#my childhood self listening to the emerald version of it for the first time was amazed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

books-are-my-life-stuff · 2 years

Photo

Let me enjoy this fleeting moment to be happy over the Champion Stadium that I’ve always been waiting for, and jamming over the extremely sick music, before I cry and weep over the Master Mode next week.

In this post I took notes of things that I noticed through the fight. I used this warm-up session of Hoenn CS to understand the mechanics and gimmicks of each stages. Which is why I stalled some of the fights to post sync, and by some I meant Sidney and Glacia’s stages...the rest of the fight were over too quickly I regretted it.

Sidney set up Go Viral 9 Thunder Wave before he sync, and he had Furious Brain. Similar to Grimsley’s stage...I think Bug-weak Grimsley also had paralysis too. Taking him down before he did that is required unless I have something to counter his Paralysis, like dodging it with Fly, or Status Immunity passives. Which makes the already tight time to finish the fight even tighter. Also maybe my Diantha is not a great choice here. All that said, I LOVE SIDNEY SOOO MUCH!! Not only he hard-carried my team through Dark-weak stages, his Japanese and English VA are amazing (bravo ProZD), he went to 5/5 way before I even got a second copy of Masked Royal, his nuke is very easy to set up and very strong, and his theme is so damn cool, my favorite among the four! Sidney certainly stood out to me more after Pokemas, knowing that he’s actually a very chill guy despite his appearance made you think otherwise...is amazing. Love this dude. And even though he probably won’t get a chance to shine (because Dark-weak Phoebe has Sentry Entry x2), I still have the utmost pleasure in battling him...so far, anyway.

Glacia set up Hail before she sync, and Hail activates a myriad of defensive, healing, and possibly offensive (?) passives. Getting rid of her hail as soon as possible is mandatory to end the match quickly. I also noted through Absol’s notes that she had Master Healer 2 for her Draining Kiss, but she hadn’t used that through the match...probably post-sync after she used her Trainer Move? Either way, she needed to be taken down fast before she recovers too much HP for the team to catch up. I think the usual SS Morty/Anni N/SS Red might work here, because the team has so much offensive pressure. Well, let’s see how the real fight goes when that time comes...

Drake set Rain upon entry, activating a whole host of offensive passives related to Rain, including Raging Rain 5. Also he has Acute Senses 4, status change is mandatory to get through the fight.. So, I think this stage is made with SS Ethan in mind, or SS Serena. Which are Master Fairs. God damn it. That said, Zinnia and Rayquaza might also be able to defeat him since she took advantage of any weather condition, but she needs someone to apply status changes--preferably trap, according to the tips. I used BP Zinnia here because she is miles easier to use, but I think Zinnia and Rayquaza is much better because I have SC Lillie to take hits. I don’t think Hilbert can take much offensive pressure boosted with rain passives. Seems like Drake and his companions also prefer using special moves? Hard to say, he was spamming special moves but I took him down two turns before he sync...I regretted it, really.

Phoebe buffs both defenses upon entry, and she also will buff her Attack before sync with her Trainer Move. Because of the parameter I’ve chosen, Phoebe was spamming special moves, though she also did physical occasionally. Because I have Halloween Caitlin with Adrenaline 1, the fight is guaranteed to end pre-sync, especially with Masked Royal’s help to constantly debuff attack and defenses, for Halloween Morty’s nuke. I think Halloween Morty is still the right choice for this stage. Which is great, Phoebe and Morty are fellow ghost type specialists who have abilities to see things that normal people can’t see, and Morty has something to say to Phoebe if you team him up with her, so they’re friends alongside Allister! I’m sure Morty is happy to have a match against or alongside Phoebe. Also, I think I can forego Ghost Zone for Masked Royal’s help to set up Morty’s nuke, though it depends on how consistent the debuffs are, and how Master Mode fight goes. When push comes to shove, I can always change his build to Burn-only nuke (which is more defensive because he has Sync Regen in this build) and use SSR Cynthia to help out with Ghost Zone and powerful Shadow Force.

Steven’s stage...uh, I honestly don’t know. I haven’t seen anything special from him other than spamming strong moves and buffs Accuracy by +2 upon entry, but maybe that’s because SS Serena quickly defeated him before he did anything crazy. However, according to Absol’s notes, Steven has Toughen Up 9 and Tighten Up 9, and he has Endure, possibly from his trainer move just like the real OG Steven. So from this information, he has a chance to likely stall out the match for far too long because he constantly buffs himself, and he has Endure to boot, which is kinda bad except for those lucky souls who have SS Giovanni and Maxie. If the combined offensive pressure isn’t enough, Steven might be able to last long enough to apply Endure and sync, which makes the fight harder, and he also spam strong moves like Iron Head and Hammer Arm, which is especially bad if the fight goes longer. And Ground is pretty scarce as a type too, so...needless to say, I’m not looking forward to face Steven in Master Mode.

#personal #pokemon masters #i sense a real bad time incoming next week...#especially because next week is wallace and his weakness is poison #the worst kind of type to deal with alongside ground #so let me enjoy and relish this fleeting moment of happiness and joy #before i start dreading over this #thank you pokemas for the jamming remixes of hoenn elite four themes #i always love hoenn elite four themes it has special place in my heart #my childhood self listening to the emerald version of it for the first time was amazed #and feel so pumped #and when i listened to it again in alpha sapphire...the nostalgia #so happy for hoenn champion stadium #(and i also worry for hoenn champion stadium)

4 notes · View notes

xwesley · 11 months

Photo

tyler lawrence gray. he/him. cis male. › spotted at the met steps , wesley lafleur , most likely listening to hysteria by muse with their airpods pro . the twenty one year old gained quite a reputation , known to be - impulsive yet + adventurous to anyone who knows them . you'll easily spot them when you hear about the loud banging of the drums at ungodly hours , a laptop with deleted history and secrets , green eyes gazing into the sunset , snorting lines off your cellphone as your agent urgently calls you , followed by toy boy by moschino . latest nepoupdates article talks about wesley lafleur rumored to be the reason behind the divorce of uppereast side’s favorite couple after sleeping with both of them , but i guess any reputation is good reputation .

basic stats ;

⟶ full name: wesley frederique lafleur kapone ⟶ nicknames: usually just goes by wesley or wes ⟶ three things he likes: people who smell good and have general good hygiene, profiteroles, making fun of people from reality tv shows ⟶ three things he dislikes: dirty fingernails, being alone with his thoughts, instigators ⟶ gender: cis male ⟶ height: 5 ‘ 10 ⟶ age: 21 ⟶ birthday: august 18, 2001 ⟶ zodiac: leo sun, aries moon, capricorn ascendant ⟶ right handed or left handed: left handed ⟶ eye color: emerald green, looks light hazel depending on the lighting ⟶ hair color: light brown ⟶ piercings and tattoos: a cartilage piercing on his left ear, usually covered by his hair, earlobe piercing on that same ear, no tattoos ⟶ languages spoken: french ( native tongue ), spanish and english ⟶ sexuality / romantic orientation: homosexual / homoromantic ⟶ place of birth: marseille, france ⟶ last five songs listened to: trust in you by the offspring, if i’m james dean, you’re audrey hepburn by sleeping with sirens, shadow moses by bring me the horizon, i’m not okay ( i promise ) by my chemical romance, faint by linkin park ⟶ five aesthetics: black nail polish and golden rings, a laptop with constant deleted history, a flirtatious smile, turning up your music loud emo music to drown out your heavy thoughts, smudged eyeliner and dilated pupils after a crazy night ⟶ character inspo: harlan briggs from wolf pack, ian gallagher from shameless, effy stonem from skins, even bech næsheim from skam ( og skam )

background story ;

wesley was born in the french city marseille to french parents lisa kapone and alain lafleur, five minutes after his twin sister ( wanted connection ). his father was heir of lafleur lounges ( basically hotel resorts and lounges similar to a french version of hilton hotels ), while his mother was miss france in 1999 and a well known fashion designer ( the vera wang of europe, if you must ). him and his sister were born into a lot of money, practically a golden spoon in his mouth, spoiled to the core. anything he wanted, he received, and shortly after the twins were born, his parents got married, basically those parents that are head over heels for each other, an envy worthy love story with golden twins – they were the it family in europe, that rich, opulent family in the public eye that everyone wanted to know

his childhood was anyone’s wet dream. he was rich, he was spoiled, and his parents loved him more than anything in this world, that much was evident, and for the first few years of his life, wesley was a happy kid. around the time he was seven years old however, he began showing unusual signs

! tws for very brief mentions of self mutilation, please skip over this if it triggers you, your safety comes first ! the first time he showed a sign that perhaps not everything was okay for him was in his classroom, at not even eight years old. without thinking about it, wesley stuck his finger inside a sharpener and sharpened off nearly the entire nail from his index finger along with his skin. when his mother rushed to pick him up and asked him why he would do that, his exact response was “i don’t know, i just wanted to feel something, i’m sorry”

it was an emotional day, but after making sure he didn’t seriously damage his finger, his mother turned a blind eye and pretended like wesley’s actions were normal, never telling his father the real reason behind what happened to his finger, and claiming one of his classmates accidentally slammed the door against it. wesley never debunked his mother’s lie, and never really spoke of it. it was a topic they both knew about, but neither one of them bought it up ever again

for the remainder of that year and the next, things were okay, for the most part. it’s mostly him, his sister and his mother, or him, his sister and his nanny whenever his mother couldn't be around, considering her job. his father however, is barely present. by the time wesley is nine is when he unintentionally catches his father cheating through listening in on a phone call. not sure what to do with this information, he doesn’t know if he should tell his mother or not. really, he doesn’t have to decide, because soon enough, his mother catches his father in the act and it just turns into a huge argument

that happy, perfect family they once were is no longer there. his mother forgives his father, but things are never the same again. wesley didn’t understand why she forgave him for what he did, but really, it was just for the appearance, for the sake of keeping the family together and, because she had too much to lose. by the time he’s ten, they move to the states in an attempt to patch things up, but it only gets worse from that point on

wesley’s father is never around, and, as a way to cope, his mother turns into one of those wine moms that spends her day daydrinking with her group of friends and taking valium and xanax, quitting fashion altogether and living off the fortune they've already created. it’s like his mother is there, but it’s like she’s also not really there. wesley’s form of coping is through music, mostly the drums

soon enough, wesley learns to take care of himself, as his mother grows more and more detached from his life. in a mansion filled with fast cars, work staff and anything anyone could ever dream of, wesley has never felt more alone

his early pre teen years, literally age twelve, is when he begins to realize that there might be something wrong with him. he doesn’t know what it is, but he realizes he hates being alone with his own thoughts. it gets too loud, it’s too dark, so he attempts to do everything in his power to try and distract himself, but it’s easier said than done. his mind is already a dark place, but soon enough, it becomes even darker

! tws for overdose, death, self harm, mental illness and baker act for the next two bullets, please skip over this if it triggers you, your safety comes first ! one day, when he comes back from school, his sister is at a friends house, so he does his usual routine but his mother never comes out of her room, clearly drunk to ask him how his day was. when entering her room, he notices she’s sound asleep, or at least, this is what he thinks. fast forward a good five hours and wesley decides to try and wake her up. finding her unresponsive, he immediately calls 911, only to be told that his mother passed away from an overdose. with the amount of pills and alcohol that she mixed together, her body just couldn’t take it. obviously, wesley’s father, and his sister, rush back home, the first time he’s seen his father in over three weeks, they just mourn together. that day, wesley was never really the same person again

the day of her funeral, right after, wesley finds himself in the bathroom, angry with himself. why didn’t he walk in sooner? why did it take him so long to realize? why is it all his fault? his thoughts consume him, one thing leads to another, and he finds himself punching the bathroom mirror, over, and over, and over again. to not get too into detail, his father hears him having a break down, walks in, and immediately calls the police on wesley when he see’s the condition his hand is left in. this is the first time he was ever baker acted, he was involuntarily admitted for five days. during this period, he officially gets diagnosed with bipolar disorder with mostly psychotic manic episodes, gets put on abilify ! end of tws !

as much as he hates it, it does help, for the most part. his father becomes a hundred times more present in his life, practically watching him like a hawk, making sure he takes his meds, but he can’t help but feel like there’s something missing in his life. like there’s some hole in his chest that he can’t seem to fill, but he can damn well try

his teenage years consist of him coming out of his shell and trying just about everything, from narcotics, to alcohol, to first times, you get the idea. he’s quick to realize that he gets a lot male attention, and he uses that to his advantage. hooks ups and partaking in drug use become a frequent thing for him, and by the time he’s around fourteen is when he starts building his social media platform

it’s funny how easily it comes to him. he posts pictures on instagram and immediately starts gaining attention because of his looks. this, during the years, opens doors for him. it starts off with modeling gigs, then sponsorships, then a few commercials, until he’s landing small movie roles, extra roles in tv shows, and finally, permanent character roles on both, before he’s even of legal age

his coping mechanism is narcissism and narcotics, or 'nn' as he calls it. it’s just so easy to act like he’s better than everyone else when he couldn’t hate himself more, despite the countless thirsty comments on his posts, those people just don’t know him. he manages to make a name for himself in the industry, leaving his past behind him, but… it can really only be so long before it all catches up to him

headcanons ;

wesley tends to bury up his childhood traumas. from his cheating father, to his mothers death, to the time he got baker acted – he keeps this side of himself hidden. in a way, he wants people to believe that he’s perfect in every sense of the word, when his mind is really a crippling mess. that’s why his hair is so big and curly, because it’s full of secrets

he hasn’t taken his medication in over two years already and he never wants to take it again. it helps him, but he hates feeling like he has to rely on something to be ‘normal’ like everyone else. as long as no one knows about his personal life, he’s more than fine with that

he blames himself for his mother’s death. it’s honestly one of his biggest regrets and childhood trauma’s, knowing that if maybe he had realized sooner, something could have been done. he replays that image over and over again in his head and he hates it, it’s something that genuinely scarred him

he’s one of those people that you would never even remotely imagine has the conditions that he has. he’s so cynical, it’s scary how easily he can convince you that he lives a perfect, envious lifestyle

he’s like… a whore. anything to get his mind off shit. he loves attention, whether it be negative or positive. maybe it's the attention he lacked growing up, but he just wants to feel valid in whatever way possible

this is a huge secret of his, but at around the age of nineteen, he did some camboy shit on a dare. the only problem with this is that he really enjoyed the attention he received from this and he kind of? low key continues to do it. he wears a mask, so no one knows it’s him, but the desperate, thirsty comments are such a stroke to his already inflated yet damaged ego. he can’t help that he loves the validation strangers give him, and if no one knows it’s him, what’s the harm?

his hobbies ( or job description ) consists of playing the drums, modeling, acting, posting pictures, and secretly, getting behind his webcam for thirsty people online ( you know where this is going ). he has a youtube account in which he posts drum covers ( literally think like matt mcguire and tobines on youtube ). he’s a good drummer, takes it as a stress reliever, just banging on shit if he’s had a rough day

deep down inside, wesley knows that he has a problem. he’s very well aware of that fact, but he stopped going to therapy and getting genuine help when he was of legal age. his father can’t force him anymore and he refuses to let anyone know just how dark his thoughts really are

has a huge scar across his knuckles from where he punched the mirror repeatedly that day, but tells people it’s from a fight he got into ages ago, shows off about it and all, but if people really only knew the truth

he just wants to be loved secretly, but a part of him feels like he’s not worthy of shit, so meaningless sex, flings, and drugs it is. i genuinely don’t think there’s a single person that knows him for him, because he thinks that if he ever shows this side of himself, no one would ever want to stick around, it’s so much easier to just detach yourself

coke problem? most definitely. that’s awful for bipolar disorder, but he’s an idiot, so what else can even be said in regards to this

he hates being alone with his thoughts, which is why he enjoys partying so much. he’ll go to three after parties once the party is over, just wants to have a good time, turn up the music to drown out just how depressed he really is

he really enjoys working out. it keeps his mind occupied, he likes the idea of having a nice body. kind of overly obsessed with his looks as well, because secretly, he kind of feels like him being attractive is the only thing he has going for him, hence the camboy stuff, hence the influencer status

he has a bunny he named honey bunny, he impulsively bought him after getting stoned out of his mind and named him equally as stoned. he loves this bunny with his entire life, definitely his emotional support animal

constantly paints his nails black, doesn’t like any other color, will wear black eyeliner when going out to parties, honestly believes that clothes shouldn’t have a gender, just does whatever he wants

he really loves music that can be considered emo. bands like sleeping with sirens, asking alexandria, my chemical romance, falling in reverse, etc, have gotten him through some really hard times. definitely an emo boy at heart, even if he doesn’t give off the ‘vibe’

huge leo energy. you will feel his presence as soon as he walks into a room. loves and hates himself and can be a big cry baby so again, typical leo energy

regarding the rumor on his app, it’s 100% true. he really came in between a ten year marriage, without any solid reason behind it. the worst part of all is that he isn’t even romantically or sexually attracted to females at all, but he enjoyed the attention and company of the wife of the man he was hooking up with, so he figured that if he slept with the man, he might as well sleep with her too. like go back to therapy man, you have issues

he has freckles all over his face but is actually pretty insecure about this. anytime he’s about to do a photoshoot, he asks the make up artist to cover up his freckles. he doesn’t like them, at all

his next mental breakdown is long overdue, but lets see how long he’s ‘okay’ for. sociopath energy, he will break down crying and then look in the mirror and pose with tears running down his cheeks... like bye lmao

wanted connections ;

i bet i can’t remember you… no, i actually really can’t remember you: this is a messy connection, but give me a guy he drunkenly gave a blowjob to at a party and genuinely cannot recall doing it. your muse probably remembers it but wesley? watch him go damn that’s crazy… who are you again?

you can’t stand me you say? then sit on my face: ahh, the i hate you so much but we always end up sleeping together connection. someone who really can’t stand him yet they end up having sex anyways. watch his narcissistic ass go ‘you love me’ ( no you’re annoying af )

why are we friends? look at the shoes you’re wearing: very very unlikely friends, friends who have no idea how they even ended up becoming friends, but are friends anyways, watch him tell this unfortunate soul all his gay adventures

you’re the most irritating person i’ve ever met: someone who genuinely can’t stand him whatsoever. at all. not even a little bit. it’s very easy to hate him because he’s the worst so i don’t even blame this person

i hate that i don’t hate you: an unrequited crush. an unfortunate soul who likes him but he’s just the worst. he’s also the stupidest person ever, so he would be completely oblivious to this crush as well

let’s talk shit about everyone in the room: besties who trash talk everyone, no one is free from the mouth of these two. watch someone walk in with sweats and get roasted for absolutely no reason at all

or, we can brainstorm!

birthchart ;

#nepofm.intro #death tw #overdose tw #mental illness tw #hospitalization tw #drug use tw #mentions of self mutilation/self harm tw #lmk if i missed a tw tbh

7 notes · View notes

shi-daisy · 3 years

Text

The Phoenix and the Dragon

Yet again we've arrived at Ulquihime week! Gotta confess I'm not much of a Christmas person but I do look forward to December for my OTP week. Everyone puts so much love and effort into their entries that it's hard not to be excited. Okay so today's theme is Crossover and I wanted to pick something that wasn't likely to be repeated by someone else, so leave it to my nostalgic mind to go 'What about a Winx Club crossover?' Thus here we are! This little one-shot is based on one of my fave childhood shows and one of the first villain ships I ever had. (Yes, my 10-year-old self hardcore shipped Darkar & Bloom) 😅 Hope you like it! (Spoilers for some aspects of season 2 of Winx Club. I'm taking from the 4kids version of the show and Nickelodeon special btw. And some mild spoilers for the second movie.)

Also for those who do know the winx cast and want to know who is who in the crossover here it is.

Orihime- Bloom

Ulquiorra- Darkar/Avalon

Tatsuki- Stella

Shizuka- Layla

Ichigo- Prince Sky

Isshin- Errendor

Sora- Daphne

Unohana- Faragonda

Okay now that's all set, here's the fic!

@ulquihimeweek

Ulquihime Week- Day 1 Crossover

The Phoenix and the Dragon

Orihime awoke in a dimly lit room. She didn't remember much, just going into Professor Schiffer's office and then...'And then he changed and turned into the Phoenix.'

"I can sense you. Just come out of the shadows already." She muttered.

Ulquiorra obliged, no longer looking like a human but in his true form as the Shadow Phoenix.

To her he didn't look much different, his skin was paler but his other features remained the same. He had large dark wings and a tail, along with tear markings.

"I should've known it was you. We get warmed about a Shadow Phoenix and next thing we know a new professor shows up at our school."

He chuckled. "Yes well, that didn't occur to you as we bonded, Ms. Inoue."

She lowered her head in shame. Since Ulquiorra arrived at Alfea he had become her favorite teacher, and even offered to teach her about her home kingdom, Sparx, which had been destroyed when she was just a baby.

"Is that why you brought me here? To taunt me?!"

"No, darling. I have other plans for you. Or should I say us?"

"I'll never collaborate with you!"

"You say that now, but you might change your mind after I explain my plans to you."

She frowned, but at the moment there was nothing she could do. Orihime sighed. "Fine. I suppose I can listen to you for a while."

"I appreciate it. First I must ask you something. What do you know about me, Orihime Inoue? Who do you think I am?"

"Headmistress Retsu told us you were once human. That you came to the underealm to try and find the shadow fire, but that it's power consumed you and that now you're seeking to take over the magic universe.

I also know that you came to our school and posed as a professor until now..."

"The headmistress is a wise woman, studious too since she appears to know my origins well, the one commonly excepted that is."

"What do you mean?"

"Indeed, I was once human, that I came here to study the Shadow Fire, but it's power didn't overtake me. For you see, I willingly submitted to it. I'm the one in control, always have been. And while I do wish to take over the magic dimension it is not for my own gain."

"Why else would you want to take over?"

"I want this dimension to change. I want to tear down the structures that bind its kingdoms. I've wanted that since I was a human.

You see, darling, the structures of this dimension are so very ancient and so very obsolete. The squabbles between kingdoms have led to so much war, to destruction, to sadness... Just look at what happened to Sparx."

"My kingdom was destroyed by the ancient witches. Not by war."

"You're right, but your kingdom had a close ally. An ally that should've saved you from the witches, yet instead bargained to have them take your kingdom and spare them. The king of Eraklyon made said bargain."

Orihime grew dizzy. 'No, no it can't be! Ichigo's father wouldn't do that! This is a lie!"

"You think I'm lying, don't you?"

"Of course you're lying! King Isshin wouldn't do that, neither would Ichigo!"

"Analyze the situation, darling. Eraklyon was your closest ally, and yet they didn't suffer any damage as Sparx was destroyed. Your parents vanished, your brother died saving you, your planet is now an icy wasteland. Yet Eraklyon stands as the richest land in Magix. As for your little prince, he was merely a child when this took place, but I don't doubt he'd keep it a secret from you, he has done so before."

Orihime felt as if her skin was catching fire. She hated to be reminded of that lie, to think back when Ichigo had hidden his royal lineage and engagement to a princess. She'd forgiven him, of course, and they were a couple once again, but deep inside she still distrusted him. And a part of her did think Ulquorra's words were true.

'Maybe that's why his father disapproved of us. Not because I'm a princess of a destroyed kingdom, but because my kingdom's destruction was partly his fault...'

"You see, darling. That's only one example of plenty I can give you. All of these realms need someone truly wise to rule them."

"Even if I believed you, that doesn't mean I'll join you. I don't want to kill anyone."

"Who said anything about killing? There are plenty of ways to dethrone a ruler. That's what I crave to do darling. Imagine it, a dimension without destroyed kingdoms, without arranged marriages, without squabbles for the throne. We'd be the only rulers, the royals would be our regents, they'd have to abide by what we demand."

Ulquiorra's eyes glowed green as he spoke. She had seen him like that before in his humanoid form. His eyes always sparkled as he thought her class about History and asked them to be part of the change.

"Ulquiorra, I think it's wonderful that you're trying to make the universe better, but I fail to see why would want me to join you. I'm no leader."

Orihime felt Ulquiorra's cold hand gently lift her chin. "Orihime, you're the only person I've ever met worthy of wearing such a crown.

The reason I posed as a teacher at Alfea wasn't to further my plans, or to steal the codex but to observe you. In just a few months you made such great progress that I couldn't help but be convinced you were worthy of sharing my crown, of carrying the dragon flame, of ruling over Magix.

You came from Earth yet quickly adapted to this dimension, to its power and its costumes. You're kind, fierce, strong, I couldn't ask for a better queen."

He noticed Orihime's pale skin turn bright red, and her sliver eyes grow misty. "No one's ever really praised me like that. Thank you."

He smirked. "I'll be sure to do so more often in the future then."

With a snap of Ulquiorra's fingers, her bounds disappeared. Orihime stood up, directly facing Ulquiorra.

He took her hands in his and directly stared into her eyes, silver meeting emerald. "Orihime Inoue, will you join me in my quest to bring peace and order to the magic dimension?"

It wasn't easy, she didn't want to leave her friends, her school, or even Ichigo. Even after what she learned it felt wrong to vanish without a word.

'But it must be done. Tatsuki-chan will be free to choose who she marries, Nemu-san won't be forced to follow the path her father wants for her, Shizuka-chan won't have to take the throne of the harmonic nebula...even Ichigo would now be free to make his own choices. This would be for the best.'

With a beautiful smile and newfound determination, Orihime finally responded. "Yes, I will."

"Then it is done, our power is now bound."

She could feel a surge of dark magic taking over, but it wasn't unpleasant. Her characteristic blue fae dress was now black and her fairy wings had turned grey. Orihime also noticed Ulquiorra's form slightly changed, his dark wings now had accents of green and he resembled his humanoid form a little more.

"It's the bond." He told her after noticing her confusion. "Light cannot exist without dark and vice versa. As such my darkness had to take some of your light and your light had to take some of my darkness."

Shadow Fire & Dragon Fire were united at last. Orihime was certain that now she and Ulquiorra would be unstoppable. 'We'll fix everything soon.'

"What shall we do now?"

"Since I've acquired all the pieces of the codex, I was thinking we could go to the Relix dimension. Your parents might've vanished there after the destruction of Sparx."

"My parents...I never thought it'd be possible to reach them."

"It is, my darling. We'll bring them back and then return Sparx to its former glory. After that, we can finally reshape the magic dimension into what it should've been from the beginning."

For the first in a long while, Orihime felt like she was doing things right. It would take her friends some time to forgive her, but she knew in time she would join them again. 'I'm doing this for all of us. For me, and for him.'

She gently kissed Ulquiorra's cheek, he blushed at the gesture. "I was not expecting that."

"I'm still a little miffed at you for pretending to be a professor but if we're to be in harmony as rulers this is a good place to start."

"Then I guess I should do my part too."

Ulquiorra wrapped his arm around her waist and gave her a passionate kiss. Orihime quickly blushed and playfully shoved him as he let go of her.

"Show off."

"Guilty as charged."

"Y'know, I remember seeing paintings back on earth with dragons and phoenixes together as a couple. Do you think that was a prediction?"

"It could be, after all, the most enduring romances are likely to echo through many universes."

#uhweek2020 #ulquihime #orihime x ulquiorra #Ulquiorra Schiffer #Orihime Inoue #Day 1: Crossover #Winx Crossover AU

16 notes · View notes

tarithenurse · 5 years

Text

All is fair in Love & War - 6

Pairing: Loki x reader Content: Some angsting and maybe some pining? Could it be? A few hints at something sexual, but nothing explicit. Plot-thickening. A/N: I’d love to link to past chapters or my masterlist, but yeah... This is a semi-AU in the sense that it is in a sort of medieval/fairy-tale setting, but Loki and MCU’s version of Nordic mythology still applies. I’ve taken the liberty of tagging people who’ve reposted, but if you do want a tag pls let me know.

6. Purpose

Loki and you are walking through the halls of the keep. He is constantly talking about the history of the country and its people, drawing surprising parallels to your homeland. It is true, that he could most likely tell you anything and you would not know any better because the few details you know of the past have been passed along by the fireside in the winters when the elder were telling stories from their youth or their grandparents’ times. Now you find yourself hanging to his every word.

“The Jötun are not traditionally a united people as you know from the Asgardians or the Alfheimars,” the god is explaining, “and this has made them wary of everyone outside their own clans, their kin.” Loki continues to explain their old laws of blood guilt, where the first one to draw the blood of another for any other reason than self-preservation is at fault.

Pondering this, you walk in silence next to the tall man before finally saying out loud what you have concluded. “Sire, does that mean that the mistrust together with the…ongoing conflict…” You do not want to actually label it as an invasion. You cannot do that. Yet. “That’s the reason for leaving me to die? It’s the closest to vengeance without straight out killing me themselves. Passiveness means they haven’t drawn blood, so to speak?”

The tall man walking beside you, studying you carefully, stays silent. Together you enter the great hall, and whatever was on your mind is gone. Logically, you are well aware that this keep is far from the grandeur of palace in Sjöblik with its polished, coloured marble and creamy sandstones, and the golden decorations which add an aethereal atmosphere to the place. This hall oozes raw power. Dark, roughhewn slabs of granite glittering in the torchlight while massive wooden beams bring an addition to the warm glow with their amber hues. Still, the long benches and tables, a multitude of different furs, and a firepit as long as five men lying head to toe creating the centerpiece are not enough to draw the attention from the throne in the far end of the hall.

“Is that…glass, your highness?” The heat of the fire is behind you already as the two of you step closer to the crystalline structure.

A soft chuckle erupts from deep in Loki’s chest. “No, little mortal, it is not glass.”

You let him pull you up the few steps of the dais to see the god take his seat leaning on the armrest with the legs casually splayed. A slight motion brings your gaze to his pelvis before you can stop yourself, and you feel the shame heat your cheeks.

“Feel for yourself.” His smirk is audible, creating a suspicion that he is not only referring to the throne.

Choosing to ignore his lewdness, which you are beginning to suspect is the best course of action in these cases, you trace the armrest with the fingertips finding the surface to be cold as…

“Ice?” Palming the surface, you feel a wetness form where your hand touches the seat of the king.

“Yes. That is our true element, we thrive in the cold of winter.” Quick as a snake, he has wrapped you in his arms, locking you in place on his lap. “Besides, in the winter there is time for other activities that bring heat.”

Squirming to get free quickly proves to be a bad move on your behalf as you can feel Loki’s excitement through the layers of clothing you both wear. Mortified, you stop moving, unless considering the rapidly beating heart. Even your breath is shallow, timid in fear of what something as natural as a moving chest might cause.

The chuckle bubbling from within the god’s chest floats into the cool air surrounding the throne. “Ever the shy little flower, but I know what you desire, mortal.” A hand works its way under the dress and shift to find your thigh prickling with goosebumps. “There is no need to play coy.”

“Play?” In your outrage, you manage to push yourself partially onto your feet before he drags you back down. “Sire, I’m not pretending anything! It was a moment of weakness and I won’t give in again!”

His face is hidden behind you, and still you know that he is no longer amused. A drop in temperature is the first warning, the painfully tightening grip is the second. But the chill in Loki’s voice is what truly gives it away.

“Be careful what you say next, little mortal.” Thin lips brush lightly against the shell of your ear in sharp contrast to the rough way the god is handling you. “What do you want?”

“I wanna know what’s really going on!” you nearly yell in exasperation before clasping your hand to your mouth, afraid of what he might do to punish your insolence.

The dangerously familiar cold hand circles your wrist and tugs at it, gently but insistent, to free your self-imposed muzzle. Then Loki flips you around on his lap easily, so you straddle him chest to chest, locking your arms behind your back which makes it impossible for you to turn away. For a second you are lost in the cold beauty of his face with the sharp bone structure and the eyes full of a smoldering darkness capable of making you forget time and place. Get a grip! Blinking furiously, you begin to trace the intricate pattern carved into the ice of the back of the throne. Don’t let him enchant me.

“You will explain what that is supposed to mean, pet,” Loki purrs, but the cold is not gone from his voice, “and you will look me in the eyes as you do so.” Spine like a worm, you scold yourself when your eyes meet the green emeralds he has been bestowed. “Now talk.” A silent battle rages, but you lose it the moment he speaks your name.

“Your highness…” Your voice falters slightly, but you carry on. “I thought I knew what was going on…why we were fighting against the Jötuns and why the obvious enemy was you.” Needing to swallow, you grab the chance to consider the next words carefully. “My people are starving, suffering from disease and the great sacrifices made for the cause. We’ve all lost people dear to us…some more than others…”

You had thought the first death would be the only one. In your sorrow, you had returned to your childhood home and retaken your place among parents and brothers. You had been wrong.

“Who did you lose, my dear?”

Startled by the gentleness in Loki’s voice, you answer without thinking. “Everyone. My husband, parents, brothers…” Biting your lips, you focus on breathing deeply.

“That is why you joined the army.” Something strange flickers in his eyes. “The women of Midgard are not required to serve, they have to volunteer.”

It is true. Where men of all ages have to comply to their king’s call, the women are not bound so because they are considered less resilient. Perhaps the difference is greater among the nobles. Whichever the reason, you had quickly succeeded in the training and were send to the front.

“You know what I and anyone else were told,” you shift the subject from the more personal aspects, “ ’the Blue Monster of Jotunheim is attempting to destroy all of Midgard and it’s only through sacrifice that we can succeed’…or so they said.” Closing your eyes, you can still see the king on his balcony, addressing the new troops. “It never occurred to any of us that our king might be lying, our commanders living a different life than that of the rest of us…” a sigh escapes you, “and part of me can’t accept it because trusting you goes against…everything I learned until the day I tracked you down.”

His hands have already loosened the grasp, now they rush to cup your face tenderly, making your eyes meet once more.

“You did seek me out of your own volition that night,” Loki murmurs, “hoping to kill me or be killed.”

There is no reason to deny it, so you just shrug. Tears are stinging your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall, refuse to show any weakness. And really, you have lived to get a glimpse of the truth. At least a possible alternative to the truth. It means you will have to either trust Loki blindly or that you observe and listen, considering every new bit of information until you have found the truth on your own…whatever that may be.

“You’ve done as you promised, sire.” You force a crooked smile. “You’ve broken down my world, but I won��t give in to see any enchanted creation you please in its stead! I’m gonna figure out what’s real and where my place in that world is. Even if the Midgardian king has been plotting and scheming…well it doesn’t mean that you’re any better.”

“Yet I can give you the skills and tools you need.” The calculative stare is unwavering, and you know he has a very valid point. “And I will not let you go freely.”

Of course not, still, the admission is frightening. “Why not? What risk do I pose? I have no home, no loyalty.”

“Easy for you to say when you possess valuable information about my forces and abilities.” Loki’s smile is unnaturally broad. “No, you will not leave Utgard yet…but I will teach you everything you need to become a spy infiltrating your homeland.”

Oddly, that does not mean he releases you from his grasp, and as the seconds and then minutes drag by in silence, you feel a toe-curling awkwardness steal over you. Loki, however, is unfazed. Long fingers rearranged the yellow fabric of the dress before moving on to the armrest. You try to not watch. You most definitely try not to think of what those fingers are capable of. Thankfully, your captor is too occupied with what he is doing to notice the heat in your cheeks.

What is he doing?

Nimble digits move over the glistening surface, revealing a miniature scenery of mountains and forests stretching into the air. It can only be magic. No sculptor would be able to create such detailed figures without the most delicate tools. The ice forest contains a range of different trees, though most are pines like in the woods at home…squinting, you lean closer to study the landscape. Jagged mountain-arms stretch around the little village at the side of the glacier stream, and you know before laying eyes upon it, that you will find a quarry.

73 notes · View notes

eirabach · 6 years

Text

Tall Tales [1/1]

A revenge obsessed pirate is visited by three ghosts one Christmas Eve. Well, sort of. Maybe it isn’t Christmas Eve. Maybe they aren’t ghosts. Artistic license, he supposes.

3.5k. Rated T. Canon Divergent from S2, sort of.

For my most beloved @katie-dub , hi! I’m your CS Writer’s Hub Secret Santa! A weird little Christmas Carol AU for you with all the love and best wishes for you and yours. You’ve been an incredible pal over the last year or so, and I’m so grateful to have you in my life - can’t wait for playdates with the hub babies!

xoxoxo Clare <3i

——

Tell me a story, she says.

Well, all right.

—-

He may as well be dead, to begin with.

The bean lies heavy in his pocket, the rum thick on his tongue. The Saviour (and what a name that is, what a name for what a woman) and her associates have run off to save the town, the realm, whatever. By now they’ll have realised what he’s done, what they’re missing, but that’s none of his concern now.

The only thing he’s interested in saving is the rest of this rum bottle from Leroy’s less than discerning palette.

“Killian?”

Her voice is just as he remembers. Soft and yet somehow sharp as a blade, sharp as the point of his hook as he presses it into the old woman’s countertop.

“Killian?”

He shakes his head and laughs. It’s a shirt, nasty little thing and he can almost see the way her lips would twist down when she heard it. The way she’d roll her eyes at his dramatics, Killian, really?

“You won’t look at me then?”

“I can’t look at you,” he tells the rum. “You’re in my head. Dead. As a doornail. And I’m talking to myself, which means I’ve either had far too much or far too little of this.” He eyes the glass critically and takes another long swig. “I’ll err on the side of caution.”

“Am I truly gone?” she says. “Are you sure?”

He looks up.

There, between the bottles and the chalkboard menus, he sees her reflected in the mirrored walls. The curve of her cheek in the steel of the machinery, the shock of her curls against the glass fronted doors.

“Milah?”

She smiles.

—-

“Don’t turn around.”

He gapes, his fingers trembling against the rum glass, but he obeys her even as his body stiffens as her cold breath skins across his neck.

“How,” he asks, and he hardly knows what he’s asking. How do the dead breathe? How does she come to him?

How does he sit so still when his heart is ready to pound from his chest?

“I can’t say,” she whispers, and he shivers to hear it. “It’s not for the ears of mortals, but Killian, I must tell you this. Your revenge, that bean in your pocket, you must give them up. Truly. Completely. Only then will you be happy.”

He scoffs, rum burning the back of his nose.

“Not likely.” he spits. “I’ve spent hundreds of years… lifetimes…. waiting for the chance to avenge you. No mere hallucination will convince me otherwise!”

“Perhaps,” she admits, but there’s that steel in her tone again, that bite that he’d worried he might have forgotten somewhere between Neverland and a never ending flask of rum and it makes him sigh, his shoulders dipping. “But I’ve been given this chance, Killian. To warn you. And if you won’t listen to me…”

There’s a flash of cold light, a terrible high pitched grinding sound, and then -

She’s gone.

“I never listened to anyone else,” he tells his empty glass, and pours another.

—-

It grows dark, but not in the way he’s become used to in this realm. The darkness seems to ooze out of the forests and up from the drains, creeping towards the diner until it’s tendrils catch at the end of his captain’s coat and wind their way up him until only his hand is still bathed in light. The rum sparkling at his fingertips.

It isn’t the rum.

“Tink?” He squints myopically at the tiny creature. “I didn’t know you did that - not - not anymore.” His lip curls, and the fairy’s light shines a little brighter, her tiny eyes narrowing. “It could have been rather… entertaining - Oi!”

He shakes his hand, hissing under his breath at the red mark her magic has left behind. The fairy laughs - a bright, tinkling thing that shouldn’t sound as malicious as it does - as he sucks at the burn.

“All right, all right,” he grumbles as she clutches at her stomach, her shoulders shaking. “How the devil did you get here, and more importantly are you aware it’s time to get out?” He leans in a little conspiratorially and she stops laughing to turn her face up to his. “Come with me,” he whispers. “It’ll be like the good old days.”

She rolls her eyes rather extravagantly and puts her hands on her hips.

“No?” he shrugs, and goes to lift the rum back to his lips. “Suit yourself. But if you’re planning on playing the hero round here be warned, it seems to end badly.”

The fairy sighs, fluttering her wings until she’s perched on the edge of his glass and lets out a series of high pitched squeaks that almost sound like words. Disappointed words, probably, going by the way she wags her finger at him as she speaks.

The more things change, he supposes.

“Nope,” he says, leaning back on his stool and folding his arms. “Afraid you’ve entirely lost me there, Lady Bell. I do like the new look though, terribly clever of you. Terribly portable.”

He winks sloppily, the rum making his eyes dip, and Tink moves to hover just at the end of his nose until he has to be practically cross eyed to focus on the way her lips form a pout.

“Always judging, fairies,” he mutters. “But if you insist, love.”

She drops the smallest of kisses to the tip of his nose, and he is engulfed.

----

“What the bloody hell was that?”

He staggers to his feet as best he can, the ground shifting strangely beneath him as Tink laughs in his ear. Sand. He’s on sand. The soft grains sinking under his weight as the tide presses in closer. He grumbles as he straightens up, stomping away from the water’s edge, and then pauses, frozen, silent, as he hears a high-pitched cry carried on the wind.

“Li-aaaaaam! Mam! MAM!”

“No,” he mutters it. A plea. “No, no, no.”

Tink glows, but the voice still continues to grow louder, more insistent.

“Mam I found it look! MAM!”

“Take me back,” he hisses, snatching Tink from midair and barely resisting the urge to shake her. “Take me back this instant do you hear me?”

Tink makes a series of indignant squarks and manages to wriggle free of his grasp, pointing furiously in the direction of the voice.

“Oh no,” he says, shaking his finger at her. “Not a chance, you can’t make me, I wo -”

The force with which she whips his head around is really quite impressive for such a small creature, he’ll give her that.

Perhaps fifty yards away along the shoreline is a small boy with wild, dark hair and short trousers that barely skim skinny knees. In his hands he holds a small piece of emerald sea glass, and he’s examining the way the light reflects from it and sends rainbows skittering over his palms.

Killian can’t see that of course, not from so far away, but he knows it to be true nonetheless. Just as he knows that the older child and the woman will be along momentarily - and no sooner has he thought as much but they appear, the boy holding his mother’s elbow as she walks unsteadily over the sands.

Tink makes a questioning sort of sound. Killian shrugs, but his eyes are fixed on their approach.

“She was the first person I loved and lost. Rather started a trend, that.”

“Look Mam! I found treasure! I told you I would and now we can sell it and pay the apothecary and Papa will come back home I told you I would!”

Even from here Killian can see the way Liam moves to dissuade him of the notion - of the nonsense - it’s not treasure, only another man’s rubbish washed up is all. Liam would have known that, straightforward, sensible Liam. He would have known even at eight that their mother’s cough wouldn’t be healed by any means Killian had at his disposal.

Liam knew. Liam had always known. But Killian hadn’t.

Killian had thought he’d saved her.

She smiles, and thanks to the centuries of remove between this time and that he can see the way she strains to do so, the way she sways as Liam lets go of her arm.

“My good boy,” she laughs, and runs her hands through the unruly hair of his childhood self. “My hero.”

Little Killian beams up at her, growing half a head taller from sheer pride.

“I’ve seen enough, sprite,” the grown version growls as he turns his back on the little doomed tableau. “Take me back.”

He feels the fairy’s disappointed exhale as soft as gossamer on his cheek as the world fades from view.

---

He lifts his head from the counter with a groan and blinks blearily into the dark diner.

“Tink?” he asks, his voice gravelly. “What’s - Tink?”

There’s another light, higher and brighter, approaching him from the back of the room.

“How in the name of the gods did you do that?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

Killian starts, his hand twitching towards his cutlass, as the insufferable prince appears before him crowned with candlelight and wearing a robe far more suited to his life back home than whatever pathetic facsimile he’d been living here.

“Believe me,” says David, his face crumpled in distaste beneath his glowing headdress, “I wouldn’t have bothered showing you such a pleasant memory.”

“You may have celebrated your mother’s death, princeling, but I assure you there was nothing remotely -”

Killian coughs sharply as David’s hand closes around his throat.

“All right, all right,” he wheezes as the prince tightens his grip. “You’ve made your point, as I have made mine -”

He swings his arm back and buries his hook deep in the other man’s belly, but David’s grip doesn’t falter, his eyebrows only raising slightly as Killian looks down, his expression dropping into disbelief at the way his hook passes through the prince as though he’s made of little more than sea fret..

“Nice try,” says David. “Now, shall we have a chat?”

---

David leads him through the black, abandoned streets of Storybrooke, but where the figment - for a figment he must be - floats above the gloom Killian drags himself through it, the night thick as tar around his ankles as he struggles to keep up.

“Come on,” David calls without turning around. “We don’t have all night you know.”

“All night for what, exactly,” Killian shouts after him. “And what on Earth are you wearing?”

“Don’t ask me this is your hallucination,” says David with no little bitterness.

“So it is a hallucination then?” Killian asks, pausing to catch his breath. “Am I mad?”

“That’s a matter of opinion,” says David. “But no, not as such. It’s a lesson.”

“A lesson?” Killian snorts.”I’m no schoolboy, prince.”

“No,” says David, and he turns now, his face bathed in light. It’s somehow unnatural in the pervasive gloom. Unsettling. “You’re not. You’re a villain.”

“Says the man with a candelabra on his head. You’ll excuse me if I don’t give your opinion too much weight, won't you.”

“Do you think this is a joke?” David’s face creases in displeasure. “My family face destruction!”

“It’s very sad,” drawls Killian. “Not quite my problem though is it.”

“Isn’t it?” asks David, and their surroundings shimmer and change until they are immersed in the gloom of the mine workings.

The light here takes on an eerie quality. A cold, purple hued thing that reflects from the damp walls and casts shadows under David’s eyes.

“Watch,” he says.

“Watch what, exactly?”

David shakes his head and half smiles, his eyes downcast.

“Even now you can’t see what you do, can you? So wrapped up in yourself. Look.”

He does, half against his will, truth be told, but the prince seems to have far more control on whatever surrealist world they find themselves in than Killian himself does.

The Queen seems frozen in place, the light emanating from white, clawed hands that Killian is sure ought to be shaking. Arranged around her like so many statues are the townsfolk, each frozen in their own personal terror. The dwarfs are shrieking, he assumes, their mouths wide and their axes held high. Snow White stands before him, her chin high and her eyes sparking, but her hands are empty and even in her stillness he can tell that her defiance is a hollow, helpless sort of thing.

David - the original David, he presumes, since he’s attired in a law keepers uniform - stands at her shoulder. Killian’s companion eyes him critically.

“Two of you,” Killian says with a slightly lavicious curl of his lip as David flicks at a piece of his doppelganger’s mussed hair. “My mind is a truly strange place indeed.”

“Very funny,” growls David, “is there anyone you won’t creep on?”

But Killian isn’t listening.

Swan.

She’s standing, staring unseeing, in the gloom at the edges of the mine. Her hair has curled in the damp and is sticking to her forehead, her jaw tight.

“They’re all going to die, you know.”

Killian grunts in reply. The back of his neck itches as he examines the lines between Swan’s brows, the pale impression left on her lip by her teeth.

“And why should I care about that?”

“Do you think you’re fooling anyone?” asks David, and he almost sounds pitying. “Look at you, you can’t even fool yourself.”

Swan just stares. Accusatory as usual. It almost makes him smile.

It’s hard to imagine anyone as fierce natured as Swan doing something as banal as dying.

Killian sighs, and tucks his hand behind his back before the itch moves to make his fingers reach for her hair.

David watches them, and for a moment his eyes turn soft.

“You can change that,” he says. “You should change that. You could change that. But if you continue the way you are… they’ll all die.”

Killian looks up at him, a retort already on the tip of his tongue (he has never been able to change anything, his life is one of flotsam, they wouldn’t want him to save them, not him) but David is growing translucent, disappearing into the glow of his own candlelight until her fades into nothing but ether.

“Even her?” Killian asks.

But the ether doesn’t answer.

---

He wakes, if indeed that’s what it is, back in the diner but it’s not quite as he left it. Little pieces of the counter remain stuck to his cheek as he lifts his head, and the stool creaks, rusty and struggling, beneath his weight.

“Bloody hell.”

The walls are scorched black and crumbling, the menu boards overridden by twisting vines of dead and decaying fruit, and the air holds that sour, sick smell he recognises only too well from too long voyages with not enough water.

This is a dead place.

And in the middle of it, golden and shining in a hooded robe, stands Emma.

He is a dead man.

“Swan? What happened here?”

She smiles, beatific and snide and nowhere near her eyes, and shrugs one slim shoulder.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“Hardly, love.” He stands, more unsteady than he should be, and reaches for the edge of her cloak. “This isn’t your usual attire.”

“Things have changed,” she says, “or will do. It’s up to you really.”

“What is?” he asks, tugging lightly at the cloak. The cloak tugs back. “What the -“

Emma shifts her weight and her cloak falls away to reveal a boy, her boy, the boy, his cheeks hollow and his eyes shadowed dark. The darkness seems to twist, pulling at his features and curling his hair until it isn’t Swan’s lad at all, but Bae. Bae clawing at her cloak and watching with baleful eyes as Killian sways on the spot. Bae whose lips curl into a sneer as he makes to fall.

And then the darkness breathes, and it’s Henry who turns his face into his mother’s belly.

“Why,” says Emma. “I thought everyone wanted a happy ending.”

He laughs, a short sharp bark that escapes him without his meaning to, and curls his fingers around her elbow to steady himself.

“What lunatic’s happy ending is this?”

She smiles again, her hand coming up to cover his, and for a single moment he feels warm. It’s odd. He hadn’t known he was cold.

“Yours, of course.”

The diner begins to crumble around them until it’s nothing but dust, just a grey haze that rises up and envelops them and sticks in his throat.

It tastes like magic, he thinks. Bitter.

And then it clears, and it’s bile.

It the ruins of what once was Storybrooke stands what was once a man. His hair is slicked forward over his pale face, and his shoulders stoop under the weight of the burden he carries. His left hand is a familiar curve of steel, and in his right -

“No.” Killian shakes his head, scrubs at his eyes, but the other man, the creature, only smiles a thin, crocodile’s smile and lifts the dagger toward him.

Killian Jones.

“Why hasn’t anyone stopped him?” he half whispers. “Why haven’t you?”

“There isn’t anyone,” says the boy who could be, isn’t, is, Bae. “No one left to care. Not for men like you. This is where you end up. Where we all end up.”

“Welcome to your happily ever after,” says Swan, and there’s a line, a thin, red line, that marrs her throat. It drips when she inclined her head, her eyes flashing. “Hope it’s worth it.”

This time when he wakes up, he’s screaming.

—-

It takes a moment, several actually if he’s being honest, before he can gather himself enough to be certain that he’s truly awake including both the judicial application of the tip of his hook to the palm of his hand and a long swig from a flagon of water. He eyes the rum bottle suspiciously before gingerly lifting it between finger and thumb.

“What in all the realms does she put in this? Laudanum?”

Nobody answers him, of course. He’d rather forgotten they were in the midst of a crisis.

He slips his hand back into his pocket and runs his fingers over the smooth edges of the bean. It would be easy, he thinks. Run back to… well, anywhere really. No one would live to find him, and his vengeance would be if not complete, at least somewhat satiated. And he’d never have to risk seeing David in that ridiculous get up again.

The ground rocks beneath his feet, the Queen’s Work, he presumes, and he clutches the bean a little tighter.

Be part of something.

My good boy. My hero.

You’re a villain.

Bae.

Swan. Swan and her sardonic little smiles. The incline of her head. The obnoxious habit she has of making him want to do better.

The diner shudders once more, and he chooses.

What sort of man do you want to be?

(It’s such a little thing, in the end. Choice.)

He turns on his heel and leaves the bottle behind.

---

What are you telling her now?

Only stories, my love.

That’s not very comforting you know. I’ve heard your stories.

How rude, Swan. I assure you the moral of this tale is impeccable.

Yeah right. I’ve heard that before.

(Is it true, Papa? The story?

Of course my little love. Aren’t they all.)

#captain swan #killian jones #cs ff #cs mafia #katie-dub #clare vs writers block #character study #references to millian #killian jones flirts with ghosts #angst: its whats for christmas

54 notes · View notes

galadrieljones · 7 years

Text

Music Shuffle

Thanks for the tag, @fatale-distraction ^.^

Put a playlist on shuffle and list 10 songs that come up. I’ll use my playlist for The Dead Season since it’s pretty long at this point, and also follow in fatale’s footsteps and provide a small bit of explanation for each. Here’s a link to the whole playlist on Spotify.

1. Missing the War by Ben Folds Five

I was listening to this song a lot while writing and contemplating Solas’s initial sort of “break” from repression. It has a lot of beauty and pain and resignation about it. It’s a man at the end of his rope, and he knows it, but he may feel he’s doomed to repeat the same mistakes over and over again. Yet it is not bereft of hope, re: the final chord, which is in a sort of surprising major key.

2. The One Who Stayed and the One Who Left by Regina Spektor

This song represents really just...me, and my characterization of Solas. The Dead Season went through a major shift, planning-wise, somewhere right around the Crestwood chapters. This is when I realized that Solas would never leave, that this was a story about some version of Solas who stays, who sort of just...gives in to happiness? He allows himself to become both a loyal friend and like, a sort of tirelessly earnest lover, and he finally accepts that it’s okay for him to want these sorts of things, and that they are enough.

3. South Tacoma Way by Neko Case

This song is for Ghilan’nain. Much of what it refers to in my mind happens off-stage in TDS and is only alluded to in passing or via implication. I view it as her sort of backwards mind during the middle of the Great War, mourning Solas as she once knew him, and their old life together. The death of a country childhood, the death of home and safety. I won't go into any more detail so as to avoid spoilers.

4. 20 Years of Snow by Regina Spektor

This song is for Sene. Sene is always sort of halfway out the door, in a lot of ways, and with everything but Solas. He’s kind of the only thing she’s ever been sure about. This is a song about a girl who seems innocent to the failings of the world but who is actually being eaten up inside, who wants to escape. It also just sort of sounds like how I feel the inside of Sene’s mind sounds: somehow both sad and frenetic.

5. The Swiss Army Romance by Dashboard Confessional

This song just captures the theme of wasted youth that I go after quite a lot in TDS. I view and sort of write about Inquisition as this dark times summer camp, in which all of these damaged children are coming together to save each other’s souls. I capture most of these characters as very young: Sene is only 20, Solas is 30, Abelas is 25, Morrigan is 32, Cullen is 32, Sera is 22, Bull is 28, Dorian is 30. While the lyrics of this song have very little to do with anything the theme and the rush of it just got into my head in this perfect way. Grow up fast is repeated multiple times in the end, and the song makes a huge emphasis on young people who sort of play with fire in ways they should not.

6. Middle Cyclone by Neko Case

This song just reminded me of Solas. There is a lot of relevant imagery, including bells and foundries and wells. I feel like, by the end, however, this song applies less. The key lyric is: So I choke it back, how much I need love. I’m not sure Solas is choking back much of anything anymore. Certainly not this.

7. Vengeance is Sleeping by Neko Case

This is a song for Solas as a younger man. It sort of tells the story of him and Mythal, though a lot of it is just me internalizing the themes and applying them impressionistically in my brain. This song is sort of written as a conversation, in which neither person seems to understand the other in ways that ultimately doom their relationship. The opening verse also just reminds me so much of Solas as a teenager, the first time I stumbled upon it I sort of lost my breath.

8. Cologne by Ben Folds

I really like this song because it sounds very blue, and like all of Ben Folds’s songs, it captures this willful resignation and mundane self-loathing that I feel applies to Solas quite often, especially in the latter half of the work. At some point, Sene observes that Solas lives in a natural state of “losing.” He expects anyone he loves to either leave him or die, so he can be fast to dramatics, and to give up on himself. This song is an ode to the moment he thinks Sene is leaving him. But like, once he fucks up enough times, he starts to actually look around and realize that like, people are sort of staying? And not dying? For once? This is the thing that changes him in the end, it just takes a...while to crack the shell.

9. Don’t Forget Me by Neko Case

This song is just about the great big expansive blue nothing of time. Don’t forget me. People come and go, they’re born, they die. It’s all going on forever and there’s nothing we can do about it so just like...live. And love. Don’t forget the past, but don’t let it rule you either. This is all like a huge running theme in TDS that is finally now starting to, at least in my brain, take shape.

10. Star Witness by Neko Case

This song is for Solas and Mythal and very much captures the violence and fucked-up nature of the Great War and the unruly lawlessness of Arlathan. This song is full of drugs and car crashes and murder, and at its center is a young woman both morning her lover and also begging for his life. Don’t let him die, she says. I won’t go into the specifics of this song and how it fits in my mind, so as to avoid spoilers. If you want more, you can let me know. :-) Objectively, this is also one of my favorite songs in the entire world. @wrenbee can attest to its greatness.

tagging @wrenbee @ladydracarysao3 @bearlytolerable @tel-abelas-mofo @kaoruyogi @fadedforyou @elfsplaining @the-emerald-halla @littleblue-eyedbird @priderising @thevikingwoman and anyone who sees this and wants to do it!! Also you don’t have to do a playlist that pertains to any writing or anything in particular I would just be interested in the kind of music you like as well and what it means to you <3

#music shuffle #the dead season #the dead season playlist #playlist

27 notes · View notes