral and Loki called. “Wherever that passage dumped us, it sealed itself from the other side. There is nothing to go through.”

[axelsagewrites]

Jace Herondale*Sent Away

Requested via wattpad

Masterlist HERE

Wattpad HERE

Part 1/2

“(Y/N)?” I look up at Jace, squinting as sun blinds my vision. Slowly moving to rest on my elbows and see the boy I was taken from. “(Y/N)?” He calls again. “Here,” I hold my hand out for him to take. “Where are you?” he spins in a circle. Dragging myself to stand I look at him, panting slightly, “Behind you,” he whips around and still looks confused. “I’m right here,” I place my hand on his arm and he snatches it away, shivering. “This-this is a trick. What is going on? Where’s the Seelie queen?” Jace searched all around. I stood petrified, “(Y/N)!” He yelled. Jace looked around once more, shaking his head, “This is bullshit,” he murmured, beginning to jog away. “Jace!” He shook his head, even more, picking up speed. “He can’t hear you,” I whip around to see Jessabelle standing by the lake's edge but as I stood on shore she stood in water. “you’re on a different plane,” “What? What plane?!” I yell. “Seelie’s can travel between planes. We can see them, but they can’t see us. It’s like Mundanes and shadowhunters. Here but hidden.” “I’m not a Seelie,” I spit out between gritted teeth, “I’m a shadowhunter,” “you’re the queen’s child-“ “giving birth to someone doesn’t make you a mum,” I cut her off, “It makes you an egg donor. Being a father isn’t the same as being a dad either. My real mum took me in as a baby and I was taken from her,” I walked closer, “She fought every day to protect me, and I didn’t get to say goodbye. Don’t insult her by comparing her to that monstrosity,” Jessabelle stayed silent for a moment, “As you wish. Its supper time,” she walked back into the water, disappearing through the ground as if stepping down steps. I groaned, running a hand through my hair, before walking into the water. I arrived right in my chamber. Everything the same as how I left it. sighing, I plop onto my bed. “What’s the point?” I mutter. “Family bonding?” I flinched at the smirking voice. I didn’t have to turn to see her, “Tell dear old mummy what’s wrong,” “I’m here. I’m a shadowhunter-“ “you’re no such thing,” she cut me off, “Say it again and you’ll regret it,” “I thought faes couldn’t tell lies,” she reached out, slapping my face with claws out. I held my fingers to my check, red blood staining the tips, “Its red. Like a shadowhunter. Get me a stele and I’ll heal it.” I turned to face her, “Or am I no shadowhunter?” She chuckled with empty emotion “your something alright,” she walked to the door, snatching my food tray, “you’re lucky I haven’t killed you. Only because you're useful of course,” “I’d rather be dead than in your service,” I said void of emotion. “That can be arranged,” Once she slammed the door all light sources in the room died. Laying down, I glare at the ceiling. I'd been so close. Sitting in the dark gives you time to think. It also gives you time to dream.

3rd pov Jace shook off his head a decided to keep jogging. He’d been hearing things. He’s lonely. He’s a little human. So, what if he reacted? And so, what if now he stood in line for an ice-cream. Shadowhunters have feelings too. Jace got angry at everyone for simply breathing. Once he got to the institute he’d finished his mint chip and wasn’t prepared for the chaos. Shadowhunters running around, gearing up, and filing like crazy. Alec saw him and rushed over, easily making his way through the chaos, “You’ve chocolate on your face,” Jace whipped his mouth with his sleeve, Alec grimacing, “And we’ve got a problem,” He led him to a monitor Izzy stood at, for once looking as confused as clary. “Look, these are the weakest spots for demons to break through,” red patches popped up on the screen, small and sparsely placed. Jace nodded, “This is where they’re coming in, “a purple splotch came up, taking over what seemed like a city block. “And a lot of them. But, we can’t see them,” “What do you mean you can’t see them?” Jace asked. Izzy stepped forward, swiping her hand, making a clip play, “These demons keep disappearing. See,” she was right. The demon sent a blast then was gone. It showed up again a few feet away. “I think they’re teleporting,” “But there be more traceable magic,” Alec pointed out. “Were sending everyone out. We can’t tell which ones can attack Mundanes or not. Suit up,” Jace groaned, “You two as well. Yes, even you,” he told clary. “We need numbers,” As clary and Izzy went to the female changing area, Alec and Jace headed to the other, “How was your walk?” Alec asked. “I heard (Y/N).” Alec froze, “Like for real. But I couldn’t see her. The Seelie queen, she was playing a trick,” “How do you know it was a trick?” Jace screwed up his face “Because (Y/N) called for me but wasn’t there. What else-“ “Take us there,” “What? Why?” “Just do it,” Alec insisted.

“I really don’t see the point of this,” Jace said as they walked his footsteps. Alec shushed him and Jace sighed. They hadn’t even waited for the girls so the parabatai traced his path, not quite sure where to stop, “I can’t remember, maybe it was here?” Jace stopped, forcing to Alec to as well, “why? That’s all I wanna know,” Alec sighed, running his hand through his air, “Jace, think. (Y/N) is half Seelie and in the Queen's realm. You hear their voice. The queens tricky but what use is it to trick us. Plus, if (Y/N) is really the queen’s child, just think of the power they have. This is where the demonic energy is stemming from. Notice any coincidences?” “I guess but-“ “But what Jace?” Alec walks closer, talking lower, “first the pancakes, then the voice, and I know you’ve been having dreams. Start thinking. I get its hard,  but you have to think,” “How? How do you know? Magnus lives just up the street. (Y/N), (Y/N) is gone,” Jace turns, walking away from Alec, kicking a pebble on his way. “Jace?” “What?” Alec pauses, “That pebble didn’t splash,” Jace turns around, confusion written on his face like ink, “It hit the water and kept going,” Both shadowhunters walked closer to the water, staring into it. it wasn’t too deep, clear enough to make out the bottom. Alec took another step, foot hanging over the edge. He placed his foot down and the water didn’t move, despite Alec’s foot being in it. Taking his foot back out, Alec looks at Jace, “It’s not even wet,” “Huh?” “My foots dry-“ Something pulls Alec under, too quick to react “JACE!” Alec yells as he’s pulled under. Scrambling to pull himself up, Alec tries getting out the water, dirt covering his arms and water not seeming to touch him. Like he was falling through. Jace went to grab Alec’s arm but recoiled when something slimy touched his foot. “Jac-“ Jace looked over at the gurgling noises to see Alec under the water, half his body seemingly gone. Jace dropped, laying with his arm reaching into the water. Alec reached up but their hands wouldn’t touch, going through each other like ghosts. Jace felt the slimy sensation again, this time turning just in time to roll out of the demon’s strike but the next one hit the air out his lungs. As he reached for his seraph blade he saw a bubble in the water and no Alec.

[ogygia]

What the fuck is the LBRP?: A guide

Your Reddit occultist friends have mentioned it, it’s popping up on all these Tumblr posts about banishing and stuff, but you still haven’t the foggiest clue: what the fuck is the LBRP? 

Fret not: here’s a handy guide. Warning: long post ahead!

Disclaimer: This guide represents the sum total of roughly thirteen years of on-and-off experience with the ritual and my own study and understanding of the Kabbalah and the Golden Dawn system, but emphasis is on the words my own. There will be points that I’m sure other occultists will disagree on, but I’m of the conviction that the principles underlying my understanding of the ritual are unlikely to be controversial among most ceremonial magicians.

So:

What the fuck is the LBRP?

‘LBRP’ stands for the Lesser Banishing Ritual of the Pentagram, and is a classic ritual that almost every occultist will come across at some point after they have grown out of their early Silver RavenWolf years. 80s and 90s kids are likely to have first encountered it in that seminal classic Modern Magick, probably in the earlier blue edition that had that ridiculous illustration of a fantastically-robed man drawing a massive blue pentagram before him. 

What the fuck is a pentagram?

It’s a five-pointed star as it would look if you drew it with five straight lines (rather than going around the edges and leaving the insides empty). 

It’s a symbol commonly associated with modern witchcraft, but it was already important in early Greek thought.

Most occultists are likely to have been introduced to the LBRP as a ‘banishing ritual’ (mainly because that is literally what it is called), or been told that it is the first thing they should learn if they want to learn magick. It is my opinion that this is completely bullshit.

So how the fuck do you do the LBRP?

I’m tempted to link you to Let Me Google That For You, but I’m feeling charitable so I’ll quote the ritual instructions in full from the First Knowledge Lecture, the secret (ooooh) material given to Neophytes in the Golden Dawn system—

Wait, the Golden Dawn?

Yes, the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. Late Victorian magical organisation based on the Freemasons, did fancy rituals and wore ridiculous Egyptian-inspired headgear and shit. Also a bunch of massive nerds who were obsessed with astrology, the Tarot and the Kabbalah and trying to find ways of corresponding all these different symbol systems with each other to create one gigantic, hopefully organised matrix of magical ideas and symbols that would allow them to explain – and magically manipulate – existence and the cosmos.

We’re not talking science here, of course: we’re talking spirituality. Not that they’re mutually exclusive.

Anyway, you interrupted me. Here’s the ritual, according to these folks:

The Qabalistic Cross And Lesser Ritual Of The Pentagram 1. Touching the forehead, say Ateh (Thou art)   2. Touching the breast, say Malkuth (The Kingdom)   4. Touching the right shoulder, say ve-Geburah. (And The Power)   5. Touching the left shoulder, say ve-Gedulah. (And the Glory)   6. Place the two palms of the hands together upon the breast, and say le-Olahm (Forever). 7. Fingers pointing up, say Amen.   8. Advance to the East, trace the Pentagram with the proper weapon (Wand to invoke, Dagger to banish). Say (i.e., vibrate) Yod He Vau He - imagining that your voice carried forward to the East of the Universe.   9. Turning to the South, the same, but say Adonai 10. Turning to the West, the same, but say Eheieh 11. Turning to the North, the same, but say Agla 12. Return to the East, completing the Circle, extend the arms in the form of a Cross, and say:   13. Before me Raphael;   14. Behind me Gabriel; 15. On my right hand, Michael; 16. On my left hand, Auriel; 17. Before me flames the Pentagram,   18. And in the Column shines the Six-rayed Star.   19-24. Repeat 1 through 6, the Qabalistic Cross.

What in the actual fuck—

Yeah. Riveting. 

But this will help me banish stuff, right?

Uh, yes, and no. 

The problem with the LBRP is that it’s become a victim of its own success. Before the LBRP there was no single ritual that had instructions as clearly given as this one (or so it appeared, anyway), or one that had such a clear, universal purpose as ‘banishing’. When Israel Regardie published this material it took off in a way that I’m not even sure the Golden Dawn themselves would’ve expected. 

A number of things, I suspect, make the LBRP immediately appealing to many newcomers: the safety aspect, which targets the fear a lot of people coming to the occult bring with them; the Judeo-Christian names, which while putting a lot of people off, offers a way in for those who still fear that magick might be ‘Satanic’; and also its simplicity, in that it merely requires the memorising of words and gestures and no major preparation, either in the way of extensive fasts, elaborate tools or space that no one, especially not avocado-toting millennials like me, could possibly afford.

But this is where the problem lies: the dissemination of the LBRP beyond its Golden Dawn context means a lot of people are doing the ritual without realising they’re tapping into a specific current. When you employ a specific symbol set, you enter into the current – the wider symbol set – represented by that system. The LBRP is steeped in the Golden Dawn current, and it is the nexus of important Hermetic and Kabbalistic principles. To describe it merely as a ‘banishing’ ritual – and to use it as such – is like saying that flying to the moon on a rocket is just a form of transport. There’s a lot more going on here.

So what the fuck does the LBRP actually do?

It ‘banishes’, yes. But more specifically, it’s a ritual that tunes into your most fundamental level of existence, and then creates what is essentially a magical vacuum, a kind of ‘empty space’, within it. It also aligns you within a very specific tradition of thought known as Hermeticism, which finds its origins in late antique philosophy and a fusion of Greco-Egyptian thought.

Fundamental to Hermeticism is the notion of ‘As above, so below’ (you’ve probably heard of this). I’m not paid enough to teach you Neoplatonic philosophy here (you can Google that shit), but essentially this is the idea that there is a greater spiritual plane (the macrocosm) that ‘mirrors’ the lesser, more tangible realm of existence (microcosm), and vice versa. The LBRP, performed correctly, will situate you neatly at the point of interaction between the macrocosm and the microcosm.

This is why the LBRP isn’t just a banishing ritual. I quote Crowley:

Those who regard this ritual as a mere device to invoke or banish spirits, are unworthy to possess it. Properly understood, it is the Medicine of Metals and the Stone of the Wise.

How the hell does all that work?

Where am I getting all of this from? This is where analysing the ritual itself, especially in Golden Dawn terms, can help.

To begin with, you’ll notice that the Knowledge Lecture provides two options for how to draw the Pentagram (that’ll be a five-pointed star in case you’re wondering) in Step 8:

Invoking Pentagram

Banishing Pentagram

The commonly described LBRP utilises the second pentagram – because it is the banishing one, duh. But where do these pentagrams come from?

For that, we turn to Aleister Crowley, that shit-head every pearl-clutching witchblr person likes to hate. Don’t get me wrong, Aleister Crowley was a shit-head. But he was also well-travelled (he had a lot of money) and well-read (he probably read more widely than most occultists on this website ever will) and, as his diaries show, an incredibly hard-working magician (though I suppose you’ll have time to do that if Daddy’s paying for everything else).

In Liber O, his treatise on basic practical work for a Probationer of the A.’.A.’., his magical teaching order, Crowley outlines the instructions for performing the Greater Ritual of the Pentagram, an advanced version of the Lesser ritual. Like Regardie, he gave no fucks about his oaths to secrecy, and republished a lot of material that was secret to the Golden Dawn. We see diagrams showing how the pentagrams are to be drawn in the GRP – and, aha, they’re drawn differently depending on which element you’re manipulating!

As you can see, the pentagrams used in the LBRP are the Earth pentagrams (ignore the Hebrew God name in this instance: that’s a can of worms I’m not opening right now). 

In the Golden Dawn scheme of things the elements are hierarchically arranged from highest to lowest as follows: Fire, Air, Water and Earth. This isn’t necessarily a hierarchy of superiority or value; in fact, they don’t in a sense correspond literally to fire, air, water and earth. Instead, think of them as broad labels for levels of spiritual manifestation. Fire is spirit in its “purest” form (think of how fire flashes and shines but has no real ‘bodily’ presence); Air ‘exists’, but you can only vaguely feel its body; Water is tangible, but it flows and moves and fills; while Earth is the most solid of these. In the same sense, we exist across these levels, too, from our highest spiritual selves to our solid existence in the physical realm. 

The Kabbalists call these four levels Atziluth, Briah, Yetzirah and Assiah, but I’m guessing you’re not here for the fancy words.

Anyway, what the LBRP does is to tune into our most basic level of existence – the Earth level, where our body and our ego resides – and clear it of any extraneous influences. Traditionally, after the pentagram is traced in each quarter, you don’t just say the name; you project it through the pentagram using what is called the Sign of the Enterer, followed by what is called the Sign of Silence. The Knowledge Lecture itself recommends that

the Banishing Ritual can be used to get rid of obsessing or disturbing thoughts. Give a mental image to your obsession and imagine it formulated before you. Project it out of your aura with the Saluting Sign of a Neophyte, and when it is away about three feet prevent its return with the Sign of Silence.

Thus at each quarter you are essentially opening up a portal to an elemental realm, and then casting the sum total of that element’s influence in your life back into the infinite. The Sign of Silence seals off the process and ensures those influences don’t return.

After having completely cleared off every element’s influence at your fundamental level of existence, you invoke the archangels at each quarter not just to ‘protect’ the space you’ve cleared, but also to ensure that you don’t suffocate in the vacuum. Having got rid of everything, you now restore balance in your sphere by summoning the positive and pure elemental energies of the archangels.

Tangibly, this can manifest itself in many ways: a lot of occultists have found that performing the ritual regularly initiates some serious shifts in their everyday life. Unhealthy excesses begin to make their negative effects shown, imbalances dramatically correct themselves and magicians often find themselves forced to make decisions about key aspects of their lives. Remember: the ritual primarily functions at the most basic level of manifestation – and that includes your everyday life.

Following the invocation of the archangels, you then proclaim yourself at the point of interaction between the macrocosm and the microcosm. This is signified by Steps 17-18, when you say, ‘Before me flames the Pentagram, and in the Column shines the Six-rayed Star.’ The Pentagram signifies the microcosm, with its five points corresponding to the five basic elements (the four classical ones plus Spirit); the Hexagram signifies the macrocosm, with its six points corresponding to the planets apart from the Sun, which is at its centre (that’s another can of worms I’m not opening now).

This is magically significant, because it is a declaration of your spiritual independence and power, and positions you to receive and activate the higher energies of the cosmos.

That sounds pretty intense.

It is. But my point is that by performing this ritual, you superimpose the Hermetic / Golden Dawn view of the world onto yourself, which is why anyone who tells you the LBRP is just a banishing ritual is completely missing the point. And anyone who tells you that the LBRP is the first thing every magician should learn is ignoring the fact that you may not even be interested in Hermeticism (even if it is the foundation of modern Western occultism). 

What I’m saying is, you do not need to waste your time with this ritual if you have no interest in the Golden Dawn system, or occultism as it is espoused by old dead white men. No point introducing its energies into your life if you want nothing to do with the rest of it.

On the other hand, if you’re keen on taking a splash into magick and don’t know where to start, and you’re willing to go where the magick takes you, the LBRP is, frankly speaking, not a bad place to begin.

Happy Pentagramming.

Wait, I’ve got some more questions—

I have a few other things I’d like to address re: the LBRP, but I’ll do that in an appendix to this post. This guide is long enough as it is, and God knows you Tumblr slobs have the attention span of a dead goldfish.

Before you @ me, I count myself among you lot. Why the hell do you think I’m still here?

[theonceoverthinker]

OUAT 3X18 - Bleeding Through

If you don’t like Cora, then I’d recommend you EVA-cuate before this review begins!

...Fuck what you say! I’m proud of that one!

Anyway, the review is under the cut!

Press Release

After Zelena steals Regina’s heart, Regina casts a spell so that she can speak across the realms to her dead mother, Cora, to discover the truth about why she abandoned Zelena, and Belle stumbles across what Zelena’s ultimate end game is. Meanwhile, in the Fairy Tale Land that was, young Cora is duped by a man claiming to be a prince and finds herself alone and pregnant. But a chance meeting with a real prince could lead Cora to the royal life she’s always craved, but she must keep her pregnancy a secret or risk losing everything.

Main Thoughts - Characters/Stories/Themes and Their Effectiveness

Past

The Cora insight in this episode is so great. Like we really see how a woman with ambitions of royalty, but still a level head becomes someone so driven like the Cora who abused Regina so she’d become royalty. ”Revenge is a long-term plan.” I like how even in an episode that is more-or-less leaning towards sympathizing with Cora, there are nuggets of her darker side wedged in there. It really helps balance the story and remind the audience that yeah, this is Cora. There was always that darkness to her, even while she still had her heart.

Everything in this flashback also completely recontextualizes what happened with her and Regina and Daniel’s relationship. Like, of course a love with a commoner would leave Cora just a bit apprehensive. That’s not to excuse her for SHIT, but I do this it’s important to point out nonetheless.

Present

It’s weird that we don’t really reach the meat of this story until the halfway mark. Everything beforehand is more setup than anything and it’s unlike most every other episode in that regard. The closest comparison that I can think of is “Coming Home” which spent its last fifteen minutes as an epilogue.

I compared the Regina/Zelena/Cora conflict to the Snow/Regina/Cora conflict in the past, and I guess now’s as good of a time as any to unpack that. Just like how Snow did something that hurt Regina without meaning to at all, so did Regina to Zelena. Both Snow and Regina in their respective situations were innocents and so were Regina and Zelena victims of Cora. So, is there a point to pointing this out rather than to just say that it exists? Well, I think the latter instance shows the only good way that a complicated issue like this can be resolved: communication and understanding. Snow and Regina grasp this about each other and finally, this is where the bulk of their issues are put to bed. While Snow’s divulgence of her secret comes out, it’s going forward played for laughs in the instance of a corrupted state or as a “what if.”

But ANYWAY, that aside, the Snow/Regina dynamics sits at the heart of the present segment’s story. It’s hinted at early on and blossoms from the end of the failed seance onward. Snow’s apologies to Regina throughout the episode allows for these two women to finally confront the complicated nature of their run-ins with Cora. Cora was a bad person who in the end, got what she deserved, but the mess she left behind wasn’t deserved by those with whom she left it.

All Encompassing

THAT ALL HAVING BEEN SAID, ”She didn’t want to give up Zelena. She was forced to by my mother.” Everything Snow recounts about her possession is utter BULLSHIT and makes me think she has no comprehension skills! To put it bluntly, that aspect of the ending fucking sucks! This would be one thing if this were a few episodes ago, but she’s contradicting things that have and will be in mere minutes literally clarified. Cora DID willingly give up Zelena and all Eva had to do with it was making sure Leopold wasn’t swept up by it. THAT is why “My best chance” is the swerve of a line that it is, because it’s a mother giving up her child to die in the woods with absolutely no remorse! Because of all that, the moment where Snow “exposits” about the present ends up as the weirdest story hole that paints everyone involved in such an unnecessarily weird light. This is either the result of the writers not communicating with each other about the framing or the framing being flat-out wrong. Like, they’re trying to make this a more complicated issue, but are going in the reverse order of things! How did they fuck this moment up so badly?! If they wanted to do that, Eva should’ve been shown in the episode to be a lot more malicious than she was instead of exposing a liar. The actions should’ve been worse, but I’m more on Eva’s side than Cora’s. OR FUCK! LEOPOLD has a giant ass hatedom and he was the one who proposed to someone he was roughly four times older than! Make HIM the baddie! Have him outright reject her for the pregnancy and kick her out, no lie attached. That way, you get to keep the message the same, but give that assholery to someone who deserves it. Just...this element that makes up the moral center of the story is utter GARBAGE here, and it’s so sad given how well set up everything else was. Eva’s move was only douchey if you remove the fact that Cora was keeping such a big secret!

Insights - Stream of Consciousness

-”Red apples are so sickly sweet. Don’t you agree?”That must be an Enchanted Forest thing, because not in our realm, or at least not compared to Granny Smiths!

-Okay, Zelena’s plan to get Regina’s heart was sinister and ingenious as fuck!

-The way Roland just drops the firewood in his hands upon seeing Rumple is so fucking adorable! #bestcharacter

-Aww! Regina’s first thought when she loses her heart is to ask if anyone was hurt!! <3

-I love the background music in the flashback’s first scene. It’s so bouncy and peppy and just makes me smile!

-Jonathan’s such a sneaky asshole-ish fuck. He has his seduction of Cora down to a freakin’ science!

-”I’ll turn this ring into gold.” Bitch, she’ll do it herself!

-”Can you please tell your mother that we’re not naming your brother Leopold?” Yes! Please don’t!

-”Eva might not work for a boy.” Edwin?

-The Dark Vortex is hands down the silliest thing this show has ever done and I kind of love it.

-”Oh don’t be jealous.” ...This line was said from Zelena to one of her monkeys. Do her monkeys have crushes on her?

-I like the explanation for why they don’t use the seance more. I am curious though, do you think people who have moved on can be communicated with? Like, if Neal were killed with an actual weapon and Zelena were present for it, would he have been able to be summoned?

-FUCK YOU, JONATHAN!

-”Good luck finding me.” Why? You’re a gardener. You’re pretty easy to find. ...Okay, so you’re just gonna run away from your job? ...You are such a loser.

-Hey! Pre-scummy Leopold! Decent to see you!

-Jeez. Hearing Emma talk about how powerful her magic is hurts! Damnit!

-”I’m not in the mood for a heart-to-heart.” “I’m not sure that’s physically possible right now.” XD That’s an underrated joke and Regina’s chuckle was well earned!

-”You can help with the teacups.” Why is it that teacups are this show’s equivalent of being soft and cute?!

-I love how you can see how freakin’ amazed young Leopold is when Cora takes his knife to make the fire.

-The way Emma says “Boom!” is sooooo cute! She’s so excited and I want that as my fucking text tone! <3

-...I love how Belle for once gets to interrupt someone at Granny’s. This is ending up as the best Belle episode ever and she’s not even the main!

-”You should have a woman dress you more often.” I can’t say that I disagree.

-”Why a heart? Why courage? Why a brain?” Do you think Zelena knows that there’s not only a book series, but a classic movie based around these things?!

-”My son is not lost. He’s dead.” Don’t remind me!

-Haunted house! Why are there so many Halloween episodes that have fuck all to do with Halloween?!

-I love how the possession blends into the next flashback scene! That was COOL storytelling!

-...I know Rumple’s playing her, but damnit, the dude’s dashing as fuck. If I were Zelena, I’d have fallen for him too.

-Damn! Zelena’s touch starved! Have a listen to those gasps!

-”And he said I have a tough placenta, which somehow came out creepy.” Yup, that’s Whale for you.

Arcs - How Are These Storylines Progressing?

The Wicked Witch - So we now have Zelena’s plan and I while I stand by what I said in my “It’s Not Easy Being Green” review in saying that it’s kind of pointless going back in time when Cora only wants a child that will grow up to be royalty, the process of how she time travels is nonetheless a good one and Zelena’s the kind of character who is both cocky and talented enough to make it happen.

Regina’s Redemption - We get so much of Regina’s Redemption in this episode and once again, it’s all just spectacular! “If she wants to kill you, she’s gonna have to go through me.” Like, Regina’s not only defending someone who she used to HATE, BUT is freely standing up to her mother. That’s so impressive!

Killian’s Redemption - I think it’s a big show of how much Killian has grown as a character that while not romantically pursuing Emma, he’s still doing everything he can to help the cause while he comes up with another plan. He’s definitely in a complicated spot here and not telling Emma is definitely a mistake, but for his current situation, he’s doing what he can to ensure everyone’s safety.

Rumple’s Redemption - Rumple made a really impressive stride here. Just as much as Rumple mourns for Bae’s loss, he wants to honor the sacrifice he made and thus refuses to resurrect him at the cost of invalidating that sacrifice. Look, Rumple has a tendency to put his needs above others, but with Bae, he will never do that again.

Favorite Dynamic

Belle and Regina. Let’s talk about that apology scene and how good it is. I like how at the start of it, Regina does what she did with the Lost Boys and points how how them working together could benefit them both, but upon seeing that that won’t work (Or that it will, but Belle deserves better), she gives a real apology. And I like how Belle, while working with her, doesn’t necessarily accept it. It’s also a good moment in that it gives Belle a voice as she gets to react to things and get angry, and as Belle isn’t often granted that by the writing staff, I think it’s something that makes those moments stick out more.

Writer

Jane Espenson and Daniel Thomsen finish out their work for the season here, and they were doing such a good job...but then they fucked it up! Like, the mistake was easy to fix. Either make Eva do something FAR more villainous than convince Leo to test Cora or axe the “my mom was evil too” angle. But by not going all in on one or the other, you lose the center of your story, and that’s exactly what happened here.

Rating

8/10. Not gonna lie. That 8 comes solely from the ending resolution on Eva and Cora. That lack of understanding of what your own narrative was saying is so shocking and appalling to me that I had to take off more than just one point for it. The rest of the story -- both of them -- are so good. How did they not stick the landing? I feel like they were trying so hard to make Cora more complicated that they neglected Eva in the process.

Flip My Ship - The Home of All Things “Shippy Goodness”

Captain Swan - This is such a weird moment to love as a CS fan, but I still do. Emma’s finally opening up herself more to Killian and Killian can’t do the same, but Emma’s still trying and she’s trying fairly hard! Also, I want to know how that conversation would’ve gone had Belle not stepped in! Would Emma have gotten the truth out of Killian? Would there have been cuddles? It’s anyone’s guess!

Golden Heart - Just gonna point out that when Cora finally showed up, it was in by a spinning wheel of all things!

Outlaw Queen - I like the present buildup to Robin and Regina getting together. Regina’s softness and understanding of them being soulmates on top of their chemistry really helped the expedition of their romance work. Robin’s subdued presence alongside Regina and Snow’s conversation about her resilient heart really helped their kiss come together.

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Hey guys!! Thank you all for reading and to those fine and fabulous folks at @watchingfairytales for birthing this project! Also tagging the marvelous @daensarah by request! Love you all and I’ll see you all next time!

Season 3 Total (169/220)

Writer’s Scores: Adam and Eddy (39/60) Kalinda Vazquez (26/40) Andrew Chambliss (34/50) Jane Espenson (28/30)* David Goodman (29/40) Robert Hull (30/40) Christine Boylan (20/20)* Daniel Thomsen (28/30)*

* Indicates that their work for the season is complete

Links to the rest of my rewatch will no longer be provided. They take posts with links outside of searches and I spend way too much time on these reviews to not give them that kind of exposure. Sorry for the inconvenience, but they still can be found on my page under Operation Rewatch.