#nightmare fuel family in their finest

[infernal-general]

Okay so about ring traveling

Rozália is able to do so without difficulty or special permission, a subtle sign that she never was a simple Sinner. She was the current host of the Hellfire, now Wielder of the Hellfire (dangerously leaning close to her Horseman era), Hell's very essence in her veins and under her control, that's why the fluid travel both for her and her legion.

Cindy is a cosmic horror, most of Hell's rules don't apply to her. Furthermore she hasn't even died properly, therefore never landed in Hell for that rule to ever be implemented. Spirit at first, now the Fire itself, despite being unable to control Hellfire, barriers are not a problem.

Now Karma and Raia are different cases. Both of them can be regarded as Sinners, especially Raia. Yet they both able to momentarily destroy the barrier between rings to pass through. Just like with Rozy, it is also a sign with them and that this isn't the end of their journey. Raia struggles more with this trick, needing to harness enough electricity to blast the barrier open with a giant lightning bolt. Karma only waits as it slowly decays in her presence and repairs itself after she is gone.

[fairydollsteps]

Do you Love me?

Synopsis: “Please take me, please. I am all yours to tame and destroy. Ruin me if you have to for your own pleasure. Shackle me under your mercy. I do not care how much I will bleed. If it means you won’t look at other men but me. Just me only, my beloved.”

“For that, I will do anything for you.“

Just Aegon Targaryen II on his knees, being absolutely pathetic, begging and lovesick for you. 

Note/ Warnings: Fluff to Angst, Age gap (reader is 4 years older than Aegon), childhood love troupe ish, Aegon’s major insecurities and his shitty childhood. Mommy issues lmao. unrequited love, Aegon sad boy hour he is depressed, he is obsessed in love for reader. reader is kinda mean, she don’t entirely love aegon like how aegon loves her. Very OOC Aegon, he is actually a sweet person if only alicent is nicer or if otto die earlier 

let’s just say aemond didn’t kill lucerys to keep this peaceful

Author’s note: hiiii i am finally alive and motivated to write again! so in this fic is just aegon suffering lmao. idk i like to see him in his absolutely worst in his already horrendous life. is just nice to see him pathetic lmao. and also too many fic of reader crying because of aegon so why not the roles switched instead? Also you are the princess of a royal family like the Hightower family/house. I made it up so you are House Glairsviw. Also everything is messy so it might suck, pls bear with me. Anyway, enjoy!

“Do you love me, Y/N?”

Aegon Targaryen II, heir to the Iron Throne, now the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms stands before you. You, in your finest gown simply stared at him in silence. Both of you are facing at each other at the castle garden, away from the booming celebration of Aegon’s coronation.Of course you know how much Aegon adores you with his whole heart. You know. You know from the beginning. The puppy love didn’t fade away as you though from childhood. 

You remember when 7-year-old Aegon would always follow you around like a puppy in Dragonstone. Your house is friendly and in good terms with House Targaryen, benefitting each houses with your house’s fortune and their power. Therefore, you and your family always visit the Targaryens and stayed there. This delighted young Aegon as he gets to be with you often.

Your impeccable beauty allures him even to this day, your kind act is what fuels his love for you. You are older than him, so you have the urges and the responsibility to care for this little kid. As you two grow up together, you will always see him as a little boy who need bandages when he scrap his knee. But to Aegon, you are an angel to his eyes.

His life is already miserable enough even at a young age, his mother berating and his father ignoring his existence. His damn grandfather, Otto Hightower is a nightmare that won’t give him a break, pressuring and reminding him he is to be the future king of Westeros. So is his mother who make sure he won’t forget. Just standing with them suffocates him. So, to meet you is a blessing in disguise.

 With you, he is able breathe freely. With you, he smiles with glee to know that someone is waiting for him with biscuits and tea after his sword training. With you, he sleeps peacefully after you read him his favorite storybook. With you, he allow himself to cry his heart out and find comfort in your arms after a hellish hours of his mother’s lambast. With you, he is able to find meaning and hope in his dejecting life. 

You also remember when he gives you a bouquet of your favorite flowers on your birthday. Chrysanthemum. Then, he declares with a boast that he want to marry you, right here and right now. He was 12 years old and you were 16 at that time. You simply giggled softly, amused at his little puppy love. 

“Marry you? Maybe when you are taller than me and strong enough to carry me, I will marry you,” you said as a joke, not taking Aegon’s proposal seriously. You kissed his forehead as a gratitude for his gift. Is a completely platonic and normal thing between you and Aegon when he did something nice and pleasing for you. But is more than ‘normal’ for Aegon.

This marriage proposal thing from Aegon is not a one time thing. Throughout your childhood and your adolescents years,  Aegon has propose to you more than you count. “I will marry Y/N if I find a pretty flower for her,” Aegon when he was 8 years old. “Will you marry me if I beat my brother in a sword match?” Aegon no. “ Y/N, can I marry you when the sun rise?” Oh Aegon, you silly.

You will always find excuses and divert his proposal playfully. Saying no will break his poor heart. This is just a temporary fantasies of his and a puppy love that will surely dissolve when he is older, right?

Right?

Oh dear, if only you know how wrong you are. Aegon is utterly consumed with desire for you. And you know it. You know he loves you but you don’t know how long he will. And he still loves you in his adulthood.  The sight befall you further verify your certainty. Aegon, regal with his kingly attire except without his crown and robes, under the moonlight, holding a single pink chrysanthemum. He still remembers after all these years.

“Do you love me?” he asked.

You want to let out a laugh but stay composed. If only he knew, then maybe his poor heart won’t be broken again.

“Really Aegon? Is that what you have to say after all these years?” you said heartily. You drop all your formalities to the king. You know he wouldn't care. Aegon frowns, knowing your tricks. Yet, he still holds a soft and longing gaze at you. 

Yes, you have have not seen each other for 6 years. You simply stop seeing Aegon for 6 years. Your house still visit the House Targaryen but is rarely. But you were nowhere at sight when your family arrived. 

“I just got busy, Aegon. Very busy. The duty of the head of my house at a young age is no easy task ever since my father is gravely sick. I hope you understand,” you said after looking at his face of whys, ignoring his previous propose. 

“My deepest condolences,” he said apologetically, gently rubbing the stem of the chrysanthemum “ Thank you. My house is doing well under my command,”

There’s a beat of  awkward silence. After 6 years, so many things have changed. You are the mighty head of your house. Aegon finally king to the Iron Throne. “You promised me that we will send each other letters before you left,” Aegon said, breaking the silence. “We did,” 

“Only for a few months. Your letters become lesser and lesser as days passed. I know that you are busy but is like you vanish and just-,” Aegon clenched his jaws before he finish. Not wanting to accept what he thought it is.

“-is like you just left and abandoned me in the dark,”

The silence returns in the garden and the two silhouettes standing before each other under tension. Every second of stillness kills Aegon. Say something Y/n. Reassure him and his doubts just like you did when you were young. Hug him like in the past. Y/N please. Aegon silently beg.

But you just stand there, blank-faced and keeping the distance between yourself and Aegon. You didn’t come to him or softly smile at him like before. You just stood where you are and watch Aegon slowly descend to his doubts. “Y/N, you couldn’t-I mean, Why? Why did you stop? I know you are busy but 6 years without a single letter? Not even once?” he asks desperately. 

“I just don’t find the need for you,” you said without a hesitant. “I no longer find you as my top priority, so I just stop,” Aegon stares at you wide-eyed. There’s no point lying to him. He should know already but is in denial. He is still clinging on the past and expecting the oh so sweet Y/N to return to the past. 

Aegon looks like he can’t stop spiraling like mad but quickly compose himself with a solution. “If is like that then, we can reconnect our connection like before with our fathers. Then, we can meet up meet up and-,” “That won’t do, Aegon,” you cut him off cruelly. Now he is trying to rebuild everything with some political bullshits. You should be sent to the guillotine for cutting the king but he lets you.

“Aegon, you have other more and capable houses and I have my own other houses that will help and benefits me. I do no need your help,” you said, cold-heartly. You don’t even put to the effort to  Oh Aegon, you are still a fool even as an adult.

What you just say slowly made a tear of his heart. What you just implied is that you don’t need him, or if you even want him. Aegon is desperate. The more you reject him, the more desperate and hurt he is. Aegon can’t accept it. He can’t lose you. You are the only good thing in his life. And his only good thing is turning its back on him. 

Do you really-? Are you really going to just-? Like this? Y/N please no. Don’t. Don’t do this to me. Aegon beg through his troubled, sorrowed eyes as he walk towards you hastily.

He grabs your hand with his unoccupied hand, urgently but weakly, forcing you too look at him in the eyes. There is so many unspoken words through his eyes. You could see his stress, his denial and his passionate love for you. All his love for you that is meant to be crushed by you. 

Aegon silently pray to find at least a single look of adoration meant for him from you. He pray to know that you are just denying and hesitant to love him. A hope that what you just say is just a lie. But he find nothing. Just nothing. There is no love and the look of adoration. You just look at him uncaring. Like he is a nobody.

You are no longer the girl he knew from the past. The girl he knew always smile at him warmly and treat with affections he never have. 

“Do you love me?” Aegon asks. A question that you always dodge and pissing Aegon off. You could feel his eyes on you, begging to answer it and stop treating him like some kind of toy. You could feel his breath touching your cheeks softly. His lips quivering from the tension and the close contact.

Aegon passed the chrysanthemum to your hand and hold it with both of hand. As if is a way to convince you to change your mind with your favorite flower. But you have already decided you decision. As it feels like eternity, you finally answer.

“No,”

.....

The silence was deafening. Aegon couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t registered what you just say. You could feel his hands on you slightly shaking.

“No?”

“I’m sorry, Aegon. I don’t love you how you love me. I’m sorry. I just feel nothing for you,” 

“Oh,”

“Oh,”

Before you could slip away from his grasp, Aegon stop you. “Aegon please-” “Why, Y/N?” “Aegon please you have to understand-,” “No please don’t do this to me Y/N. I can’t just lose you like this. Please don’t leave me,”. Now he is able to break down. His heart is crushing at every second with you. His grip on you become tight but not enough to hurt you He can’t do something to chase you away even though you are already leaving her.

Aegon is holding your hand tightly, begging you to stay with him. He can’t breathe properly with the panic and heartbreak in his chest. He could feel his eyes becoming wet but force himself to hold it. Oh fuck, he feels so damn embarrassed for being so pathetic to you but he can’t stop the hurt. Because it actually fucking hurts so bad that he feels like his heart is bleeding.

Is like the universe is against him and could do nothing about it. The universe decided to have mercy on him for having a horrible home by giving him a girl that could care and love him. And for the first time in live, he was happy. Then suddenly, the universe took her away and isolate him from her for 6 years. Then when he finally meet her, she no longer love and treat him like a ghost. 

What kind of a fucked up fate he was given?

“Aegon, please let me go,” “No, I can’t Y/N. I love you, I am utterly devoted to you please!” Aegon cried out with no shame. 

“Please take me, please. I am all yours to tame and destroy. Ruin me if you have to for your own pleasure. Shackle me under your mercy. I do not care how much I will bleed. If it means you won’t look at other men but me. Just me only, my beloved. I have never felt this devoted to any women but you. You are the only person I want to admired at and dance with at the ballroom,” 

“Aegon...”

“We could get married, I could make you Queen of the Seven Kingdoms! I could make you my queen. I will get the finest dresses and the most brilliant jewelry just for you. I will have the whole world on their knees for you if I have to. So do I,”

Aegon declares with his whole heart. Some drops of tears manage to fell. His cheek flushed and he is still holding your hand with the pink chrysanthemum. He is a mess. He knows he look stupid and ridiculous but he is fighting every chance, hoping and praying to Gods that you change your mind and choose to grow old with him.

His violet orbs continue to violent beg for your heart to own him. “Please, Y/N. I belong to you. My heart is full of you. Everything is better with you. Everything has been better since you,” 

 He should have knows better. He should be mad at himself for falling so deep that could his inevitable heartbreak. Your silence and your pity look is enough to tell but he is still trying and holding the end of the string of hope.

[crowncoachaus]

How Bus Services Can Simplify Your Next Family Reunion?

Family reunions are like a slice of nostalgia wrapped in a blanket of chaotic fun. Picture this: cousins you haven't seen in ages, aunts who spoil you with their famous pies, and grandpa's old stories that never seem to get old.

But amidst all the laughter and love, one thing often becomes a hassle—getting everyone to the reunion location.

Enter the hero of the day: the bus charter in Melbourne. Let’s dive into how this unsung hero can transform your family gathering into a stress-free, joyful event.

The Magic of a Bus Charter

Imagine arriving at your family reunion without the usual carpool headaches or the endless “Are we there yet?” queries from the back seat.

With a bus charter in Melbourne, you can make this a reality. The beauty of a bus charter lies in its simplicity and efficiency.

It takes the logistical nightmare of coordinating multiple vehicles into a seamless, enjoyable journey for everyone.

Convenience at Its Finest

Planning a family reunion means juggling various needs and preferences—dietary restrictions, accessibility issues, and different arrival times.

A bus charter handles all these variables with ease. No more trying to coordinate who’s bringing which dish and how they’re getting there.

With everyone on the same bus, you eliminate the chaos of multiple arrival times and ensure everyone gets there together, on time, and in style.

Stress-Free Travel

Let’s be honest: family road trips can sometimes feel like a high-stakes game of “Who Can Stay Calm the Longest?”

With a bus charter in Melbourne, you can skip the stress of driving, navigating unfamiliar routes, and dealing with parking.

Instead, you and your family can sit back, relax, and even enjoy a “Who Knows Grandma’s Secret Recipe?” game without a care in the world.

The bus driver takes care of the journey, leaving you to focus on what matters—connecting with your loved ones.

Cost-Effective Solution

You might wonder if a bus services is within your budget. The good news is that it is often more cost-effective than the alternative.

When you consider the costs of fuel, tolls, parking fees, and potential wear-and-tear on multiple vehicles, a bus charter can offer excellent value.

Plus, many companies provide options for different group sizes and budgets, so you can find a charter that perfectly fits your needs.

Comfort and Safety

A family reunion is a special occasion; comfort should be a top priority. Modern bus charters in Melbourne come equipped with amenities designed for your comfort, including plush seating, air conditioning, and even onboard refreshments in some cases.

Moreover, professional drivers ensure you get to your destination safely so you can enjoy your time with your family without worrying about road safety or directions.

Environmental Impact

Choosing a bus charter in Melbourne also has environmental benefits. By consolidating transportation into one vehicle, you reduce the carbon footprint associated with multiple cars. It’s a small step towards a greener planet, and every bit helps reduce our environmental impact.

Creating Lasting Memories

A family reunion is about creating memories that will be cherished for years to come. With a bus charter in Melbourne, you start the celebration when you step on the bus.

It’s an opportunity to bond with relatives in a relaxed environment, share stories, and even sing along to your favourite tunes.

The journey becomes part of the celebration, setting the tone for a day filled with joy and togetherness.

Conclusion

Incorporating a bus charter in Melbourne into your family reunion plans is a game-changer. It simplifies logistics, reduces stress, and enhances the overall experience for everyone involved.

So why not make your next family gathering a breeze by opting for a charter that brings everyone together in comfort and style?

After all, the best family reunions are those where everyone arrives ready to enjoy the fun, not concerned about the journey. Here’s to making your next reunion unforgettable—starting with the ride!

[riley1cannon]

DOROTHY L SAYERS AND THE THIRTY-FOOT DRAIN: SEARCHING FOR PETER WIMSEY

James R. Benn goes on a quest to discover the original inspiration for Sayers' iconic war-weary character.

SEPTEMBER 6, 2023 BY JAMES R. BENN

VIA SOHO

Dorothy L Sayers was my gateway author to the world of crime fiction. I’d read the Sherlock Holmes stories earlier on, but that superlatively singular creation of Arthur Conan Doyle did not lead me any further. Holmes was unique, existing in his own universe, and there he remained. Not so with Sayers and Lord Peter Wimsey. The Wimsey family motto is “As my Whimsy takes me,” and Sayers’ whimsy took me right through her books and then onto Agatha Christie, Margery Allingham, Josephine Tey, and other authors writing in that great tradition.

My Billy Boyle World War II mystery novels are often set in Great Britian, but it is not the Great Britian of the Golden Age of crime fiction. That Golden Age held sway in the interwar years, 1920 – 1939. But even then, characters like Lord Peter and Harriet Vane represented the values and way of life already shattered by the experience of the Great War. Wimsey has his roots firmly in the nineteenth century. He is graceful upon the page, but it is a grace disguising the transcendental impact of the horror in the trenches and the dreadful thinning of the population of men in so many towns and villages across the country. This is exemplified by Lord Peter’s shellshock, on full display in the first book in the series, Whose Body? where we find him firmly in the grip of vivid nightmares. His world has changed, and all the fine manners and proper deportment he can summon will never bring back the bright, golden days before 1914. In one of her short stories, Sayers has Wimsey declare his own epitaph: “Here lies an anachronism in the vague expectation of eternity.”

Even given this divide between the universe of Lord Peter Wimsey as created by Sayers and the mid-1940s of Billy Boyle and the Second World War, I’d never given up on the notion of finding some sort of intersection between these two worlds. If not a direct connection, then one at least fueled by elements common to both.  A homage that, perhaps, only I would recognize.

As I developed the plot for the eighteenth novel in my series, I decided it was time for a change of pace. This entry would be removed from the battlefield and the more exotic locales of the recent books. Since Billy Boyle and friends had never enjoyed any time off, I was overdue to grant them leave. This takes place in the quiet (fictional) village of Slewford in Norfolk, at Seaton Manor, the home of Sir Richard Seaton, father to Billy’s lover, the English spy Diana Seaton.

I had to revisit the first book in the series, Billy Boyle, to see where I had originally placed Seaton Manor. For no special reason, I had selected the county of Norfolk, on the east coast of England. Seaton Manor sits near the Wash, a bay and estuary marking a large indentation on the coastline. Tidal forces and shifting sands make the Wash treacherous for those who are unprepared for how fast and swift the tide can come in.

As I studied the countryside around the Wash, it seemed oddly familiar. Then it hit me. This is the Fens, or Fenland, the setting for one of Dorothy L Sayers’ finest works—The Nine Tailors. Her fictional village of Fenchurch Saint Paul is located in Cambridgeshire, just over the border from Norfolk and close to the edge of the Wash. The Fens, a huge expanse of reeds and shallow, freshwater lakes, borders the Wash. Beginning in the seventeenth century, landowners began to drain the Fens in order to turn it into fertile farmland. By Lord Peter’s time, long drainage ditches drew water away from the fields and into the Wash. At the beginning of The Nine Tailors, such a ditch—known as the Thirty-Foot Drain—is exactly where we find Lord Peter Wimsey and his sturdy manservant Bunter.

“That’s torn it!” said Lord Peter Wimsey.

The car lay, helpless and ridiculous, her nose deep in the ditch, her back wheels cocked absurdly up on the bank, as though she were doing her best to bolt to earth, and were scraping herself a burrow beneath the drifted snow . . . right and left, before and behind, the fen lay shrouded. It was past four o’clock and New Year’s Eve; the snow that had fallen all day gave back a glimmering greyness to a sky like lead.

Now I had an intersection. My story of interrupted leave at Seaton Manor also hinged upon treacherous waters. My (first) murder victim was also found in a totally unexpected location, as was the dead gent in The Nine Tailors. Also, I was but a short distance not only from the setting of The Nine Tailors but the home turf of Dorothy L Sayers herself.

Sayers grew up in Bluntisham, Cambridgeshire, right on the edge of the Fens. From 1917 to 1928, her father was the rector at Christchurch, a tiny Fenland village with a notable Victorian church. Here, she would have become familiar with bell ringing, which forms such an important part of the plot for The Nine Tailors. She also would have understood the danger to people living in the Fens from the power of water and tides. The area is kept dry by a series of sluices and floodgates which, on the occasion of heavy rains and high tide, can overflow and wreak havoc.

I already had my own story to tell about treacherous waters and shifting tides. I’d long been fascinated by the Maid of Harlech, which is how locals in Wales refer to an American P-38 Lightning fighter plane that crash-landed just off the coast in 1942. It was only in 2007 that shifting sands and changing tides revealed it, half-buried in the mud. But the sea routinely reclaims it, only to have it appear months later.

With Seaton Manor already established on the east coast, using the Maid of Harlech was out. But I did construct a plot about a German bomber that crash-landed in Norfolk and skidded off a cliff into the Wash, only to have the intense tides reveal it two years later, during Billy’s leave, along with its mysterious cargo. Just as the Thirty-Foot Drain played a key role in The Nine Tailors, so do the tides in Proud Sorrows. I could not resist inserting mention of that drain in reference to a local man brought in to hoist the wreckage out of the water. He comes to the task fresh from dredging the Thirty-Foot Drain.

So, I had my intersection with Dorothy L Sayers. Thin, but enough for me. The Fens, the Wash, high waters, and a dead body in the same general vicinity as the corpse in The Nine Tailors. Subtle, but satisfying. What more could I ask for?

As it happens, one Ian Carmichael. My research turned up the fact that the actor who would portray Lord Peter Wimsey on the BBC from 1972 to 1975 had been an officer in the Royal Armoured Corps during WWII. Carmichael served with the 22nd Dragoons, landing on Juno Beach on D-Day and serving in battles across France, Holland, and Germany.

The 22nd Dragoons was no ordinary unit. They were equipped with specialized Sherman Crab flail tanks. These tanks were modified with heavy chains ending in fist-size steel balls, or flails, attached to a horizontal rotating rotor mounted on two arms in front of the vehicle. They would clear a path through a minefield by slowly driving and flogging the ground ahead of them, exploding the mines. To be effective, the tanks had to drive at no more than one and a half miles per hour, often in the face of enemy fire. That was how Captain Ian Carmichael spent his war.

With that intriguing bit of history tucked up my sleeve, I bring Carmichael onstage. Since the village of Slewford played host to an exclusive POW compound for high-ranking German officers, Captain Carmichael is brought in from the Continent to interrogate a prisoner about German defenses the Dragoons is facing in Holland. He encounters Billy and assists with his investigation, providing yet another Lord Peter intersection.

It would be thirty more years before Carmichael would play Lord Peter, on both radio and television programs. But in 1944, he was close to the age Wimsey is at the time of the novels. I had to work at not letting him slip into the aristocratic patter of Lord Peter, reminding myself that Carmichael was an aspiring actor from northern England, the son of an optician, not the Duke of Denver.

For those fans of Dorothy L Sayers who prefer Edward Petherbridge as their Wimsey (he starred in several BBC productions during the 1980s), I can only report that he was a mere eight years old in 1944, far too young to have any role in investigating the murders in Slewford.

***

James R. Benn

James R. Benn is the author of the Billy Boyle mystery series, set during the Second World War. He has been nominated for the Dilys, Sue Feder Historical Mystery, and Barry awards, long-listed for the 2015 Dublin IMPAC Literary Award, and was awarded the 2018 Al Blanchard Short Story Award. His forthcoming book, Road of Bones, is the 16th in the Billy Boyle series.

Dorothy L. Sayers and the Thirty-Foot Drain: Searching for Lord Peter Wimsey

[dwellordream]

because i feel like reccing horror:

delicious foods by james hannah: a disturbingly plausible story about mother and son darlene and eddie, who are separated after darlene, grieving the death of her husband and struggling with addiction, takes a job offered by agricultural company Delicious Foods, which promises good pay processing the fruits and vegetables grown on an isolated farm. eddie sets off on a journey to find his mother, whose sanctuary has quickly turned into a nightmare. probably one of the most heartbreaking and disturbing books I’ve ever read.

the witch of edmonton by thomas dekker: populated by a host of prejudiced, largely unsympathetic but terribly human characters, the witch of edmonton is a Renaissance play dating back to the 1620s which promises, in it’s own opening, “forced marriage, murder, and revenge”.

ostracized by callous townsfolk, widow sawyer finally gives into temptation and is approached by the devil, who takes the form of a jolly and flirtatious black dog named tom. tom works his mischief on the town’s hypocritical and secretive citizens to gain sawyer some much needed relief and revenge, while meanwhile frank thorney, separated from his lower class beloved winnifred and forced to marry another by his father, spirals into a dark plot to free himself entirely unaided by satan.

the good house by tananarive due: attempting to reconnect with her teenage son and hoping to co-parent peacefully with her arrogant ex husband, angela returns from LA to her sleepy hometown of sacagawea, washington, where she was raised by her grandmother after the death of her mentally ill mother.

however, tragedy ensues almost immediately after the move, and two years later angela returns to uncover the truth of what has been happening to her family since they first fled to washington in the aftermath of the civil war, as well as the true origins of her grandmother’s sinisterly alluring colonial house.

ring shout by p. djéli clarke: a very short, very fast paced and roaring novella set in the 1920s during the height of the klu klux klan, ring shout centers around maryse, who seeks to avenge her murdered family with a magical sword powered by the spirits of the dead, as well as killing the demons of the kkk, both human and otherwise.

IT by stephen king: infamous cocaine fueled orgy sequence aside, IT is still one of king’s best works for all its flaws and has left an undeniable impact and outstanding influence on the americana horror genre.

telling the story of a quintessential quaint 1950s town hiding a web of dark secrets, IT tears apart past nostalgia for ‘a purer time’ and ‘when things were simpler and sweeter’ by exposing the racism, misogyny, hatred, and overall cruelty of an america not too long ago.

IT gives real credence to childhood fears and adult trauma, and depicts a touching and heartfelt friendship between a group of outsiders who learn early on they’ll have to band together to survive a vicious world that likes to kick when they’re down.

fierce kingdom by gina phillips: probably more thriller than horror, fierce kingdom takes a very simple and horrifying scenario: a mass shooting at a zoo on a sunny afternoon and stretches it into a tight character study of a majority female ensemble cast, connecting a diverse group of people within one terrible day. but at it’s core fierce kingdom is about a mother’s love for her child and what she is willing to do to survive a situation with no good options.

dragonwyck by anya seton: gothic romance with more than a dash of horror at its finest, dragonwyck tells the story of dreamy and naive miranda, a romantic farm girl sent to work as a governess for her distant and wealthy dutch cousins in upstate new york in the 1860s.

while disappointed to find herself treated less like a princess and more like a servant, miranda is both frightened and entranced by the mysterious manor house of dragonwyck and its master, the enigmatic genius nicholas, who despairs of his unhappy marriage and lack of a male heir.

at its best and worst, dragonwyck is dated, cheesy, outright offensive in its depiction of immigrants and minorities, surprisingly timely and astute in its depiction of class struggle and the practiced apathy of the elite towards the poor and working class, and all in all, delightfully gripping in its suspense and drama.

self obsessed and petty miranda is far from a likable or relatable heroine, but she is a very, very entertaining one, and seton’s nicholas is a byronic antihero in its purest form, at turns endlessly charming and breathtakingly cruel.

[courtorderedcake]

Hallow : ch xiv - CSSNS 2019

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

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

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

Read on AO3 here.

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

Written for @cssns

Ch / ?? - In which they will always find each other

He woke to Lilly sitting beside Emma, holding her hand in her own. The sight made his stomach lurch. While things were still jumbled in his head, he could distinctly remember her betrayal as she burned the castle they were in to the ground as a Dragon, and her indifference on the beach as Emma was drained. She looked up to see him watching, and he could see she was crying, tears falling over a bitter frown. 

“I know. I don’t have any excuses… Cruella manipulated me as if I was a puppet. I couldn’t see it before, but now it’s like I see everything.” Lilly looked down, lightly smoothing Emma’s hair. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know how - I don’t think I’m a match for her here or there. She’s so much more powerful than I ever could imagine. She fooled us all.”

“Did you see Emma? I couldn’t get to her before I woke. Isaac pulled me into some kind of bubble. She looks even weaker, and last I saw her…”

“Cruella is draining so much more than usual. I don’t understand how or why Cruella keeps taking her magic, but Emma is falling apart. Her dreams are sometimes unstable, her magic is too powerful to be contained within the rites, and it’s not always Isaac in control. I am really frightened for her.” Lilly swallowed hard. “I saw Cruella talking to this… this thing; a big black monster wearing a no face, I mean, a husk mask. It spoke in a thousand voices, and was almost gelatinous, forming limbs as it pleased. Emma swore she saw the same monster in the bath house here, and it told her that it was ‘Hungry’. I didn’t believe her then, but I heard it say the same thing as Cruella soothed it. She promised it that she would free it soon, as soon as she was done fattening it up. Does she mean for it to eat Emma? Why would she befriend that thing?”

Isaac’s words began to return to him. 

“The hungry ghosts. Cruella wants Emma to be a husk. If Emma falls and loses herself, Cruella will be more than powerful, practically unstoppable, with Emma’s magic fueling her own. That creature you saw is what’s left of the husk’s who got lost in those fantasies, tricked by Cruella. Isaac has an idea - Emma has to hang on, has to shock herself awake through nightmare after nightmare, but not lose herself in the process.”

“Cruella is not going to go down without a fight,” Lilly warned, and he nodded, Emma’s pull making him suddenly tired. “I’ll keep watch. Get Emma out of there, and please keep her safe.”

“That’s the plan. I won’t leave her.” He closed his eyes, feeling himself leave the cathedral. 

A noise stopped him and as if he was a ghost, he looked down at Emma, himself, and Lilly struggling against two men. One carried a crowbar while the other brandished a club, swiping at her as she looked back to where they lay. With a pucker of her lips and a deep breath, Lilly blew fire in a circle around them all, the men stalking the perimeter. 

“Now now, Lillykins. That wasn’t very fair, considering. Horace and Jasper just wanted to greet you with a firm salutation.” Cruella stepped across the flames, the orange fire going green as she passed through. She smiled in her spotted dress as Lilly backed up against the dais. 

“What more do you want? You’re killing her!” Lilly yelled, and Cruella laughed. 

“I’ve been doing this for a long time now, luvvie. If I’d do it to my own kin, what makes her anything special? It’s poetry that she’s also an enemy, and so strong, but I’d have manipulated this outcome regardless.” Cruella smiled, approaching where Emma slept. “Now listen, be a darling little beast and move out of the way so I can make sure no one interferes anymore. It’ll only take a minute.”

“No! Why are you doing this? What do you mean your own kind? I don’t understand, I -" 

The man with the club connected it hard to Lilly’s skull, Cruella looking on with a piteous grimace. The Dragon princess crumpled, falling to the floor and twitching, Killian’s view stuttering as she lost consciousness. Cruella tried to push Lilly aside with her foot, but grew annoyed within seconds. 

"Horace! Jasper! Throw her in the crypts. I have work to do.”

The taller of the men picked up Lilly as the Dragon groaned, Killian relieved to see her alive. They stepped out, and his vision of the cathedral grew foggy. The pull was getting too strong to resist as Lilly faded further into his mind, regardless of his grounding anger towards the Kitsune queen. 

“Oh, Princess. You will be the finest of my collection. When my ghosts get a taste of you, oh, how they’ll feast. You’ll all be so angry,” Cruella cackled, her voice far away now. “I cannot wait to see what the full extent of your magic can do.”

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

The explanation Killian had given Queen Snow was thorough, but much more like a briefing than the story of what had all gone on. He intentionally skirted around his and Emma’s misunderstandings, both good and bad, and left out as much of Her Grace’s mistakes as possible. If that conversation was to be had, it belonged rightfully to Emma. Telling her that Emma’s determination and belief that he had faith in her was enough to place her in peril would be more than enough of a conversation between him and the queen. It didn’t help that he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from praise, Emma’s unselfish, kind, and courageous attempts to save him from cruelty while he should have been protecting her forefront in his mind now that Cruella preyed on them so openly. 

“So, a sleeping curse cast by none other than Cruella De Villé. I wish I could say I was surprised. I truly had hoped Maleficent’s influence and Regina staying the sword over their necks would have changed their ways.” The queen sighed deeply. “That still begs the question, why did you run to my daughter’s aid?" 

Because I would do anything to save her. I owe her that, a thousand times moreover. Because I… 

"I already destroyed my own family once and that was hard enough.” He kept his tone formal, although his nerves felt like they were fraying as the queen observed him with an owlish glare. His unfinished thought rattled him. Did she know? “But knowing that I destroyed yours, too? I just—I didn’t know how I could live with that." 

"Interesting, but not an answer that relates directly to Emma. From what I have gathered, you have saved my daughter several times now, nearly meeting very unpleasant consequences for doing so. The way you danced with her, your mannerisms and candor, it all belies a sense of familiarity that goes past friendship.” She raised an eyebrow, and he could feel the burn of her eyes on him. “Considering your… track record as it were, I’m wondering what you see of value in Emma that you would risk injury for. How do I know you haven’t just poisoned her into a cursed sleep like you did to me?”

Killian gulped, and her eyes narrowed. 

“I don’t know how to live with myself after I…” The pause was awkwardly long, but the queen nodded in understanding, encouraging him to continue. 

“Knowing fully, being unable to escape it in my cowardice by fleeing to Darkness - I can’t do that with her next to me. Every action I took, the massacre I committed haunts me, and I carry its weight as I should, and as I have to. Most killed weren’t even men; we trained green boys to go to a slaughter. I see their faces over and over without the ability to stop myself. I failed them, and I lost them. So many lost men, lost boys, all of them at my hand but not my will. I will never forget them. I can’t forget that night or so many like it following the dagger’s commands. I am trying to overcome this, to make sure that I am never a danger again, Darkness or not.”

“Lost boys and men come back to haunt anyone with a part in the war, but you have to be first on their list. You say you had no control, and now you do because of my daughter’s presence. Are you sure my Emma is not a crutch for you?” she asked. 

“She isn’t. She asks of me to lay with her -” Her reaction was vicious and instantaneous, the blade to his neck back and closer to spilling his blood than before. 

“You’ve been intimate with my daughter? I should kill you right now for that alone and pray it sticks!" 

"I swear on Liam and his honor, I haven’t touched her other than to lay beside her -” Killian rasped, pressed back into the wall. The queen was smaller than him or even Emma, but she was faster and far stronger than he’d expected. 

The sword jutted up harder, and he tried not to swear. 

“With no intentions more than soothing her from the shock she’s developed.”

The queen lowered her sword, looking surprised. She backed up a step still pointing the blade at him. “Emma has developed…" 

"She is unable to rest at all without having fits of panic in her sleep. It isn’t my place to say, but she has seen more bloodshed than most nobles, even when I have tried to guard her from it.” He rubbed his neck breathing hard, the queen biting her lip and looking aside. “There’s also her fear of Nil, especially considering what he’s said he wants to do to her.”

“My poor… Oh, my Emma,” she whispered. 

“I swear to you that I have no plans to have any sort of relationship with her after this. The Darkness will never allow it and I can’t risk hurting her.” He laid out his hands in a gesture of supplication, the queen sheathing her sword. “I want her to be happy.”

The queen took a moment to smooth her dress and tuck in her sword under a bit of skirt. After the moment of silence, she spoke quietly. 

“You sound as if you have feelings for her, though.”

She was as perceptive as Emma, staring through him like glass. 

Killian shook his head. “Only in a place where I am allowed to have them. I’m not as lucky in the waking world. I’m aware in both of my…” He grimaced, and clasped his hands behind his back. “I know I am far below the mark for who is worthy of her, even without her status, and I am very aware of my limitations regarding my curse. I carry the Darkness, outside of these rites. I can’t be around her, I can’t have feelings for anyone, let alone her. I also know my limitations regarding my history with everyone she holds dear. I would never allow that sort of pain for her. When she wakes, she will have forgotten this, and anything other than undergoing the rites." 

"Hm. Well,” she mused, and pressed her hand to her cheek. “Let’s see how Emma responds to these emotions of yours, knowing that you are under my watchful gaze and in great peril should you be anything less than her standards. You may be poisoning her heart and mind, as you sentenced me to sleep without waking. Although…" 

Her shoulders tightened as she opened the door to let them out of the dim study. He almost did not hear her whisper when it came. 

"Emma is a surprisingly good judge of character, except when it comes to you, apparently." 

He nodded. "That I wholeheartedly agree with, Your Majesty.”

They walked back through the corridor and into the ballroom where Anna, Ingrid, and Emma looked up with surprised delight. 

“There you are! We were just telling the princess about your skill at sailing and the sword. She’s never been on the sea, you know.” Ingrid smiled coyly, pulling a goblet to her lips to drink. Emma blushed, and Anna curtsied at the queen who waved her off. 

“Anna, you never need do all that. Formality went out of our shared window when you brought ducklings into our dormitories and I somehow became their mum. As far as I am concerned, while David is my husband, you were clearly my first partner.” Anna laughed brightly, and the queen gave Killian a nod as she pulled Ingrid and Anna away. 

“I take it my father is sulking somewhere from my mother’s tongue lashing?” Emma asked, wringing her hands. 

Killian snorted at the truth of the situation, but pulled a chair out, offering her a seat. She sat with a sigh, playing with a leftover bit of cheese on her small tasting plate. 

“Something like that. He was just worried is all. My family doesn’t have the best legacy -" 

"You and Captain Liam have fixed that legacy ten times over, and the Arendelle kingdom sings your house’s praises! What nonsense! Why I -” Emma huffed, crossing her arms. 

“How do you know all that?” he interrupted to ask, looking at her as she opened her mouth to speak, then abruptly closed it. She thought for a moment, then pressed fingers to her temples. 

“I don’t know, actually,” Emma murmured after a long pause. “I know so much about you that I can not figure out how I have learned. Like I said before, it’s like I know you." 

"Tell me something about myself, and if it’s right, I’ll reciprocate. If it’s not, you know that you’re just overwhelmed by your neverending duties to people who you feel don’t care about the real you, but only as some figurehead ideal, and you have created some elaborate, imagined story for me.” Her head shot up as she looked at him in shock. “You may find we know a lot about the other somehow, instinctually. As if you’ve known all along.”

“How…? Alright. Alright then.” Emma straightened, squaring her shoulders and locking her eyes with his. “You hate hot chocolate, even with cinnamon, which is a dreadful shame. You take Chicory instead, black as night, and like all sorts of bitter things. You don’t like thunderstorms, or like things out of your prescribed order, and both make you tense; the former more than the latter. You won’t admit that you enjoy dancing, but you do, and my theory is that it is a way for you to separate your mind from the action that is almost muscle memory. While you are very skilled with a sword, you are better with a cutlass that’s a bit longer, and better still with a pole, trident, or halberd. You know the constellations in the night sky as if they were friends you are describing, and can identify just about any fish or plant.”

Emma paused, thinking hard. “In fact, actually - I think you’re smarter than me, both in ways of the outside world’s workings which is to be understood, but rarer still, better read than me. What I don’t know you do, and the things that have escaped your knowledge, I am well versed on. The only thing we both don’t know is history, but that’s because it’s all based on testimony…”

Her eyes widened, but she stopped, her lip pulled between her teeth as her mind turned over what she’d discovered. 

Smiling, he leaned forward. “That was more than one, love. But, then again, you only pretend to like rules. Truly you find them suffocating. You love hot chocolate but also have a penchant for tarts, cookies, and cinnamon pastries preferably with glaze. You would eat granite rocks if they came with frosting on top, I’m almost positive.” Emma laughed, then covered her mouth with a blush. He continued. 

“You lived - live within a precise and fine tuned schedule, reveling in chaos where you cou - can make it. You have napped in the library shelves to escape nannies, tormented Granny the cook with her own granddaughter just behind, and have played more tricks on visitors than you dare admit to. You don’t like the idea of being trapped anywhere, but have accepted it as your duty. It makes you sad, but the thought of disappointing your family makes you feel even worse.” She let him take her hand, and he could hear her breathing hitch. “You’re a good person, and lovely inside and out. You have an uncanny ability to bring people together and find the silver linings in the world that others can’t see. It may be frustrating sometimes to have to try and dissuade you from your efforts of playing savior, but you come out on top regardless.”

“Captain,” she began, slowly. He interrupted her with a laugh, and she raised an eyebrow. 

“I was never a captain,” he managed to chuckle out, and she gave him a look of confusion. He squeezed her hand lightly. “Please - For you, it is always Killian.”

She nodded. “That’s right. You are - were - a lieutenant, but I don't… I don’t understand any of this.”

“You don’t have to. If you don’t mind, I’d love to see this world with you. You talk about it often and it would be nice to have a visual to go with your stories." 

"So we do know each other then?” He nodded and she smiled wide. “Do we - are we courting?" 

"Not exactly, but for all intents and purposes, here we have the opportunity to if you wish it.” She blushed, but her grin remained. 

“What is 'here’? My home, the palace? Or -" 

He grimaced, trying to figure out any way to summarize. "That gets… It all becomes more difficult to unravel the further you go.”

“Well, the quicker you begin the story of how this all came to be, the quicker you will be out of it.” Emma smirked, rising. “I do so love a challenge.”

“Alright. Then I’ll start at the beginning, aye?" 

"And I shall do the same, come.” Emma took his hand in hers, pulling him with her behind a curtain. Her body seemed to relax, the spring in her step more playful as she ducked into a corridor. “Let me spirit you away to my world.”

She led him to the library while he gave parts of their tale, pointing out to him towering shelves and long ladders leading to hidden alcoves, although her favorites for napping or hiding away were the highlights in her introduction of the grand space. Conspiratorially she showed him the hidden shelf that she hid illicit novels, the descriptions making her blush when he read them aloud. 

“Devoted Acolyte and Priestess, Jeriline Clearbrook, has been devoted to her craft of healing all lost souls who wander through her temple. She serves as a perfect student of the Goddess Wü, her vow to preserve her maidenhood under the teachings sacramount. 

When a non-believer from the barbaric North Kingdom is trapped within the temple walls by the magic of the Goddess, Jeriline fears that a terrible cosmic error has been made. Kadejah is rugged, unrefined, and headstrong in his beliefs - especially his belief that he should be free of his cursed confinement. His interest in Jeriline starts purely to gain his freedom, but slowly morphs into something more, challenging everything they both hold dear and their very identities.”

“It’s not as trite as the description would lead you to believe -” Emma sputtered, but as he read a particularly wicked passage about the priestess’s seduction, she ripped the book away from him. 

“I thought it was illuminating, how despite their differences and the very Gods forbidding it,” Killian teased, trailing a finger over the color that graced her neck, “Kadejah still managed to make her 'scream his name as he filled her to the brim with his massive -’ " 

"I can’t imagine why I don’t remember you at all,” Emma hissed, pushing the book back into its nook. “Such grand and supportive fun you offer.”

His teasing earned him a steely review of their next stops, as Emma tried to regain her calm amid his flustering her. The great hall and grand stairway were beautiful, and as Emma relaxed again, she seemed to remember him further. His comments began to meet her own, their rapport beginning to follow its normal beat. In the tapestry vault, she lingered closer to him, watching him carefully as he smoothed out long banners and throws. When Killian met her gaze, she did not flutter away or panic, but instead studied him closer still, looking for answers he knew she would find. 

They spent time in the menagerie area where the royal collection of animals were kept, talking about everything they could remember about each other. When a topic changed, he brought up twenty questions or silly word games while Emma remembered more by the second. She stroked a bright yellow elephant, feeding it mango as Killian puzzled over guessing what his name might be. 

“Mouse?” he asked, and she shook her head. 

“Smaller, and more colorful, with almost infinite varieties.” Emma stroked behind the beast’s ear, earning a half trumpeted snort. “Think things that fly, but are hardy -" 

"Bird?" 

"No, but closer! Tinier still, although some can be large, I suppose. Same letter, and birds eat them.” Emma shrugged. 

Killian snapped his fingers, sitting up. “Bug?" 

Emma grinned, nodding. She tossed him a mango, and he approached cautiously, Bug lifting his long yellow trunk to grab the ripe fruit. "I ride him every odd occasion, in parades or into meetings if I feel the need to have a dramatic entrance." 

"Well, he does make quite the statement,” Killian laughed. 

Emma motioned her hand, and the elephant lifted him with ease, despite his yelp. After a moment he was seated along with her on its back, Bug carefully trotting down a hallway. 

“This obviously wouldn’t be allowed normally, but I have always wanted to do this. My mother would lose her mind if she even got wind of the idea!” Emma giggled, and he laughed too. “I wonder how dream mom would react -" 

"She’s not a dream, actually. At least I don’t think so. Do you remember everything yet, or…?” Killian asked. Emma shook her head, leaning back into him. 

“Some things,” she whispered. “I am dreaming, and so are you, but you and I have feelings for each other. I can control some aspects, but there is a great evil lurking. I am being drained of my magic, and it hurts terribly." 

"I am sorry. I should never have -" 

"It’s alright. You and Lilly came in after me, but these dreams… They’re remarkable in their realness. It’s easy to get lost within them, and no one but us or a handful of others are cognizant of what is happening. The Other, Cruella and her different disguises, they’re used to this place. It’s giving them an advantage, and she’s using that to try to keep you and Lilly away from me.”

“Yes. You’re under a sleeping curse.” Bug stopped, and Emma hopped down from his back. Killian followed, Emma leading him to a familiar portrait. He took a deep breath, looking up at his brother painted so meticulously and true to life, it almost hurt. 

“I remember sitting here more vividly now than ever,” she whispered, sadly. “I think this was the easiest world yet to let myself get lost in, truly lost in here. I’m a breath away from forgetting everything, especially if it meant having everything back, and you…”

“Your mum - the Queen, she may actually be here, love. She and I spoke,” Killian swallowed, deciding to keep the incident with Cruella to himself, as not to unload too much at once. “She seems to be in here with us somehow.”

Emma cocked her head to the side, looking thoughtful. “My mom was under a sleeping curse before, when…” She looked at him, then at her feet. “When the Goblin King made you…" 

"When I poisoned your mum? And it’s any wonder she let me near you.” He tried to laugh, but it caught in his throat. 

“Killian…” Emma took his hand, and smiled gently. “If she didn’t ram a sword down your throat, it’s a sign that she has a bit of hope for you.”

He chuckled, unable to stop himself. “She tried. I believe that like you discovered, I’m much too much of a hassle to dispose of that way.” Emma laughed, swatting at him. When he caught her hand, she led him away from Liam’s portrait and outdoors. They entered a pretty solarium, partially shaded and hidden by a copse of willows. Stained glass peppered the ceiling and walls in different shapes, casting rainbows on the stonework floor. 

Flowers bloomed everywhere, pots and planters overflowing with blossoms. Emma walked towards the closed exit door, pushing hard to reveal an atrium of some sort, the door itself concealed behind a tall painting. French doors with intricate wood inlay stood partially open on one side of them, a sitting area and entry table in front of them. Another door lay beyond that, in what Killian guessed must be her bedroom. Emma closed the hidden passage behind them with a soft click. 

“This is my chambers, and one of the secret ways in. That solarium is usually fully hidden unless you know the way.” Emma tugged him forward slightly, pointing at the artwork covering the passage. It was a forest scene, light streaming down onto foggy moss and wet leaves, the greens verdant and many colored leaves bright. “I was given this by a Contessa, who offered me so many different treasures. This was the only one that I found worthwhile, and truly beautiful.”

“You have good taste,” said a voice from behind them. They turned to see Emma’s father walking from her room. “Must have gotten it from someone.”

“Daddy! You scared me, what are you -” Emma attempted to take a step forward towards him, but Killian held her back. “What -?" 

"Ask him something only your father would know.” Killian stared down the King, Emma continuing to look perplexed. 

“Um…” she began. “Let me think I guess - uh -" 

The King plunged a dagger through Killian’s chest, Emma screaming in shock at the sudden and unpredicted violence. 

"I hate having to keep doing this, simply because you won’t listen, like a good puppy,” Cruella sneered, twisting the blade before wrenching it out. “Wake up, and stay out.”

The last thing he saw before everything faded to black was Emma’s terrified face. 

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

David N'lan was many things, even by Emma’s measure as his daughter. He could have a ferocious temper, as it had been written about in legends of his fierceness in battle or noted in his proud family history as a raging fury passed down from his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather, brutal warriors who made their marks as Kings. Emma had not learned much about them outside of the ballads of their victories or heroics, her father inheriting only some of their battlelust, the majority apparently settling in his twin brother James moreover. Her mother had said that Emma had a calming effect on him, even more so than their marriage had. Unless either of his 'favorite girls’ were threatened, the King was a fair, kind, jovial, and moderate man. 

Emma had seen him truly angry only in a few circumstances, usually after the majority of whatever had vexed him seemed to have dissipated. Graham was terrified of her father after his threats, and the few instances that Emma had been hurt or could have been severely injured by carelessness had drawn his ire. Emma remembered his silliness, laughter, and his love first in any situation, followed by his ability to find humor and be overall lighthearted. 

She had never seen the malice in his eyes, or the ravenous look of greed that curled his lips as Killian crumpled in front of her. Whoever, whatever , stood in front of her was no father of hers, and in no way could be any version of him. 

Feeling panic try and root her to the spot, Emma pushed out an exhale, doing the opposite. The fear of what she believed wore her father’s face still tore a scream from her, but it was better to do so while running than allow it any more time near her. She heard it scrabble behind her, but willed her eyes to not look as she tore through the halls. Killian had said that her mother was potentially here, and Snow N'lan would never have let Killian get far with Emma if there were any threats or she had any possibility of worry - a cursed sleep met both requirements. 

The flash of a reflection on the floor caught her eye, a sun spot bounced off a mirror. Following it with her gaze Emma made the quick turn as Cruella sounded right behind, and saw a great white and black dog creature crash into the wall out of the corner of her eyes. Emma barely kept her own footing, managing to grab her mother’s hand as the giant dog-like thing shook itself and gnashed its jaws. 

Pushing Emma behind her and pulling her bow taut, Snow let arrows fly in rapid succession, Cruella falling dead in the form of a massive, wolf-like fox spirit, so close that their skirt hems ruffled with her last exhale. 

“Sorry I couldn’t get her sooner. I’d hoped the Dark One would be more useful in providing protection for you, but -" 

Emma hugged her mom, wrapping her arms tightly around her and sobbing like a child. The Queen stumbled slightly but as she laid her bow and quiver down, she wrapped her arms around her daughter in turn, soothing her gently. 

"Hey now, hey my little buttercup, it’s alright. I’ve missed you so much Emma, we all do. We’re all so worried about you -" 

"I’m so happy you’re here, Mom. I love you so much. Are you all OK? Please tell me you are all safe and alive - everything is so messed up, I don’t know what to do -" 

"We’re surviving, and everyone is alright. Worse for wear, but alright considering. The Dark One said as much about things being difficult, if he is to be believed. I’m so sorry we didn’t prepare you better, I’m so sorry for sending you here with him. I should have gone with you, or your father…" 

"I’m so glad you are all alive, oh Gods, I’ve been so scared! And yes, he is to be believed, he's… I trust him with my life." 

"So I’ve heard, but I thought it was one-sided, or a falsehood. I suppose that he was telling me the truth.” Snow furrowed her brows. Glancing back at the dead animal, she pinched the bridge of her nose, and ushered Emma away from it. “Come, Emma. Let’s take tea in the drawing room until either that thing comes back, the Dark One returns, or we figure out a way to get you free of this. I feel we may need to talk.”

Emma nodded, watching Cruella fade away completely before standing up. Her mother led her to the sunny drawing room, its elegant doors open to a beautiful courtyard. They sat together while a servant fetched them tea and small cakes, both making small conversation. She found that she couldn’t recall the last time her mother had been free enough to do something as banal as tea between only the two of them, let alone idly chatting. When Emma felt relaxed, her mother struck. 

“The conversation I had earlier, with the Dark One…” Her mother set her teacup down slowly, sliding the cup so the handle sat just so on the saucer. “You fell for him then, truly?" 

"That’s what you’re focusing on? Seriously Mom?” Emma exploded, exasperated. Her mother eyed her shrewdly, and Emma felt a rage rise in her that roared like a lion. She pushed it down, the uncalled for and frightening urge to smack the calculated calm from her mother’s face too tempting after everything that had happened. “I’m hoping beyond hope that you are real, because yes, I did. He’s helped me navigate through all of your mistakes. He’s different when we’re together, and I -" 

"Your father is going to go mad at this development,” Snow said, using both hands to pick up and sip at her tea. She sighed. “This was not what I meant when I said destroy the Darkness. As for my mistakes, I am aware of my rash judgements in the past but they certainly - ”

“Destroy? It’s not destroyed, it’s still in him. He’s just caging it, he - ”

“Emma. Do you know how we stopped him, and how we broke the Dagger?”

“True Love’s Kiss. It woke you from a sleeping curse. The Dark One poisoned you, his orders to preserve you for execution by the Goblin King. Father woke you as the Goblin King commanded the Dark One to kill you both -" 

"Our kiss shattered the Dagger, and stunned the Darkness. I could feel it when I was filled with that power, when the light hit it. The tiniest smidgen hung on by a thread. That bit of Dark is what is left, and it can be destroyed no matter how loud it declares it cannot. If you love him - truly, unabashedly, love him - and if he can put enough faith in trusting himself to love you with complete denial of the Darkness’ pull, you could have a chance of True Love outside of this place. It’s the smallest chance of happiness, but there is a chance to save him. It means you risk everything: you risk breaking your heart for his benefit, and I don’t want that for you.”

“All love comes with the chance of heartbreak, Mom. All love means risk, and all love is a dangerous gamble. You and Daddy were a gamble; he risked everything for you, and to give you that kiss. You risked everything by agreeing to ascend to the throne, becoming a singular target. You both took chances and ended up making decisions based on faith in each other - I want that. I think Killian and I could have that. I finally feel like I have met someone who understands the walls I didn’t know I had built up. I love what I see when I bring down his own, and who he is.”

“You’ve grown so much, Emma. You almost sound as if you know what heartache this will bring you, as if you can fathom it, or understand the lengths men like him would go to, just to use you.”

“I do understand, Mom! I did grow up! I’ve been torn apart by this world and put myself back together only to get chewed up and spat out. I had to grow. There wasn’t an option, alright? Killian, he has been both the worst and the best, and he is growing too. He’s fighting for control for himself, first and foremost, and because he wants to be better. I wish you could just for one moment realize how much bullshit you’ve made me overcome!” Emma yelled, standing up in anger and knocking her tea cup to the floor. It shattered, and Emma let out a frustrated noise before taking in a deep breath, bending down to pick up the shards. 

Her mother looked appalled, but kept quiet, staring at her as if she was a stranger. 

“I’m sorry, Mom. I miss you so much. I miss all of you, and Father. I have longed for your counsel and tried so hard - I’ve had to undo and learn so much… It’s been a lot. I… I don’t feel like myself anymore. I’m a different Emma than you knew, and I am not sorry for that, just sad you can’t see what made me change and why I am making my decisions.”

Her mother’s face was unreadable, the expression one Emma hadn’t seen before: a cross between pensive anxiety and concerned sadness. Emma swallowed thickly, her mother a stranger before her as she had become a stranger herself. 

“I…” Emma began, and choked down the sudden feeling of intense guilt that flooded her. “I need a moment. I think I’ll wait for Killian in the garden.”

“If you’re sure?” the Queen asked, and Emma nodded, the tone of voice her mother was using confirming her decision. When difficult dignitaries or events took place, her mother used that gentle firmness as an indication she wanted to be done, her tone to excuse herself politely. 

Emma nodded, armor up and engaged, knowing that this truly was her mother in her dreamscape. Only a mother could twist her heart like this, and still wring out only love. “Yes, I’m sure. I’ll find you later.”

Her mother left quickly, and Emma felt relief, which in turn only made her feel even worse. 

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Killian woke up with a start, the feeling of being eaten alive by the malignant Darkness, its sharp teeth leaving him stunned, like his bones were sucked clean of offal. He looked around for Emma and found her still sleeping, her pallor gray. She shivered and let out a tiny noise when he tried to wake her, skin clammy to his touch, Isaac’s thrall still holding tightly. 

He let out a huff of frustration, his jaw muscle tight. 

“Bloody hell." 

He laid his head down beside her own, falling easily back into the curse. The Darkness resisted burning away, the tearing feeling of being flayed as the curse peeled it off of him like drowning in liquid flame. 

You will regret this whence you return. This I promise. 

I may not be able to stop you now, but I can certainly hurt her in this weakened state. 

When it was done, he stumbled into the dreamscape gulping for air. Emma was waiting for him in the garden, looking exhausted but stunningly beautiful. The breeze was cool, flowers swaying, the pink color of their petals dappled with afternoon sunlight. The cloak she wore moved to the side, her white gown showing a long column of neck. Killian took a deep breath, remembering himself, remembering her and Gods was that a mistake when the cloak fell away. It was a wonder that anyone could look at her at all in her court dresses, everything tailored to stun, leaving him in awe even with his bias. 

"You’re back! I swear to you, that wasn’t my father!” She ran to him, and he caught her as she examined him, checking to make sure he was awake. He swallowed hard, no, anything but hard, her hands trailing up the sleeves of his uniform. “I thought you left me alone in this place, I thought you abandoned me, and you weren’t coming back - ”

“Never. I’d never. If you have need of me, I will always come back. Did she hurt you? Do you know where we -" 

"Yes. Yes, we’re in the dream, and I can feel I don’t have much time. It’s getting worse, the forgetting and them taking my magic. She tried, clawed me pretty good, but I ran. She’s getting stronger, Killian." 

"I know, we are trying. We have to go through the nightmares soon -" 

"In case you fail, I have a request,” Emma whispered against his chest. 

“Anything. We’re going to get you out of here, but anything -" 

Killian’s shoulders tensed when her lips pressed against his, the sharp inhale of surprise that he was sure she could feel when she let them press together. His panic left it chaste and awkward, leaving her to pull away in embarrassment. 

With her face reddening, Emma stammered and stepped away. "I’m sorry. I just, I’ve never been kissed properly by you when we both - I mean, we both are aware and I - I thought that we were more than friends or companions or whatever we are. I wanted to remember, and if I was to remember anything it would be that. I shouldn’t have done that, please forgive me.” He caught her by the arm before she could escape, fighting back a well of emotion that ached. 

At least she would forget as she had forgotten him before in these dreams, all the imagined early morning conversations, her kisses and the way he always came so close to wanting her while holding himself back. Even against not realizing what was going on, and understanding this was all fantasy, he had kept his lust for more of her tamped firmly down. He had known on some level what he was unable to remember, that she was more, and that she deserved consent. 

The constants were now Killian finding her, and forgetting until it was too late - but always, always , wishing this was real. 

[ayafoxheart]

For Verad and Country

Osvald strode through the door, passing from the attached house and into his shop. 'His' shop, how nice it felt to say that. In his large arms smith's arms he carried a bottle of wine and a pair of glasses. It was true that he was never much a man for trouble, but he always understood that a man (or woman) must stand up for what matters most. His stand, harrowing as it was at the time, paled in comparison to what others dare: he had stood up to his father, something he'd never done before. That day he committed to an apprenticeship to the old smith, he had given up his family for good, or so he thought. Time has a funny way of healing some wounds.

He looked out across his shop at the strange display near the far end. His sister, tall and graceful as ever, was facing another such trial of her own. There she had erected a hoist of sorts, and mounted on that an even stranger contraption: a pair of metallic wings, riddled with aetheric air crystals and magitek control circuitry that he could not begin to comprehend. That said, he had spent plenty of time admiring the craftsmanship of the metalwork: he actually knew the smith, but nothing secured a reputation so completely as an example of masterwork such as this.

"So that thing really flies?" He asked as he strode carefully across the comfortable space of his shop.

"In a way..." she replied, softly, not turning her eyes away from her inspection of the wings. "They do allow for gliding, and for leaping. Ever seen a Dragoon jump...?"

"Hah, now that really is something! Will you ever cease to amaze me?" He laughed a little, trying to lighten the mood, and set the wine glasses down. He pulled the cork out with a little effort from strong fingers.

"I imagine so." She answered matter-of-factually, not adding on how she seemed to disappoint everyone eventually.

It wasn't like her. Then again, she really had not been anything like herself lately. Where there was always energetic good cheer, there was now little but sullen resignation. The light that so readily reflected in her eyes seemed dead., as if she were sleep walking through a nightmare.

"Ah... I.." He couldn't think of what to say, and settled instead on pouring the glasses of wine. He offered hers, handing it to her directly since she didn't seem interested in turning around.

"Thank you." She gave herself a little sigh before taking a drink while holding the glass in both hands. He watched, and joined her in the silent toast.

"Are they ready?" She asked, still not turning to look at him.

"Aye. That they are. Just as you asked."

"Balanced for throwing too?"

He nodded, before rubbing one of those massive hands along the back of his head. "Aye, aye. The finest blade I can make so light. Many times forged. If you want anything finer ye should ask that Lalafel friend o'yers."

She lowered her head, staring at the floor for a moment. "As great as Master Chachanji's work may be, I trust none other than you with these. The reputation of your blades has started to spread, you know."

The smith offered up a bashful smile at the praise, still holding the hand behind his head. "Aw, jest a minute now, you have been listenin' a little too much to Kael now haven't ye!" He laughed a little referring to their elder brother.

"But, ah... do you really think he can use them? You know.. I mean I know the guy and..."

She slowly lifted the wine glass to her lips and took another drink, allowing an awkward silence to linger after his question.

"Yes. He can."

"Ah, yeah.. I am sure... I mean he seems like a capable fellow..." Osvald was always a terrible liar.

She finally turned around to set her empty glass down on the work table, and moved to examine the knives. They were stamped with the Crow, the old symbol of their family, as were all of his goods. It gave her a little hint of gladness amidst the ocean of dread that had swallowed her heart. A touch of familial warmth deep in the heart of the city of sadness and memory.

"And what's that?" He asked, gesturing to a miniature flask set on the table. He expected maybe it were a special reserve fuel for her wings.

"Qiqirn Firewater." She answered flatly.

He scrunched up his face in disgust, "By the Twelve what for?"

She turned her eyes to the little flask, designed for a Lalafel and small enough to fit easily in her palm.

She let out a deep sighing breath, followed by what few tears were left to her.

"Because, fool that I am, I must have hope."

She slammed a fist into the table, catching her head in her other hand as the trail of tears became a stream.

He wrapped his sister in his heavy arms, and held her tight. It was all the more he could do.

[ranawaytothedas]

The Stuff of Dream (Chapter 2)

Main Pairings: F!Lavellan/Solas & F!Lavellan/Cullen 

Word Count:  7645

AO3 Link - HERE

Summary:  A collection of encounters in the Fade between Tamaris Lavellan and Solas during the two years he was missing after the defeat of Corypheus.

Part 2 of 3

Part 1

A / N: This is just some fluff, with feels… and there some plot points but I wanted something fluffy at its core for this middle bit because we need more fluff in all our lives right!? I love Solas and Lavellan having a baby… it’s tropey I know but I love it… It’s my brand of trash… anyway, this is my best like domestic fluff with Tamaris and Solas in the fade. Rating - Mature just for safety

In the weeks since her first encounter with Solas in the Fade, he returned as promised nearly every night. Tamaris still struggled to grasp the depth of what Solas had told her of his past and plans for the future. He had explained a little more about his plans each night. While Tamaris saw the reasoning behind his goal to restore The People to their former place in the world. To her, tearing down the Veil and remaking the world couldn’t be the only way for them to achieve this. Solas told her it was but Tamaris knew there had to be a better way. 

She had been spending most of her waking hours in the Rotunda, in Solas’s old study that was now hers. Her position with the Inquisition was largely research-oriented, taking on many of the duties that Solas once held. Tamaris spending hours in the study, her nose buried in a book was not something uncommon. Most around her just assumed she was deep into research and not that she was carefully planning her part in her love’s rebellion. Tamaris spent each day at Solas's old desk, looking up at the murals that he had painted during his time at Skyhold. Studying his notes while Shivana played on a blanket nearby with her dolls, blissfully unaware of what her mother was planning. 

Tamaris was going to leave the Inquisition and everything she had known. Or rather that was her end goal. There was much work she still had to do first. Solas had positioned her as the main point of contact for his Agents already in place within the organization. It was a role that Tamaris was uncomfortable with at first, thinking she was going to have managed a decent-sized group, but really it was just three people who came to her most often. A young scout that only just joined, an older mage that had come into the fold with the Mages from the Circle and a quiet former Dalish serving woman, near Tamaris’s age, who worked in the kitchens. Though Tamaris suspected that Solas had more agents still hidden throughout the whole of Thedas.

The agents were all kind to her when they spoke but looked at her with fear in their eyes. Tamaris knew that they likely didn’t fear her directly. She was not known for being harsh or unpleasant to deal with. Rather, they feared displeasing Fen’Harel was a more likely answer. Of three agents it was Lenan, the former Dalish kitchen servant, that Tamaris took a liking to the most. Each afternoon she would bring Tamaris her tea and under the pot always a note. With all the latest gossip from the servents. Lenan would often sit and chat with Tamaris just about life and the events of the day. Simple conversation but it was usually one of the highlights of Tamaris's day. Lenan would always stop and greet Shivana as well. Offering her a sweet she had hidden the pocket of her apron with a warm smile. Once, Lenan had mentioned that she had once had a little girl, but a sickness took both her child and her husband years before. Tamaris felt for the woman and offered the opportunity to spend more time with Shivana. Which Lanan happily accepted. 

Lenan started lending Tamaris a hand with keeping track of Shivana, who had taken her first steps just days before she celebrated her first birthday. Though, Tamaris knew she had actually done it several nights before in The Fade when Solas had appeared in the treeline and Shivana spotted him. She pushed herself up onto on unsteady feet and toddled over to him, giggling the whole time. Solas had been so proud of her, the look on his face as he bent down to pick her up was an image Tamaris would never forget. His eyes bright and filled with joy. A broad smile plastered across his face. That’s the man I fell in love with. She had told herself at that moment.  It was a memory that Tamaris couldn’t share.  It was, however, one she cherished above all else and would for the rest of her life. 

On Shivana’s birthday, Skyhold was bursting with activity. Josephine had insisted on organizing an elaborate celebration for the event. Nobels, dignitaries and all manner of important figure in the political landscape of Thedas funneled into the keep to Celebrate the little girl’s first year of life. Even Varric had returned from Kirkwall for the occasion. As per usual, Dorian had attempted to micromanage every detail of the event. From the food to the clothes that ‘his family’ would wear, and even what colors the hall had been decorated in for the event. All had to be up to Dorian’s exacting standards. Tamaris thought it was all too much, repeatedly saying. “She is still so young, she will likely not even remember any of this..”

However, Dorian, backed by Josephine, explained that it wasn’t the point of an event like this. The point was, “To show the world that survived… you have locked yourself away in Skyhold for years now. This is your return to the world’s stage.” An idea that made Tamaris’s stomach turned. When time came for the party, Tamaris dressed in the opulent, deep purple dress that Dorian had sent in from the finest seamstress in Val Royeaux. Shivana was dressed in a matching gown of her own, though it was a pale silver rather than the deep purple. Cullen has not been left out of this family textile fueled nightmare. Even he had a suit that matched Mathras’s which Cullen was not happy about, in the least. He grumbled the whole time he dressed and Tamaris couldn’t help but sympathize as she struggled to get Shivana into her dress. The fabrics were heavy and embroidered with metallic threads, which caused them to be more style over comfort. Which should have been a hint at how the events of the night would unfold.

The party itself was not an event for a small child. Most of the guests were adults. They all brought gifts that were far too lavish and not practical. Save a few from Tamaris’s closest companions. Sera made a bright yellow blanket, which Shivana snatched up as soon it was handed her and rubbed it against her cheek. Varric gave the most thoughtful gift, he wrote a children’s story just for Shivana based off an old Dalish story from Clan Sabrae. This was something the writer had sworn he would never do, but he could not think of a more fitting gift for his dear friend’s child. The story was one that his friend Merril told him about a young girl who wished to join the Emerald Knights and the trials she endured to achieve her goal. Tamaris was near tears as she flipped through the pages of the book to see a little girl, that looked quite like her daughter featured in the drawing in the book. Varric was a little flustered by her reaction and tried to pass off most of the credit. “Merril and Bianca helped me with the pictures, I am a writer, not a damned artist. Really it’s not even my story… I just wrote the words down...” Tamaris didn’t say anything more than thank you as she hugged him. 

As the party continued late into the night, Shivana quickly grew overtired and cranky. When the point was reached that little Shivana had too much, it was Cullen who came to Tamaris, as she was catching up with Briala at the time. He had Shivana screaming in his arms, one arm out of her dress as she fought against Cullen trying to hold her. Tamaris apologize profusely to Briala, but her friend understood that her daughter was quite done with the affair.

“I’m going to put her to bed…” Was all she had intended to say to Cullen but his offer to go with her caused her to pause. It was odd, a few months prior she would have begged him to come with her not wanting to wage the nightly battle to get the headstrong little girl into bed herself. Yet, now that she knew that she would see Solas again in the Fade it felt odd to fall asleep in Cullen’s arms only to wake in the Fade to run into Solas’s. What she often found more upsetting was that she would rather spend more of her time asleep, in the Fade with Solas than awake living the life she had built with Cullen. Tamaris put on her best smile for him. “No, stay… Varric is going to get a game of Wicked Grace going… enjoy yourself, Cullen. We will be fine, I am just as tired as she is. I just hold it together better.” Cullen nodded and kept his thoughts to himself. 

Tamaris knew Cullen had growing suspicions that something had changed in the past few weeks. How could he not? She often asked herself. Tamaris was almost always sleeping when he returned to their rooms. They barely spoke or even saw each other. They hadn’t been intimate in weeks. He suspected that he did something wrong, overstepped with Shivana or something of the sort but it was far simpler.

She wanted to be with Solas. It was becoming harder for Tamaris to maintain her relationship with Cullen with each passing day. Each time he held her hand or kissed her cheek, she felt like she was betraying the man she really loved. Tamaris longed for it all to be over, but Solas had his carefully thought out plan. Everything in due course.

Tamaris spent the next hour trying to settle the now, one year down. Shivana was over-tired and fed far too much sugar by her ‘Uncle Dorian’ during the party. It took sitting in the rocking chair that Thom Rainier had made her before he left to join the Grey Wardens, as himself this time. It was the first gift she had been given for Shivana and it had proved the most useful. Before too long, the little girl was asleep, clutching the bright yellow blanket that Sera had given her. Tamaris took a moment to settle Shivana in her crib before climbing into her own bed a few feet away. 

After tossing and turning for nearly another hour, Tamaris finally drifted off to the Fade. 

When she awoke, the first thing she noticed was the forest she awoken was not the one she had created. It was still a forest, but it was like none that Tamaris had seen before. The trees were older and taller than most she had seen. The air was thick with the smell of sap and a flowery scent she couldn’t place her finger on. There was a small path that led deeper into the woods. Tamaris followed the path lit by soft glowing blue lanterns. The joyous echos of Shivana’s laughter could be heard long before Tamaris could see her as she made her way through the densely wooded forest.  While Shivana was a happy child in most people’s opinions. When she was with her father, it was a different type of joy. It was untainted but the outside world. He could make her laugh in ways even Cullen or Dorian, who were Shivana’s favorite people, could not. Solas had a way with her, that was just an unexplainable connection between parent and child. Her eyes were brighter when she was with him and it reinforced to Tamaris that she was making the right choice. 

The path led to a clearing with a small cottage in an architecture style Tamaris didn’t recognize. It reminded her of some of the ancient elven ruins she had seen, but it was far less complex in design. She was trying to figure out where Shivana and Solas had gone off to as she wandered through the clearing. Then out of the corner of her eye. Tamaris spotted Shivana toddling around the corner of the house. Solas following a step behind her watching her as she explored. A warm smile grew across Tamaris’s lips once she spotted them. Seeing them together never ceased to make her heart swell with pride. Her only wish was that it was more than just in the Fade. She wanted to see her daughter as happy as she was in her dreams, every day. Soon, a few months more than we will be together. She reminded herself that there was going to be an end to this and they would be together. 

 Tamaris stayed back for a few moments. She watched as Solas doted upon their daughter. Till as they meandered around the house Solas noticed Tamaris standing there. He smiled lovingly at her and lent down, scooping up Shivana in his arms. His hand lifted as he pointed over towards Tamaris. “Look, Mamae’s here.” He kissed her cheek as he balanced her on his hip, carrying her with him over to greet Tamaris. His free hand went to her waist as he leaned in a placed a quick peck on her cheek. “How was the party?” He asked with a hint of smugness in his voice that made Tamaris want to hit him for a moment. She settled with an eye roll and a disapproving huff. “Oh, it could not be that bad?”

Tamaris smirked as she leaned over and kissed Shivana’s cheek. Shifting her attention back to Solas. A bemused chuckle escaped her lips. “Dorian had matching outfits made for the five of us.” Her tone was light yet, there was an unmistakable bitterness in her voice as she spoke.  Solas was quite amused at the idea. He was holding back laughter which just earned him a scowl from Tamaris. “I would not laugh if I were you, remember regardless of what happens Solas. Dorian is still family now. He and Mathras seem to have a rather permanent arrangement. You already know his feelings on your general taste in clothing.” Her laughter was light like a songbird’s call. “I love Dorian really, but I would rather leave my wardrobe up to my own choosing.” 

Solas gave her a rather smug glance as his hand moved up her back. “He does not even know my actual taste in clothing.” Solas protested as Tamaris let out a soft chuckle as she smirked up at him. 

Shivana began to squirm in Solas’s arms eager to get down and back to exploring. “Alright, da’ean.” He mumbled softly as his hand slipped from around Tamaris as he turned away to set Shivana back down on the ground. As soon as her bare feet hit the soft grass she was off. While she wasn’t the fastest she did make it up with enthusiasm, clapping her hands as she laughed excitedly. 

How Tamaris longed for this to be what life was always like. Just enjoy this moment, the rest will come. Tamaris reminded herself as Solas took her hand. Her gaze shifted upwards. Solas had a soft smile playing on his lips as Tamaris leaned in resting her head against his arms. “So, did she at least enjoy the party?” Solas asked weary of the answer he was likely going to receive. 

“Not really.” Tamaris began. “I really do not think it was meant for her, it was more like her birthday was another event in Mathras’s attempt to play the Game.” Solas scowled briefly. Tamaris just nodded and shrugged, “Trust me, I am not thrilled about this either.”

“Why would your brother agree to such nonsense in the first place?” Solas asked as he glanced back towards Shivana who was looking at some wildflowers just a few feet away. 

Tamaris shrugged again. “He thinks if he gains some standing in Orlais and Fereldan that when Dorian is eventually forced to return to Tevinter that he, a Dalish Elf, will be able to walk into Minrathous without issue.” Tamaris knew her brother loved Dorian, but there was no way they were going to be able to have some life together in Tevinter. Their society was far from progressive, and that was just about Elves. The rest was another matter entirely. As much as Dorian jested he would just name Shivana his heir one day and really cause problems among Magisterium, Tamaris knew it was only a jest. Mathras still believed it could become truth. 

Scoffing slightly as he shook his head Solas looked down at Tamaris. “He is a fool… a moron even.” Solas pointed out sharply. It wasn’t that Solas disliked Mathras. He was actually quite fond of him, he had a good heart but a hot temper and was blinded by the appeal of wealth and status. A combination that Solas could relate to on a personal level. He had tried to show the young man the errors of letting his pride get the better of him. Mathras was a stubborn man, Tamaris was stubborn in her own way but she was not as inflexible as her brother had become during his time as Inquisitor. Solas let out another groan. “He really is far too stubborn for his own good.”

“I know, but he is in love…” Tamaris added with a small smile as she placed a hand on his chest. Solas rolled his eyes dismissively. Noticing this Tamaris pulled back and looked at him wide-eyed, her lips pursed together for a moment before she elaborated. “You know, I want his foolish plan to actually work.” 

Solas laughed softly as he leaned in to kiss her, with his lips nearly brushed against hers as he smirked. “I know, but that does not mean it will.” His lips brushed against Tamaris’s lips for a moment. It felt like such a normal moment between a happy couple just going about their lives. For the briefest moments, Tamaris forgot they were in the fade as she stood there looking up at him blissfully. Solas’s gaze moved back to Shivana as she wandered around the clearing enjoying her little bit of freedom. 

A happy sigh escaped her lips as Tamaris turned to watch their daughter play noticing the smile growing on Solas’s lips. “I am glad she is at least happy here,” Tamaris noted mournfully.

Solas slipped his arms around her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder. “What do you mean?” Though he had never seen his daughter outside of the Fade, he had assumed she was just as happy during her waking hours. He watched as Tamaris’s gaze never left their daughter. He ran a hand across her stomach trying to get her to look at him. “Vhenan,” he uttered softly finally getting her attention. 

There were reasons Tamaris didn’t want to tell Solas what she meant. She knew that it would only hurt him, but he was a persistent man. As she let out a heavy sigh as she turned around to face him. Solas’s hands now resting on the small of her back. “Ma’lath,” Tamaris muttered as she went to kiss him but Solas shook his head and gave her a stern glare. “It’s complicated…” Tamaris grumbled as she turned her face away from his. 

His hands slipped from around her before he took her hands. “Show me…” he insisted looking deep into her eyes. Tamaris shook her head trying to dismiss him but Solas wanted to understand. “You know how to show me memories, show me the party.” His tone was soft but had a commanding tone that made Tamaris feel as if she had no choice in the matter.

Her head nodded weakly as she glanced back over to Shivana. “At least let us bring her, so she can dream that you were there…” There was a sadness that seeped through each of her words. Solas nodded but said nothing. Tamaris felt nervous as she walked the few feet to where Shivana was looking at a log on the ground. She smiled brightly at her daughter as leaned down. “Bae wants to see your party… should we show him?” Tamaris asked the child in a vaguely sing-song voice. The child giggled as she reached out for Solas who was walking up behind Tamaris. Shivana giggled as her tiny hands reached longingly out for her father. “Oh so Mae is nothing now, I see… go on… go to your Bae…” Tamaris teased as Solas smiled smugly lifting his daughter from her mother’s arms. 

He was quite pleased with how much Shivana had taken to him. She rested her head against his chest as she reached out towards his face with her hand. Solas smiled broadly as he captured her hand, “Hello, da’ean..” he beamed before kissing her fingertips. He glanced up at Tamaris who was watching, smiling. 

“She loves you, you know that…” Tamaris’s words weren’t meant to cut at Solas but they did. His smile waived for a moment as he glanced at Shivana who was still staring at him intently. 

“I know…” He muttered kissing her little fingers again. 

Tamaris nodded and smiled. “Good…” She noted bluntly before turning her back to Solas. “Remember that…” Her words were soft and they weren’t meant for Solas to hear but he did. Tamaris closed her eyes and slowly the world they had been standing in melted away and was replaced the warmth of Skyhold’s hall. 

It was Tamaris’s memory of the events of a few hours before. The hall was empty for the moment but decorated in pale pinks and soft silvers. The tables were covered with food and with a wave of her hand Tamaris was in a deep purple Orliasian gown. “Welcome to what I would have faced a Nightmare Demon again to avoid…” She gestured down to her gown, which was well made, beautiful but looked out of place on her. “I had to take a piss in this…. Just so you know.” She explained with a laugh. “Do you want to know how many people it took for me to piss wearing this dress? Do you know how much shit Sera gave me for having to hold this up while I squatted?” She asked gesturing to the large hooped skirt. 

Solas was standing back, still wearing his same sweater and leather breaches, holding their daughter still clad in her simple white dress, trying to do everything in his power not to laugh at her story and the dress in question. “You look beautiful..” He confessed softly. I was true, he did think she looked lovely. Though he always felt she looked beautiful and would still be beautiful if she clad in nothing but plaidweave. “What do you think, Shivana? Mae looked beautiful in that dress that was very obviously picked by Dorian.” He chuckled towards the end mention of Dorian, which Tamaris did not find amusing. 

“Uncle Dorian” Tamaris corrected quickly. 

Solas laughed softly and repeated. “Uncle Dorian... “

Her lips pursed as her arms folded in front of her chest. Her eyes closed again and when she opened them Solas was wearing the same outfit that Cullen had been forced to wear that night. It was similar in style to what they had worn to Celine’s ball, but the fabric was rich velvet, the tiny silver filigree throughout so that when it caught the light it seemed to sparkle. Shivana too was wearing her outfit from that night. A stunning silver dress, that actually looked quite darling on the child but was made of a horribly itchy fabric. Instantly Shivana started to wiggle in Solas’s arms trying to get out of the dress. She shook her head as she pulled the dress up over her head to take it off. Solas laughed softly. “I do not think she likes this dress..” With that Solas waved his hand and she was back in the simple white cotton sundress she had been wearing before. “Better?” He asked. 

Shivana giggled as she grabbed at the fancy jacket he wore before scowling again. His scowl, Tamaris noted and so did Solas. He chuckled softly at her expression of dislike for the garment. “I do not care for it either.” He noted before the suit morphed into what Tamaris could only assume was what he wore in the days of Arlathan. The fabric of his tunic was rich, deep forest green silk. Trimmed with delicate gold piping. He wore black leather breaches Over his shoulder was a black wolf pelt, which drew Shivana’s attention. Her twisted in her father’s arms as her hand ran through the fur. She giggled with delight as she ran her cheek against the soft fur.

Smiling deviously, Tamaris crossed her arms in front of her chest. “So, this is Fen’Harel…” There was amusement in her voice as she spoke, she had wondered for quite some time what the Dread Wolf really looked like. 

Much to Tamaris’s surprise Solas shook his head. “No, this is what I wore most days before they gave me that name,” he explained as he watched Shivana rest her head on the fur in his shoulder. As Solas glanced back over at Tamaris. He smirked as her puffy Orliesian gown morphed into a flowing gown that he viewed far more fitting for such a beautiful woman. 

A bright smile grew across Tamaris’s lips as she ran her hands over the deep forest green silk. The neckline dipped low, between her breasts. A detail that made Tamaris blush as she gestured to her cleavage. Solas chuckled as a devilish smirk played on his lips. The rest of the dress was flowing. Tamaris felt very much like some sort of divine creature wearing it. “So, this is what you would have me wear?” Tamaris asked sheepishly taking a step closer to Solas who looked quite pleased with his choice. She wondered if this is what it would be like when they were reunited.

Solas reached out, placing his hand on her waist. Drawing her closer to him, her body pressed up against his. He was blissfully happy in that moment. It was a rare occurrence. Solas often felt as if he didn’t deserve the love Tamaris still had for him. He had hurt her. Abandoned her. Through all the pain her love for him remained. Fortune had smiled upon him that she was so blinded by love to give him another chance. Every day he promised himself he would be the man she loved, not the man he was. It was a promise that Solas knew he may one day break, but he pushed the dark thoughts from his mind to focus on the love that was surrounding him.

A content sigh escaped Solas’s lips before he finally answered Tamaris’s question. “If I had my way…” He teased. In a more serious tone, he finished, “I would be happy with whatever you choose to wear as long as you are comfortable.” He paused and looked at her questioning. “You are comfortable?” 

Tamaris laughed as she nodded, “Yes, it’s a lovely dress.” Her hand slipped up around his neck to the nape of his neck. Her hand applying a slight pressure to the back of his neck, urging Solas to lean down so she could place a sweet peck on his full lips. Solas thought that feeling her lips pressed against his that he would never grow tired of the feel of her lips on his. Solas let out a pleased chuff as Tamaris took a step back, taking his hands. “Now that we are properly dressed, shall we go to a party?” Tamaris tried to muster amusement in her voice as she spoke but there was trepidation as well. She knew the evenings’ affairs were sweet for moments but most would not be what Solas had hoped for. Tamaris only hoped that he would be understanding.  She turned her back to him and focused all her thoughts on the events of the night. Like fog rolling in the room began to fill with spectral figures. Nobles whos faces Solas could not recall and the faces of a few of their old companions. 

The first thing Solas noted was there was not another child to be found. It appeared to be more of a grand ball than what little he recalled of children’s parties, though he assumed they may have changed some since his youth. There were hushed discussions in every corner and it took him a moment to find Tamaris, dressed in the puffy purple dress holding a rather sour-faced Shivana standing off in a corner looking panicked. Her eyes were wide, her lips drawn tight. Shivana was clutching on to her mother already overwhelmed by the affair. Her bright blue eyes looked upwards, pleading with her mother to leave this event before it had even truly begun.  

A wave of guilt washed over him, this should have never happened. He noted silently. I should have taken her with me. How did I not know she was pregnant? I left my family to lions. Solas struggled to maintain his composure watching his daughter entrenched in fear over something that should have been a happy affair. 

Tamaris stood a few feet away watching herself, the sadness of recalling the event radiated off her like the heat from a fire. She was never one for balls or parties. Playing the grand game turned her stomach. Tamaris wished that she had been listened to about the event even more as she relieved it a second time.

Even Shivana was becoming as she watched the spectral version of herself. Confused and upset, Shivana turned her head away and buried it against the pelt on her father’s shoulder. Her hands clutching at the fabric of his tunic holding on to him as she had held onto her mother.  Solas kissed the top of her head before whispering, “You are alright, da’ean.” Feeling her clutch on to him with so much fear, for the first time, rattled Solas as he held Shivana close. Wrapping both arms around her. “I have you, my sweet girl.”

Tamaris waved her hand. The echoes across the room shifted with the ease of smoke in the breeze. Crossing the hall Tamaris led to where she had sat earlier in the evening with Sera who held Shivana in her lap. “This was the happiest Shivana was all night.” 

Sera was bouncing Shivana in her lap, singing some ridiculous song that she was obviously making up as she went along. Krem and several of the other chargers sat around the table trying to entertain the small child with a set of nug plushies dressed in various garbs. One even had a set of horns and eyepatch. It made Solas chuckle softly. “Does she like them?” He asked softly walking up behind Tamaris.

She turned back for a moment, the movement of the echos still as her attention shifted away. “The toys or the Chargers?” 

“Both, I suppose?” He hadn’t thought if his daughter was fond of anyone really. He had assumed like most small children she like most people. 

Tamaris smiled broadly as she turned back to her memory. “Yes, to both.” She mused softly. “Krem makes her all these little plushies to play with, he says it gives him something to do. I think he loves to see her face when he walks into the rotunda with a new nug of some kinda for Shivana to play with. Dalish is really sweet with her, Grim has made laugh so hard she made herself sick because she finds the grunting highly amusing oddly enough… the rest of them are kind to her will go out of their way to get a giggle out of her.”  Which the echos were doing at that moment. They were making silly faces and holding her new toy just out of reach for a moment till she tried to squirm out of Sera’s arm to reach it. 

Solas couldn’t help but notice how protective Sera was being with his daughter. Her eyes constantly darting around the room watching the movements of all who came near. Her arms were wrapped protectively around the child, her freckle covered cheek resting against the top of Shivana’s auburn curls. “Sera?” He asked Tamaris softly curious to know her relationship with his daughter. 

“Sera loves her, like her own flesh and blood.” There was smile playing on Tamaris’s lips and it could be heard in her voice. “Shivana likes that she usually has something good to eat.” The happiness in Tamaris’s voice was not lost on Solas. Tamaris shifted her attention and as she moved across the hall once more the scene shifted. 

Now what played out before him was a slightly more distressing scene. Tamaris held Shivana in her arms. The child was sobbing and pulling at her mother’s dress. With a great deal of haste, she pushed through a crowd of people. Nobels, some with masks that marked them as Orliesain, others were more obviously Frelden. They all shot Tamaris dirty glances as pushed passed them. Their looks of disgust at his daughter’s distress caused Solas to seethe with anger enough that Tamaris turned back and watched him for a moment before asking. “Are you alright?” Solas nodded, unable to actually utter anything more than ‘mhm’ as he held their daughter closer. 

He rested his cheek against the top of Shivana’s head, the child hiding her face once more the uncomfortable memory. The spectral version of Tamaris had finally reached Mathras, who stood near Dorian as he told one of his lively stories to entertain the dignitaries. Her hand pulled at her thick fabric of her brother’s coat. Solas caught her asking, “Have you seen Cullen?” Her brother turned to her for a moment and gave her a look of disdain. It was like Mathras could not even be bothered by his sister’s troubles. 

“I haven’t a clue where he is, but could you do something about Shivana… the guests are starting to get uncomfortable.” Her brother spoke sharply to her. It something Solas had witnessed before. It has always unnerved him how Tamaris would just bow to her brother’s wishes when she was the one with the real power. He had spent so much time building her confidence during their relationship, he had thought that she would be able to retain it but from the exchange with Mathras it was obvious she had fallen into old habits. 

The look on her face as Mathras turned away ripped at Solas’s heart. Her eyes held back tears, her lips drew tight and thin as she took a deep breath trying to steady herself. Solas didn’t question the exchange as he had the others. It was very obvious what had happened. Walking up behind her he leaned forward and kissed her bare shoulder. “Ir abelas, Vhenan.” He murmured against her skin. The guilt over his absence overwhelming him for a moment. 

Tamaris cleared her throat as she turned to him. A smile crossed her lips briefly as Shivana looked up at her. A hand lifted and she trailed her fingers along his jaw, her smile turning mournful. “Ir abelas sul ahn ju'garas.” Her tone was soft but filled with regret. Solas looked at her confused as to why she was apologizing to him but Tamaris just shook her head as she turned away. Things shifted once more. 

They were now off in the Garden where Cullen had taken refuge from the party. Tamaris was walking briskly with Shivana, now screaming loudly, tossing her head back having quite the fit. Tamaris looked as if she was crying as well. Cullen raced towards them having leaped from his perch on a bench as soon as he heard Shivana’s cries. “Please, Cullen… just take her… I can’t do this.” Tamaris’s voice shook as Cullen took Solas’s daughter from her mother’s arms. Shivana went to him willingly, as she wanted him more than she wanted to be held by her mother any longer. 

A sharp stab of guilt hit Solas like lightning bolt as he saw how quickly Shivana settled in Cullen’s arms, He is the only father she has known, who is at fault for that? Solas asked himself as he looked at his daughter who was smiling up at him, her hand reaching up and brushing against his jaw. “Da’ean.” He muttered softly as he kissed the top of her head and cherished the fact she was at least safe in his arms in the Fade. 

Turning his attention back to the scene, Solas’s icy blue eyes narrowed in on the other man’s face. It was filled with concern and love. The look of a man, looking at his family. An anger he did not expect began to slowly fester deep within the darkest place of his soul. 

Cullen bounced Shivana with one arm trying to calm her as he pulled Tamaris into a tender embrace. “I told Josiephine that this was a bad idea.” He grumbled angrily as Tamaris looked up at him, tears still streaming down her face. This only seemed to upset Cullen more, seeing his heart so upset at that moment Solas could not help but relate to his anger. 

Cullen took a deep breath and looked down at Tamaris with a weary gaze. “You at the very least have to go back.” He didn’t want to point this fact out, that was plain but was something that needed to be said. Tamaris scowled and shook her head in protest mumbling before Cullen cut her off. “It’s only for a short while longer, but you have to play along.” Tamaris looked upset, like that was not what she had hoped to hear. A scowl grew across her face and Cullen scoffed. “You are still the Herald of Andraste. That means something to the people in there.” He gestured with free his hand towards the hall and Tamaris looked deeply upset. There was tension in the looks they gave each other, tensions that were not new. 

Tamaris’s eyes narrowed in on Cullen as she scowled. “It means nothing.” She snarled as she turned away almost storming off. For a moment Solas was proud for the first time that night, she seemed to attempt to stand up to someone. Something stopped her though. The heal of the pointed shoe she wore dug into the dirt as Tamaris turned around and gestured to Shivana. “Just, keep her out here or better yet, take her to our rooms because I know she is tired,” Tamaris added and Cullen gave her a warm smile. Tamaris didn’t return it, her eyes only focusing on Shivana.

Bouncing Shivana in his arms, Cullen beamed down at her. “We got this? Right pumpkin?” Shivana looked up in Solas’s arm’s hearing Cullen’s nickname for her. It was a small, instinctual thing that made Solas taking in a long, deep breath as his eyes closed. Cullen has his own pet name for it, it was something so small that it should not have bothered him as deeply as it did. Solas for the briefest of moments thought that was the worst of what he would witness that night. 

Cullen shifted Shivana in his arms to lift her up and smile brightly as he got her to giggle. “That’s my girl. Daddy swoops in and saves the day? Right, my little pumpkin...” Cullen’s voice stung deeper than any blade. Hearing Cullen call himself Shivana’s father was a thing Solas never thought of before that moment. He had assumed that he was just ‘Cullen’ and nothing more.

It wasn’t unknown to him that Cullen had assumed a certain role in his daughter’s life. Tamaris never hid that from him but he also never asked for details. Thus leaving him rather unaware of the depth that Cullen had embedded himself into their lives. That was his own fault. 

In an instant, he knew why she had to apologize to him. She had every intention of showing him this, even if she didn’t have to show it to him to make a point. Which he now saw was the point of the memories she had shown him. She did though, you know this. All the pain you have caused her, does she not deserve to cause her own in turn? His rationalization of why Tamaris had shown him such a moment did nothing to quell the guilt and rage that was brewing like a storm inside his mind. His crisp blue eyes finally fluttered open to see Shivana looking up at him confused. Flashing a brief smile he tried to show his daughter that he was alright, even though he was far from it.

Tamaris had stopped the memories, the echoes of the people faded away and they were left standing alone in the gardens at Skyhold. Solas kissed the top of Shivana’s auburn ringlet covered head, never wanting to let go of her again. She was his child. Tamaris was free to do with Cullen what she pleased, for the time being, so he could stake no claim to her other than she was the mother of his child. Shivana was another matter entirely. Solas’s jaw grew tight as he finally looked up at Tamaris who had turned around. 

Her eyes were heavy with sadness, her hands folded in front of her as she looked up at him. “The rest… is…” Tamaris didn’t finish her thought for she couldn’t bear to look the pain on Solas’s face. She knew that seeing Cullen with Shivana would hurt him, she wanted him to see what he left. There was even a part of her that wanted him to hurt because he was still not beside her when she awoke. He needed to see the life that should have been his. While he plan had it’s desired effect, Tamaris had never expected to feel such guilt upon seeing his pain. Her lips parted as she wanted to explain but Solas shook his head. He did not wish to hear any explanation. “Solas,” Tamaris started her eyes darting back to him for a moment. 

“No.” He said flatly as his hand ran down Shivana’s back. Tamaris was not going to control this conversation, not this time. Solas scowled as began, “So he… what?” Solas his voice seething with rage that he normal never let slip out. “Is her father to the world?” He scoffs, shaking his head. Tamaris gave him no answer, which was more than enough to answer his question. His bitterness shouldn’t have surprised Tamaris but it still hurt to hear and see how bothered he was by Cullen. “Of all the people you could have picked… The Templar… raising my child.” Tamaris was allowing him to have his moment, he deserved to be upset. What could have been more insulting to him than knowing that for most of her life thus far, his daughter had viewed a former Templar as her father? Nothing.  

Solas was barely holding his composure, he had to gather his head. It was not something that he could do in Tamaris or his daughter’s presence. With a few short strides and he closed the gap between Tamaris and himself. “I need some time to think..” He uttered with a sharpness that caused Tamaris to cast her eyes to the ground as he handed Shivana to her. To her surprise, after Shivana was settled in her arms and Solas had leaned in and kissed Shivana’s cheek. He then turned to her. “Ar lath ma, Vhenan.” He muttered with a great deal of sadness in his eyes as he leaned in and placing a tender kiss on her cheek before leaving them in the Fade.

When Solas awoke, in his chambers far away from the halls of Skyhold. He was livid. He shot out of his bed. Strode over to his desk and stared down at the various papers that detailed a carefully thought out plan. In all his plans he never factored in his own jealousy getting in the way. He wanted his family back. The idea that at the very moment, far away, Cullen had his arms wrapped around Tamaris made his stomach turn. He let out an animalistic growl before in a fit of rage his hands gripped his desk and in a single fluid movement, he flipped the desk. It came crashing to the ground with a solid thud, papers scattered all over the floor. If the noise of the desk being flipped was not enough to rouse any others nearby. Solas let out a frustrated, guttural scream. 

It wasn’t long before the door to his chambers was pushed open and the lean, hooded figure of Abalas stood in the doorway. “I take it things did not go well?” He asked flatly.

Solas’s gaze never moved from the floor, “What would have given you that impression?” He snarled. Abelas gestured to the desk and Solas snarled once more as he looked up. “The plans have changed,” Solas spoke sharply and there was venom dripping from each of his words. “We need to get them away from The Inquisition sooner than we had planned, which changes many things.” Abelas nodded. “I will not stand for that man…” He wouldn’t even think of speaking Cullen’s name. “Raising my daughter, being with my heart for a moment longer… I know this is selfish of me to ask you or anyone else to be apart of, but…” 

“She is your child. This is your family.” Abelas finished his gold eyes cast to the floor. Solas nodded surprised by the sentinel’s empathy for his situation. “Then no more explanation is needed, I will await further instruction.” Abelas left Solas standing over the overturned desk as he began to formulate his plan to get Tamaris and Shivana away from the Inquisition, Away from the Templar. 

[sepublic]

Tawahi

Tawahi is a village built upon a series of flattened, hill-like plains near the base of a stable, active volcano, named Mount Mangai. Mangai is constantly, steadily, streaming a flow of lava, with two streams of lava having been diverted to flow past and around Tawahi in the form of a moat- Skull Spiders are vulnerable to the extreme heat of lava, with only Armored Spiders surviving initially, before melting under the blazing temperatures like their brethren.

           Caught between these two lethal rivers, the Tawahans manage to exit and enter Tawahi by using cranes built atop the walls surrounded by the lava moat. These cranes hoist massive platforms to carry passengers over the lava moat to either side of the steaming river. Like the bridges of Kokoro, the Tawahan cranes are carefully monitored, and improvements are always being made to make the cranes faster, more accurate, and more stable.

           Past the massive walls, made from a mixture of recently-forged metal and stone, is the main village of Tawahi. Tawahi is divided into three, flattened slopes, each one leading to another with a sloping dirt path. Atop these hills, the people of Tawahi have built a village of various huts and buildings, all of them designed to withstand the heat, be more or less fireproof, and likewise allow maximum ventilation and cooling with conditioners created by Marn engineers and fueled by Kokoran Bitterbite.

           Tawahans specialize in blacksmithing, as the nearby plethora of accessible, extreme heat allows them to heat up their forges. Countless blacksmith shops are scattered throughout Tawahi, where metals and ores mined from Marn are brought in by the Gukko Airforce to be melted down and reforged into the proper tools and materials, before being delivered back to the rest of Okoto for use. Swords, hammers, and other metallic tools of the finest, highest quality are born and/or re-forged here, leading some to dub Tawahi as the new City of the Mask Makers.

           This steady stream of metal, some used for more luxury purposes, has outfitted the Tawahan Guard with a constant supply of the latest armors and weapons, making the Tawahi Military amongst the most well-armed in all of Okoto. Aside from melting down ores, though, the latent heat bubbling within the Region of Fire is also used for another purpose- The famous, beloved Tawahi Hot Springs!

           The Tawahi Hot Springs are exactly what their names imply them to be- A series of pools of water that are heated up by the underground heat to soothing temperatures. In the Tawahi Hot Springs, many elders and other experts tend to visitors, often supplying them with back massages and other special treatments, taking care to utilize the pumice found in the Region of Fire, as well as other materials. Many who visit the Tawahi Hot Springs leave feeling reportedly fresher and more energetic, as if their whole being has been rekindled and cleansed. Members of the Tawahan Guard are given discounts to the Hot Springs, and Gukko Airforce pilots are always treated to a relaxing massage and therapy as thanks for their hard work, before being sent off to fly the skies of Okoto once more.

           Despite its harsh heat, the Region of Fire continues to kindle the flame of life and survival for Okotans yet again- The nearby soil produced by the volcanoes is incredibly fertile, constantly being requested for by various farmers across Okoto. Lava Farmers use the fertile soil produced by volcanoes to breed healthy crops that contribute either to Tawahan cuisine, or the nutrition of the other Mega Villages.

           Aside from Levato, Tawahi is the second-most popular home for Kolhii. Other forms of entertainment include Ignalu Surfing, as well as the famous Tawahan Fireworks; Powdered rockets that when lit soar into the air and detonated in the most dazzling, colorful arrays of light. Needless to say, Tawahi’s exports usually consist of its newly-forged ores, fertile soils, the occasional vegetable or fruit, and fireworks. Materials for an at-home Spa therapy and treatment is also sold by the Tawahan Hot Springs, with the majority of funds going into supporting the Tawahan Military. Tawahi is also known for its delicious, fire-roasted cuisine. Barbecue, hot pot, roasts, etc.,- Tawahi has it all, and cooking competitions are a frequent event. Every now and then, Tawahi will hold a massive potluck where villagers can go about, trying out the roasted foods that others have to offer. All of these attractions have made Tawahi a popular tourist site for vacations and relaxation, one of its specialties.

           Tawahi is overlooked by Narmoto, the current Protector of Fire, village leader, and an Okotan with a mysterious past and a strange, seemingly sentient turret grafted to his spine. Narmoto claims he randomly found it in an abandoned temple, where it attached itself to him- Attempts to reverse-engineer his turret have ended poorly, with most agreeing to leave it alone lest Narmoto suffer for it. Like Marn, Tawahi is mostly military-run, although to a lesser extent, by the Tawahan Military.

           Many Okotans are stoked by blazes of the Region of Fire in Tawahi. Among them is Aft, a veteran of the Tawahan Military, who now dedicates his remaining life as a therapist, usually for soldiers suffering from PTSD. Having achieved peace through rediscovered books on meditation and mental and emotional health delivered from Kokoro, Aft sits down with his patients, listening to them about their nightmares and problems, and helping them calm down and confront their emotions. Aft is always quick to note that courage is not fearlessness, but rather being scared, and going on ahead regardless. His words always inspire many to continue their duties in defending Tawahi.

           Brander is a stout blacksmith, and one of Tawahi’s best, with Jaller of the Military preferring his tools most. Constantly supervising his forge, he crafts all manner of weapons, and more mundane tools, from the constant supplies of ore shipped in from Marn. Using the transferred heat from the lava moat, Brander softens his materials and reshapes them to his heart’s content, and has had made many luxury items and jewelry in conjunction with crafters from Marn and smelted art with Levan carvers. Brander is also a bit of an experimental barbecue chef, using his stove to try barbecuing all manner of ingredients from across Okoto.

           Aodhan is an elderly lady who works at the Tawahi Hot Springs, supervising guests to ensure that they achieve maximum comfort and relief in the bubbling soak. Aodhan also specializes in massages of many kind, as well as skin treatments, and she frequently thanks visitors with a specially-wrapped treat of her famous lava cookies, freshly baked!

           Binyo is the head chef at his famous grill, where he cooks right in front of the customer over an open stove, often amusing many with his famous ‘Onion Volcano’ trick. Binyo treats the business of his art very seriously, prioritizing speed, freshness, quality, and entertainment. Binyo is currently looking to train an apprentice, as his son has invested in a career as a Sumo wrestler.

           Tiribomba is, as his name might imply, a pyrotechnics expert. While he does dabble in explosives in collaboration with others across Okoto, from Pekka of Leva to Nuparu of Marn, his main passion and dream career is creating fireworks with his family. Hailing from a long family line, Tiribomba’s family holds a secret on how to make the brightest, most varied, and most complex patterns in a firework. Their ‘Family Recipe’ is coveted by many, but Tiribomba insists that they marry a relative –or even himself, ha!- before they can learn his family’s hidden art. The sky is frequently littered with some of his family’s experiments and prototypes, and while they don’t match the quality Tiribomba aspires to, as far as anyone else is concerned, they’re perfect.

           Kalama is another member of the Tawahan forging process, although his assignment is particularly grim. Kalama oversees the process of recycling Skull Spider bodies, shipped in from all across Okoto, usually from Levato. Kalama helps his fellow workers break down the bodies of the fallen creatures, melting down their metal limbs to be reforged into new blades, and breaking the rest down to its base components to be recycled and reused. This morbid occupation brings him in frequent contact with the faces of the despised swarms, and some fear for Kalama’s mental health- Some have sighted Kalama actually talking to the empty faces of the dead Skull Spiders, and the recent incident of a Skull Spider that feigned death, just to infiltrate Tawahi, has put him on further edge. Aft sometimes swings by to offer therapy, but Kalama just sticks to his job.

           Maglya is a Lava Farmer in her spare time- As the name suggests, others of her occupation use the lava flows of the nearby moat and fresh volcanic soil to farm healthy gardens. Always having something to offer on her stall, Maglya is in frequent collaboration with Vohon to sell her soil to other farmers, in particular her pen pal Orkahm of the Vuata Maca. Despite her apparently idle job, Maglya also has a thrill for the dangerous sport of Ignalu Surfing, and is a professional at it.

           Vohon is Tawahi’s main trader. An enthusiastic marketer with a magnetic personality, Vohon has a unique ‘loyalty’ program for her frequent customers. Said system involves a series of tickets given to customers that, when amassed, can grant them free prizes. Other parts of this Loyalty program include exclusive scratch cards, the occasional discount, and an inevitable gift for Naming Day. Despite the encouragement of these programs, Vohon is also courteous enough to advise shoppers to be careful about their spending, a lesson that is always heeded well. Vohon is a big fan of the poppers that Tiribomba’s family makes.

           Lhii is the young, impressionable son of Narmoto. Despite his mother’s death, Lhii retains his excitable demeanor, frequently running about Tawahi and playing with the other children, even making friends with older villagers. His status as the Protector’s son has made him beloved, if reverent, to the Tawahan Military, but Lhii does not throw his status around, instead preferring to hang out with the guards and be friends with them as well. Despite the death toll against the Skull Spiders, Lhii aspires to follow in his father’s footsteps and defend Tawahi when he’s old enough, perhaps even replacing him as Protector of Fire.

           The Tawahan Military is a local militia of volunteers, all armed with the freshest, sturdiest weaponry, tools, and armor, fresh and hot from the forge. While mostly voluntary, there is an unspoken agreement that the militia must have a certain minimum number of members that, if not met, would be gathered from a draw of the capable. Thankfully, such a scenario has never happened, as the courage of Tawahi blazes in its inhabitants’ hearts. The Tawahan Military frequently patrols the walls of the village, overseeing the smelting of ores, defending against Skull Spider threats, and occasionally going beyond the lava moat for expeditions or hunts.

           Members of the Tawahan Military are frequently imbued with a powerful sense of honor, chivalry, and code. They are led by Jaller, captain of the guard, and heir to Narmoto’s status as Protector of Fire. A natural leader who takes heed of his followers’ opinions, Jaller possesses a powerful sense of loyalty and a simmering caution, always on the lookout for Skull Spiders and assessing their tactics. Despite his loyalty, Jaller is not blind to authority, not even his own, and he is willing to call out those above him in case he feels there is injustice- Such solid morals and other values are what has led him to be the disciplined Captain of the Tawahan Military. His spare time is usually combat training.

           Kapura is one of the older members of the Tawahan Military, and among its more mysterious and eccentric ones. Functioning differently in the mental sense, Kapura is naturally physically slower than everyone else, a trait that has led him to be careful, diligent, and analytical. In the heat of battle, Kapura’s more slowed and calmed approach to the situation allows him to sometimes notice things that aren’t quite right, or observe what others have missed. This analytical and purposeful methodology of his has made him one of Narmoto’s advisors.

Paradoxically enough, Kapura seems to have the ability to move quickly, perhaps even teleport- He claims he can travel fast by moving slowly, by concentrating on where he is not, and thus inevitably being there. Kapura tends to practice this habit of his in the Charred Forest at his own risk, and it seems to work- How is anyone’s guess. Attempts to imitate have failed. Kapura also has a strange intuition regarding the Skull Spiders, and a knowledge of some parts of the Okotan pantheon of Deities. When not guarding or practicing, Kapura works at Tawahi’s theaters, occasionally partaking in its shadow theather or puppet shows, telling the old stories of Okoto.

Keahi’s role in the Tawahan Military is the regular patrol of the walls. In her spare time, Keahi also serves as a geisha performer and guest entertainer for visitors, often working at nearby restauraunts or in the Tawahi Hot Springs, and is a frequent member of the theater. Despite her graceful and reserved nature, Keahi also has a bit of a sharp tone if she chooses and is not to be underestimated- Jaller has cited her to be the bravest Tawahan there is. According to him, Keahi is actually very afraid, but she continues on diligently and stows away her fear, conquering it.

Agni is a dedicated Tawahan soldier who is obsessed with a moral code of honor. Rumor has it that his father once ran away in battle against the Skull Spiders, a disgrace and cowardice that Agni intends to make up for in his service by being the first to volunteer for missions. A master at the martial arts, Agni helps instruct his fellow guards on weaponless combat and is quick to remind people of the weak points that the Skull Spiders like to exploit. His mother has encouraged him to find a girlfriend, or boyfriend, whichever, but Agni is disinterested.

[thorkizilla]

Hey!! Do you have any good fic reccomendations with hurt/sick/unstable Loki and protective or comforting bro Thor? Could be mild slash, but I'm a SUUUCKER for bromance between these two. Thanks so much ❤❤

Hi!  The trick is in finding fic that’s both hurt/sick!Loki AND protective!Thor, but there are some absolutely brilliant ones and these are some great places to start!  I LOVE THIS TROPE A LOT, LET ME CRAM SOME SUNSHINE IN YOUR FACES WITH THESE.  :D :D :DSICK!LOKI FIC:→ Cradle by catiepie182002, thor/loki, sick!loki, fluff, pre-movies, ~1k      Loki is ill and Thor is doting.→ Four Days with Lazarus by LadyCharity, thor & loki, 13.7k     When the sky falls, he reaches for his brother.(in which Loki is afraid of hell) → A Change of Pace by guardianinthesky, thor/loki, 1.9k    Loki is sick, and Thor decides to take care of him.→ Ordinary Day by Mythtaken Identity, thor & loki, comics-based, 30k    Thor has promised Loki a trip to the fair and Loki is determined to see it through come Hell or high water.→ What Ails You by Mayphoenix, thor/loki & cast, 1.9k    Loki is sick – but gods don’t get sick.HURT OR UNSTABLE!LOKI FIC:→ No Such Liberty Xparrot, thor & loki & asgard & avengers, 147k    Following the attack on New York, Thor takes Loki back to Asgard in chains; but this does not mean that the god of mischief’s schemes are ended, or that Thor has or ever will give up on his brother. But when Thanos threatens the realm to claim his lost prizes, on which side will Loki fall?→ Exsanguination by Lise, thor & loki & cast, 8.6k    exsanguination /ex·san·gui·na·tion/ v.intr. To be drained of blood. (And all the rest.)→ light up dark rooms (or darken light ones) by Mikkeneko, thor/loki (or thor & loki), some disturbing content/nightmare fuel, 2.2k      In all the Nine Realms, there are very few that would come to aid and comfort Loki Laufeyson. But there is at least one.→ Poison Arrow by Dread Pirate, thor & loki, protective!thor, mild loki whump, ~1k      When Loki is injured in combat, the difference between the god of mischief and his brother is perhaps something to be celebrated.→  In the mouth of winter by flesh, thor & loki, h/c, 7.4k      After Loki inadvertently makes Thor the vessel of his magic, Thor gets very ill, so Loki has to make sure he doesn’t die before Loki’s got his magic back.→ Freefall + Landing by galaxysoup, thor & loki & cast, 28k    Loki falls. Thor catches him. This does not solve as many problems as Thor thought it would.→ Thus Untitled Loki Redemption Series by Gabrielle_Day and Takada_Saiko, thor & loki & cast, 35.7k    This is a collection of stories focused around Thor and Loki, starting when they are young and running beyond the Avengers movie.GENERAL PROTECTIVE THOR (ETC.) FIC:→ Victimized by LadyCharity, thor & loki & odin & frigga & cast, 7.4k    In which Loki is the most kidnapped person in all of the Nine Realms by well-meaning bystanders who genuinely think Loki is in constant need of protection. The House of Odin is not amused.→ The More Things Change… by TheOtherOdinson, thor & loki & frigga & odin & volstagg & sif & cast, 8.4k    Loki ends up in restraints a lot. This isn’t a new thing.→ who’s left and who’s leaving by Lise, thor & loki, 5.3k    Thor decides he’s about done with letting Loki get himself hurt and pretending he’s okay with it. Loki’s got two feet of steel through his lungs and is finding it difficult to argue. Family therapy, at its finest.→ Build Walls for Miles Around by Lise, thor & loki, truth spell, 5k    Amora and Loki’s brief flirtations tend to end poorly. This time it’s ended poorly for Loki. And he’s really, really not happy about what she’s making him do.

[willsherjohnkhan]

The Werewolf of Baker St

RATED: Mature

Chapter 1: The Cry of the Wolf

***

221B BAKER STREET

On the strike of midnight a bloodcurdling howl pierced the air. As spine tingling as the sound was, there could be little doubt that it was a cry from the heart.

It spoke of rage, and of despair, and of loneliness.

The animalistic side of the creature was desperate to follow its natural instincts, consumed with an insatiable need to bond.

The creature’s human side however kept these feelings on a tight leash, refusing to give in to such powerful and primal emotions.

The battle between the two had been raging for hundreds of years.

It was inevitable that one day the tipping point would finally be reached. The wolf had recently detected the tantalising scent of the one destined to become their mate, and it was determined to have her, come what may...

***

Chapter 2: Something Amiss

***

BARTS HOSPITAL – MORTUARY – 11.50 PM

Hooper finished cleaning up after performing the final autopsy for the night. As he prepared to leave he couldn’t get the conversation he’d overhead between Detective Lestrade and the self-proclaimed Consulting Detective, Sherlock Holmes out of his head.

It was all so very odd, but he couldn’t put his finger on why. They were clearly withholding relevant and important facts from him concerning the grizzly death of the young woman on whom he’d performed the autopsy.

It wasn’t like he wasn’t used to seeing what the very worst of human nature was capable of. That was to be expected in his line of work.

He was confident that his secret remained safe. That Scotland Yards finest, and even the great detective had not yet ‘deduced’ that Doctor Manfred Hooper was in fact Doctor Margaret Hooper.

So why were they withholding information from her?

Molly carefully went back over the conversation that had her so troubled.

**

EARLIER

“Thank God it’s the final night of the full moon cycle,” Lestrade muttered to Holmes, who was currently inspecting the wounds on the deceased woman.

“Indeed,” the detective responded, having completed his inspection to his own satisfaction. “But this cannot be allowed to continue.”

“Agreed,” the inspector replied. “But how are we to bring this to an end when we don’t even know where they are?”

“Leave it to me,” Holmes said confidently. “I believe I may have uncovered a link, between the victims and a particular establishment. If I’m correct, then the situation will be in hand before the next…”

**

BARTS HOSPITAL – MORTUARY – 11.59 PM

She had been unable to learn anything more as the two men, possibly noting that Doctor Hooper was within earshot had left the morgue to continue they’re conversation in private.

Whatever was going on she was certain that the two men knew far more than they were letting on. It was clear from the looks she had observed between the pair, backed up by their conversation that they had seen wounds like this before. As well as the distinct pattern emerging for when these murders were taking place.

Well if they weren’t prepared to confide their findings with her, she was left with no alternative but to do some investigating of her own.

Reaching for her coat, hat and walking cane, she left the morgue, making her way along the teeming streets of London.

***

Chapter 3: Secrets Exposed

***

OUTSIDE ST BARTHOLOMEWS – EARLIER

A particularly heavy fog had descended over the City of London as Holmes and Lestrade left the hospital. It quickly merged with the heavily polluted air caused by the smoke and ash billowing from numerous factories. In a matter of minutes visibility had become severely restricted, with even that great city’s most notable landmarks smothered beneath a cocoon of off white haze.

But just because you couldn’t see something didn’t mean that it wasn’t there.

And Holmes knew as he glanced skyward that though it remained conveniently hidden to the naked eye, the full moon remained ever present somewhere above them.

More than that, he could feel it. And with every ounce of his remarkable control, he resisted its pull.

Turning back to address his companion, Holmes stated “I’ll take care of it, Lestrade. No need to involve Scotland Yard in this business.”

Lestrade was a good man, but he and his constabulary at the Yard were simply no match for what they were currently up against.

The inspector gave a resigned sigh. He knew from Holmes’ tone that there was no arguing with him on this point.

“Very well, Holmes,” he replied. As the consulting detective made his way briskly down the street, to be immediately swallowed up by the enveloping fog, Lestrade added. “Take care.”

***

DESERTED ALLEYWAY – MIDNIGHT

Mabel Sykes had fallen on hard times. And for a young single woman with no family and of limited means there was only one option if she wished to escape ending up in the Work House.

So when she had been approached by the Madam of a well-known ‘house of ill repute’ The Whip Hand it seemed, on the surface at least, to be a far safer option to roaming the streets in search of paying customers.

But as she stood in the alleyway next to the brothel just as the clock struck midnight, Mabel began to have second thoughts. This despite the fact the Madam had assured her that she would be completely safe here as she awaited her client’s arrival.

As the minutes ticked by Mabel felt increasingly nervous and vulnerable, absolutely certain she was being watched. But her attempts to breech the thick, murky fog proved unsuccessful.

In desperation she called out, anxiety making her voice unusually high. “Who’s there?”

When the only response she received was a series of growls she began to shake uncontrollably. In growing fear she turned with the intention of going back inside the brothel, only pausing when a familiar voice called out to her.

“Oh no, my dear,” the voice said. “Not that way.”

Turning back, Mabel frowned, there was no-one there.

Adding to her confusion and growing unease was the certainty that although the voice had belonged to the madam, it was deeper, gravellier, and harsher.

“Madam Adler,” the girl called out. “Where are you?”

“I’m right here,” was the reply she received.

But by this time Mabel wasn’t listening to what was being said. Her focus was on the three beasts that had emerged from the shadows. They were enormous hulks, with blazing eyes, slavering mouths full of viciously sharp teeth.

Without warning the three werewolves launched themselves at her.

*

The blood-curdling scream came to an abrupt end. It was immediately followed up by a chorus of howls.

Unlike many in the metropolis who chose to turn a blind eye and a deaf eye to any strange or unusual goings on, Mabel’s fateful cry was heard, and responded to by not one, but two individuals in the area.

***

TWO STREETS AWAY

“Damnation!” Holmes roared, the knowledge that he’d been too slow to save another unfortunate woman adding fuel to his determination to catch those responsible.

He picked up his pace as he tore down the street, aided considerably by the fact he now travelled on four legs instead of two.

***

SEVERAL STREETS AWAY

At the awful cry Molly immediately gave up all pretence of being a gentleman on the lookout for some evening shenanigans.

Though the fog was still very thick, she let her instincts guide her in the direction she should go. Due to her stature, her stride was no match for Holmes. But she was small and she was agile, and at this time of great need she used them to her advantage.

***

THE WHIP HAND ALLEYWAY

When Holmes arrived on the scene he found himself confronted by the three werewolves, one female and two males.

Protocol stated that when werewolves from different packs first meet they revert to their were-form, the halfway point between human and wolf. Its purpose, so that all concerned would know exactly with whom they were dealing.

It was a courtesy, an unwritten rule that no pack dare disobey.

This the four immediately did.

Holmes instantly identified the other three as: Madam Irene Adler, Prof. James Moriarty and Master Charles Augustus Magnusson.

That the three should be involved in a despicable act as the murder of young women was of no surprise to the detective. What did surprise, and concerned him greatly was the unmistakable fact that they had joined forces.

And that was a disturbing development indeed.

But before he could begin questioning them pandemonium broke out, thanks to the unexpected arrival of St Bart’s Pathologist, Dr. Manfred Hooper.

For while in their were-forms werewolves are extremely skittish. This is due to their synaptic pathways in their brains becoming overwhelmed by both their human and their wolf sides. This leaves them feeling incredibly vulnerable, at least until their brains calm down and adapt. And this is another reason why they must greet in were-form, for they are far less likely to be aggressive with one another.

*

The sight that greeted Molly’s horrified gaze far surpassed her worst nightmares. Standing around the butchered remains of another innocent victim were four – creatures.

At her audible gasp three of the creatures ran off, but the fourth one remained, standing there still as a statue.

**

In truth Holmes would have preferred running off as well, instead he didn’t move, frozen in shock, as internally man and wolf conducted a heated debate.

Both were looking at Hooper. But where one saw a respected colleague, the other saw –

“Mate!” Holmes wolf howled in delight. The search was finally over.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Holmes argued. “Hooper may be small, but he is most definitely male.”

The wolf could not believe what he was hearing. Could his human half not smell the tantalising scent coming off of her. It rolled over the wolf in continuous waves, it was driving him crazy. They’d been waiting so long to find their mate, how was it possible his human half couldn’t see what was right in front of them.

**

Scared though she was Molly still maintained enough professionalism to catalogue details about the creature before her to memory, so she might give a full and accurate description in the police report, should she make it out of this situation alive.

It appeared to be a cross between a man and a beast.

‘It could possibly be a dog. No.’ Molly shook her head. ’That howl.’ It still caused shivers to rush up and down her spine, wolf, was a more accurate description.

The creature’s body was tall and slim, though surprisingly muscular. The extra hair that covered its body ensured enough modesty, stopping it from revealing its completely naked form.

It was only as she looked at the creature’s face that incredulously she realised she knew the creature before her.

The cry she gave alerting Holmes, who immediately reverted completely into human form.

This was too much for Molly, who took flight back the way she had come.

With no consideration to his nakedness, Holmes took off after Hooper.

“Wait, Hooper! Let me explain!”

Molly could feel Holmes catching up to her. She felt as though her lungs were going to explode, but still she pushed on, the vision of the young woman’s ravaged body still fresh in her mind.

Holmes knew he couldn’t allow Hooper to escape, so he brought him down with a rugby tackle.

Molly hit the pavement hard, hard enough that her wig and false moustache were dislodged. And Holmes found himself looking down at a young woman with big brown eyes and long chestnut coloured hair.

His wolf had been right. Doctor Hooper was indeed a woman.

Holmes shook his head in disbelief, a self-deriding smile turning up his cupids-bow lips as he was forced to acknowledge his own folly.

“It would appear I always miss something, Miss Hooper.”

*

Skulking in the shadows, Moriarty’s human collaborator Moran didn’t know what to make of what he had just witnessed between Holmes and the woman who had been masquerading as a man.

But he knew the good professor would have more than a few ideas.

***

Chapter 4: Revalations

***

221B BAKER ST

Behind closed lids she remembered... - “Thank God it’s the final night of the full moon cycle,” Lestrade muttered to Holmes, who was currently inspecting the wounds on the deceased woman. - The viciously ravaged body of the young woman in the alleyway. - The creature that transformed into Sherlock Holmes. - Running for her life. - Being caught.

And then... - A carriage emerging through the fog. - Being bundled inside. - Finally overcome, and everything going dark...

With the greatest of reluctance Molly’s eyes flickered open, to find herself lying on a sofa. She then became aware of voices, some she recognised, others she did not. Although she strained her ears to hear what was being said she could not make out the detail, but it was clear that whatever the disagreement it had descended into a heated, if whispered, argument.

But if she hoped to remain unobserved she was to be disappointed.

“It would appear your ‘damsel in distress’ has deigned to rejoin us,” remarked the pompous, heavily-set, official-looking gentleman sarcastically.

“Enough Mycroft,” the familiar baritone of Holmes growled.

“How exactly brother mine do you intend to explain to your mate what it was she witnessed?”

Mate? Molly’s brow furrowed at its implication, while at the same time noting the undisguised loathing with which Holmes, the elder all but spat the word.

“Mycroft,” this time the growl was more pronounced, animalistic in its intensity as the detective took a threatening step towards his brother.

“Oh shush you two. Doctor Hooper has more than enough to deal with without you two going all Alpha,” admonished the blonde-haired women, clearly confident that she was more than a match for the bickering siblings.

She made her way over to where Molly lay and assisted her in sitting up.

“How are you feeling my dear?” she asked kindly, with a friendly smile that instantly put Molly at ease, despite the bizarre circumstances she found herself in.

Molly took the opportunity to survey her surroundings. Given the practical nature of the furniture and the sparse, simple furnishings, with an assortment of books, papers and medical instruments that littered the place, it was clear she was in the private rooms of a gentleman, or as her eyes came to rest on Holmes, now suitably reclothed, one gentleman in particular.

And her breathing immediately became more rapid. “Who..?” she choked out, fear once again threatening to overwhelm her. “What are you people?”

“Werewolves,” the woman responded airily.

“Mary!” the outraged exclamation came from Holmes’ associate and chronicler, Dr. John Watson.

“Oh pish, she has already witnessed Sherlock in his were-form. There seems very little point in beating around the bush,” Mary tuttered impatiently.

Before Watson could attempt reprimanding his wife, Holmes smoothly stepped in.

“Quite right Mary,” the detective acknowledged warmly.”Any attempts to conceal or deny what Hooper...,” he paused briefly, a light tinge of pink highlighting his perfectly sculptured cheekbones. “...what Hooper witnessed is pointless. She is an intelligent, astute and resourceful young woman, who herself is well-versed in the art of disguise, and understands the need for concealment. We therefore have no option but to throw ourselves at her mercy, and beg her to listen to what we have to say before making any judgement for or against us.”

The request was made with such earnestness, with none of Holmes’ usual arrogance. Throughout the impassioned plea he maintained eye contact, a surprisingly intimate act for one known to prefer to remain detached from all forms of sentiment. Though Molly now knew that this reserve was not shown within that small exclusive group of those he regarded as his nearest and dearest. So where did that leave her? What in particular was she to him?

Mate.

The mere implication of the word, not to mention the way he continued to watch her caused violent shivers to race up and down her spine, though whether a sign of fear or awakened desire she was not willing to speculate.

“There’s no need to fear Sherlock,” Mary assured her.

Certainly to look at the now impeccably dressed gentleman before her it was difficult to believe that he was anything other than what he purported to be, in this case the world’s only consulting detective. The man with an extraordinary brain, capable of finding details and clues that others either didn’t see, or failed to comprehend there importance until the great detective placed all the facts before them, leaving them dumbfounded that they had not been able to deduce what had been right in front of them all along.

But it was all a deception, a mask of civility that hid something far more powerful, and primitive...

“Tea, that’s what we need right now,” Mrs Hudson, Holmes’ erstwhile landlady announced as she headed out the door to make the necessary preparations.

*

Molly raised her cup to her lips, grimacing with distaste when she found the contents stone cold. On reflection there hadn’t been much time to drink the tea, overwhelmed as she had been by what she was being told.

Even now she found it all so fantastical. It was the stuff of fairy stories, or nightmares. And yet she had witnessed with her own eyes that which should not have been possible. She felt the weight of responsibility, as those before her watched her closely as they waited to see how she would respond to all she had learned.

“It’s a lot to comprehend,” Holmes noted in a rough yet gentle tone.

She put her cup and saucer down, as she nodded in acknowledgement.

“So, if I have this aright,” she began. “Werewolves have always lived among us. Living and working with the human population, a few of whom know your secret. And you have managed to remain hidden for centuries, until recently when a new breed of werewolf arrived.”

Molly paused. She knew she should be more concerned with the details of what made these werewolves different to the new arrivals, but for the life of her there was only one aspect that she wanted answered, the one that Holmes had been at pains to avoid at all cost.

But all throughout the explanations, Molly had been aware of his constant regard. His eyes remained fixed upon her, and what she read in their depths had her head filling with thoughts that had her pressing her legs closely together

It was only when he inhaled deeply, his gaze turning positively molten, that she realised he could scent her arousal, and that it was increasing his own.

Mate. The word hung between them, pawing frantically at them, refusing to release them from its hold.

With Hooper’s renowned forthrightness, Molly decided to take the plunge into the unknown.

Turning her gaze to meet Holmes’ full on, she inquired. “Why is your brother is under the impression that I’m your mate?”

It was clear that the conversation was about to turn to more delicate and private matters, so the others quietly withdrew, giving the couple the privacy necessary for such an explanation.

Mary Watson paused as she made to follow her husband, catching Molly’s eye before remarking as she nodded towards Sherlock, “He’s a puppy dog really... when he’s not howling at the moon.”

With an impish grin she took her leave.

***

[presidentsclubkrp]

Our crime tale begins with HWANG SEBIN, a TWENTY-SEVEN year old member of THE PRESIDENT’S CLUB. SHE works as their GETAWAY DRIVER, but she’s better known as the infamous TRIP. JOIN THE HEIST? 

PART ONE; the basics 

Name: hwang, sebin

Alias: none

Code name: trip

Faceclaim: lee sunmi

Gender/Pronouns: she/her

Date of Birth:  May 2, 1992

Age: 27

Hometown: gangnam, south korea

Occupation: none

Canon: the getaway driver

PART TWO; about 

Biography ( tw: n/a )

1992

if there’s anything people love, it’s rich people gossip. new money? must be doing something illegal on the side. pretty wife? gotta be fucking someone else. cute kids? at least one of ‘em is gonna end up with daddy issues.

well, they’re right about one thing.

2000

a strict adherence to family traditions means that by christmas eve, the house is an obscene tribute to the holidays: plush red carpeting lining the floor, wreaths on every door, the smell of pine pervading the halls. nanny number twelve has been instructed to ensure that they don’t touch any of the decorations. last year’s kerosene-fueled nightmare had been a sure enough reminder that the twins were not to be trusted alone. mom’s busy arranging the presents underneath the tree so that they’re more “visually arresting”. dad’s in his study. he doesn’t look up when sebin bursts through the door, with said nanny huffing and puffing close behind.

“deepest apologies, sir, i told her that you were busy-” he hums absentmindedly. “no, no. i’m just about finished. are you here to challenge me to another round of baduk, bin-ah?” the look on her face reads clear as day.

mom and seyoon find them hours later hunched over the board, in the very same positions they’d assumed when they’d first set up the game. mom settles beside her husband, kneads his shoulders before redirecting her gaze. “what’s the score?”

“i’m winning.” dad grunts in affirmation. seyoon watches with disinterest before he wanders over to the window instead. sebin contemplates in silence, then lowers her piece. game over.

“smart girl, isn’t she?” dad fishes around in his pockets and adds to the steadily-growing stack of bills to her right. “we’ll make something of her yet.” sebin just grins and pockets the money.

“another round?”

2009

“how’s school?”

“boring.”

someone comments inaudibly in the background. “your mother says she misses you both dearly. and to be good.“

“miss you too, mom.” she digs a pointy elbow into her brother’s stomach. “ow- miss you guys,” he parrots obediently. insincerity at its finest, not that anyone’s surprised.

“you both got the keys, right?”

“mhm.”

“try not to speed.”

“no promises.”

2010

mount hakone is a sight to behold: smooth, winding roads enclosed by trees of every variety, hints of autumn speckling the greenery with red and orange, a cloudless expanse of bleached blue skies up above.

bit harder to take in when you’re hurtling through it at 220 km/h, though.

“thanks for the new ride.” definitely a trust fund kid, with the amount of personalization he’d put into his car. she runs a hand over the sleek leather, marveling at the rest of the interior. he mumbles something under his breath, then snaps in broken english: “who the fuck are you?”

“just another player in the game.”

and you just got played.

2014

the rest of the drivers split off hours ago. a few stragglers remain, cigarettes lit like smoke to a chimney. sebin’s pulling away from the lanky american who has his arm extended, the familiar orange glow sputtering to life, when someone taps her shoulder. she turns.

"hyungsik’s little girl, aren’t you?"

"mm.” confident stance, designer shoes. not a wrinkle nor a misplaced tendril of hair in sight.  the expression on his face suggests it’s a business matter. “you know my dad.” it’s not phrased as a question.

“i’ve heard good things about you. and witnessed it myself.” she exhales, tipping her head in a wordless so? "i’m not offering money- i’ve got something even better.“ that gets her attention.

"i’m listening.”

below them, seoul remains well out of reach, clad in smudged bits of red and white: tiny, indiscriminate signs of life crawling through the streets like a troop of ants. sebin entertains the thought as she returns his gaze. he settles back against the railing, pearly whites glinting in the dark.

“you’ll see.”

2020

“what are you supposed to be, exactly? their driver or something?”

“something like that.”

[easilymakermoney]

The perfect TV and film variations of Stephen King novels and tales

Together with being one of the celebrated and prolific authors of all time, Stephen King has additionally had the fortune of getting nearly each story he’s ever written make its solution to the display in a single type or one other — generally greater than as soon as.

The newest adaptation of King’s work is Pet Sematary, the second big-screen adaptation of his 1983 novel of the identical identify. It’s an excellent time to be a fan of King’s work, as a result of there’s no scarcity of it on each tv and the large display recently. It: Chapter Two and Physician Sleep are each headed to theaters later this 12 months, and a number of tv variations are in numerous levels of improvement or at the moment airing.

Earlier than we get your offended telephone calls, King has greater than 100 motion pictures, tv exhibits, and miniseries based mostly on his work, so it’s no straightforward activity to decide on our favorites. Listed below are the initiatives we selected as the most effective variations of Stephen King’s tales.

eight. Christine

Legendary filmmaker John Carpenter directed this 1983 adaptation of King’s novel of the identical identify, which follows a teenage boy whose life takes a darkish and lethal flip when he buys a cherry-red 1958 Plymouth Fury. The demonic automobile step by step begins to take over his life, and brutally eliminates anybody who crosses him or will get between the automobile and its new proprietor. Christine is as a lot an exploration of car tradition in America as it’s a horror film, diving into the nation’s obsession with basic automobiles and the appreciation — or on this case, obsession — that folks have for them. As with many variations of King’s work (in addition to Carpenter’s movies), the movie does a masterful job of mixing music and visible parts to create a lot of its most memorable moments.

7. Pet Sematary (1983)

One of many scariest — and fairly frankly dangerous vibiest — motion pictures of any of King’s many tailored works, Pet Sematary begins out with a graphic and stunning automobile crash and doesn’t let up until the credit roll. Whereas we’re positive the brand new movie has its place, this nightmare-fueling take a couple of cemetery that brings the lifeless again to life was written by King himself and could have you screaming “lifeless is best” in your sleep lengthy after the display goes darkish. In case you’ve by no means seen the unique, we extremely counsel you give it a shot earlier than (or after) you’ve seen the 2019 movie. It’s effectively definitely worth the journey.

6. The Mist

A thick fog that rolls over a small city in Maine unleashes a number of mysterious, horrifying creatures on this 2007 movie. The undertaking introduced Frank Darabont again as screenwriter and director and chronicled the city’s descent into savagery because the surviving residents are compelled to take refuge collectively. The ensemble forged is led by Thomas Jane, Marcia Homosexual Harden, Sam Witwer, Toby Jones, and a number of other actors who would go on to play featured roles in The Strolling Useless tv collection, together with Jeffrey DeMunn, Laurie Holden, Melissa McBride, and Juan Gabriel Pareja. The Mist is sort of presumably the bleakest movie ever constituted of considered one of King’s tales, and that’s saying rather a lot.

5. Carrie (1974)

Stephen King’s first revealed novel was additionally the supply materials for the primary cinematic adaptation of his work, with Carrie revealed in 1974 and director Brian De Palma’s movie based mostly on the novel arriving in theaters simply two years later. The movie casts a younger Sissy Spacek as 17-year-old Carrie White, the sheltered daughter of a religious-fanatic mom who endures each bodily and psychological abuse at residence and college. When she discovers her latent telekinetic powers, she exacts lethal retribution on her tormenters. Piper Laurie, Nancy Allen, William Katt, and John Travolta play supporting roles within the movie, which options one of the notoriously memorable promenade scenes in Hollywood historical past.

four. It (1990)

Earlier than it was a record-breaking movie, King’s It was tailored as a two-part, three-hour miniseries that aired on community tv in 1990 and featured Tim Curry as the enduring, shapeshifting demon often called Pennywise the Dancing Clown. The story follows a bunch of outcast children who vow to cease the murderous Pennywise — first as kids in 1960, after which once more as adults when Pennywise resurfaces a long time later. The collection is surprisingly intense for a undertaking that aired on a serious community (ABC) and options a formidable ensemble forged that features John Ritter, Annette O’Toole, Harry Anderson, Jonathan Brandis, and Seth Inexperienced, amongst different acquainted faces. Whereas among the visible results used within the collection really feel a bit dated now, Curry’s efficiency continues to be potent nightmare gas, even 30 years later. For these wishing the spectacular 2018 cinematic effort would have made the reduce, we now have one factor to say: Let’s look ahead to the second half.

three. The Shawshank Redemption

King granted filmmaker Frank Darabont the rights to his quick story Rita Hayworth and the Shawshank Redemption as a part of a “handshake deal,” and the consequence was this beloved 1994 movie, which earned a formidable seven Academy Award nominations and is usually included in lists of the best motion pictures ever made. The movie casts Tim Robbins as Andy Dufresne, a banker serving a life sentence in Shawshank Penitentiary for the homicide of his spouse and her lover. The story unfolds over a number of a long time as Andy meets and befriends fellow inmate Ellis “Pink” Redding (Morgan Freeman), adapts to life within the jail, and struggles to search out hope in a world of damaged goals and hazard.

2. The Shining (1980)

Acclaimed director Stanley Kubrick helmed this infamously terrifying 1980 adaptation of King’s novel of the identical identify, which follows a person’s descent into insanity as he and his household function caretakers for an remoted and snowbound lodge haunted by supernatural entities. Jack Nicholson portrays struggling author and alcoholic Jack Torrance, who step by step succumbs to the affect of the malevolent forces inhabiting the lodge and endangers the lives of his spouse and son (performed by sShelley Duvall and Danny Lloyd, respectively). Though King himself wasn’t a fan of the liberties Kubrick took with the supply materials, The Shining has been acknowledged as among the finest horror motion pictures ever made and was chosen for preservation in america Nationwide Movie Registry in 2018 resulting from its cultural significance.

1. Stand By Me

Like Shawshank, Rob Reiner’s 1986 adaptation of King’s story The Physique isn’t stuffed with Stephen King’s regular spookiness, however it’s one of the efficient tales at capturing a selected time in America, the nostalgia of childhood friendships, and the moments that appear to solely exist in that interval between adolescence and maturity. The movie follows a bunch of 4 boys who set off on a weekend hike to discover a lifeless physique that was reportedly found deep within the woods. The buddies are portrayed by a formidable ensemble of younger actors who would develop as much as be family names — Wil Wheaton, River Phoenix, Corey Feldman, and Jerry O’Connell — together with John Cusack and Kiefer Sutherland additionally taking part in supporting roles. Nominated for an Academy Award, Stand By Me is extensively considered one of many best coming-of-age movies ever made.

from Easily Maker Money https://easilymakermoney.com/2019/04/07/the-perfect-tv-and-film-variations-of-stephen-king-novels-and-tales/

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To that recreational angling end, Beijing has come up with the craziest of ideas: a map that it circulates widely of the Asia-Pacific that has a nine or ten-dash line carved into it. On that map, Beijing claims almost 85 percent of the South China Sea, essentially declaring that body of water part of its national territory, something no nation has done in centuries. Such a dream could morph into a nightmare as America has consistently challenged such claims, stating that seas and oceans must remain part of the "global commons" or a common space for all nations. Considering the fundamental differences between these nations the world's two biggest military and economic powers would they go to war over the South China Sea? The answer is simple: yes. Although how it would start would almost certainly be an accident it could happen. Here is a scenario where the unthinkable occurs: A U.S. guided missile destroyer is ordered to conduct what is called a freedom of navigation operation, or FONOP, in the South China Sea. The goal is to challenge Chinese claims of actual sea rights around their newly created islands in the area. The U.S. destroyer travels within eight miles of Woody Island, one of China's most important new bases. Beijing is not amused and was ready for this. Chinese satellites detected the course of the vessel and China dispatches what appears to be 25 fishing vessels. But in reality, these ships are part of the country's maritime militia, thousands of non-naval vessels that Beijing uses to press its claims in the area. Many of these so-called fishing ships have massively reinforced hulls for ramming, their fuel is subsidized by the Chinese government for long-distance travel as well as guided by Chinese-based GPS systems provided by Beijing. The ships are ordered to continually cut in front of the U.S. destroyer, a game of near chicken, all to get the ship to turn around and leave the area.

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April 18 at the Schrock Lake Picnic Shelter. Ages 5-12 will ride the tram to the Natural Play Area and battle alien invaders that are trying to take over the forest. Slate Run LivingHistorical Farm 1375 state Route 674 N.,Canal Winchester Easter Traditions, 1 to 3 p.m. April 15 and 16. Guests will learn how to use natural dyes for eggs and make a card or decoration to take home. A game of egg rolling also will take place. Preschoolers at the Farm: How Does Your Garden Grow?, 10 a.m. April 19. Guests will enjoy a craft and activities to learn about plants and see what is growing in the kitchen garden. Homeschoolers at the Farm: Green and Growing, 1 p.m. April 19.

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