#problem is i have TOO many design bits that i like for the lamb

[ninjasmudge]

im just fucking with him your honour (read: trying to figure out how to draw him)

#cult of the lamb #cotl #cotl narinder #narinder #my art #i saw a serval and i was like thats how most of the fandom draws him actually #i wanted to try to find my fave way to draw him since im pretty inconsistent #i do like the maine coon tho and i like the fluff on the ear tips #one thing remains tho i like to give him Big Ears #also aym and baal for your troubles #cotl aym #cotl baal #I WANTED TO PUT HIM WITH A PAGE ON THE LAMB BUT. MYGOD. IT IS DIFFICULT TO FIGURE OUT HOW TO DRAW THE LAMB #problem is i have TOO many design bits that i like for the lamb #and they dont look good if i combine them #and i change drawing style with the wind so it has to be something that works in multiple styles AND ITS DIFFICULT

[tyrannuspitch]

rating scottish cities' coats of arms

8. Stirling

Oh dear. Incredibly cluttered; clashing colours; does not overcome the awkwardness of including humans in your coat of arms OR the vague feeling that someone, somewhere involved in this was practicing shrimp racism. And who let you have that many mottos anyway

7. Glasgow

Fish, Glasgow? Really? They're meant to be supporting the shield, not wetly slapping against it. Tiny details on the shield are not good either - this is meant to be recognisable from afar, so why does it have the smallest robin in the world?

6. Edinburgh

I like the shield, the crown and the anchor. I still don't like the presence of a human. The colour scheme could be more limited and stronger for it.

5. Dundee

I'm rating this higher than it really deserves because "dragons with their tails in a knot" rules as a concept, and they don't look awful here. Unfortunately, the colour scheme sucks. It doesn't even necessarily have to suck. All it needs is some more saturation and a less purple shade of blue.

4. Aberdeen

At last, clarity of concept! Unfortunately the leopards being spotty, among other things, still makes this incredibly visually confusing. And personally I find this amount of gold tacky.

3. Perth

Listen, I'm sure the lamb holding the saltire was once profound religious symbolism, but these days it's comical. The double eagle dwarfing the shield isn't helping. Nor is the rhyming motto. Points for simplicity and a colour scheme that would be good if it were good. (Let it also be noted that this particular image is a exceptionally good execution of this design; google it and you'll find some terrible ones too.)

2. Inverness

Banger. Clearly modern in aesthetic but making it work. Strong colour choices and a sense of balanced asymmetry. Not too crowded, and the symbolism makes immediate sense to a modern audience. Unfortunately, the line weight does clash pretty starkly between the shield and the motto.

Dunfermline

Now THIS is a coat of arms. There are a few versions of this and there sadly doesn't seem to be an "official" one, but this is the best. Its only really problem is that the lions are a bit squashed.

#long post #most of these places have multiple coats of arms and there is no rhyme or reason to which i chose btw #just having fun

[zippy-reacts]

Sonic the Comic Liveblog: Issue 55

A face-lift for the comic huh? Not sure to what extent this redesign will cover, but all the non-comic pages have had the same style all the way since issue 1. I like the current design but maybe this will freshen things up a bit.

On a tier list of coolest Robotnik bases, this ranks pretty dang low.

Fascinated with the concept of Robotnik building these robots then assigning them names and military ranks. Did he just get too lonely at the thought of his whole army being faceless? Or maybe he needed some way to feel like he’s an actually respected leader and not a tyrannical overlord.

Man, Porker really is generic looking if he can just put on some different clothes and that in of itself is a disguise. Sonic on the otherhand has to pretend to be a whole different species.

Sonic’s eyes in this style look like they’re meant to be seen as white or light grey rather than plain black. Low-key tempted to edit them to be green to see what that’d look like.

I’ve joked before about drinking games on this liveblog before but one that would really send you to the hospital would be ‘take a drink everytime Sonic and/or the writers make a joke at Tails’ expense’. Hmm, if you swapped alcohol with water that could make a really effective hydrating game instead.

One panel raises so many questions.

For starters, it seems like they’re changing the near-instant method of badnik making so they can write a prison break story. Ok, whatever.

But second, and more concerningly, I don’t think I can recall any instances of non-talking animals in StC, so where does the phrase like lambs to the slaughter come from?? Maybe I should’ve asked this question waayyyy back in the early issues when we’re told hamburgers are StC Sonic’s favourite food. But then again, this is kind of a problem in most Sonic continuities now that I think about it.

Back to Knuckles and the Chaotix. It seems like the Omni-viewer is more or less a program? Less organic than I initially thought anyway, but then-again he is a giant screen.

Charmy. Please. Why do you talk like that? I get this comic is British but as a UK resident I’m fairly sure no-one actually speaks that way.

‘You turn up out of nowhere’? Did you leave your brain cells at home today? Omni brought him here so you guys could beat him up.

Action poses, boo-yah!

A giant Metal Sonic? I think I vaguely remember that being a thing in the review of Knuckles Chaotix I watched. I outta go back and rewatch that review or look up a summary of the game before I go onto the next issue.

Well, that’s just the ending of the first Sonic Movie

#Sonic the Comic #stc liveblog

[supercalifragipopculturevomit]

Jesus Shaves by David Sedaris

An essay on the meaning of Easter. This might be the version that was published on Esquire; a slightly longer one can be found in his book, Me Talk Pretty One Day; while a reading by the author is added below, as featured in This American Life's "Crimebusters + Crossed Wires" CD compilation.

"And what does one do on the fourteenth of July? Does one celebrate Bastille Day?"

It was my second month of French class, and the teacher was leading us in an exercise designed to promote the use of one, our latest personal pronoun.

"Might one sing on Bastille Day?" she asked. "Might one dance in the street? Somebody give me an answer."

Printed in our textbooks was a list of major holidays alongside a scattered arrangement of photos depicting French people in the act of celebration. The object was to match the holiday with the corresponding picture. It was simple enough but seemed an exercise better suited to the use of the word they. I didn't know about the rest of the class, but when Bastille Day eventually rolled around, I planned to stay home and clean my oven.

Normally, when working from the book, it was my habit to tune out my fellow students and scout ahead, concentrating on the question I'd calculated might fall to me, but this afternoon, we were veering from the usual format. Questions were answered on a volunteer basis, and I was able to sit back, confident that the same few students would do the talking. Today's discussion was dominated by an Italian nanny, two chatty Poles, and a pouty, plump Moroccan woman who had grown up speaking French and had enrolled in the class to improve her spelling. She'd covered these lessons back in the third grade and took every opportunity to demonstrate her superiority. A question would be asked and she'd give the answer, behaving as though this were a game show and, if quick enough, she might go home with a tropical vacation or a side-by-side refrigerator-freezer. By the end of her first day, she'd raised her hand so many times, her shoulder had given out. Now she just leaned back in her seat and shouted the answers, her bronzed arms folded across her chest like some great grammar genie.

We finished discussing Bastille Day, and the teacher moved on to Easter, which was represented in our textbook by a black-and-white photograph of a chocolate bell lying upon a bed of palm fronds.

"And what does one do on Easter? Would anyone like to tell us?"

The Italian nanny was attempting to answer the question when the Moroccan student interrupted, shouting, "Excuse me, but what's an Easter?"

Despite her having grown up in a Muslim country, it seemed she might have heard it mentioned once or twice, but no. "I mean it," she said. "I have no idea what you people are talking about."

The teacher then called upon the rest of us to explain.

The Poles led the charge to the best of their ability. "It is," said one, "a party for the little boy of God who call his self Jesus and . . . oh, shit."

She faltered, and her fellow countryman came to her aid.

"He call his self Jesus, and then he be die one day on two . . . morsels of . . . lumber."

The rest of the class jumped in, offering bits of information that would have given the pope an aneurysm.

"He die one day, and then he go above of my head to live with your father."

"He weared the long hair, and after he died, the first day he come back here for to say hello to the peoples."

"He nice, the Jesus."

"He make the good things, and on the Easter we be sad because somebody makes him dead today."

Part of the problem had to do with grammar. Simple nouns such as cross and resurrection were beyond our grasp, let alone such complicated reflexive phrases as "To give of yourself your only begotten son." Faced with the challenge of explaining the cornerstone of Christianity, we did what any self-respecting group of people might do. We talked about food instead.

"Easter is a party for to eat of the lamb," the Italian nanny explained. "One, too, may eat of the chocolate."

"And who brings the chocolate?" the teacher asked.

I knew the word, and so I raised my hand, saying, "The Rabbit of Easter. He bring of the chocolate."

My classmates reacted as though I'd attributed the delivery to the Antichrist. They were mortified.

"A rabbit?" The teacher, assuming I'd used the wrong word, positioned her index fingers on top of her head, wiggling them as though they were ears. "You mean one of these? A rabbit rabbit?"

"Well, sure," I said. "He come in the night when one sleep on a bed. With a hand he have the basket and foods."

The teacher sadly shook her head, as if this explained everything that was wrong with my country. "No, no," she said. "Here in France the chocolate is brought by the big bell that flies in from Rome."

I called for a time-out. "But how do the bell know where you live?"

"Well," she said, "how does a rabbit?"

It was a decent point, but at least a rabbit has eyes. That's a start. Rabbits move from place to place, while most bells can only go back and forth — and they can't even do that on their own power. On top of that, the Easter Bunny has character; he's someone you'd like to meet and shake hands with. A bell has all the personality of a cast-iron skillet. It's like saying that come Christmas, a magic dustpan flies in from the North Pole, led by eight flying cinder blocks. Who wants to stay up all night so they can see a bell? And why fly one in from Rome when they've got more bells than they know what to do with right here in Paris? That's the most implausible aspect of the whole story, as there's no way the bells of France would allow a foreign worker to fly in and take their jobs. That Roman bell would be lucky to get work cleaning up after a French bell's dog — and even then he'd need papers. It just didn't add up.

Nothing we said was of any help to the Moroccan student. A dead man with long hair supposedly living with her father, a leg of lamb served with palm fronds and chocolate. Confused and disgusted, she shrugged her massive shoulders and turned her attention back to the comic book she kept hidden beneath her binder. I wondered then if, without the language barrier, my classmates and I could have done a better job making sense of Christianity, an idea that sounds pretty far-fetched to begin with.

In communicating any religious belief, the operative word is faith, a concept illustrated by our very presence in that classroom. Why bother struggling with the grammar lessons of a six-year-old if each of us didn't believe that, against all reason, we might eventually improve? If I could hope to one day carry on a fluent conversation, it was a relatively short leap to believing that a rabbit might visit my home in the middle of the night, leaving behind a handful of chocolate kisses and a carton of menthol cigarettes. So why stop there? If I could believe in myself, why not give other improbabilities the benefit of the doubt? I accepted the idea that an omniscient God had cast me in his own image and that he watched over me and guided me from one place to the next. The virgin birth, the resurrection, and the countless miracles — my heart expanded to encompass all the wonders and possibilities of the universe.

A bell, though, that's fucked up.

#david sedaris #jesus shaves #easter #esquire #me talk pretty one day #this american life #essay

[dreamkidddream]

I absolutely loved the doll! mc one with the brothers and diavolo. Could I ask for the same idea with the rest of the undateables and luke? If it isn't too much though. Thank you very much, don't forget to take care of yourself and stay hydrated!

I’m glad you enjoyed the first part!! I hope you’re staying safe through this pandemic and that you’re drinking plenty of water. I’m so happy that people liked the Doll!MC scenario so much (it even became one of my top posts and I was NEVER expecting that to happen 😳 click here to read it with the Bros and Diavolo). I got an UR card for Barbatos today and immediately thought back to this scenario cause I was just imagining the different situations with Doll!MC. Hope you enjoy!

Also, Luke’s part is strictly platonic, just FYI!

The Undateables (Minus Diavolo) with Doll!MC

Barbatos

Let me just say, you make this man’s day so much better

Your presence is just so calming for him. You could just be standing there (which is heavily enforced in the kitchen), not doing anything, and he would still be fully relaxed

Definitely loves you being in the kitchen with him, and will find ways to invite you so that you guys can spend time together

“MC, the young master has a tea party planned for this afternoon, and I’m afraid I may need your assistance to help prepare.”

“But Barb, I thought you didn’t want me touching anything-”

���I don’t want you touching anything that can cause you harm. I can easily handle the labor, but I do have a task for you...”

Cue to you sitting perfectly still and taste testing his sweets

“Barb, are you sure that I’m helping you like this? I don’t want to be useless to you!”

“Nonsense, MC. This is perfect. I needed someone with an exceptional palette, and you’re just the right person for me.”

Just you and him, and his sweet creations. What more could he ask for?

Maybe being in a relationship with you, but he is very sure that it’s going to be happening in the near future...and he didn’t even have to use his powers to know that

He stares at you a lot. He can’t help it, he loves to just admire you!

Barbatos is the type of guy where he doesn’t have to rely on words to express his love. His love language is acts of service: packing you lunch and extra sweets every week, giving you recipes that he wouldn’t even share with Luke, and gifting you mini accessories that you can wear with your outfits!

He gave you this adorable three-legged crow holding a cupcake hairpin and you’ve been wearing it ever since

He tries to hide his blush everytime he sees you and now he has to work even harder because of the pin lmao

HAVING YOUR OWN TEA PARTIES WEEKLY

You both have a designated day and time where you don’t plan anything in order to have your own tea parties

No Diavolo, no noisy demon brothers, no other exchange students (sorry Luke). Just you and him, enjoying each other’s company and him basking in your glow

If someone did try to harm you, he would already know of it and properly disposes of the problem. Lord Diavolo can’t afford to have any issues interfering with the exchange program, and he can’t afford to have anything happen to you so...no harm no foul, right?

Please continue to do what you’re doing MC. Stare at him with your bright, doe eyes and give him that lively smile everytime. It makes his day go by much easier, especially since he knows that you’ll still be there, waiting for him with your own desserts and that smile reserved just for him

Simeon

Was convinced that you were an angel

Lowkey still convinced that you’re an angel

Really, you just look so...angelic

Wasn’t upset when you revealed that you were in fact human; he was happy because this meant that he could show you around the Celestial Realm!

Speaking of Celestial Realm, be prepared for Simeon to be your very own personal tour guide everytime. This could be your 50th time up there and he’ll still try to point new things out

“And over here is-”

“Michael’s favorite resting place, since the lilies always seem to bloom whenever he’s around,” you giggled. “I remember Simeon, you tell me this everytime we visit!”

He’s a tad embarrassed

“Forgive me, MC. It seems that I get so elated over the fact that you’re here with me, I tend to repeat some things over.”

“That’s okay! I still have fun with you everytime!”

Oh MC, you’re too adorable!

Which causes him to worry over you. While he knows that the brothers and Diavolo (along with Barbatos) wouldn’t dare cause you any distress, the same couldn’t be said for the other demons lurking around, both in and out of RAD

But not to fear, Simeon your friendly guardian angel is here!

I am so sorry for the rhyme lmao

He may not have been personally assigned to you, but that doesn’t mean he can just let anything happen to you! He’s only doing his heavenly duties in protecting you! He’s also being a good friend by watching over you too, his little lamb

He wouldn’t attack anyone, but if he made a complaint or a very serious concern to the right person (Lucifer or Diavolo), consider the problem handled

You have your own tea time as well, and Luke would join you sometimes. But, every now and then, Luke would have to finish some homework or study, or Barbatos would miraculously call for him at the castle, or if it was just too late and Luke just had to go to sleep, then it would just be you two. Sitting by the fireplace, discussing matters ranging from RAD to your life in the human world, drinking tea that you would take turns preparing

Not to mention the downright dainty little cakes you would bring. One time you brought him angel cakes and he found so lighthearted and precious that he requested you bring them everytime, just for him

May or may not base a character in his new story around you

Simeon wants to shield you from the horrors that are surrounding you both. You’re so pure, he just wants you safe. From the way that you would dress to the way that your eyes would just look so amazed and innocent at him, he just knows that he needs to watch over you, always. The brothers do get a little wary when they see how much time you do spend at Purgatory Hall, but they know that Simeon couldn’t possibly have feelings for you, and you were always so giddy after leaving there, they couldn’t bring themselves to say anything

And Simeon knew that he was starting to feel more than he should. He couldn’t profess his love for you now in risk of falling, but he can wait until you get your wings. Just imagining you in your cute little Ceslestial Realm outfit (which he hopes still mimicked your current style) with your very own beaming halo was enough to keep him waiting and to make sure that you stayed on the right path

He deemed that you were worth the wait

Luke

BFFs! BFFs!

When he first saw you he could just cry

Someone innocent like you got sent down here with these monsters?! He had to keep you safe!!!

Simeon thought you were angel and then realized that you were not; Luke thought you were an angel and refused to believe that you weren’t

You didn’t have it in you to burst his bubble so soon, so you just let him run with it until Simon broke the news

It was like telling a kid that Santa Claus wasn’t real; you can only imagine how Luke took the revelation

Not well from what Solomon told you. Simeon kept saying he just needs some time to process things, and you just felt so awful about the whole thing

Which lead to you bringing him so much sweets that it made Beel jealous and very upset

But we all know how Beel can be around food, so it wasn’t a huge surprise. He chased you around all day and you had to use your pact to get him to stop!

And you promised to make him double the sweets in he forgave you so all is well

Luke was still obviously sad, but he wasn’t going to stay sad forever. Especially not after you brought this many sweets just for him!

Lucifer was not a happy demon when Simeon arrived at the HoL’s doorstep with you groaning and clutching your stomach. And Solomon took so many pictures of Luke while he passed out from his sugar high that he dedicated a whole album in his phone to it

Favorite activity to do together: Baking! (Obviously)

Trading recipes, shopping for ingredients together, baking things for each other to try (where really it was just to have double the desserts)

When you two are in the kitchen together, no one else is allowed (except for Simeon, but only if he’s looking and not touching). It’s now MC and Luke time, everybody else is gonna have to wait!

Luke only wants you to do the the activities that he sees as harmless: which is everything that doesn’t include sharp items and anything else that can hurt you

“MC get away from that! That can seriously hurt you! Let me get it for you instead!

“Luke, honey, it’s just an oven it’s not my first time using one-”

Too late, he already took it out of your hands into his own, mitts already on

Speaking of oven mitts

You guys have matching aprons and mitts!!

Barbatos may be a little bit jealous, but he likes the bond that you two have. And he knows that Luke won’t be a romantic rival so he’s alright lol

Luke is your deemed protector/bodyguard, and he proudly wears the title since no one bothers you because of him (or so he thinks). Everyone makes fun of him calling him a chihuahua, but jokes on him, when Luke complains, he complains

Won’t take long for Simeon or even one of the brothers to pick up on his whines complaints if he thinks someone is bothering you

Luke believes that while he’s small, he can protect you and try to keep you free from danger. He may be young, but he sees himself as the older brother out of you both (even though it’s really you being the older sibling and him being the baby). Always looking out for you especially since you’re too fragile to be left alone!

You’re one of the only people that genuinely likes him and don’t make fun of him. You’re dear to him MC, please don’t ever change!

Also, he definitely talks to Michael about you all the time so excitedly and sends him sweets that you both made together. Michael is a proud dad at this point

Solomon

Knew you wasn’t a doll but loved to tease you about being one anyway

Was there a spell that can really turn you into a doll? You wouldn’t mind if he tried it out on you, right MC?

Don’t tempt him please because he WILL do it

“Tell me, MC. Hypothetically speaking, if I were to purchase-”

“No Solomon, you can’t shrink me down to fit me into a dollhouse, no matter how nice it sounds. Besides, I can’t bake in a dollhouse, the oven wouldn’t work!”

“I can fix that.”

You’re very amusing to him for some reason. Was it because of how doll-like you are? The fairytale way that you dressed? How you were still human and was able to live with seven of the most powerful demons and not die? Maybe it’s the way that you still radiated such positivity despite being in literal Hell?

Honestly all of the above

TEACHING HIM HOW TO COOK/BAKE

Poor Solomon doesn’t realize that his cooking isn’t...the best

And you took the best approach in helping him atleast cook something that looks edible

You didn’t say his cooking was disgusting like some people (literally everyone else), so he took that you giving him lessons was a date of sorts

He wasn’t complaining. Your time spent in the kitchen was scenes straight of a romcom (no matter how cheesy it sounds); his arms wrapped around your waist and dotting icing on your pretty nose

May or may not have licked some icing off of you at one point, will definitely do it again

Solomon is a very confident man, borderline arrogant (Oh who am I kidding he IS arrogant). So yes, while people may see you as an easy target, he’s here to remind them that you’re not. And that if they want to try, chances are they won’t be walking away in one piece

He’s powerful, too powerful in fact. He may not be the strongest physically, but if even the entire student council recognizes his knowledge and what he’s capable of, no one should be dumb enough to test him (keyword: try)

But he wouldn’t mind showing off if it’s for you

You’re one of the only beings to ever peak Solomon’s interest genuinely. Yes, he loved to tease and bug you whenever he pleased, but you also made him want to come around you more and more. He was drawn to you, and that doesn’t happen a lot with him (at least without ulterior motives)

*coughcough* making pacts *coughcough*

You were the only thing that made Solomon feel weak, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Don’t get him wrong, he’s still The Greatest Sorcerer, but he couldn’t help but feel himself get weak in the knees when you gazed at him with so much sincerity. He loves it and loves you

Once your back in the human world, he’s going to be so selfish with you. I mean, he already kinda was now, but this time there won’t be any interruptions or distractions around to take your attention

Us humans have to stick together, and what better way to stick together than to be together, wouldn’t you say MC?

#obey me x reader #obey me reader insert #obey me undateables #undateables x reader #obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me one master to rule them all #barbatos x reader #barbatos x mc #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #solomon x reader #solomon x mc #simeon x reader #simeon x mc #obey me simeon #obey me luke #luke is baby

[palimpsessed]

✨❄️✨ Carry On Countdown 2020 ✨❄️✨

Day 10: Crossover

@carryon-countdown

No fic chapter today, loves, because instead I give you the next pop culture sensation!

Coming this winter, if you love Queer Eye, good for you! Here’s another show that is absolutely not a complete ripoff!

Critics are raving:

“A gift!” - O. Henry

“Please, please, please, I beg you, whatever you do, do NOT take life advice from these people!” - R. Rowell

All episodes streaming Dec 24, only on Notflix!

Read more for season one highlights!

(Don’t get too excited. These are just the quotes that were my basis for casting the roles. All quotes by Rainbow Rowell, obvs.)

Agatha (grooming):

“She’s got her hair pulled back in a giant frizzy ponytail that would probably be nice and wavy if she’d put any product in it at all. Anything. Hand lotion. Shaving cream.”

“The sun is setting, and it’s making his grey skin look almost warm. I know it’s setting my hair on fire.”

“...she’s got the brightest eyes and rosiest cheeks of anyone I’ve ever met. Maybe it’s the beetroot.”

Baz (fashion):

“Aunt Fiona stomped out in her heavy black Doc Martens boots (clichéd)”

“Simon looks stunning in a grey suit.”

“(Simon Snow in America: jeans and a white T-shirt”

“Bunce tends to look a bit absurd, even at her freshest. She dresses like she’s still in Watford uniform, or wishes she was. Short, tartan skirts. Knee socks. Mary Janes or brogues. The only concession she’s made to civilian life is a series of oversized T-shirts. I wonder if she even realizes she still wears so much purple and green.”

“I buy myself a few more suits. Plus clothes for the drive. A few changes for Simon. I see a dress that would look lovely on Bunce, but they don’t carry her size. I buy it anyway. We can alter it with a spell.”

“Lamb is waiting in the lobby, wearing sunglasses and a three-piece suit. Tiffany blue. Which sounds vulgar, but very much isn’t. He looks trim and fresh.”

“Go ahead and shoot me. This isn’t my favourite shirt.”

Simon (Food and wine):

“I just can’t pass the scones up if they’re there. They’re soft and light and a little bit salty. Sometimes I dream about them.”

“I didn’t care if magic was real at that moment. Because roast beef and Yorkshire pudding are fucking real as rain.”

“I’d eat butter with a spoon if it were acceptable. (I did it anyway, my first year, whenever I was the first one down to breakfast.)”

“A Unicorn Frappuccino. It tastes like strawberry Dip Dab.”

“This menu’s staggering. There’s a whole page of taco salads. They’ve got macaroni and cheese, regular or fried. And every kind of chicken—look, orange chicken.”

“Crowley, this burger is gorgeous. It has hash browns on it.”

“It’s not French stuff. It’s just really sad pastries and bad tea. Oh and you missed Baz eating a squirrel.”

“I’ve found a way around the sandwich problem. Beef jerky! This place sells at least thirty different kinds.”

Penelope (design):

“I’m disappointed that we didn’t get to see more of his house—or even dig into the library. I went to the bathroom a few times, but it’s just down the hall, and it seems like a modern addition. (There’s a Japanese toilet in there with comforting music and a seat warmer.)”

“The vibe here is very, Let’s kill a virgin and write a great Led Zeppelin album. (Though the library is lovely, and Baz’s stepmum seems very nice.)”

“I step into their house. I love this house. I stayed in the spare bedroom when I came to see Micah two summers ago. All the rooms are huge, and only the bedrooms and bathrooms (there are four bathrooms) have doors. And everything—all the walls and furniture and the two dozen kitchen cabinets—is in peaceful shades of cream and tan. There are at least three tan leather sofas. There are two beige sitting rooms. There’s wall-to-wall carpeting exactly the shade of porridge. Ugh, it’s so comforting. My house is every colour, none of them planned. And our furniture is whatever colour it was when my father spotted it at a yard sale. Also, our house has stuff everywhere. Micah’s family must have stuff somewhere, but you never see it. The only things on the coffee tables (how many coffee tables are there? easily nine) are cream-coloured vases with cream-coloured flowers and tan, marble lamps.”

“(For a cheap hotel, this shower is massive.)”

Shepard (culture):

“You’re something new. Or maybe something old. I’m hoping you’ll tell me over a hot cup of coffee.”

“My strategy is simple: I tell the truth. I always use my real name (even though fairy tales tell you not to). I always say exactly what I want from a situation and exactly what I mean.”

“Brought you some good news. I liked this [book]. Kind of sad. Good jokes though. This one takes itself too seriously, but I know you’re a sucker for Westerns. I would have brought more, but I didn’t know I was coming. I did get this [radio], though, on the way. Waterproof.”

“Who else will listen? Who else wants to hear their stories? There are trolls who’ve spent the last two hundred years sitting alone under a bridge. If you can get past the bluster and the wooden clubs, if you bring them a little bone broth, they’re just grateful to have a sympathetic ear. If you tell them that you mean no harm, and then you never do any harm … They start to like you. They start to look forward to you coming around.”

“Well, I told you, he doesn’t carry a backpack. He’s got this pouch, and all that’s in it is a comb and a carving knife. I gave him my toothbrush, and he was pleased as punch with it. I need to get back up there, get him another toothbrush.…”

#was this the most elaborate set up to a pun in my entire life? #yes #was it worth it? #also yes #COC 2020 #carry on countdown #did some experimenting with the coloring process #my art #the gift of the magi #simon snow #baz pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #snowbaz #penelope bunce #penny bunce #agatha wellbelove #shepard #from omaha #carry on #wayward son #any way the wind blows #co/ws #co/ws/awtwb #awtwb #it was physically painful for me not to draw simon’s wings but the background was part of the thing #i did give him his tail tho 🥰 #simon snow series #carry on fan art #simon snow fan art #simon’s tail

[fluffykitty1999-blog]

Dog of the Military- Chapter 26

Chapter 26- New Room

Hello! This is just another reminder- if you’re into my fanfictions and they bring you enjoyment, I’d super appreciate it if you could go over and leave an encouraging comment at my ko-fi here https://ko-fi.com/fluffykitty12, or even slip me $3 for snacks. 

Thanks so much! :)

The hospital was full. Or at least, that was the excuse they gave them when they were unceremoniously dumped into a second bed that'd been placed in Mr. Water's room.

The quarters were a bit tight- Roy had to relocated his plastic chair to the foot of ed's bed rather than beside it, but after settling Ed into the new bedding, the remainder of the night passed quietly.

It was around seven that morning when a knock on the door frame caught his attention.

Roy couldn't help it- he broke into an exhausted smile at the sight of Hughes.

"Finally. None of my team had spoken to me since yesterday, I was beginning to worry."

"Yeah, well, there's a reason for that. They managed to apprehend the fake judge fleeing the scene, but Banks managed to get away. They've been doing paperwork and issuing orders for the capture of Banks since then. The higher ups are eager to put a lid on this while fiasco- they're embarrassed it's even happened. How's Ed doing?"

"Seems to be alright. Except a Drachman operative broke into his hospital room last night and tried to abduct him."

Hughes jolted, looking shocked. "You're kidding!"

Roy shook his head. "I'm not."

"Mr. Mustang!" their conversation was interrupted by nurse Aubrey jogging over, holding a clipboard and looking out of breath. "I have those blood test results you wanted."

Roy cocked an eyebrow. "And what do they say?"

"Well, Ed's blood type is A+, and several of the other blood smears were found to be B-. So Edward wasn't alone in his room last night. Someone else was there. I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

Roy shrugged.

Hughes decided to make himself known, peering at the paper on her clipboard and adjusting his glasses. "Say, can I get a copy of that, please? I'm Colonel Maes Hughes of investigations- I have no doubt the military is going to want me investigating just who would try and attack a hospitalized state alchemist. I also want the room Ed was attacked in sealed off- I'll process the crime scene later."

"Of course." Aubrey hurried off to do as she was told, and Roy and Hughes sat in silence for a moment.

"So." Hughes finally spoke up, face impassive. "It appears Edward might've been onto something with his whole 'Banks is a Drachman spy' theory."

"It certainly looks that way." Roy agreed. "Either that- or Banks wasn't involved, but now that he's backed into a corner, any Drachman operatives are capitalizing on the chance to scoop him up. But why bother trying to take Ed too?"

"Ed's knowledge of Alchemy is a good enough reason as any. He knows more than most alchemists in the country- he could easily train Alchemists for the Drachman army. They've wanted to learn alchemy for decades now. And Ed's young- he's got a lot of potential, he's still forming his opinions and growing up. They'd want to capitalize on that- mold him into a ruthless killer."

Isn't that what you want to do as well? that small voice in the back of his head hissed. The same one that tortured him about Ishval at night. But Roy brushed it aside- it was lying, he cared for Ed like his own son. He was only trying to do what was best for Ed. And for your reputation, you heartless bastard.

"I know you need to be here. I get it. But your office is sorely missing you in your absence. Hawkeye is doing her best- I have Brosch, Ross and Armstrong watching the hospital starting today. No one else will come near him."

"Right." Roy ran a hand through his hair, looking at Hughes. "Can you stay with him? For a little while? I need someone I can trust with him- someone who I know can protect him." Roy thought fo all the knives Hughes kept hidden on his person. He pitied any Drachman who tried to abduct Ed from his best friend.

"Yeah, I can stay." Hughes frowned. "Where are you gonna go, though? The office?"

"Probably. Was going to stop home and at least chance my clothes first. Have a quick shave, probably."

His uniform was wrinkled from sleeping in it and smeared with Ed's dried blood. His five o' clock shadow was also getting out of control.

Hughes nodded, smiling slightly. "Yeah. I haven't seen you this bad since our last bender. I can stay half the day with him."

"That's all I need. Thank you."

"No problem. Take care of what you need to at the office." Hughes took his place sitting in Roy's plastic chair at the foot of Ed's bed. Ed was still sleeping- Roy had wet a cloth and cleaned the blood from the boy's face hours ago, and he looked peaceful, despite his circumstances.

"Alphonse is with Gracia and Elicia for the time being- he's probably going to want to see Ed later today."

"I'll bring him back with me on my way back from the office." Roy promised absently.

"Alright, thank you." Hughes smiled, and Roy returned the look.

He almost felt bad that he was lying to the man's face. Almost.

LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK

"You look like hell." Madame Christmas didn't parse words, sliding him a glass of cold bourbon across the bar as a way of greeting. IT wasn't even 9am yet, but Roy took the drink happily.

"You made the papers again." his aunt put down a copy of the newest Gazette in front of him- FULLMETAL ALCHEMIST SHOT IN COURT MARTIAL DEBACLE. The front page featured him clinging to Ed, trying to stop the boy's bleeding. It wasn't exactly a flattering shot, and Roy wondered briefly how the press had managed to get that picture.

"Are you alright?" He looked up to meet his Aunt's dark brown eyes at the question- she was being sincere, and he nodded.

"I'm okay."

"And that boy of yours? The prodigy they shot?"

"He's gonna be okay too. Bullet hit him in the arm."

"And yet you're here instead of watching him. Which means you need something." his Aunt tapped her long fingernails on the bar, looking pensive.

"How much have you read about the courtmartial?"

"All of it. But it isn't much. The Furher withholds most of the details- all I know is that man was facing charges of misconduct that the Fullmetal Alchemist boy uncovered."

Roy fought the urge to wince. Yes, of course the military would've white washed everything and censored it. The general population didn't need to know the gruesome scope of Bank's misdeeds.

"That Colonel Banks is still on the lamb. He hasn't been here, if that's what you're searching for." Madame Christmas said, reaching down to start polishing some glasses.

"That's not what I'm here for."

"Then what? We both know you aren't here to visit Vanessa."

"Some fellows who ought not have visited Amestris have come here. Foreign- Drachman, I think. Tried to kidnap Ed last night- and I have a feeling that they're trying to get into contact with Banks and smuggle him from the country. An outfit like that wouldn't just send one man- they'd send several. A team, maybe. Men like that go looking for girls. Have you seen any?"

Madame Christmas had stopped polishing her glass abruptly and set it down, nodding once. "Yeah. Five who'd fit your description, recently. I don't ask too many questions. What would you like to do with them? They're quite rough customers- hardly pay for their drinks, rough with my girls. So what do you have in mind?"

"I want to speak to one. Doesn't matter which, any of them will do. As soon as you can."

"You'll be delivering the usual message to someone who's unkind to my girls?"

"And then some. For trying to take my Alchemist." Roy swirled his glass, taking another sip. He was almost done.

"How soon can you deliver by?"

His aunt scoffed. "Tonight. One of those dogs is always by, at least one, every night."

"I'll speak to you soon, then." He finished his drink, placing his money on the bar and standing.

"Thanks, Auntie."

"Not a problem, my boy."

LINEBREAK LINEBREAK LINEBREAK

Roy managed to stop at the office for two hours- Alphonse had decided to walk there from the Hughes' residence- so it turned out he hadn't completely lied to Hughes when he said he was going to the office.

Either way, he was back at the hospital at one with Alphonse and a fresh cup of coffee in tow.

"What do you mean I can't leave yet!? They just gave me this whole bag of blood I have more than enough now! I want to go!" Roy heard Ed before he saw him, and he gave a tired grin, sipping his coffee as he and Al strode into the room.

"The doctors want you here another day and that's what's going to happen." Hughes said, ever-patient.

Mr. Waters was sitting in his bed reading a book on barrel-making, seemingly hardly disturbed by the commotion.

When Alphonse walked into the room, however, he looked up, eyes brightening. "What craftsmanship! I'm a welder- let me have a look at you!"

If Alphonse could've blushed, he would've. but he walked over to the bed anyways, letting the construction worker rave about how well his joints fit together and the well-placed rivets of his design.

Ed cast a glance at his roommate, watching him talk to his brother, before he noticed Roy and perked up.

"Can we go home yet?"

"What's this I heard about the doctors wanting you to stay another day?" Roy cast a glance at Hughes, who crossed his arms over his chest and nodded. "Ed did well during his blood transfusion, but he's still dizzy and tired. They want to watch him for one more day."

"Then that's final. You're staying for another day." Roy took a sip of his coffee, symbiotically absorbing the caffeine through his tongue to fortify himself for the coming outburst.

"This is stupid! I should be out there catching the bastard who shot me, not sitting around in this stupid hospital!"

"You're pale as the sheets. I hardly think another day in the hospital could hurt." Roy remarked.

"Who're you calling so anemic he doesn't even have the iron to be called a fortified cereal?!" Ed kicked his feet beneath the sheets and ranted.

Well, that's a new one. Roy thought to himself.

"You said I could sleep on the couch again! Last night!" Ed had turned back to whining, and Roy was slightly surprised he even remembered the exchange they'd had in the emergency room.

"Yes. And you can. Once the doctors say you're well enough to come home, and not a minute sooner. Speaking of fun things people said- you said a lot of things, Ed. You threatened to bite an EMT, accused him of trying to steal you leg, and said something about riding in the wee-woo wagon."

"Wee-woo wagon?" Alphonse asked, tinny vice echoing the question.

"He was too drugged up to think of the word ambulance." Roy supplied.

Alphonse and Mr. Waters burst out laughing, Hughes was grinning, and Ed flushed bright red in embarrassment, a red hashtag throbbing on his temple.

"Don't sweat it, Ed. Investigations and everyone is working hard to catch Banks and everyone else involved in this. You just need to rest up." Hughes said, standing up from his place on the chair and stretching.

"And I'm sure Colonel Mustang here agrees."

Roy nodded, taking his seat back and pulling out a large stack of papers from his briefcase. "I do. In fact, Hawkeye wanted me to stay here and do my paperwork to make sure you don't decide to sneak out of the hospital."

Ed's pout made his facial structure sag so much he looked like a pug, and he crossed his arms over his chest.

"So unfair. Why do I have to get punished when I'm the one who's been shot..."

"Cheer up laddy." Mr. Waters piped up. "'Least you ain't had a brick dropped on yer head."

#fma #fma fanfiction #Fullmetal Alchemist #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood #Roy Mustang #edward elric #Parental Roy #parentalroy #whumph #whump #hurt/comfort #hurt #comfort #dogofthemilitary #injury

[kmomof4]

Of Darkness, Vampires, and Soulmates Ch.5 Ingrid

*rubs furiously at my ear* Wow, y’all!!! Y'all had a lot to say about that last chapter, didn’t you? Well, most of the pain is now firmly in the rearview. There will still be a bit of pain in the coming chapters, but not like we’ve had. Today’s chapter brings us to the halfway point in the fic as well as the turning point, the modern era and putting our favorite couple on the final road to their Happily Ever After. We still have a lot of story to tell and I so hope you enjoy what’s coming! Thank you all so much for the trust you’ve placed in me by coming along on this journey! Y'all are the BEST!!!!

All of the love, thanks, and socially distant internet tackle hugs to @profdanglaisstuff for her outstanding beta services and being a fount of information and encouragement when I wanted to either throw my laptop, pull my hair out, or give up completely. Also to @hollyethecurious for her encouragement and help in brainstorming. The ladies of the CSSNS and CSMM discords for their encouragement, sprinting, and help with a title, and finally to @spartanguard for making such GORGEOUS and PERFECT art for EVERY SINGLE CHAPTER!!! I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m so grateful that I got paired with you!!!

Chapter Summary: We are now in the modern era, and we meet a new family that has become a major part of Killian’s life.

Rating: M (Violence and smut)

Words: Almost 8800 of 41K total

Tags: Vampires, Soulmates, Reincarnation, Prophecy, Black Death, French Revolution, Magic, True Loves Kiss

Prologue | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ao3 chapter link | Ao3 fic link

Tag list: @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @snowbellewells @stahlop @resident-of-storybrooke @jennjenn615 @kingofmyheart14 @profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @branlovestowrite @ultraluckycatnd @flslp87 @whimsicallyenchantedrose @let-it-raines @shireness-says @kymbersmith-90 @darkcolinodonorgasm @bethacaciakay @searchingwardrobes @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @aprilqueen84 @qualitycoffeethings @superchocovian @artistic-writer @donteattheappleshook @doodlelolly0910 @seriouslyhooked @tiganasummertree​ @lfh1226-linda​ @nikkiemms​ @xsajx​ @klynn-stormz​

Please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

Under the cut, unless Tumblr ate it.

Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts, October 1995

Killian Jones brought the Jolly Roger into his personal dock on his estate greatly anticipating a warm meal and long hot shower after being away for so many months. Of course he ate on the Jolly and she had been outfitted with modern plumbing that he kept most of the passengers away from, but nothing beat a homemade meal from his own kitchen. He had donned many hats over the centuries in terms of occupations, pirate captain, smuggler, whaler, blockade runner, a brief stint as a doctor in Chicago, and now pleasure cruise captain, and now that the long summer season was over, he could return to his home for a few months of rest and relaxation. The weather was just starting to turn cooler overall, but the sharp bite of the wind and clouds rolling in told him that a storm was right on his heels. He made his way up to the back door of the manor as his scarf was blown about his face and raindrops just started to fall.

“Thank you, Mr. Starkey,” he addressed the older man that had immediately appeared when he entered as he handed him his scarf and leather greatcoat.

“Your supper will be ready in about an hour, sir,” the man admitted, chagrined. “I wasn’t expecting you quite this early.”

“No worries, Starkey,” he replied, “we had favorable winds, and with the expected storm, I wanted to make it home before it hit. This will give me time to get the sea salt off me before I sit down to your excellent meal.”

The man before him smiled. “It’s your favorite, sir. I wanted to welcome you home properly. My lobster chowder with Red Lobster’s cheddar bay biscuits.”

Killian threw his head back and groaned in delight. “I can taste it already. Thank you.”

“You’re quite welcome, sir.”

Killian departed the lower story, and headed for his chambers on the other side of his home trying to bring his salivating under control. He may have problems with fresh, raw garlic, but who could resist those biscuits?

~*~*~

Much later that night, Killian was pulled from his slumber by a crack of lightning that shook the windows and lit up his chambers as if it was noon. The rain against the windows beat a staccato rhythm that matched his breathing and heart rate. Once he got his breathing back under control and his pulse back down where it normally was, much, much less than a resting heart rate for a human, he became aware of a pull. A tugging sensation over his heart that almost felt like something was trying to rip it out his chest. Laying back down on his bed, the sensation lessened but didn’t go away entirely. As he lay there rubbing at the area, his heart nearly leapt out of his chest with a pressure, that if he didn’t know any better, he would have said resembled a heart attack. It was exactly the same sensation that he felt over 200 years ago when Emma had been born in France and when she had been born in the late 19th century.

Killian would never forget the day that he lost his Swan yet again. He recognized the soulmate connection and arrived in Chicago a few years later in 1896. He took a position with St. Luke's Hospital near the industrial center of the city where he knew his Swan was employed. One of the unfortunate victims of the lack of child labor laws and the Industrial Revolution. Close enough to feel her daily presence, but apparently not close enough to protect her. Rumplestiltskin, owner of the factory where she worked, brought her in covered in blood from where she had lost most of her left arm in an accident at the factory. Although his cruel designs were cleverly hidden behind his mask of feigned concern for the little girl in his arms, Killian could see the delight dancing in his enemy’s eyes as he lay Emma, only about six years old, even younger than he had known her at first in France, on the table in front of him. She had lost so much blood and was so nearly gone, that he was completely taken aback when her green eyes opened briefly, landing on him, and whispered, “It’s you.” before breathing her last. It was all he could do to remain upright. Did she somehow recognize him? Recognize their connection? No one questioned the blood tears that streaked his face, just assuming it was hers, as he ran from the room, Rumplestiltskin’s laughter echoing in his ears.

She had been reborn again. There was no doubt in his mind. But where? When she had been reborn in France, he had felt the pull toward Paris. In the 1890’s, Chicago. This time though, he wasn’t feeling any particular pull toward anywhere. Could it be too soon? Had she literally just been born? Was it possible that she could have been born somewhere nearby? He didn’t dare hope. Hopefully the morning light would bring some answers. Hopefully, he’d be able to get back to sleep before then.

~*~*~

He was awakened the next morning by Starkey knocking lightly on his chamber door. Killian awoke rather disconcerted that he had slept as late as the angle of the sun in his room told him it was, plus the fact that anyone approaching his chambers normally would have put his senses on full alert. Being caught unawares by Rumplestiltskin, even in the privacy of his own home, was not something he wanted happening.

“Enter,” he called, standing and wrapping himself in the robe from the bottom of the bed.

Starkey stuck his head through the door with mirth dancing in his eyes and a smile on his face. “The ladies Elsa and Anna Fisher are downstairs for you, sir. On the back patio. They are quite excited and impatient to see you.”

An affectionate grin broke over his face. “I’ll be down momentarily, Starkey.”

“Very good, sir,” he replied. “I’ll let them know.”

~*~*~

Killian entered the patio area just a few minutes later to the barely contained enthusiasm of two little girls that he had been blessed to know these last few years when they came into the care of their aunt, Ingrid Fisher, a very close personal friend of his for many, many years. The girls had been so young when they entered her charge, nearly one and just turned three, that they both knew her as Mama.

“Uncle Killian,” little Anna cried, “guess what?” She had very nearly flown from her place on the chaise lounge where she had been bouncing in her exuberance. She now stood before him nearly vibrating with excitement trying to contain the torrent of words that it was nearly killing her to hold back right now.

Killian knelt down before her and lifted her into his arms as he continued to where a much more sedate Elsa waited patiently for them on one of the other lounges. “What is it, my lamb?” He settled down next to Elsa and gave his full attention to the elated little girl in his arms.

“We have a new baby,” she very nearly squealed.

“AnewsisterMamacalledfromthehospitalthismorningtotellusthatababygirlhadbeenbornlastnightintheEmergencyRoombutthemamaleftsothebabyhasnoonetotakecareofhersowe’regonnatakecareofhershe’llbeoursister.” Anna’s words tumbled out of her so quickly that Killian had trouble keeping up. He looked toward Elsa with barely disguised confusion on his face.

Elsa released a long suffering sigh, as only a six year old could. “You have to slow down, Anna,” she exasperated. “Mama will be bringing home a new sister for us. She was born last night.” Killian couldn’t help the chill that ran down his spine at that information. “But the mama left before morning. Since Mama is already approved to be a foster parent, we get to have her.” At this, some of the excitement that Elsa usually kept inside, leaked through. Her blue eyes sparkled and the smile that broke over her face rivaled the sun at noon. “Mama said that we’ll adopt her and she’ll be our sister. She’ll have the same last name and everything!”

“Oh, my darlings,” he exulted, “that is indeed wonderful news!” He reached over and pulled Elsa to him in a side hug as Anna was doing her best to strangle him with the force of her embrace. “When will Ingrid be bringing her home and when may I come see the new addition to the family?”

“Mama said it would be a few days before she could bring her home,” Elsa volunteered, “so maybe this weekend.” She shrugged.

“Alright then,” he replied. “I will call this evening after your mama gets home and get some more details.” He stood back up with Anna still in his arms and started toward the kitchen. “And now, my lambs, have you had breakfast? Would you like some French toast? I know how you love Mr. Starkey’s French toast.”

The girl's squeals had nearly the same effect on the windows that the lightning had the night before. Killian laughed as he led them from the patio to the kitchen.

~*~*~

“Hello?”

“Good evening, Ingrid,” he replied, settling down in his favorite armchair, “I hear congratulations are in order.”

His friend’s delighted laugh made a grin break out on his own face. “I knew the girls wouldn’t be able to wait to tell you.”

“So, tell me everything.”

“A teenager, a girl really,” she corrected herself, “came in last night in the last stages of labor. Her daughter was born about three this morning. Right at the height of the storm, from what I understand.” Killian hummed and tried, without much success, to suppress the shiver that ran through him. “But by the time I got in this morning, she was gone. I don’t know how she was able to walk out of the ER so soon after giving birth. So there’s essentially no record of her whatsoever. She was too close to delivery to get any kind of information about her, and when one of the other nurses came in to get the information and move her and the baby to the maternity ward, she was gone. Leaving that poor baby girl behind.” She sighed.

“By the time I got there at 7, the whole place was in an uproar. I went up to the nursery to see her and just fell in love. With the mother gone and no idea of where to begin looking for her, that poor baby would go straight into the system. And I just couldn’t allow that. Not when I had the power to stop it.”

Killian hummed in agreement. “I wouldn’t expect anything less from you, lass. Tell me, this baby...” he hesitated. Ingrid was the closest friend he had ever had. She was one of two, in all his centuries of life, that ever knew exactly what he was. But she didn’t know about this. “This baby, have you decided on a name for her yet? She doesn’t by any chance have a birthmark on her neck, does she?” It was all he could do to keep his breathing steady as he awaited her answer.

“The girls and I discussed it and we decided she looks like an Emma. And yes, she does have a birthmark actually,” she exclaimed. Killian’s breath hitched. “How could you have possibly guessed that? It’s a swan that looks like it’s taking off. I’ve never seen anything like it. Anna thought ‘Swan’ should be her middle name. For the birthmark.”

Killian’s head spun. He gripped the sides of the chair, trying to regain some equilibrium. It was her. It was his Swan. How…? He couldn’t believe that it had happened again. He had, of course, been waiting for it, hoping, continuing on in the long lonely years of his life, praying, ever hopeful that this day would come. But now that it was here, it was all he could do to contain himself. He cleared his throat. “Emma Swan Fisher,” he whispered. “Uh, Ingrid? When will you be bringing her home?” he asked.

“Wednesday morning, barring any unforeseen complications, I should be able to bring her home,” Ingrid replied. “Killian, what’s going on?” Her concern for him was plain over the line. Killian scrubbed his face in his agitation.

“Ingrid, I promise,” he beseeched her, “I’ll explain everything. I’ll see you Wednesday. Give me a call when you get home.” He hung up and scrubbed his hand down his face again.

He made his way to the adjoining bath and splashed cold water on his face, trying to bring himself under control. He looked back up in the mirror. Haunted eyes in a pale face looked back out at him. Purple bruises under his eyes told him that he’d gone too long without the sustenance that his physical body still needed, even if he could still eat and drink. He was going to have to hunt tonight. Getting his hands on a rabbit or even a larger animal like a deer wasn’t going to cut it. Not after a shock like that rocked him to his very core.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to do it very often, he normally partook of animal blood to meet his body’s needs. And even that, he only had to do once, maybe twice a month. But when he was so obviously drained, as this bombshell had quite effectively accomplished, he was going to need human blood. Fortunately, the island had no shortage of scoundrels, villians, the bottom dwellers of humanity on which to feed, people that no one would miss, and in fact, their disappearance may very well free others on whom they preyed.

Donning black from head to toe, the vampire disappeared into the night.

~*~*~

Killian was unsurprised when he could see Anna’s red braids flying behind her as she ran to answer the door. Ingrid had brought baby Emma home that morning and he had told Ingrid to expect him around noon.

“Uncle Killian,” she cried, grabbing his hand and dragging him along behind her. “Come see my baby,” she exclaimed.

Killian chuckled as he picked her up and strode toward where he could hear the cries of an infant. “Where are they, my lamb?”

“In the breakfast room. Baby Emma doesn’t like the bottle Mama is trying to feed her,” she chattered on about how cute and how loud her baby was. Killian couldn’t help the delighted grin that stretched his lips as he came into the room. Ingrid sat at the table with the newborn in her arms, holding a small bottle to her mouth. Elsa stood by her side cooing to the baby and gently stroking her head trying to get her to take the bottle.

Ingrid lifted her face toward Killian as he set Anna down so that the little whirlwind could join her Mama and sisters. “Oh, Killian! Thank God, you’re here,” she exclaimed. “Could you take her for just a minute? I’m not ready for the girls to hold her by themselves yet and my bladder is about to bust.”

Killian was taken aback briefly, but made his way over to them and sat down. “Of course, Ingrid,” he assented, holding out his arms for the infant. As soon as Ingrid transferred the precious bundle into his own arms and handed him the bottle, she all but ran out of the room.

The girls gathered around him as he looked down at the baby. Wide light gray eyes stared, unblinking at him. He took in every detail he could. The way her little cheeks had yet to fill out to the pleasing plumpness that most associated with babies. The thin, whispy, light colored peach fuzz that covered the crown of her head. The scrunches around her eyes when she closed them as she opened her rosebud lips on a wide yawn. With her mouth as wide as that, he thought he might attempt to get her to take the bottle in his hand. Placing it in her mouth, she closed it again and began to drink from the instrument of nourishment. Her eyes opened again and she continued to stare at him as she drank from the bottle.

A smile broke his face as a profound sense of destiny swept over him. This was his Swan. Beyond any doubt. He could see the birthmark on her neck. He could feel the connection between them buzzing under his skin and with every beat of his heart as he held her close. Perhaps that was why she was taking the bottle from him so easily when she didn’t want to take it from Ingrid. Love like he had never known filled him near to overflowing. A love that he had harbored for over 300 years. Holding his soulmate in his arms like this, made him realize one thing. He would do anything to protect her. And since he found her so early in her life this time, he’d be able to protect her the way he wanted to. The way he should have done all those times before. He would do anything to make sure that she had the chance to grow up and fulfill her destiny. Her prophesied destiny to join him in the destruction of the Darkness and the final downfall of Rumplestiltskin. This time, he would succeed. This time, she would be his. He couldn’t lose her again. And then, a small smile broke over his face, they’d live happily ever after.

He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Rumplestiltskin in a century. Not since the last time that Emma had lived, in the late nineteenth century. As much as he rejoiced that the demon had left him alone for so long, it was rather disconcerting. Before Emma died in France, he would make his presence known about every decade or so. Since then, it had been spaced out further, finally terminating when Killian had lost Emma back in Chicago. Again at the hands of his sire. This was by far however, the longest that he had gone without being aware of his presence. Now that Emma had come into his life again, he would doubtless make an appearance. He’d have to be doubly vigilant in keeping her safe from the monster if he hoped to bring his dream to fruition. And now, he was going to have to tell Ingrid everything.

~*~*~

All three of the girls were finally down for naps when Killian and Ingrid settled down in the living room with some hot tea. Ingrid leveled a hard stare at him sending him scratching at the area behind his ear.

“Ok, Killian. What’s going on here?” The love and concern were written all over her face.

Killian couldn’t meet her eyes as he began. “There is only one person that I’ve spoken to about this, Ingrid,” he sighed. “And I honestly never expected to have to do this with you.” He raised his head until his eyes met hers. “You are the closest friend I’ve ever had. You know what I am. You know what I care about, my values, and my convictions. How I live this cursed life.”

“And it’s because I know you so well,” she interrupted, leaning over to him and placing her hand on his arm, “that I’ve never been afraid of you. Both to have you in my life for all of these years and the lives of the girls.”

“And I can’t thank you enough for that, lass.” He looked down at where she was touching him with a soft smile.

“Pfft,” she snorted, leaning back in her chair and waving away his sentiment, “Don’t call me lass. I’m a little too old for that these days.”

He smirked at her. “You’ll always be a lass, compared to me, love,” he teased her, earning him a mighty eye roll.

Twenty-seven years ago, he met Ingrid, quite literally by accident. An accident that had claimed both her parents, and nearly claimed herself as well. When Killian got himself out of his car, with his broken bones and cuts quickly healing, he could plainly see that there was nothing he could do to help the two adults in the front of the Oldsmobile that had broadsided him. The two girls in the back however, were both still alive, although the older one was in immediate need of medical attention. As he moved closer to her, he could hear the rush of her blood within her, not in its appointed channels. She was bleeding internally and would almost surely die before she could be transported to a hospital. The other girl, probably about five years her junior, was only unconscious. He moved to the side of the gravely injured child, and sneaking a glance around to be sure that no one in the gathering crowd was paying attention to him, bit into his wrist and held it up to the girl’s lips, letting just a few drops of his blood land on her tongue. The coppery taste was enough to rouse her. Unfortunately, sharing his blood with her would not only heal her, but also expose him for what he truly was. Her eyes widened in her shock.

“Who are you?” she asked, obviously fearful that a strange man with red eyes and fangs was standing over her.

“A friend,” he answered, as his wound healed and his eyes resumed their blue hue and his fangs retracted. Listening carefully, he could hear not only the sirens of ambulances in the distance, but he could also hear the healing going on in her body. “You’ve been in an accident.” He didn’t think it wise to tell her about her parents.

Her eyes widened even more. “What about Mama, Papa, Gerta?” she cried, looking toward her sister.

“Your sister is going to be fine, lass,” he said, comfortingly. “What’s your name?”

“Ingrid,” she replied. “Ingrid Fisher.”

“Your sister is going to be fine, Ingrid. And so will you.” He moved away from her side as the paramedics arrived. He waved them off from attending to him, as only a few scratches were now visible. The girls needed their attention much more than he did.

He had been able to keep in contact with her, and because she quite vividly remembered his healing of her, he wasn't terribly surprised when the, by then, young teen, figured out his secret.

Killian returned to the present and to the amused concern still flooding Ingrid’s eyes. He gave her a small smile before taking a deep breath and beginning his story, from the beginning.

~*~*~

Ingrid’s mouth hung open as she leaned back on the sofa. “Soooo, let me get this straight,” she mused, “Rumplestiltskin, as in the fairy tale Rumplestiltskin, was real. Is real,” she corrected herself, shaking her head. “And that baby, from the fairy tale, was your brother. Fast forward, he kills Liam and changes you, and since then he’s come back every so often and has been responsible for at least two of…” here she trailed away momentarily, obviously trying to get her mind around all he had revealed to her, “my Emma’s past deaths. Ok.” She nodded decisively. “I can handle this.” She turned her pale blue eyes to his. “But she is your soulmate. And the two of you are prophesied to destroy the Darkness? The Darkness that makes you a vampire? But what will happen to you?”

Killian shrugged his shoulders. “If it’s the Darkness that makes me a vampire, as I believe it is, I’m hopeful that I’ll no longer be a vampire and that I’ll be able to live out my life with Emma at my side.”

“Oh, Killian,” she breathed, “That would be wonderful, indeed.”

“So you raise her,” Killian asserted, looking at her again. “You adopt her and raise her as your own. As long as that monster stays away, you will all be safe. But when he comes, and I say when because it’s only a matter of time, you will have to leave.” He looked down at the clasped hands in his lap. “And you won’t be able to tell me where you go. He would be able to find you through my knowledge. And he won’t hesitate to kill you all to prevent my happy ending with Emma. When the time is right, you’ll come back, and I’ll be able to court her and protect you all myself. This time,” his voice shook in his conviction, “we will succeed.”

She covered his hands with her own. “You will, Killian. I have no doubt.”

~*~*~

Three and a half years later, Boston

Rumplestiltskin stood on the quay looking up at the ship that he hadn’t seen with his own eyes in over four hundred years. It looked exactly the same from where he stood. The wood of the hull was in pristine condition, freshly painted, nearly ageless. If he didn’t know for sure that it was the same ship, he’d have trouble believing it himself. Still as majestic as I remember.

Rumple ducked his head into his shoulder as the captain appeared at the gunwale of the ship. He wasn’t yet ready to reveal his presence to his progeny.

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, lads and lasses,” the captain called out. “Welcome to Jolly Roger Tours! I am your captain, Killian Jones. Today we will be sailing into the waters of the Atlantic, hearing tales of Blackbeard and Captain Kidd, and visiting several barrier islands where they and several other of the most notorious pirates from the Golden Age of Piracy lurked before striking the merchant ships coming into Boston Harbor. We will end our tour in Salem with a visit to the New England Pirate Museum where you will see actual pirate treasure and be able to tour a Colonial seaport before returning home. Now once you are aboard, everyone under the age of twelve will become junior crew members. They will be outfitted in pirate gear and will be in the charge of one of my crew for the duration of the tour.”

The captain then turned a stern eye on the very excited children of the group. “Now let me tell you how it works on my ship. I give the orders and you follow them. Is that clear?” The children let out a collective YESSS, that was so loud, he was sure he wasn't the only adult with the beginnings of a headache. “Then welcome aboard, me hearties!”

The children climbing the gangplank resembled a flock of birds, moving as one, with the combined weight of a small elephant, which did nothing to make the headache dissipate. Perhaps it was a mistake to make his appearance here and now.  But the time had come again. Time to remind Killian Jones who had the power in their centuries-long dance.

He hung back until he was at the end of the queue ascending the gangplank. As he neared the captain, who was personally welcoming each passenger aboard, he decided to go ahead and make his presence known to his host.

~*~*~

Killian was nearly to the end of the queue when a depraved giggle reached his ears and a bolt of fear traveled down his spine. Looking toward the last person in the line, his eyes widened as he took in the distinctive profile of his sire. Thankfully, his eyes were averted, so he was in no danger of revealing anything to the demon, but he could see the curve of a sinister grin sliding onto his features.

“What are you doing here,” he hissed.

“Why, Captain Jones,” he gasped, in mock outrage, placing his hand on his heart “no joyous welcome? No, ‘It’s good to see you, mate.’”

“No,” he deadpanned, crossing his arms across his chest. “As Captain of this ship, I have the right to refuse to let anyone on board. For any reason.”

“Oh, really?” he drawled, feigning surprise. “Are you going to let me board, Captain?”

“No, I am not,” he replied. “Get off of my ship. And don’t let me see your face anywhere near her again.”

Rumplestiltskin giggled again. “Oh, don’t you worry, Dearie,” he crooned, before his voice took on an edge of malice, and was that anticipation that he could detect in his words? “Showing my face near your ship will be the least of your worries in the near future.”

Dear God in heaven, Killian thought, he knows where Emma is. “Get off of my ship.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” he murmured, with a mocking bow, sarcasm oozing from his words. “Until we meet again.”

Killian watched as Rumplestiltskin meandered down the gangplank, his gold tipped cane clicking on the boards, before he disappeared into the crowds.

~*~*~

Killian brought the Jolly in to dock behind his estate, his shoulders dropping in relief when he saw the four people he loved most in this world waiting for him. He’d been acutely aware, all day long, that if his sire knew about the family and where to find them, he could have already struck.

Anna, predictably, bounced on the balls of her feet, all ready for her adventure. Ingrid and Elsa were doing an admirable job keeping their countenance free of the fear he could plainly see in their eyes. Little Emma dozed on her mother’s shoulder. It was past her bedtime.

He descended the gangplank and grabbed their various suitcases and baby paraphernalia before he started hauling them aboard as Anna peppered him with questions. “Where are we going, Uncle Killian? Is it a pirate adventure? Is that why we’re leaving at night? Are we gonna spend the night in a pirate cave? Do we get to hunt for buried treasure?” Killian chuckled at her enthusiasm as he deposited their luggage on the deck .

“No, my lamb,” he sighed, “You’ll be going on an adventure with your mother and sisters this time. I’m not coming. I’m simply taking you there.”

“But, why aren’t you coming?” she whined, looking up at him with her big blue eyes.

Killian knelt down in front of her. From Elsa’s expression, Ingrid had either told her what was going on, or she picked up on her mother’s apprehension. Elsa stepped forward next to her sister, fixing him with her stare.

“Where are we going, Uncle Killian?” she asked. “All Mama told us was that we needed to pack our suitcases and that we could bring only two favorite toys and two books.”

“I didn’t know what to tell them, Killian,” Ingrid lamented. Killian smiled gently at her, struggling to swallow the lump in his throat. He knew this day would come, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with now that it was here.

Before the ship had even cast off for the Pirate Tour that morning from Boston harbor, he had texted Ingrid to tell her that it was go time. He’d told her when he’d be home that evening and that she and the girls were to meet him at the dock. He would take them to Boston, and they could disappear to anywhere in the world, ensuring their safety from Rumplestiltskin. Shortly after he had revealed everything to her when Emma was just a newborn, he had made financial arrangements for the family in anticipation of this day. A secure offshore bank account in Ingrid’s name would meet all their needs for many, many years to come.

“I’m taking you to Boston, my lambs,” Killian began. “And from there your Mama will be your captain. She’ll be telling you where you’re going and how you’re going to get there.” He smiled at them. “You might be getting on another ship, you might be getting on an airplane, you might be getting on a train or a bus. This is going to be a most excellent adventure. But for now, we must cast off. We’ll be in Boston in no time.” He rose from before them as Ingrid returned from his quarters after settling Emma in bed down below. “Ingrid, take the helm while I weigh anchor,” he ordered. “Girls, go below with Emma.”

Everyone scrambled to obey his orders as he moved to the capstan. The enchantment that the Blue Fairy had placed on the wood of the Jolly all those years ago, still held and enabled him to lift the 112lb anchor himself. Once finished, he joined Ingrid at the helm.

He placed his arm around her shoulders as she finally lost the battle with the tears she’d been holding back. He murmured comfort into the crown of her head as she sobbed into his chest.

“How am I supposed to leave you, Killian?” she cried. “You’ve been with me for most of my life! I’ve always been able to count on you!”

“And you will again, love,” he cajoled. “This is only temporary. As soon as Emma is old enough for me to court, you’ll come back and we’ll be together again.”

She raised her tear stained face up to his. “But, Killian,” she protested, “that’s fifteen years away! How am I supposed to not contact you for that long?”

He turned to her and held her gaze with his own. “Ingrid, I have never met, in all my years of life, a woman as strong as you. Losing your parents when you did, fighting for Gerta not to be separated from you while you were growing up in the system, losing her and Agnar so soon after Anna was born, raising these three girls all by yourself, accepting me into your lives so easily, Ingrid, that takes a tremendous amount of bravery and fortitude,” he asserted. “You will be fine. And so will those girls. Rumplestiltskin will not be able to find you and they will grow up safe, happy, and together. That is all that matters right now.”

Ingrid sniffled again. “I know,” she sighed, “I’m just gonna miss you so much.”

“And I’ll miss you all, too. So much,” he murmured, placing a kiss to her brow.  “Now you go below and be with your girls. We’ll be to Boston in about an hour.” He released her and she made her way below.

~*~*~

Killian entered his quarters after docking in Boston. On his bed, Emma was sound asleep, while at the foot, Ingrid read quietly to Anna and Elsa on either side of her. His heart nearly broke at the sight. He had to be strong for them. This was for their safety. This is what was best, for all of them.

Ingrid looked up at him as he drew near the little family. “We’re here, my lambs,” he choked out. Anna and Elsa looked up at him. Anna jumped to her feet on top of the bed and placed both her hands on his cheeks.

“Don’t be sad, Uncle Killian,” she said, “I’ll write letters to you every week telling you all about our adventures.”

Killian shook his head as he took her little hands in his own. “No, my darling,” he insisted, “You will not be able to write letters to me. You mustn’t contact me at all. Not until Emma is all grown up. When she is, you’ll all be able to come back to me and we can be together again. Is that okay?” He cocked his head toward her as he awaited her answer. When her brow furrowed without one, he continued. “I have to keep you safe, my lamb. And this is the only way to do it. That’s why we have to do this. Why we have to be apart for a little while. When the danger is past, we can be together again.”

The furrow remained on her brow as she raised her eyes to his. “Okay, Uncle Killian.” She nodded decisively. “But I’ll miss you.”

“And I will miss you, my lamb,” he promised, gathering her in his arms. He held his other arm out for Elsa as she launched herself toward him, sobs choking her. Killian closed his eyes as he held these little girls that he loved so much in his arms. After a few minutes, he carried them to the hatch and placed them on the ladder to the deck. They scrambled up as Ingrid came toward him, carrying Emma, still sound asleep.

Killian took her precious cargo so she could climb the ladder then followed along behind her. Reaching the deck, he saw that Ingrid already had Emma’s stroller opened up and he could lay her right down in it. He turned and pressed a kiss into her brow. “I love you, my Swan. I will see you again,” he murmured, setting her down and arranging her so that she could sleep peacefully until she had to awaken. He picked up his end of the stroller as Ingrid grabbed the handle and her own suitcase and carried the stroller containing the sleeping toddler across the deck and down the gangplank. Anna and Elsa followed behind with their own suitcases. Finally depositing the stroller on the quay, he turned back toward them. Kneeling down and opening his arms to them, they ran and nearly knocked him over with the force of their hugs.

“We love you, Uncle Killian,” they cried.

“And I love you, my lambs,” he replied. “Never forget that. We’ll be together again soon. I promise.” He disentangled himself and turned to Ingrid once more.

He gathered her in his arms, whispering endearments into her hair. “It’s okay, Ingrid,” he murmured, “I love you. You can do this. I’ll see you again.”

“I love you too, Killian,” she echoed. “And yes, we’ll see you again.” She pulled back, out of his arms and turned to the girls. “Make sure you have everything. Anna, hand on the stroller.” The tears were gone from her voice, her head held high and her back straight as her brood gathered their suitcases. There was his strong lass. Pride and love for her filled his heart to overflowing. She grabbed her own suitcase and pushing the stroller before her, made her way toward the street without looking back.

“Until we meet again, my loves,” Killian murmured before ascending the gangplank once more to make the journey home.

~*~*~

It was nearly midnight when Killian arrived home that evening. He didn’t expect Starkey to meet him at the door at this hour, but he also didn’t expect to find him being held by Rumplestiltskin in the middle of the morning room, much like the monster had held his brother four hundred years before.

The terror in Starkey’s eyes brought him to a halt. “Welcome home,” the demon singsonged, eyes seeking his own from over his captive’s shoulder, not loosening his grip a single iota.

“What are you doing here,” he growled, anger flowing through him as he advanced on the imp. He wasn’t frozen this time and he wondered if it was possible that the devil had forgotten to do it, or if he had some other plan for him.

“Why must you always insist on asking questions that you already know the answer to,” the monster demanded, giggling. The giggle was suddenly cut off as if with a knife. “I want to know where she is.” His words were slow, deliberate. Carefully enunciated so that Killian knew exactly to whom he was referring.

Righteous anger at this breach of his sanctuary and threatened murder of someone under his protection flooded him. Killian met the eyes of his sire with his own, knowing that Rumple would see nothing of value when their gazes locked. “Who?” he asked.

“Do you really think that now is a good time to antagonize me,” the creature hissed. Killian couldn’t help the little thrill of triumph that skittered across his skin at his opponent’s obvious anger. Looking more closely at his nemesis, his eyes widened as he became aware of something that, he was sure, the imp intended to keep hidden.

Rumplestiltskin was nervous. All of these centuries, he had always held the upper hand. It was why he would always come back. Taunting him, manipulating him, reminding him who held the power. Until now. It hadn’t occurred to his sire that he’d be able to throw off the yoke of oppression that had kept him exactly where the devil had wanted him all these years. The plans and provisions that had been made, long before they were needed, had finally given Killian the upper hand, and the beast was thoroughly rattled by that.

As this realization came over him, pictures that he knew came from his enemy flooded his mind. A wicked looking dagger with Rumplestiltskin’s name on the blade held in the hand of the Blue Fairy. Knowledge that it had the power to kill the monster before him and of where to find it. Killian’s eyes skittered to where his sire’s gold tipped cane lay forgotten on the floor.

With an inhuman howl of rage, Rumplestiltskin threw Starkey to the side like a rag doll. The sickening crack of his skull on the marble floor echoed through the room, but Killian couldn’t do anything about that now. Not with this animal racing to attack.

Killian met this scourge on his entire existence halfway. Blood red eyes shone, exposed fangs glinted in the bright artificial light coming from the kitchen, as Killian crouched and drove his shoulder directly into the rabid creature's abdomen. He flipped over Killian’s shoulder and crashed through the floor to ceiling window behind him, landing flat on his back, briefly knocking the breath out of him.

As Killian came to stand over him, he could see Rumplestiltskin’s face twist in pure malevolence as he struggled to catch his breath. He placed his boot right over his solar plexus and ground down. Only his age as a vampire could explain how quickly he was able to overcome his vulnerability. He screamed in malice, the pitch of his voice rising to the point where Killian nearly stepped away in order to cover his ears. “HOW CAN YOU SEE THAT? NO ONE KNOWS THAT! I WANT HER! WHY CAN’T I SEE HER? TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!”

Killian lifted his enemy from the ground, grabbing the top of his head. He pulled as hard as he could, forcing his head back as he hissed in the cursed creature's ear. “I don’t know where she is and you are never going to find her. We are going to defeat you, Rumplestiltskin. I swore that I would destroy you, and when my love comes back to me, we will find you and fulfill that oath.” Holding the monster tightly in his arms, Killian dove in, piercing his sire’s flesh with his fangs. Blood flooded his mouth as he drank deeply. This time, he was able to shield his mind so that all his attention, all his concentration was focused on the blood. There was nothing else. Nothing to fear giving away and nothing to fear receiving from the evil creature. Rumplestiltskin continued to scream and struggle against him, but it was no use. He grew weaker and weaker as Killian continued to feed.

In a last, desperate attempt to free himself from Killian’s iron embrace, the devil was actually able to free one of its arms and reach for the back of his head. Killian took the opportunity to tear open the monster’s neck, blood spraying everywhere, exposing muscle, tendon, and sinew. The arm fell lifeless to his side and the demon was finally still.

Killian held no illusions that he was actually dead. He could already see the wounds he inflicted stitching together. He knew he had only a few minutes to save Starkey, if he wasn’t already dead, and get Rumplestiltskin out of his home. He dropped the animal at his feet and made his way to where Starkey lay, motionless. He breathed a sigh of relief when he could discern a faint heartbeat and a shallow breath. Piercing his own wrist with his fangs, he held it to Starkey’s lips and let just a few drops land on his tongue. Now confident that his butler would be fine, he turned back to where he had left Rumplestiltskin.

The Blue Fairy stood over the still unconscious creature. Killian’s eyes widened in surprise, then anger.

“What are you doing here?” he shouted, advancing on her. She gave no sign that she had heard him. In the face of her silence, he couldn’t help but ask the question that had plagued him for centuries. “Where have you been all these years?”

The fairy raised her face to his, sorrow swirling in the depths of her brown eyes. “There is no time to answer the many questions and righteous anger that you have right now. They can wait until after I’ve dealt with,” a sneer crossed her features as she looked down at the imp, “this.” The fairy waved her wand over the still motionless creature. He was enveloped in a cloud of blue smoke and disappeared.

Killian was startled. “Where did he go?” he asked, “Where did you send him?”

“Somewhere far from here,” the fairy answered. “Now,” she continued, looking toward him again and squaring her shoulders, “I am at your disposal.” Killian stood staring at the fairy, stunned speechless. The stuttering inhale, determined tilt of her chin, and ramrod straight posture told him that she truly was ready to face whatever questions that he had for her. He ushered her back into the kitchen and prepared them both some tea.

“Why now?” he asked, laying out the tea and sitting next to her at the table. “Where have you been all these years?” That had to be first. He had to know why she had failed so completely in her sworn protection of his family.

The Blue Fairy bowed her head in shame. “When your father sent you and Liam to negotiate that treaty, he was acting on the information that I gave him. Rumplestiltskin was, by that time, a master at manipulating magic and he appeared to be gathering his forces in order to make good his threat upon your family. Your father wanted you both to be safe, so he sent you away. I learned too late that it was nothing more than a diversion. By that time, Liam was already dead and you had disappeared.”

She looked up at his face, obviously trying to gauge how he was taking this information. He refused to let her off the hook. He already knew all this, he wanted to know about the intervening centuries. “I, of course, knew exactly where you were and what had happened to you.” Her eyes turned pleading, filling with tears. “You have to understand. Please, I was Fairy Godmother to your family for generations. I knew your father’s great-grandfather. I have loved your family for centuries before you were even born. I… I couldn’t face your father and mother. I couldn’t be the one to tell them what had happened to you. What had happened to you both.” She bowed her head again. “I was a coward. I failed in my oath, and then I abandoned my family. My duty. Since then, I’ve tried to make it right. I have watched over you, protected and prospered you.”

Killian couldn’t help but snort. “Protected me? You call letting Rumplestiltskin nearly sink the Jolly, multiple times due to magical storms, protecting me?”

She gave him an unamused eyebrow raise. “No, I call keeping you from falling overboard during those storms protecting you. And keeping the Black Death away from you, both while you were in London, and when it was unleashed on your ship. Those are some of the ways I protected you over the years. You may be a vampire, but you are still subject to some of the frailties of your human body.”

“I see,” he replied. His fury drained away, becoming compassion. He took a deep breath and turned gentle eyes on her. “I understand. If I had been in your position…” he trailed away, “I don’t think I’d have done much differently.”

“Thank you,” she said, sincerely.

After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. “Why now?” He repeated his question from earlier. “Why show yourself now? If you’ve been watching and protecting me all these years, why are you now letting me know that?”

The Blue Fairy fixed him with a fierce stare. “Because you are correct in saying that this time, you and Emma will succeed. Rumplestiltskin and the Darkness have served their purpose in history and their time is rapidly coming to an end. It is your time now. Your’s and your soulmate’s.”

Understanding dawned on Killian. “It was you,” he breathed, “You wrote the prophecy.” The fairy nodded. “You made Emma my soulmate. You’ve brought us together all these times.”

“Yes,” she agreed, “And each time I brought you together, Rumplestiltskin has managed to work circumstances in his own favor and ensure that you and your soulmate were never able to fulfill the prophecy. This time, however, you have been able to do the same. This time is your time. Live your life in peace until Emma returns to you. Once she does, the clock will begin ticking. Rumplestiltskin will also return and you will have to face him. The visions you had revealed the way to defeat him.”

Killian startled. “What? How do you know about that?”

She laughed. “I was the one who gave them to you, Killian,” she exclaimed. “I made that dagger when Rumplestiltskin became a vampire in order to destroy him and the Darkness forever. When I was unable to accomplish that back then, he enchanted the dagger so that I can’t even touch it. But you, or your soulmate, can. Use the knowledge I’ve given you. It will serve you well.”

“Can you tell me anything about Emma,” he begged. “Why her? What makes her my soulmate? Does she know? Has she ever known? Will she know?”

“True Love’s magic,” the fairy answered, “You were both created out of True Love. True Love that has carried down through the centuries. That is what made her FOR you. To answer your question ‘has she known’, she has felt the connection with you in the past. Not as strongly as you. Your senses are enhanced because of what you are. But she has not recognized it for what it truly was. Except that time in Chicago. She was so close to death, that she did recognize your connection. This time, when she returns, she will again. The True Love that you will hold together will destroy the Darkness forever.”

Killian’s eyes widened at the revelation that he was also created out of True Love. He knew that Emma was. He had seen it first hand in David and Mary Margaret. And while he knew that his parents loved each other deeply, hearing from the fairy’s own lips that they were also True Love, made Killian’s heart soar. “What about now? Is she safe?” he worried.

“Know that Emma and her family are safe, and will continue to be. She will return and the path forward will be laid before you.” Killian sat back, lost in thought, mind swirling with all the revelations of the night. The fairy was silent for a few minutes before she cleared her throat and stood from the table. “And now, I must bid you farewell, Killian Jones.”

Killian was brought back to the kitchen and company before him. “Thank you,” he breathed, sincerely, “I won’t waste the knowledge or opportunity you’ve blessed me with.” Nodding, she waved her wand, shrinking down to the size of his hand and disappeared into the night.

Turning back toward Starkey, Killian was gratified that his heart rate and breathing were steady. He picked the man up easily and carried him toward his own apartments a little further down the wing. He knew that come morning, he was going to have a lot of explaining to do. But as he refused to exercise his powers of persuasion or compulsion on his faithful servant of many years, there was no other way around it. After making sure he was comfortable in his own bed, he climbed the stairs to his own chambers.

Laying down on his own bed, Killian finally allowed the emotion of the day to wash over him. What had started out as any other day became one of the worst and then one of the best of his long, long life. He had answers. Emma and her family were safe. He was assured that he would see her again. He’d been patient before, he could do it again.

With a smile on his lips, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

~*~*~

See? Happy right? Thanks for reading and sharing!

#cssns20 #of darkness vampires and soulmates #krystal writes #art by spartanguard #ch5

[emeraldragonfly]

The Cycle of the Seasons in the Desert

The pagan Sabbats follow the cycle of the seasons, and often, this cycle is easy to visualize. In terms of temperature, of course, we generally have:

Winter/Cold --> Spring/Warm --> Summer/Hot --> Fall/Cool

We go from cold to warm to hot to cool and repeat. In terms of how the plants and animals respond to the seasons, we tend to think of it like this:

Winter/Death/Hibernate --> Spring/Mate/Birth/Growth -->

Summer/Birth/Mature/Growth --> Autumn/Fade/Hoard Food

We say the seasons follow the cycle of birth, growth, death, and rebirth. 

That’s all pretty straightforward. The problem is . . . those concepts don’t apply equally well to all climates on earth.

Now that I’m in the southwest US desert, some of the pagan holidays seem a bit, well, out of step with what’s going on outside. It’s taken me some time to ponder these differences. I’m going to summarize some major ones now.

The Desert Simply Isn’t Well Suited to Farming

A lot of the cycle of life metaphors used are ones about farming. You ‘sow’ new ideas and projects in the spring, nurture them over the summer, ‘reap’ the fruits of your efforts in the fall, and rest in the winter and plan the new year. Also, the pagan holidays often feature feasts that involve crop foods that are in season for those times of the year. 

Here’s the thing though-- I’m in the middle of Utah. This is not a great place to grow crops. It never has been. Do we grow some crops here? Sure, of course. Mostly hay for cattle, in fact. Also certain grains like corn and barley. But really, most of Utah’s agriculture comes from cattle, who can free-graze on the local, desert-tolerant brush. The fact is, the soil and climate are not suited for most typical crops. And growing them requires expending a lot of extra resources.

There’s a reason why the Native Americans who were here long before white people didn’t farm extensively. They mostly relied on hunting and gathering, with some supplemental farming near rivers (which allowed for irrigating crops). So, the idea of huge harvests of typical crops, full of lush fruits and vegetables, and feasts organized around them, isn’t very meaningful here.

A Yearly ‘Death’ or Winter Hibernation Is Not Universal

Many, many animals do indeed hibernate or otherwise enter some sort of state of decreased acitvity during the winter. They do this to conserve energy when resources are scarce. In plants, this can be seen very dramatically when plants die off entirely and go to seed, or when deciduous trees shed their leaves and remain as dormant, bare-limbed creatures for a time. 

The thing is, while a winter hibernation is very common in a lot of plants and animals . . . there’s also a lot who don’t follow that rule. 

Plenty of animals remain active year-round. They may simply shift the emphasis in their diets during winter. For example, the cute little white-tailed antelope squirrels eat a lot of vegetation in spring and summer while it’s growing, but in fall and winter they focus more on fruits and seeds. Cottontails and jackrabbits eat fresh vegetation in spring and summer but focus on woody plants and dry vegetation in fall and winter. 

Other animals may travel back and forth between spring and winter feeding-grounds within their home range. Mule deer feed at higher elevations during the spring growing season and then switch to lower elevations during winter (where there’s much less snow). 

Other animals might migrate greater distances to warmer, wetter places during winter. Birds are especially known for having a lot of species that migrate, and a lot of our ducks are only seasonal residents here.

Whatever method used, for many animals winter is not a time of rest at all, but of steady activity.

This holds true for plants, as well. Many plants are “evergreen.” In the desert, many of the shrubs, cacti, succulents and trees are evergreen. They do not undergo that dramatic death or dormancy, and instead just steadily go about doing their planty business. Many of the typical “signals” to people that winter is coming-- the leaves are falling, animals are vanishing or going to sleep-- just aren’t here. Many of us are just carrying on as usual.

Summer is a More Complex Season Here

The typical view of summer is that it’s a celebration of the power of the sun, of the vitality and abundance of life, a time of handfasting, and of enjoying early harvests. 

It has a different flavor in the desert, though. While summer is certainly a time of growth and power, it’s also other things, too. Summers here are intense. Absolutely scorching, in fact. Temps climbing into the triple F digits is pretty normal-- expect something in the 90s or 100s. It’s genuinely a life-threatening risk for hyperthermia and dehydration for people who don’t take appropriate precautions. Summer needs to be taken seriously. Outdoor activities are . . . pretty hard to enjoy in these conditions. Especially when the windstorms kick in, blasting scorching hot winds and sharp sands and red dirt into your face. Even when the sun sets it can take a long time for the place to cool down. If you want to go for a comfortable walk outside during summer, you pretty much can only aim for a very short window of opportunity in the very early morning-- but better be quick, because it won’t last long.

This isn’t difficult just for people. Animals face the same challenges. How do they deal with it? By being very selective about when they are active during summer. Almost every single animal in the desert avoids midday entirely, staying hidden the shade of shrubs or in underground dens, where things are cooler. (I think the only animal here that braves the raw sun are the ants-- remarkable little creatures.) Animals will be active either in early morning and evening or are completely nocturnal. Many, many desert creatures come out at night, when the world is at a much more tolerable level.

In fact, the summer heat and dryness can be so intense that some animals will even enter into a special type of summer hibernation. This is called estivation. They bury themselves underground and await cooler temperatures and rainfall.

In any case, the point is that summer is a time of rest and sheltering for desert inhabitants. This is normally only associated with winter, but our summer extremes are often a reason to conserve energy and shelter from the sun as well. 

The funny thing is, summer is not just a time of rest and shelter. It’s also a time of growth and activity. Animal breeding is often in full swing during the summer, as well as plant growth and plant reproduction. Why is that?

Our summer has two faces because while it’s our most extreme time of year in terms of heat and dryness, it’s also the growing and monsoon season. Deserts, as you know, get very little precipitation. That’s what defines a desert. A lot of our water comes from melted snow that gathers in the mountains over the winter, which then runs into rivers. But the rest comes from what little rain we do get. Most of our rain occurs in spring, paving the way for a busy summer: Plants grow in the spring, ensuring there’s food available in summer, and thus, it’s a good time for animals to breed. Additionally, there are the summer rains.

The summer rains or “monsoons” (really just thunderstorms) come suddenly and with little warning. They then will dump incredible amounts of water onto the ground. The soils here are very poor at absorbing the water, so we get what we call “flash floods.” There’s this sudden overabundance of water in a place that’s normally starved for it. Animals and plants RUSH to take advantage while they can. Plants suck up as much as possible (cacti and succulents are designed to be huge sponges for these events), as do animals. Frogs and other amphibians, as well as arthropods like dragonflies, quickly breed in temporary puddles while they have the chance. It’s a great frenzy of activity. They don’t have much time because not long after the flood, things will dry up again.

So, in conclusion, our summer has two extreme sides: lots of rest and sheltering from the raw power of the sun, and a rush of activity, fertility and relative abundance. 

Ok. So I’ve rambled on about all these differences in the desert. But what’s the take-away from all this? How can we incorporate it into our pagan or Wiccan practice? 

I have a few ideas.

Reduce Farming and Feasting Metaphors: Replace With Foraging

We aren’t usually wandering along plentiful apple orchards here, or fields of potatoes, or filling our larders with cheeses, or slaughtering loads of lambs, or any of that. The traditional Celtic foods and feasts don’t really fit in here-- nor does the lifestyle. Does that mean you can’t be a pagan in the desert?

No, I don’t think that’s what it means. I think it just means maybe adjusting things a little. Maybe lean less on these farming metaphors for sowing and reaping, and less on those traditional foods. 

They can be replaced with the kind of story that this desert tells us. This is a different story, a lot less about the hard labor of planting large quantities of crops, all the anticipatory waiting for it to grow, the praying for good rains and sun to nurture the crops. A lot of the story of living in the desert comes from foraging. Foraging in an arid desert is not an easy affair. Survival itself in the desert is often not an easy affair. Life is more scarce in the desert because resources are more scarce here. Things are more spread out and scant. You must forage and eat what you can find, often traveling and working quite a bit to gather up enough food. 

Native Americans found things such as roots (wapato, wild onions, sego lily bulbs), seeds (bulrush, goosefoot, pine nuts, sunflower), grains, and other plant parts (wild rice, ricegrass, pickleweed, thistles, cactus flower buds, cactus fruits). There also were berries (raspberries, chokecherries, strawberries) and insects-- a very healthy source of protein (grasshoppers, crickets, ants). Of course, there was also small game (rabbits, mice, squirrels, waterfowl) and occasionally larger game. 

This may not sound very glamorous to you, or very tasty. But it is very resourceful, and sometimes the focus was more on survival than on being gourmet. 

What I propose is that desert pagans think about foraging metaphors and not just farming ones. The steady work of gathering up lots of little bits here and there-- that’s a useful metaphor too, in my mind. Sometimes projects aren’t just about sowing, nurturing and reaping. Sometimes projects are about the steady daily work of foraging, making progress bit by bit. Making use of what you can find, crafting useful things out of them, and ultimately accomplishing something surprisingly huge at the end. Remember, Native Americans even in this harsh desert built incredible, massive apartment-like structures into the cliffs. The “slow and steady” work of foraging (or of erosion!) is a useful metaphor too.

As to celebratory foods . . . why not draw inspiration from Native Americans or early white settler’s ideas on cuisine? Here’s a link to a great article about some Native American recipes (from, you know, an actual Native American). Of course I am not suggesting you treat these things like you “own” them. These inspirations may not come from your personal direct ancestors. But it’s still valid to respectfully borrow cuisine ideas from others! These are foods that grow naturally here or are more easily farmed here, so it makes sense to celebrate with foods that connect you to the land here.

Consider Alternative Seasonal Cycle Ideas

I have been trying for months now to develop an alternative to the traditional season cycle. The traditional one is something like this:

Winter (Death/Rest) ---> Spring (Birth/Growth) ---> Summer (Birth/Growth) ---> Fall (Mature/Wane)

What if we consider our ideas on how many plants and animals here are “evergreens,” and the fact that summer here is a little bit different? Maybe it would look more like this:

Winter (Rest/Forage) ---> Spring (Birth/Growth) ---> Summer (Birth/Growth/Rest) ---> Fall (Mature/Forage)

This suggestion gives two seasons of rest, during the most extreme times of year; winter and summer. It gives two seasons of growth and fertility, during the “light seasons” of spring and summer. And it gives two seasons of “foraging” during the “dark seasons” of fall and winter.

I’m using the word “foraging” as a moderate word that can fit in-between the life energy extremes of “death/rest” and “growth/reproduce.” For animals, foraging is the calm, steady work of searching for and gathering food. It’s a time when you are not hibernating but you also are not putting out the explosion of energy that comes with new growth and reproduction. For evergreen plants, “foraging” is the steady work of photsynthesis that continues even in dark seasons. You’re not doing much new growth or blooming flowers/etc., but you’re not in total dormancy either.

Ultimately these suggested changes are not huge. But I think they’re tweaks that help us connect more! We can see winter as a time of rest for some, enjoying the old traditional metaphors of winter. But we can also see winter as a time of steady progress for the ‘evergreen’ among us. For summer, we can see it as a time of much growth and vitality, but we can also acknowledge that resting and recovering in between moments of intense energy is a good thing and a part of the desert’s cycle.

#myposts #living in the desert #desert pagans #long post #holidays #sabbats #wheel of the year #this got longer than I intended but I promise I make some actual suggestions

[stqnleybarber]

MODERN LOSERS CLUB HEADCANONS

(They’re all 16/17)

BILL

- Probably a gamer

- Unironically wears shirts with memes printed on them

- Still wears flannels but she wears them over shirts now because he is “””cool”””

- In a poly relationship with Stan & Richie

- They’re all very in love

- He’s like 6’1

- He’s salty because Stan is taller than him but we been knew

- Buts he’s happy because he’s 17 while Richie and Stan are 16

- He one said “I guess I’m your daddy” to Richie in referral to his age

- But then he realised how weird that sounded

- And just straight up walked away while all the other losers cackled

- Stan still brings it up

- Bill hates that

- Still has a hobby for writing

- But it spawned from writing overwatch fan fiction when he was 13

- It’s cursed as hell

- He studies English though because he still wants to be a writer

- In conclusion he’s a huge dorky meme and we love him

STAN

- He has a pet cockatoo

- Her name is Penny

- She was named that before Pennywise

- Luckily all the losers can laugh about it

- He plays baseball and is on the team

- He is a lot more laid back then he used to be

- He still gets uptight in stressful situations though

- He studies maths because he’s a smartass

- Very much in love with Richie and Bill

- He’s 6’2

- He holds that inch above Bill constantly

- He vibes very well with Mike

- They love to bond over their mutual love for animals

- He’s still sassy constantly

- His dry humour has earned him a lot of TikTok followers

- He’s unsure on how he feels about that

- He has 24.8k

- He thinks it’s not a lot but the other losers are bewildered

- Understandably

RICHIE

- Like fuck would he believe in gender roles

- Skirts and crop tops? Sign Richie up

- Best friends 5 ever with Bev

- Their friendship is so deep and pure no one can compete

- He runs a pretty popular YouTube channel

- It’s extremely chaotic

- The losers also frequently appear on the channel

- Some fan favourites are:

1. Yeah we gay, keep scrolling (Q&A with the loves of my life)

2. Where’s the billie eyelash glue (Richie & Bev try makeup)

3. I’m alfredo of spaghetti (Cooking with Eddie)

4. Lamb.. Why sheep are great (Stan Michael Hanlon)

5. HoUsE (Minecraft with Benny Handsome)

- He is 5’8 and not the slightest bit mad to be the shortest boyfriend

- He thrives off the attention

- Diagnosed with ADHD when he was 6

- His aesthetic is art hoe and he actually dressed pretty normally

- Thank you Bev

- In conclusion; He’s beautiful and we stan

BEV

- Fashion goddess

- She runs a very popular fashion tumblr blog

- She is beauty, she is grace, she will kick you in the face

- About 5’8 but definitely 5’10 in heals

- She’s definitely bi but very in love with Ben

- They’ve been dating for 4 years

- She’s 16 while Ben is 17

- Her crackhead energy is wild

- She’s pretty grudge but with pops of colour throughout

- As I said before

- FASHION GODESS

- She’s too powerful in her platform shoes

- She doesn’t smoke much anymore as she knows it worries Ben to no end

- Heterosexual power couple

- She studies fashion and dreams to become a designer

- But for now she’s happy with her fashion blog

- Let’s not forget she’d sell her soul for her boys any day of the week

- She also lives with her aunt who is lovely and adores all the boys

- Please stan Beverly Marsh

BEN

- Most loveable nerd on the planet

- Has a whole ass library in his bedroom

- Plays Minecraft too much to be humanly possible

- He just loves to build tho

- LET MY MAN BUILD DAMN

- He’s about 6’0

- He’s has a soft boy aesthetic

- The contrast between him and Bev is godly

- He plays on the football team with Mike

- He’s lost a ton of weight

- “Brazilian soccer player”

- He now has girls fawning over him

- But he’s head over heels for Bev and she knows it

- He’s the only straight loser so he constantly squares up to homophobes

- In the words of Richie, again

- “It’s so hot when Ben gets out his big manly muscles and tells Belch to fuck off”

- No matter how tough he looks he is still a huge puffball

- He’s actually pretty popular

- Everyone loves his friendly face

- Ben “Handsome” is pure and deserves the world, send tweet

MIKE

- Also relatively popular

- He’s attractive and friendly what more could you want

- That’s what all the pining girls say

- Too bad his heart belongs to the one and only Eddie Kaspbrak

- A unique, extremely athletic couple

- He’s about 6’2

- The height difference between Mike and Eddie

- Immaculate.

- Yet Mike is still the little spoon sometimes

- The losers have no idea how

- He has a heart of gold

- He’s still a huge history nerd

- Find him on wiki at 2 am reading about the history of the arctic

- That actually happened

- Eddie wasn’t sure how to feel

- Although he’s super friendly

- He has punched many a homophobe

- He loves the losers to much to see them get abuse like that

- Mike Hanlon owns a good 50% of my heart

- As he rightfully should.

EDDIE

- Trackstar Ed’s

- Once he realised all his meds were bullshit he rebelled against his mom

- Which led him straight to running track

- He loves the thrill of winning

- And the feeling of the wind blowing away all this problems

- He’s about 5’6 on a good day

- It’s painful

- He is still very feral and full of rage

- But in the best way possible

- He still reps the red running shorts

- Mike be like: 0//////0

- He’s a grumpy gremlin but he’s also very sweet

- The mixed messages are real

- His long angry rants have gained him quite the twitter following

- He says “okay boomer” too many times to calculate

- Stan has tried

- And failed

- In conclusion: Rabies

#vee rambles #modern losers club #modern losers #it moive #it2017 #it 2017 #it 2019 #it2019 #it chapter 1 #it chapter 2 #it chapter one #it chapter two #bill denbrough #stan uris #richie tozier #beverly marsh #bev marsh #ben hanscom #mike hanlon #eddie kaspbrak #the losers club #losers club #losers club headcanons #losers club hcs #headcanon #it headcanons #it hcs #benverly #kasplon #stenbrozier

[theda-rison]

Thursday Night Link Roundup - December 3rd

Hello! Happy end of Nanowrimo! I hope you won, and if you didn’t win, I hope you learned something important that will help you win next year :)

So I had to cool it on the Thursday Night Link Roundups for a bit; I just didn’t have the time to devote to arranging and having opinions about stuff (and then writing them down for you guys to read) between work and Nano. But, at least until the stuff for my Steno Keyboard gets here, I have nothing to do now (aside from work, but it’s not like I do that for fun or anything).

Anyway, let’s jump into it. *bad green screen of me jumping into the internet, à la a 90s infotainment VHS about the internet*

If you haven’t already watched it, here’s the third part of Ms Luna Oi’s series on Dialectical Materialism. After all the things she discussed in the other two videos, she discusses the three basic rules of Materialist Dialectics.

Since it’s been a while since I watched this video (because of my unintended break) so I can’t remember too much detail on it, but it is a good video.

This video… I can’t tell how old the two people in it are: they go back and forth between sounding like old codgers (at least) in their 50s and “the youngin’” because of all the Minecraft references. I am so confused. Untitled Engineering Disaster Podcast-like content Episode 1: The Silver Bridge Disaster by donoteat01, which later went on to become a podcast called Well There’s Your Problem, which has its own youtube channel.

I had no idea about all of this stuff about bridge building. I knew some of the details of the Silver Bridge disaster, but I didn’t know about the eyebars (or I forgot about it) or the rocker towers. Like… I can’t imagine the thought process that goes into “what is the towers themselves moved?” when like… normally they don’t? I’m not an engineer but it seems like such a weird way to solve a problem. “What if this gigantic, heavy thing weren’t solid and needed to be held up by these precarious chain links?” is not a thought I could imagine crossing my mind even if I were an engineer. 

Also: the sheer inanity of making something that you don’t have the technology to detect problems (the hairline crack in the eyebar).

I can’t understand why no one blamed the company who built the bridge, btw. They built a shit bridge and should have been sued.

When I was in my early 20s, I remember justifying my dropping out of graphic design “college” (it wasn’t) by saying something like, “Why the fuck would I want to spend my life convincing a bunch of people to buy shit they don’t need with money they don’t have?” when one of my parents’ friends told me I could have gone into advertising. Not the first time I’ve had thoughts of a popular philosopher in my youth without having heard of them beforehand. (“Do I exist because I think? IF I STOP THINKING, WILL I STOP EXISTING??” suddenly popped into my head and caused an existential crisis for a few days when I was in junior high.)

Tom Nicholas explains the Society of the Spectacle, which partly involves the explanation of how advertisement companies are selling an image rather than an actual product. Trying to game the “Keeping up with the Joneses,” idea, if you will.

I, like many kids, read Dr. Seuss books. They might be one of the things that really made me love the English language, just because of how he bent and shaped it into the amazing poetry that went along with his strange and wonderful art. I distinctly remember reading And To Think That I Saw It On Mulberry street in the grade “before I was supposed to be reading it” and being asked by the teacher how I was even understanding it (I guess the rest of the class was on “See Spot Run” type of books or whatever). I can’t even remember my answer. Probably a shrug and then wishing they would leave me alone so I could get back to reading, lol.

But Dr. Seuss had even weirder art that I can appreciate now as an adult. Solar Sands’ video, The Secret Darker Art of Dr. Seuss, shows off some of his “Midnight Paintings” that he painted for himself. I need to see if there was ever an art book published of all or any of it, because they��re so interesting. You can still see his strangely whimsical style, many but with darker colors that almost make them seem more… horror-ish.

I forgot that I had the first part of this ProZD video in the list before this. Here’s the next part.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sasdCg4da4o

Ahh…. I miss Vine.

Songs of the Week:

KILL BILL (The Lonely Shepherd) by Luca Stricagnoli

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K6ghK-z3qsY

I don’t know what the contraption is that this guy made, but it sounds really cool in the song. Also, props for making a whole little set to play in, lol.

Lamb of God - Grace (hurdy gurdy cover) by Michalina Malisz

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-W-s6yHlbtA

I will admit, I do not listen to Lamb of God, I’m not sure why but it’s a band I’ve never gotten into. However, I love the way this song sounds on Hurdy Gurdy and I might check out the actual band now. If I don’t like it, I’ll just listen to this cover over and over. 

Also, how is there not a Doom Metal or Ambient Black Metal hurdy gurdy band yet? Some amazing musician, please make this.

Djent 2018 by Jared Dines

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hYrN7EIeXmY

I don’t know if I’ve ever even heard a Djent song before. Like, I could not tell you the name of a Djent band, and then all of a sudden - I guess around 2018 - my feed was filled with people making fun of it. I don’t know, I like the way this song sounds at least? Maybe there’s something about the vocals that makes it suck? I have no idea. I have no desire to investigate further.

I don’t know, it’s giving me strong Gojira vibes in certain spots.

Unlike my desire for a Doom Metal (or Ambient Black Metal) hurdy gurdy band, I’m fine with just this.

#3rd #December #2020 #December 3rd 2020 #luna oi #marxism #dialectical materialism #material dialectics #Well There's Your Problem #Silver Bridge disaster #Mothman #Guy Debord #society of the spectacle #advertising #philosophy #Tom Nicholas #Dr. Seuss #Solar Sands #The Midnight Paintings #ProZD #Vine #Kill Bill #Luca Stricagnoli #Lamb of God #Grace #hurdy gurdy #Michalina Malisz #Jared Dines #Djent 2018

[britishassistant]

But I Like One Piece (17)

Unsurprisingly, they stay in for the rest of the day.

Naruto and Lee badger her to show them more of the “singy thing language”, so she writes out the alphabet for them.

It’s actually a bit difficult to translate individual letters back into the language of this world, which is based on grouping sounds that all involve vowels. The idea of singular consonants without that does take a bit for them to grasp.

Eventually she just grabs paper and some pencil and shows them how to write their names.

Lee’s name is easiest, and he delights in how quickly he masters the curves of the “r” and “e”s to write it out over and over again, each version getting a little bit more of a flourish.

Naruto struggles a bit more with his, given the larger number of letters in both his first and last names and his insistence on trying to write the cross of the “t” and then the stalk, like it’s a hiragana character.

“But why can’t I write it that way?” He whines.

“Because that’s not the way it’s written.” She replies primly, avoiding her mother’s knowing gaze and memories of being gently scolded for writing hiragana characters like they were “t”s.

Years of giving up pudding cups have proven that she’s weak to Naruto’s whining, so eventually she just gives up and lets him write it whatever way he wants to.

It’s not long until the adults join in as well.

Okaa-san’s handwriting is flawless like her calligraphy, producing the most legible iterations of her name once she’s got the spelling down.

Gai-sensei produces the most written versions of his name, though that’s probably her fault for telling him his name could either be spelled G-A-I or G-U-Y. He seems to have decided to claim both spellings for himself, if his dedication to making sure he can write each properly is anything to go by.

Otou-san is just worrying over whether his name looks better with or without the “u” on the end.

Gai-sensei is also very interested in directions as well, for some reason. He makes her go over «left», «right», «up», «down», «behind», «ahead», «go», and «stop» until he, Naruto, and Lee have them all quasi-memorized.

Then her mother asks her about English swear words.

It isn’t until she’s finished running through them all and Okaa-san sweetly says, “If I catch you saying any of those, you’ll be banned from cooking for a week, alright?” that she realizes she’s been tricked.

Otou-san and Gai-sensei are awful at muffling their snickers.

They end up preparing a very late lunch/early dinner.

Turns out divulging her biggest secret and trying to guide her family through the travesty that is the English language is long and hungry work.

A few filets of the lamb come out to rest for an hour, because Naruto asks about some of the dishes from her past life.

While the idea of making a Proper Roast Dinner on her own still turns her stomach, she figures she can at least adapt the meat into the “plate-2-bowls” format.

She crushes a clove of garlic and takes a generous donation from Habu-san to prepare a marinade. “So, any more questions?”

“What kind of training did you do in your Springtime of Youth?” Lee asks, eagerly.

She feels sweat trickle down the side of her face as she finishes marinating the meat and sets it aside to rest before grilling. “Ah, not much really. I was more the... scholarly type—I’d rather have my nose in a book than do much physical activity.”

The thought of her past self trying to tackle anywhere near the amount of exercise she does now...

“I would die.” She states. “That me would die even trying to do a half-lap around our training field.”

There’s a moment of silence that feels highly judgmental.

“...That’s kinda lame, Mayu-chan.” Naruto says.

“I know.” She hides her face in her marinade-covered hands. “Can we not talk about it please?”

“You were the one who opened the topic of conversation, sweetheart.” Okaa-san says, putting the rice on.

“Regardless of the folly of the past, your determination to fulfill your creed has allowed you to blossomed into the Springtime of your Youth!” Gai-sensei shoots her a thumbs-up and a reassuring beam.

She smiles back weakly as Otou-san starts wiping the bits of rosemary and garlic off her face with a wet cloth and a chuckle.

After the marinade is cleaned off and the meat is grilling, she’s left to puzzle over what side dishes to make.

Traditionally, the lamb would be served with root vegetables—potatoes or turnips or swedes, parsnips roasted in honey—but alongside the rice, that many carbohydrates in one meal would be far too heavy, especially for the others who are used to smaller, more balanced portions.

Just as she’s wondering what to do, a bunch of green onions appears on the counter in front of her.

Her mind ticks over possibilities. They’re not leeks, but maybe roasted and served in miso soup...

She grins and grabs a knife.

The onions are diced into perfectly even rounds, sizzling to a perfectly browned texture before the dashi comes to a boil and tofu is cubed and dropped in alongside the onions and some dried seaweed to mellow the flavor.

Somehow a red cabbage appears under her knife, and is chopped into manageable slivers, joining orange slices without the skin and a light vinaigrette that tastes a little sharp, like lemon, on the plate.

The lamb filets come off the grill, each one a warm pink in the middle when they’re sliced against the grain.

The scent of cigarette smoke is barely noticeable under the delicious smells of food.

The cuts of lamb are arranged against the little piles of salad, the umami of the meat and its marinade balanced by the more refreshing flavors of fresh fruit and vegetables.

The miso barely splashes as she pours it into six bowls, onion and tofu bobbing merrily as she spoons generous portions of rice into the rice bowls.

She turns around, ready to serve—

Only to find the other occupants of the kitchen staring at her, frozen.

Gai-sensei’s mouth is hanging open. Otou-san has a hand on his bokkem.

Lee’s eyes are wide and starry. Naruto’s mouth is curving into an excited grin.

Her mother swallows and takes a breath to compose herself. Her voice is slightly strangled.

“Mayu. Let’s talk about boundaries for y—for those deities to follow when they’re interacting with my little girl, alright?”

A shiver goes down not-her spine at the look in Okaa-san’s eyes.

Late lunch/early dinner is delicious, even with the revelation that she had had help (Sanji’s help!) for cooking a lot of it.

According to Lee and Naruto’s enthusiastic descriptions, he’d actually appeared behind her, washed out and slightly blue and see-through, like an underdeveloped photograph, but there. He’d nudged ingredients towards her, steadied her hands while cutting and pouring, then looked over to them with a press of his fingers to his lips and a wink before vanishing just as she turned around.

She has to cover her face with her hands and turn to the side in her chair so she can kick her legs wildly at the thought of receiving Sanji’s unseen aid, let alone him actually touching her.

Her cheeks feel like they could melt snow, they’re so hot.

Gai-sensei volunteers to search all over Konoha in order to find Sanji for her mother, who is not very happy that the chef escaped before she could Have A Word with him.

To be fair, if she were Sanji, she’d probably run away before her mother could Have A Word with her too.

Lee is also on board with this plan, though both he and Gai-sensei are stumped when Naruto asks where to start looking.

Otou-san suggests they build a shrine for the StrawHats in the back garden.

“After all,” He says, swallowing a bite of lamb. “Providing these deities with a place of worship might help...ground them, somewhat, lessen anything nasty if they’re accidentally offended. It’ll give us a sure way to contact them whenever we want too, rather than just waiting for them to pop up willy-nilly.”

“An excellent idea, Jirou!” Gai-sensei cheers. Her father flushes bright red and shoves more food into his mouth.

On Monday, she goes to the Academy flanked by Naruto and Lee.

The masks are in the branches of practically every tree they pass.

She keeps her gaze on the ground and clutches Lee and Naruto’s hands a little tighter in her own.

Lee doesn’t seem to want to let go when it’s time for them to go to their separate classes. She gives him a hug, and that seems to placate him a little.

Naruto just doesn’t let go.

For the entire morning.

Even when it becomes difficult to write down notes for Iruka-sensei’s lectures, he holds on tight to her hand or her wrist.

She feels a bit bad for feeling grateful when they take their usual places at either end of the lunch table, but she was beginning to get worried he wouldn’t even let go if she needed to use the restroom.

Everything seems to pass as normal, even with Sakura’s strange behavior and Chouji’s continual bouts of summer flu. She’s getting quite worried about his health at this point.

They stay behind after the Academy day ends to ask Iruka-sensei about shrine-building. While he personally doesn’t know much about it, he very helpfully points them towards a few stores that do specialize in that sort of thing.

Okaa-san and Lee are waiting outside the gates to walk them home.

She sleeps in the big bed with Okaa-san and Otou-san like she did over the weekend.

A week goes by.

Nothing out of the ordinary happens.

She trains with Gai-sensei in the mornings, they all eat breakfast together, she, Lee and Naruto go to the Academy, she and Naruto eat with their friends at lunchtime, either Okaa-san or Gai-sensei escort them home, the saga of convincing a store to sell them the components for shrine building continues, they eat dinner together, and she sleeps in the big bed.

The problem isn’t that shrine components aren’t available for sale. They are. There are even little kits for mini home shrines that people can build.

The problem is that those shrines are all designed to be dedicated to this random sage guy or to dead people. And she doesn’t really think it’ll be well received if they make a dead person shrine for any of the StrawHats except maybe Brook.

But making one of those for him and a different one for everyone else would also be discriminatory and break his heart. Except he doesn’t have a heart to break.

Yohoho, Skull Joke.

Only Otou-san finds that funny. She sulks a little, but digresses.

Even the store owners who make personalized shrines get suspicious when they hint that maybe they would like something for worship that wasn’t dedicated to the sage guy.

They’ve been turned down in three stores so far, and outright banned from one.

In her defense, she wouldn’t have said anything about the owner’s mother if he hadn’t called Naruto a demon and those other awful things.

She gets another cooking ban anyways.

By the start of the following week, her parents don’t quite look at her like she’ll disappear if they take their eyes off of her.

Naruto and Lee stop keeping a death grip on her hands as well, though they do still hug her a lot more than they used to.

She likes the hugs, so she doesn’t bring it up. She’s mostly just glad she gets to sleep in her own bed again.

Chouji’s illness seems to be clearing up too, slowly but steadily. He still has a few hot flushes, but he’s a bit more alert now. When her current cooking ban is over, she plans on making him some chicken noodle soup to help speed up his recovery.

Shikamaru keeps laughing when she tries to enlist his help in identifying if there’s any flavors he particularly likes or doesn’t like, which is beginning to irritate her a little bit.

Sakura’s...not getting better. At all.

Ino’s face seems to be set in a smiling rictus these days, desperately trying to bridge the growing distance between her and Sakura.

Shikamaru and Chouji have been doing more stuff with her, like partnering up for group projects and walking home together, which helps a bit she thinks.

Naruto and Kiba are just on eggshells. Naruto is tiptoeing around them, trying not to do anything that sets off another scolding.

Kiba’s reached the stage where he’s yelling back in self-defense the moment Sakura turns to him and opens her mouth, though every argument leaves both of them looking even more miserable than before.

Hinata’s tried having a word with her, but she just reported back that Sakura either genuinely doesn’t seem to think there’s anything wrong or is doing a very good job of pretending.

She’s putting money on the latter, because the idea of the former being true is too unpalatable for her to swallow.

The weirdest thing is that aside from Ino, Naruto and Kiba, Sakura’s been treating the rest of them like normal.

It does throw her off kilter somewhat. Still, she, Hinata and Shino do their best to adhere to their plan of “be civil, but shut down any attempts to belittle Naruto and Kiba before it gets too bad”.

Uchiha has surprisingly been the best enforcer of this particular policy. All it takes is one disapproving look from him, and Sakura freezes in the middle of what she was saying like a rabbit in front of a hunter, then quickly turns to talk to Hinata about something.

She’d never thought she’d say this, but borderline assaulting chunin together may’ve been the best thing to happen for the three of them.

Still, Sakura is their friend after all. They’re not just going to abandon her. Even if she’s going through...whatever this is.

She’s asked Okaa-san and Otou-san covertly, but apparently all is well in the Haruno household according to Kizashi and Mebuki Haruno, so she’s at a bit of a loss as to what could be going on.

It had better not be a weird, warped form of puberty, courtesy of parasitic chakra somehow turning people into jerks. She’ll—she’ll—she doesn’t know what she’ll do if it is, but she won’t be very happy, that’s for sure.

To add to this confusion, this year boys and girls get split up for lessons after lunch.

The girls are taught by a different teacher to Iruka-sensei, a mousey woman with glasses who tells them that they will be learning how to blend in to civilian society as kunoichi.

She had no idea what that word means.

When she asks the teacher, the woman looks like she might burst into tears for some inexplicable reason. She then refuses Hinata’s offer of a tissue violently, as if the poor girl had offered her a bomb instead of something to blow her nose on.

It does not get better from there.

She’d anticipated that getting The Talk from Otou-san and Okaa-san, or from Gai-sensei, would be awkward enough. She thinks that even Gai-sensei would do it better than this teacher though.

At least he wouldn’t cry at every mention of the word “sex”. Probably.

She makes a mental note to give her friends the less confusing version later.

Hinata is constantly praised in this class for her ability to appear harmless and ladylike, while Ino is chastised for being too overtly “ninja”, whatever that means.

She gets told that, while her feigning ignorance is extremely credible and will serve her well on intelligence missions and under interrogation conditions, she needs to work on being less... memorable.

She’s...fairly certain that’s positive? Relatively certain. Kinda.

The way the teacher’s lower lip is set to a permanent wobble makes it hard to tell.

#but i like one piece #my writing #naruto #one piece #reincarnation #isekai #naruto uzumaki #rock lee #maito gai #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #sakura haruno #kiba inuzuka #akamaru #ino yamanaka #choji akimichi #shino aburame #sasuke uchiha #hinata hyuga #nara shikamaru #naruto oc #ketsugi mayu #divine possession #shrines

[1stunseeliefaelass]

Darksiders Arthurian Tales Revisited

Chapter 26: Hauntings Ancient and New

"To be honest...I want to protect the ones I care about. And my Mama calls our home a tavern, but it's really a brothel. My Mama and the girls mean a lot to me, they were there for me when no one else was. Seeing the abuse some of those girls endured....just made me want to protect them. Mi familia." Arn tells her after some thought.

"That's a very honorable virtue you have. I hope you get to see your family again." Anna replies taking his hand.

Arn feels a warmth he's been missing for a long while. Course then his stomach interrupts that for him. He turns bright red as Anna giggles at the massive growl that comes from it. Luckily their food comes on down soon enough. Anna begins savoring her meal of lamb chops happily, whilst Arn enjoys a juicy steak inside broth. Arn's eyes widen as he savors the first bite, before he begins devouring it quickly. He stops halfway into it though as Anna is holding back the urge to giggle again. That and he can sense a possible boot about to be thrown his way. So he cleans up his manners and begins eating slowly like Anna is doing. He then chooses to pay for the meal to be a gentleman, since he has money from his arena winnings. Anna is thankful but decides to pay for a dessert for both of them to share. A pretty hefty ice cream sundae clearly made for two. Anna gets all giddy each time their spoons come close. Arn then gets an idea and asks if she'd like a bite of the ice cream flavor on his side. Anna nods accepting it, and lights up with delight as he spoon feeds her the bite. Her ears flitting to and fro to Arn's own delight. He's then surprised by Anna doing the same for him. His tail pops out and wags a little bit as he accepts the bite, then her smile makes his ears flit as hers are doing. Anna sees his tail is out and decides to reveal hers too, feeling comfortable enough around him. Oddly enough, it's got a cream colored tip that looks a bit like a heart. Arn can't help but comment on it.

"That is kinda cute."

Blushing a little Anna tells him, "Really? I used to get bullied for it."

"At least you have some color. Mine is just black.", Arn says raising his tail to show her.

"The guys who teased me probably would've liked you. They were all for solid colors, and compared me to a fox."

"I likely would've made them eat their words. Plenty of girls I knew had pretty fur colors." Arn states with conviction.

"Really? Shame we only met today. Would've enjoyed such a sweet protector."

Arn chuckles before saying, "And I probably would've liked having such a beauty for company, a f-friend even...if n-not more."

Anna giggles and blushes hard, "You really think I'm pretty?"

"Yes. Y-you're pretty. B-beautiful even!" Arn quickly shouts in extreme nervousness before holding his mouth shut.

Anna is surprised by that proclamation of course, "Oh wow....that's...gotta be the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to me."

Arn flattens his ears and tucks his tail as he gets a bit more embarrassed, "I'm sure there's been other people who t-t-t-thought so."

"Actually aside from my parents and family, not really. Although.....if you're saying that....does it mean that you like.....that I'm your....eh uhm......you know your....c-c-crush I guess?" Anna inquires shyly as her own ears flatten too.

He is silent for a while before he finally replies, "I guess so."

Nergal suddenly comes up asking, "Do you wish to have a bit chardonnay, brandy, or bourbon? Or maybe a nice shot of gin? Or maybe you two lovebirds....wait sorry no... would you two adolescents like some absinthe?"

All of sudden Esmie pops in, "Oh no you don't amigo, get over here."

"I'm sorry but I'm assisting." Nergal explains before she jumps up and grabs him by the ear.

As the two begin bickering a bit, Anna glances at Arn before motioning away from the area. She then finally whispers to him as he doesn't get it.

"Let's get out of here."

Arn gets a moment of realization before quickly nodding and vacating with her right away. Esmie doesn't notice they're gone until Nergal chuckles a bit to himself.

"Wait....where did they go?"

"My work here is done." Nergal states before turning to walk off with Esmie still on his ear.

"Usted hijo de puta!" Esmie shouts before smacking him across the face, to no reaction whatsoever from him.

"Hmhmhmhm....That won't do much good. Now let's get going so that the couple can enjoy themselves. And also....kindly remove yourself from my ear. I'm not into rabbit foot bling." Nergal simply tells her.

"Oh calla ojete." Esmie tells him annoyed before letting go finally.

Nergal just laughs at her, "Question? Do you have anyone in your life? Aside from your son, any other man in your life?"

"I do not. As a businesswoman, I lack the time most other ladies have. It would benefit Arn to have a male presence in his life sure, but the regular bounty hunters from the local guild would likely do just fine. They're all good men, the lot of them. Although that Sygr fellow is.....actually nevermind. Forget I said anything." Esmie explains.

"So are you into giants yourself?"

"Shut. It." Esmie tells him a bit miffed.

"Already pushing buttons? Hmm, usually it takes longer. Perhaps what I said wasn't appropriate then. Maybe Sygr just reminds you of someone. You did say your friend, Arn's Father Argus, was a demon didn't you?"

"Watch it."

"Just how close were you two?" Nergal asks her, knowing full well what's coming.

Esmie about goes into her full form, but just as quickly holds back. Placing her hands on a nearby bench as she takes a few deep breaths. Finally she looks back at Nergal when she's absolutely sure she won't explode, "It's none of your business, not a story for you. Now leave it be."

"What kind of nightmare happened with you? Do tell, I'm rather interested. You tell, I tell. Simple enough?" Nergal questions her sitting down on that very bench.

"Argus and I were always friends. It never went further.....although I sometimes wish it did. I enjoyed his company, his personality, and even his appearance. But I knew better than to be a homewrecker. So when Argus began speaking of Clawdette, I let him have her. I never once got in their way, even viewed Clawdette as an older sister of sorts. She was tough, no nonsense, and while somewhat feral she was still caring. I was never jealous of her, not once. Their deaths both hit me harder than I care to admit. I kept it hidden from Arn as he grew, but I couldn't hold it together forever. Not all the time. You've no idea how many times I drank myself stupid over them. Or how much worse it got after Arn was taken away from me. I try to be strong, only to end up back in the pit."

"What's that like? The pit? I've never been in it, at least to my current knowledge."

"When I say pit, I mean depression. That feeling of just pure emptiness. Like nothing has meaning. That feeling that keeps you up at night, the feeling you get that ensures you don't want to leave your bed in the morning. You just become so indifferent to almost everything and everyone. You stop paying attention to what's around you. You wallow in your own self pity, pain, suffering, or whatever may have brought you to that ever swallowing pit of despair."

"Well then, I guess I was born in this pit." Nergal responds simply.

Esmie gets a shocked expression and immediately questions, "How is that even possible? To be born into perpetual depression?"

"Try being born without the capability to express emotions properly. With them being distant or none existent at times. Them being overbearing almost difficult to handle. To have a need that you know will never be fulfilled. Knowing someone loves you, but you cannot love them back. But you must try, or else your purpose is no longer necessary in your eyes. Or seeking someone's approval, that you'll never get. I dunno if that's a pit but, it somewhat fits your description."

"Sounds like a mix of that and borderline sociopathy. Course I could just not know you well enough yet. You said you knew someone loves you at least, even if loving them is damn near impossible. So do you perhaps have the ability to express things like compassion or empathy?", Esmie inquires calmly.

"Based on what I can remember, compassion is an interesting emotion. It's....it's hard to describe. To feel remorse for something that is insignificant or is that incorrect?"

"You're way off. Remorse is to put it simply, feeling bad for something you have done. Compassion is just being kind and the ability to be that way. Giving kindness for the sake of it and for the sake of others. Sometimes even yourself to feel good for the day." Esmie explains.

"Ah I see....I have found I can be kind. At least according to the woman I share a bed with. If you count tree roots as a bed anyway." Nergal states before noticing Esmie's weird expression, "She's a Dryad."

"Oh ok, now I get it. But Dryads can read others extremely well, better than most demons I daresay. If she says you're kind, then surely she's correct. Does she tell you you're anything else? That you have certain things to you that you may not notice?"

"She tells I'm often cold and distant, and yet warm and close. It's very strange. I'm a very messed up individual by your standards. I need to go find some food of my own now though. Why don't you think upon the Sygr situation, I'm going to a tavern and probably going to make a man question his drinking problems." Nergal explains before walking off.

Esmie is unsure of what to make of the situation but decides to consider how being with Sygr might pan out for her. Where as Morgen and Death have finally returned for the books she requested. As expected, there was precious little. In fact the 'book' itself, was incredibly small and shaped like a heptagon with a seven pointed star etched on the front cover for a design. The cover was simply a darkened leather with pages that looked extremely old. Even the language it was written in baffled Morgen.

"I'm sorry miss, but this is all I could find. I'd have told you it's contents if I could read the language. But it's not one I know." The elder pixie librarian told her.

"It's quite alright. I half expected there'd be nothing. Oh well, we'll just bring these back to our carriage for now. Thank you...oh and of course here's money to replace their vacant spaces."

Death then picks up the heavy box of spellbooks and other books in general and heads out to drop it off at the carriage. Morgen stays behind to pay for it all of course. Then she joins Death outside.

"Sorry to make you do that heavy lifting. Hopefully you're healed enough after every...."

"Believe me I'm fine."

Morgen then looks back towards the old path and shudders, "I severely doubt those guards are though."

"Yeah but we likely would've had to kill them ourselves if they weren't hollow statues now. Let's just be glad we were spared an unneeded fight. So I'm guessing the language of the book is unknown to you as well?"

"I've looked through it, and I can't say I recall it's meaning. I feel like I should know what it's saying and yet I don't." Morgen expresses a bit discouraged.

Death pauses as he's tying the box down and gently places a hand under her chin. He then lifts her face up, "Hey now, don't get discouraged. Perhaps it's part of your memories, and you just haven't reached that part yet. So what if you don't recall? Memory is rarely perfect, sometimes it's even wrong all together. Now...where is everyone?"

"Thank you Death. And I don't know." Morgen replies looking around a bit confused before continuing, "Maybe we could just rest in the carriage for now? Wait until everyone is back."

"Or perhaps we could actually do something else around the village for a bit. A simple walk perhaps?" Death suggests offering his arm.

Morgen snickered softly but wrapped her arm in his, "Look at you being all open to enjoying social activities Mr. Antisocial."

"Said Ms. Social Butterfly, who wanted to rest in the carriage for the rest of the day." Death points out.

Morgen rolls her eyes as Death chuckles a bit. They walk past the tavern Nergal's in and notice a man looking very much drained. Then a few more are seen as they pass it by. They decide to avoid the tavern for now and focus on enjoying the walk together. Course they do stop for a bit of dinner as well. Morgen mostly tells Death a few of the nicer stories about her childhood as he listens intently. Course she does eventually coax him into telling a few stories himself. Such as any about how he met his friends and a few regarding his family members. Ultimately the two enjoy each other's company.

Arn and Anna meanwhile had decided to go see the secret place Anna mentioned before. After following an ancient looking pathway with ivy and other plants covering it, Arn saw it. A ruined castle like fortress that had clearly seen a battle once. One that was a massacre from what he could gather as he observed the skeletal remains of knights around him. What he didn't expect, was that he only saw knights of Uther's kingdom. No other combatants' bodies lay around there. Either none of the enemy died, they were each other's enemies for some reason, or something different happened. Arn briefly thought he could hear the sounds of the men's battle cries and deaths in the air around him.

Anna's voice suddenly pierced through to him, "Hey Arn, you ok over there? You kinda spaced out for a second."

"Yeah I'm fine.", Arn replied before focusing on her and avoiding the skeletons.

The two then began to enter the ruins proper. Arn found the fact that there were more skeletons inside to be VERY disconcerting. Course Anna came up to him and held his hand.

"It's ok, they're not gonna come to life I promise. They never have. Yeah they're a little scary at night but they're just remains...right?" Anna told him with a bit of nervousness.

"Well let's not try to disturb them. I get the feeling they didn't die peacefully.", Arn says even wrapping his arm around her shoulder.

Anna blushes after a slight jump but quickly tells him, "Yeah uhm...let's not disturb them. The main building is my favorite place, it's got lots of interesting things in there."

"Right." Arn responds as she guides him to the main building.

The two then enter and the foyer holds many hallways that have been ravaged by both fires and time. Anna only leads him down the main one though, as it's the least cluttered. It leads to massive double doors and the two find ancient stairs behind them. They manage to hold up surprisingly, but Arn is still nervous about it as they go up. Finally at the top, Anna pulls him by the hand to a specific room. On the door of it are many intricate designs pertaining to the moon, night sky, and stars. The name plaque that was once on it was broken off at the intial, an M. Inside the room was a gorgeous bed that looked WAY too pristine for such an derelict place. In fact, most of the room looked to be in mostly good condition. Aside from occasional broken small items across the floor. Arn also sees a portrait that's torn in a specific place, lifting the torn part up, he sees an eerily familiar face.

Anna notes his reaction and comes over, "Something wrong?"

Arn shakes his head and drops the torn piece, "Nothing...just an old painting."

"Right. Well I guess the white haired lady is very pretty huh? I always wonder who she was. She always seems so happy in that portrait with the other knights. Do you think she had a good life? Or do you perhaps think more cynically than me?"

"I don't know...but she does look very happy." Arn states simply.

He does smirk a bit however. Knowing that despite everything, Morgen still has days when she smiles just as brightly.

Anna of course picks up a nearby book and hugs it, "This is her journal, at least I think it is. I know you're not supposed to read them, but....it's been such an inspiration for me. I wish I could've met her. Everyone always says she was a kind woman when I ask them. That she was always willing to help those who needed her. While not as good in fight as her fellow knights, she'd use her magic to defend and heal all she could."

Arn thinks for a minute before saying, "You speak of her like she was your role model."

"She is in a way. Do you wanna see her armor? It's still all nice and shiny. It's in this walk in closet over here." Anna asks as she hurries over to the doors.

Arn follows her and is in awe with her when he sees it, "Looks like it never saw a day of wear."

He feels however in the back of his mind that something is amiss, but can't quite place it. Instead he looks upon the set in more awe. The designs are as intricate as they come, which makes sense given that Morgen is a princess. The theme surprised him however, white and silvery blue for the colors with unicorn styled ornaments on it. Hanging off the pauldrons were tiny white unicorn horns on thin chains. The helm of sorts had a short unicorn horn attached to the front, the horn itself being cresent shaped. Aside from those decals, were moon and night designs mixed with scenes of unicorns that looked straight out of vintage paintings. Little do he or Anna know however, that a certain spirit has been stirred by their presence. Anna however keeps Arn busy so they remain oblivious as he approaches the room slowly.

"Her armor is just so beautiful, I'll bet when she wore it she was even more beautiful as a result."

"I'm sure she would...Anna...I have something to say..." Arn starts to say when he suddenly notices something in the armor, a reflection behind them of a figure. He suddenly shouts, "Get Behind Me!", drawing his long knife and putting Anna behind him to face the figure.

They find a ghostly knight before them who asks them two simple questions, "Why have you come? What do you want with this place?"

"What's it to you?", Arn responds making sure Anna is safely behind him.

"I once lived in these halls. I served the lady whose room and closet you're currently standing in. I defend this place even in death from intruders who would do harm here. So I will ask once more, and once only. WHY HAVE YOU COME AND WHAT DO YOU WANT?" The knight booms down at them.

Arn growls before he finally answers, "We didn't mean any harm. We were just looking around, nothing was taken."

"You will leave then, now. I see no reason for you to remain in this place of death. Nor do I see why you..." The knight explains before pointing at Anna, "...need to keep coming back here after tonight."

Anna protests of course, "Uh please....I've never taken anything. I always leaves things where they belong."

"Yet you continue to VIOLATE the privacy of my fair lady. Something she valued highly above most things aside from her duties to this realm."

"She inspires me! I never meant any harm! I love her story and if anything looked too personal I wouldn't read it. I always skipped those more personal bits." Anna pleads.

"Your intent may not have been bad. But I cannot let this slight go. I can only forgive it if you leave and never return. There's nothing here for the living, not anymore."

Arn however has his own two gilt to give, "What do you know of your lady? What she has become?"

"Who are you to ask me that? A child of wolf and....something else. Something....older. Far older than me."

Arn grits his teeth, "Watch what you say ghost."

"I have no obligation to you. I'm already dead so your threats mean nothing boy. Besides, even a young wolf from the arena is no match for the dead. Especially a knight who has disciplined himself in combat when compared to a savage gladiator."

"I WARNED YOU!" Arn shouts before charging the ghost.

The knight sighs before simply grabbing him by his head. With this act he slams Arn into the ground once before releasing him, "That will be your only warning child. Leave now while I'm still in a decent mood. I won't harm you further so long as you follow my instructions."

Arn gets up and growls before going to charge again. Anna however grabs his arm, "Stop it. Let's just go.....even if it means....I can't come back anymore..."

Arn notes her voice cracks and sees her beginning to cry. He relents, but tells the knight, "This is not over. You will see reason yet."

"And yet you failed to until just now? Believe me. There's nothing left to this folly. Just leave." The knight replies simply.

Anna then leads Arn away to leave the area, whilst the spirit remains in the room. His lonely vigil ever present, even in his demise.

Arn hugs Anna as they walk away outside, "I'm so sorry Anna. It's probably my fault he's being so harsh to you. But I promise I'll make sure you can keep going back there whenever you wish."

"How....how can you promise that?" Anna inquires as she sobs.

"Let's just say, I know somebody he'll have to listen to." Arn tells her.

"About what he said....the knight. What was he talking about?"

"Uhm....well you know I'm Werewolf. But the other part of me....it's something even scarier. I don't want to discuss it, but a lot of people hate the race my Father came from."

Anna looks at him sadly, "Oh. That sounds pretty shitty of them."

"People have good reasons to hate the race. But not everyone in the race was or is a bad person. At least Mama says my Father certainly was always better than his kin usually were."

Anna finds herself confused, but ultimately continues to question him, "What about the other part? Where he compared you to a gladiator?"

"I was in.......the arena...until recently. I was captured as a child....and forced to fight most of my life. Fighting at an early age has its privilege....and its price." Arn tells her reluctantly.

Anna looks horrified, which Arn expected, what he wasn't expecting is why she was horrified, "How much have you suffered?"

"More than I care to describe Anna. Anyway, can we...change the subject at least? Please? I really, REALLY don't like talking about this. Lot of bad memories from that place still haunt me." Arn implores of her.

"Oh of course. Sorry to bring that up."

"It's ok. You deserved to know. I kinda owed you for getting us kicked out of there." Arn replies.

"I don't blame you Arn. It wasn't your fault. I should've known I wouldn't be welcome." Anna tells him softly as her tears slowly begin to dry.

"Now let's go talk to that person I think will talk some sense into him."

Esmie soon spots the two and immediately hurries to Arn, "What happened niño? Why is your nose bloody?"

"I'm fine Mama, just a grumpy old ghost. I need to talk to Morgen about him in fact. Where is she?"

"On a walk with Death. They're actually nearly back from what I can see. Why don't you head back to the carriage. I suspect we'll be leaving soo.."

"Mama please, just a bit longer. Besides, it may take a while for Morgen to help us out." Arn protests to her.

Esmie sighs at him, "And what could she possibly need to help you with niño?"

"The ghost that apparently fucked up my nose. He's guarding the place we were at and is being an ass. Especially in regards to Anna. I promised I'd help her continue to be able to keep going back to her favorite place. It's really important to her Mama. Please."

Esmie thinks silently for a moment before hearing Death question her, "Why is it that Arn looks like he was hit recently?"

"Arn actually has something to tell you and Morgen. It involves the thing that did this to him." Esmie explains simply, to Arn's relief.

"Really? Well out with it then, what happened?" Death asks.

"A ghost is haunting the ruins Anna brought me to. He was pissed off and has banished Anna from ever going back. But the ruins should have significance to Miss Morgen, and the ghost knight claims he served her. So I figure maybe he'll listen to reason if Morgen talks to him." Arn tells him.

"Was he vengeful?"

"I don't think so. He only bashed me into the ground once, and I.....kinda...was a.....a dick....I deserved it." Arn admits rubbing his neck.

Death facepalms, "What did you do?"

"Charged at him because he provoked me."

He then sighs, "Of course you did."

Morgen inquires of Arn however, "You said he was a knight, correct?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Pray tell, why banish Anna when it was you who attacked?" Morgen asks calmly.

Anna then timidly steps forward, "I sometimes g-go into an old room there....it has a journal t-t-that I'm guessing is yours.....I'm so sorry for reading it. It just inspired me so much."

Morgen pulls the young girl into a hug as she begins crying, "Easy there my dear. Granted I'd not recommend reading anymore journals. But I do not mind that you read mine. In fact, I'm glad those dismal pages inspired you in some way. Is this really why he's denying further entrance?"

Anna can only nod and sniffles a bit. Causing Morgen to gently stroke her head in a Motherly way. Death can tell by the look in her eye, and on her face, that somebody is getting a stern talking to now.

"You're actually going to talk to that spirit?" Death questions her.

"Yes. For her sake and the sake of others who may go there. The only beings I don't want there, are anyone that would steal from it or cause harm to the place. We're going."

Death sighs to himself, "I suppose I better come with you then. Just in case either his spirit, or someone else's has a vengeful moment."

Morgen nods and lets Death follow her. They come along the path and Death soon begins to feel the agony of many dead beings. Clearly a battle had taken place and he sees just how right he is when he and Morgen reach the fort. Morgen walks around the bodies a bit lost looking as Death starts hearing the voices of those who died in the battle. Course he knows he wouldn't normally hear it unless the area was haunted. He then finally goes over to Morgen as she's examining a body.

"Are you alright?"

"I knew these people...all of them....they fought...and....d-died...for me that day..." Morgen tells him with a crack in her tone.

Death helps her up from the ground before gently holding her, "You don't have to be here Morgen. I'm sure Arn and the girl will understand given your connection to the tragedy here."

"It was MORE than just a tragedy. This was a MASSACRE. All because I was spending more of my time here than at home. Away from HIM." Morgen says with a bit of anger mixed into the sadness.

"You say that as if you believe it's..."

"It WAS MY FAULT!" Morgen shouts at him.

Death remains calm though, knowing full well how overwhelming a haunting can be on someone within it's radius. Mentally, physically, and even emotionally. He gently strokes Morgen's head and tells her, "This wasn't your fault. These men chose to defend you, because you were WORTH saving. Because you ARE worth saving."

Morgen looks up at him in surprise and goes to reply before someone else speaks up, "He is right my lady. I knew the risks, we all did. Even those who survived this horror knew. Only very few of us did. I and those who remain upon these grounds never doubted you. The Reaper speaks true, you are and always were worth saving to all of us."

The two look upon the ghostly knight and Morgen asks him, "Tell me...how long have you remained here? How long has it been since we last spoke....Sir Alphonse?"

"Not yet long enough for you to have forgotten me it seems." Alphonse tells her simply.

"Your voice is as distinct as I recall it to be. As are your manners with guests it seems."

"You're speaking of the boy and girl from earlier?"

"Yes, I am. I can understand you wanting to defend me and any of my things that remain here. But I cannot let you bully or harm people. Especially those under my protection. Besides, the girl Anna doesn't strike me as ill intended. She can keep coming here if she so chooses as I see it. Do I make myself clear on that?" Morgen states authoritatively.

"Transparently your highness. Forgive my transgression, I only meant to keep your secrets as just that, secrets. I remember how important privacy was to you."

Morgen only sighs, "I forgive you, but I will say that I'm at least trying to work on telling people things that need to be said."

"Good. Perhaps you'd like to see what remains here? And take what you were unable to?" Alphonse asks her.

"I suppose I can. Assuming either of us can carry it all."

"As I lived to serve you, I can aid you in this as well my fair lady. No offense to your companion of course." Alphonse states.

"Pardon?" Death questions him.

"I would assume she chose you for companionship given the way you held her a moment ago. Not to mention the way you spoke to her."

"I....uh.....fair enough." Death says awkwardly.

"It seems I'm right to assume then. Given your reaction. Anyway, just this way, and be mindful. The place is old enough to be falling apart because of more than just unrepaired, burnt wood."

"Hmm, well lead on." Death replies with Morgen following alongside him.

Morgen is amazed at how well kept her old room appears aside from a few fallen objects, "How is this room so pristine?"

"A certain....'pest' who keeps coming back. And no I don't speak of the girl."

"There have been other visitors?" Death inquires.

"Yes only a few though. Usually the villagers will leave flowers on occasion to commemorate all we did for them. It's...always a good sight everytime they hold their memorial festival too. So I don't bother the villagers usually. I only got cross with Anna because she was reading your journal and learning secrets of yours. However, there is one man I keep tryng to turn away. He always comes by every few nights hoping I'll miss him. Occasionally he does escape my notice, with some small 'trinket' or two as well."

"That explains why you were so quick to judge Anna. Even so, would I know this person?" Morgen inquires.

"You would. One of your 'suitors' from some years back."

Morgen facepalms next, "I THOUGHT I made it VERY clear as to why I called things off between us."

Death then looks at her shocked, "Wait let me get this straight, you have an ex?"

"Yes. I had hoped he got it through his head though."

"Clearly not if he's sneaking in here and making off with your property." Death expresses with a bit of sarcasm to his tone.

Morgen shakes her head in annoyance before walking out of the room for a moment. Course she hears something that annoys her even more once she's out the door. With her eye twitching, Morgen seeks out the source of the noise. Only to find a cloaked figure coming through a window down the hall.

"Aleyn, what are you doing?"

The figure freezes a bit before turning around slowly, "Morgen? Is that you?"

"Who else would I be Aleyn?"

"I don't know that ghost that hates my guts?"

"Gee I wonder why he would hate you. There a reason you keep coming here to take little things I own?"

"You never came back until now. I suspected you never would after what happened. I had hoped you wouldn't either." Aleyn tells her before freezing again.

"Excuse me?"

"Look Morgen maybe we could talk about it more in a place that isn't haunted by an angry ghost?"

Morgen eyes him suspiciously for a moment, but finally tells him, "Fine. But you're helping bring what's left of my things here to my carriage. And if you say a SINGLE WORD against my current companion, you'll be walking home instead of 'talking privately'."

Aleyn laughed nervously, "Right....heheh...wait you've moved on?"

"I have. What of it?"

"Oh eh...nothing....something to talk about in our private talk later."

Morgen gets suspicious of him all the more but lets him follow her. When he and Death see each other, Death gives a judgmental stare whilst Aleyn gulps.

"Ha-have you come to take his soul?" Aleyn asks nervously pointing at Alphonse.

Alphonse facepalms, "Can I kill him now?"

"No, he's useful for now. Besides I can't afford to make anymore enemies. Having Uther's ire is bad enough." Morgen says.

"So it's true? You ran away from home again? Is it also true that you took Arthur as well?"

Morgen nearly defends herself but Death speaks up, "Her Uncle got her and Arthur out whilst I was rescued by Barrcus. A far better Father to her than Uther ever will be. And given you seem to have sympathy for Uther, does that make me the better man of the two of us?"

"Watch your tongue you son of a whore! You don't know her like I do!"

"Says the man who probably has her underwear tucked away in his bedroom, among other little things of Morgen's. Stalker much?" Death says sarcastically.

"How DARE you? I would NEVER do something so uncouth as to take a woman's undergarments."

"Then what did you take? It had to have been small enough for your shrimpy arms to carry." Death inquires smirking a bit.

Aleyn growls before saying, "That's none of your business."

"Maybe not but it's certainly mine." Morgen tells him firmly.

"Ah....uhhhh....right....well your perfume...some of your make-up that you rarely ever wore....I NEVER WORE IT MYSELF!" Aleyn quickly replies nervously.

"Uh huh. What else?"

"I actually found the wedding dress you would've worn to our wedding and...."

"OK HOLD IT RIGHT THERE! You are NOT about to tell us you do some fucked up role-playing involving that dress are you?" Death asks sounding concerned.

"NO! Now if you DON'T MIND I shall explain. I just keep it around my home as I figure you probably won't want it. Or if you ever did, I'd have it in pristine condition for you." Aleyn admits.

"Aleyn, you've no reason to keep it. Sell it or give it away. I never liked that dress anyway. Uther picked it out and it just....didn't suit me."

"You looked like a goddess in it."

"A goddess about to raped by Zeus himself maybe." Morgen retorts sarcastically.

Death actually laughs and questions them both, "Just what did this dress look like? I must know now. Just to sate my curiosity."

"Are you sure Horseman? I remember that eyesore way too well, personally I'd rather go through my death all over again than see Morgen walk down the aisle with that HORRIBLE 'dress'." Alphonse states firmly.

Morgen reluctantly shows him with her memories and Death laughs even more, "Hahahaha! I didn't think you could refine sexuality.....Hahahahahahahaha! Seriously seeing that dress reminds me of The Great Gatsby!"

Morgen snickers at that, "Come to think of it, I think it was around the twenties when Aleyn and Uther found that dress." She can only laugh as Death nearly hits the floor.

Even Alphonse laughs with them before Aleyn defensively asks Death, "Well then BARBARIAN, what would YOU have her wear? What wedding dress could you see her in?"

"Technically it's bad luck..huff haaaah...to see one's bride before the wedding...huuuuuuh ahhhh...so I can't really imagine it...now can I?" Death says sarcastically as he catches his breath.

"Cut the sarcasm and just answer damn you!"

"Fine then if you insist that much ya creep." Death tells him a bit annoyed before answering, "If I must give an opinion, sure I could see her in a strapless. But honestly a silvery blue would absolutely make her pop with beauty. She's called the Moon Witch is she not, why not make her rival the moon itself on such an occasion? It would definitely give the saying 'I love you to the moon and back' quite the new meaning I'd say."

Morgen's eyes light up at Death's words and she shyly inquires, "So does that mean you...?"

"Yes."

"I didn't even fini..."

"You didn't need to. I've heard similar questions before. Trust me, I know what you were about to ask. You wanted to know if what I said means I find you as beautiful as the moon, if not more so. Am I correct?"

Morgen blushes, "As always, you're perceptive."

"Heheh..It seems I've been lacking in that department with the romance side of things though lately. If anything I say things by accident." Death admits rubbing his neck with a chuckle.

Aleyn only groaned before muttering, "At least I actually tried and KNEW what I was saying."

Death growls briefly in annoyance before saying, "At least I can learn. The question is can you?"

"If you two are quite done measuring each other's dicks, the lady will likely need help removing her things from here." Alphonse told them both in equal annoyance.

He then grabs them both by their heads and tosses them into the room, "There, now they can do it themselves."

"Gladly, once we have a list." Death expresses simply as he gets up.

Morgen comes into the room to make a list onto a crystal. She only grabs one thing from inside the room, a tiny ornate chest. She then hands the crystal to the gentlemen to collect everything. Death naturally tries to be civil about it so they can be quick about it. Only for Aleyn to volunteer to carry everything.

"Look I'm done with the whole being stupid can you just...NOT?! Like please...THINK."

"I'm not doing anything but volunteering my help." Aleyn protests.

"Genius, she gave us an inventory crystal with a list on it, to put the stuff into it. It's really not that complicated. You don't have to do any heavy lifting. You're not impressing..."

"Just SHUSH. I can handle this, I WILL handle this in fact. Now what's the first thing?"

Death sighs shaking his head, "The contents of that chest there. Again you don't have to carry...."

"Shut up damn it! I said I'll handle this."

"Ok, fine. Have fun with that. I'm going to do the practical thing in the meantime. Let me know when you're done being a moron."

"Excuse me young fellow..."

"Y-young? EhEH...ehAH! Your stupidity is obviously showing itself." Death tells him sarcastically yet again.

Aleyn grumbles to himself as he tries lifting the chest, or dragging it. Death meanwhile goes about to room to collect what he can. He starts with a few small things around the room, then moves onto the wardrobe. He collects everything in there with ease whilst using the crystal's magic. Course he does pause a moment to observe her armor set.

"I have to ask...why?" Death inquires of Morgen after coming back out from the wardrobe.

Morgen notices him pointing and comes over to see what it is this time. When realizing it's her old armor she's looks at him with her eye twitching ever so slightly, "And what exactly is wrong with it?"

Death, sensing this probably should've been saved for later cautiously responds with, "I just want to know what was going on while this was being made. It looks fine, but it's....so ornate. It looks like it belongs more in ceremonies than it does on the fields of battle."

"I am a mage more than a swordswoman admittedly."

"STILL. That's....a LOT of detail for a set used in battle. Even for a mage. Usually mages want armor that isn't heavy. I mean look at me, I don't wear heavy plate very often, if ever. I don't even wear chest plates usually. The most armor I have is my kilts, which occasionally come with plate. Either way, the way I fight and cast spells requires that I'm able to move. So I need to accommodate myself by using armor that gives me more mobility. Though I wouldn't recommend not wearing anything up top. I only do so because I can get away with it through my healing ability." Death tells her before chuckling a bit towards the end.

"Bare in mind that ONE I am a Princess, and TWO, that Uther was the among those who wanted to see my design ideas BEFORE it was ever made. You can probably imagine some things got added in."

"Right. Anyway I know a place that makes far better armor for combat and for mages. We'll have to go there later. After all this madness. For now shall I keep letting that one dig his own grave or shall I just put the chest in the crystal?" Death states.

"Please do get it into the crystal. Before he passes out due to lack of oxygen."

"Heh, may be a little late for that. His brain already lacks a little bit of it." Death says laughing a bit before Morgen's slight glare shuts him up. "Oh come on I was just kidding."

#Darksiders Fandom #Darksiders Fanfics #Darksiders OCs #Darksiders Arthurian Tales Revisited #Death

[peremadeleine]

The Empathetic Dog Thief, Episode 1

Alternative titles: “Will: Deer Hunter and Dog Dad,” “Crimes Against Costuming,” “What Year Is It: A Crime Drama”

Armed with a gin & tonic and one sleepy cat, I finally gave the NBC show another shot.

I didn’t know Will had a superpower. Cool...?

How come he’s play-acting the murderer, though? Just because he can think like a killer doesn’t mean he needs to be reenacting it himself. That’s just confusing for the audience?? The way they did it in the Red Dragon movie was still effective without coming off as “aw, Will’s playing serial killer”

“This is my design” what

Plaid shirt and striped tie, truly a costuming sin. I didn’t love Will’s “modern wild west” costume vibes in Red Dragon, but it was better than this.

Don’t pretend that Jack and Will don’t know each other. Hate that.

Do look forward to hearing how many different ways people can pronounce “Graham” though.

Oh boy, why does Crawford push Will’s glasses up on his face while murmuring “hey” softly like a lover?? They’re strangers. That was mighty uncomfortable.

is he just assuming Will is on the spectrum? Right after they met???

and then Will confirms, but wait, he just has an “active imagination”?

STAY IN YOUR LANE

at least in canon Crawford doesn’t take advantage of people on the gd spectrum, and he spins it as being for the good of the victims. jfc.

“based on the characters by Thomas Harris”

Of course all the victims in the first episode are going to be women

“it’s not about all of these girls, it’s about one of them”--seven minutes in and they’re already ripping off Silence.

“he’s like Willy Wonka. every girl he takes is a candy bar.” no. nO.

“I mean, I would. Wouldn’t you?” no Will, Crawford’s a douchebag, not a murderous psychopath.

8 minutes in, me: WHERE’S THE TITLE CHARACTER THIS IS B O R I N G

“Why is it now a crime scene?” Because Will says so and he’s his own forensic team, apparently. Next question.

Also apparently he only owns red plaid-print shirts. Huh.

Lol Will has empathy for everyone but a grieving father confronted with his daughter’s dead body???

I don’t like the way Crawford is speaking to Will one bit. It’s supposed to be sensitive, but it comes off as condescending and mollycoddling. Ew. That is SO not Jack Crawford.

"You wrote the standard monograph on time of death by insect activity"?!?

so Will IS his own forensic team. Weird flex, but okay.

Antler velvet. Christ, HERE WE GO.

“You not real FBI?” Rip-off of Silence #2!

“You unstable?” Stop coming at Will, Jesus!

Will is a serial dognapper. SIX DOGS. Maybe, maybe, people in this neighborhood are missing their gd dogs, you monster.

none of them are even UGLY dogs

Will’s also drinking tho. One point for Gryffindor.

Oh, another plaid shirt. At least this one’s got a nice pattern. And isn’t red.

The bathroom is painted red, tho. What is it with Fuller and red walls?

Hugh Dancy’s American accent slips when he tries to like...emote. Yikes.

Strangulation is neither quick nor merciful.

A forensic specialist who wears her long-ass dark hair loose down her back and shoulders in the lab should be FIRED.

Implied “we covet what we see every day” scene: Silence Rip-Off #3

nineteen minutes in, me: W H E R E  I S  H A N N I B A L this is false marketing

Okay, I actually kind of like the “okay, I can cover him 80%” scene. Crawford’s real good at fucking up people’s lives in order to save lives.

twenty-one minutes in, me: HANNIBAL’S HERE THANK CHRIST

will probably regret this thought later

it’s okay, Hans. I, too, hate the career choices that have led me to this point.

the fact that he has tissues by HIS chair in his office is fuckin’ hilarious, what a douche, I love him

same, tho

The costumes and sets and cars are all screaming 70s/80s. But smartphones!

I’m watching this pretty late so my volume is a bit low and I cannot understand 70% of Hannibal’s dialogue, uh oh

Hannibal is supposed to be short so I don’t think this little “oh Crawford confused the short weepy patient with Hannibal” bit is that cute...I’ve always felt like Mads was poorly cast for that reason, among others. Oh well.

I take it all back:

HIS FACE

“No secretary?” “She was predisposed to romantic whims.” Not sure whether I like this line because Hannibal’s the one acting on whimsy or if it makes me cringe because of the way they’re dismissing Hannibal’s former secretary. Hmm.

“Are these yours, doctor?” a) Duh and b) Silence Rip-Off #4

Why the fuck does Crawford think he can just examine Hannibal’s papers? Like?????????

no wonder he hates your rude ass, Jack

HANNIBAL WHY IS WOUND MAN LYING ON YOUR DESK YOU PRECIOUS IDIOT

“Very interesting, even for a layman” Wow, unexpected Red Dragon rip-off (by the Red Dragon adaptation) #1

this whole scene is made of cringe HELP

why is Hannibal dressed in his Easter Sunday suit

Tattlecrimes.com. I’M SPEECHLESS at the stupidity of that.

tabloids are, in fact, still a thing in the Year of Our Lord 2013

No way is Hannibal fucking Lecter going to drink the swill that probably is Jack Crawford’s coffee, as if.

“Not fond of eye contact, are you?” Yes, Hannibal is the only character who should be canonically coming at anyone like this. (But also poor Will.)

But Will, at least look in his direction while he’s talking to you? I also don’t love eye contact...it’s rude not to even look at a person, though.

Hannibal finally used a contraction! He’s human after all. (This is a common Fanfic-Writing-of-Hannibal problem. I used to have it, too. You think to emulate him you have to write lofty, staid dialogue. But we’re talking about Hannibal the Punmaster General here.)

“This cannibal you have him getting to know” I’m sorry, who said anything about cannibals???

Stop incriminating yourself Hannibal honestly

Wait, is the implication that the victim whose lungs were taken is Hannibal’s? I hope not, because what would he be doing in Minnesota, and since when did Hannibal cut people up alive (Krendler notwithstanding--he’s a special case), especially women????? He’s a Monster(TM), but not a fucking sadist.

Will’s wardrobe also contains gingham!

no really, when did they determine that the serial killer was a cannibal?? did I sleep through that part?

“have Dr. Lecter draw up a psychological profile” bitch, please. Dr. Lecter doesn’t work for Crawford.

I don’t like hearing/watching people eat, especially in quiet moments. That’s going to become a problem in this show, isn’t it?

Will’s dream dear is fucking awful CGI. Wow.

That brown blazer--Hannibal would never.

EVERYTHING about Hannibal that should be black--his clothes and his hair--is brown here. It’s...weird.

to quote @random-emerald-thoughts​, “my homocidal boy aint about that tawny bullshit”

Hannibal Lecter: food snob--that’s canon. 

Don’t like this dialogue, though. And Hannibal bringing anyone he just met food in glorified Tupperware rings very false.

“Uncle Jack” what the fuck

Wow, Fuller jumped directly into the teacup thing right from the start. Yikes. He clearly didn’t understand it. (Clarice isn’t the teacup, bro. The teacup represents time, and disorder, and will it ever be reversed?)

Lots of weird metaphors in this episode overall, though none as bad as the Willy Wonka thing.

Why is Hannibal in Minnesota? Is he a crime-scene investigator now? Is he on the FBI payroll? Doesn’t he have patients with appointments to keep? Social obligations? I HAVE QUESTIONS.

He’s not a priss or a germaphobe. DISLIKE.

Do like the phone call. Just fuckin’ carelessly with people’s lives for the fun of it, that’s our Hannibal.

FBI? Are you FBI, Will?

He shouldn’t have been issued that sidearm if he can’t hold it steady.

One shot would have been plenty. Maybe two. Jfc, the reason Clarice shot Gumb so many times was because he was going to shoot her. Hobbs had a knife, which he dropped, and he was incapacitated by the first/second shot. Silence Rip-Off #5

How the fuck is he still alive and talking?! Will plugged him about eight times!

Call the police, Hannibal, or the ambulance, or take off your jacket and provide first aid to this girl. You’re a doctor!

It really is like he wants to be arrested or something.

And then he gets to ride in the ambulance?? Just Because?

Overall, it was...not very good, imo, poorly paced, very poorly written, with acting that jumped wildly from “very good” to “awful,” sometimes from the same actors. Intense cringe throughout a lot of the script. Ripped off Silence of the Lambs, a superior movie about many of the same characters, way too many times. Will is boring and I don’t care about him, but then I also don’t care about canon Will. And I still think Mads Mikkelsen was poorly cast as Hannibal...the costumes aren’t doing him any favors, either. We’ll see if he can bring me around.

Some moments of genuine humor that I appreciated, though, and some nods to the canon that I grudgingly appreciated, too, including Hannibal being a dick and Jack Crawford fucking up people’s lives.

Hopefully if you made it this far into my observations you got a kick out of them. I probably won’t go into this much detail for every episode, but I do intend to try to watch at least all of Season 1.

Painful as it might be.

#this is long you've been warned #and it's mostly snarky #but there are some concessions; I didn't hate EVERYTHING

[marymccartneyphotos]

Paul McCartney's Meat Free Monday Mission

June 25, 2009 -- The Telegraph

Sir Paul, Mary and Stella McCartney are leading the Meat Free Monday campaign to persuade people to avoid meat once a week. It is not an attempt to turn the world vegetarian, one day at a time, but a crucial step in the fight against climate change.

There is a charming, seemingly random video on YouTube of Paul McCartney demonstrating how to make mashed potatoes. It's a recipe from Linda McCartney's On Tour book (he is following the instructions from his own well-thumbed copy) and there is something quite endearing about the way he shows you Linda's tip of how to chop an onion, as he hacks away with the knife the way no professional chef would. He is no Jamie Oliver. Obviously, Sir Paul has many other talents and his guide to making mash the Macca way, a video he made as president of the Vegetarian Society, is just a bit of fun – the perfect accompaniment to a couple of Linda McCartney's vegetarian sausages.

Food was a key part of Paul and Linda's relationship and when they decided to go vegetarian in the seventies, it was a spontaneous and joint decision. "Linda and I, we were on the farm and we saw lambs gambolling and we were eating leg of lamb…so it was a compassionate thing. That seems to be the least important thing to people these days. It seems to have gone right out of the window, the whole idea, unfortunately, because it's rather a nice thing, a bit of compassion."

What was it that made this man hate us? These days, Linda's food still brings the family together. They are actively involved in Linda McCartney Foods, which recently had a bit of a dust off and a rebrand. The family all taste and approve any new recipes, and I imagine, their freezers are well stocked with Linda's burgers and sausages. It is important to them, their way of keeping Linda's legacy alive. So when Paul decided to launch a new campaign, Meat Free Monday, it was the perfect opportunity to get together for a rare public group hug.

As he muses over a suitable recipe for another cookery video to promote the new campaign, he remembers one of his father's favourite recipes. "Pea sandwiches," he recalls. "I remember my dad making one for John once." But his daughters groan. "It has to be mum's lasagne," says Mary.

While Mary prepares to take the photographs for this story, Paul takes a tiny mouth organ from his pocket and plays as Stella sings along. "This is why Bob Dylan wants to write songs with you," she laughs. It's a family joke. Despite the news reports that the two musicians are about to record together, Paul tells me later that the rumour is totally unfounded. "No, that's a newspaper thing. He just said some very complimentary things about me in some interviews and I love him. I think he's a great poet and writer so I've always admired him. I don't rule it out and I admire him. But we're not the kind of people who would ring each other up." Mary takes her place in the picture, arranges her dad's hair which is blowing in the wind, and presses the shutter.

The family is famously vegetarian, but Stella says for this particular debate, she wishes they weren't. This is not an evangelical mission to make the world a veggie but an attempt to do their bit to slow climate change. "It's an environmental conversation, not a vegetarian one," says Stella. "It's ok to just give up meat for one day, it doesn't make you a vegetarian if you hate vegetarians, it doesn't make you cranky, hemp wearing pot smoker. It's alright, it's allowed - it doesn't make you a kind of the person you don't want to be. It just means you are doing something positive."

Paul read about the campaign in America and decided he needed to get involved. Over the past year, he has been talking about it, writing letters to celebrities and chefs, talking to schools, and galvanising support from as many people as he can, including Woody Harrelson, Doris Day, and Ricky Gervais. Two weeks ago [Monday 15 June], he held a press conference to launch the campaign at Oliver Peyton's restaurant Inn the Park. Peyton himself – a fully fledged bone marrow sucking carnivore - has agreed to promote meat free dishes every Monday at the restaurant.

The campaign has some weighty research behind it, not least from the UN. "Dad got the report," says Mary, who is softly spoken but has a cool air of authority about her. "You were sent the report weren't you?" She looks at Paul who has joined us round the table at the Portobello Hotel in west London, quietly whistling to himself. "Yeah, I was originally sent it. Livestock's Long Shadow it was called. The UN, who are our appointed global watchdog, said 'hey, cattle rearing is more harmful than ALL transport.' That is the statistic I thought was shocking because until then I thought it was aeroplanes, cars and trucks…"

According to the report, livestock are responsible for 18 percent of the world's greenhouse gas emissions, which is indeed a bigger share than that of transport which accounts for 13 per cent. "We're not just talking about a few cows," says Paul. "We're talking billions. I took a drive from Santa Fe down to El Paso, a road trip I was on, and you go past I think about 15-20 miles of cattle as you drive down the motorway and it's the same cow; it's a brown and white cow. There are billions of them! And that's where it comes home. That's where the methane is coming from, this is the problem, not just a couple of cows on a farm. It's not just Daisy and Buttercup any more."

It seems the world is coming round to the Macca point of view and this is too good an opportunity to miss. It's the first time not eating meat is being promoted by scientists – 'traditional eaters,' as Paul calls them, not vegetarians with a vested interest. For Stella and Mary, following their father's lead is perfectly natural. Linda would certainly have been there, waving her placard. She was already talking about the relationship between food and the environment long before the UN decided it was time to act. This is part of the family's way of keeping Linda's legacy alive. "Ideally yes, be vegetarian," says Mary. "But if not, just reduce your meat intake to make it fun do a meat free Monday."

Listening to them running through the arguments and the statistics backing up their campaign, you feel this is a typical discussion that would happen over a family nut roast. Occasionally, they talk over each other and finish each other's sentences. "It can be so overwhelming," admits Stella. "And you can feel so …oh god, but I've got to get that plane there and I've got to drive my car with my three kids here. You are led to believe that transport is the main problem, but actually it's diet. To be honest we could sit and bang on about it…"

Paul: "But we don't want to bang on, we don't want to say to you look, you have to go veggie. The idea of this is for the environment, for your children's future, would you consider just one day a week changing your habits? And then if you decide to do two days, three, four, then so much the better, but if people would do it, it would have a huge impact."

Stella: "If everyone gave it up on a Monday it would be more effective than everyone stopping driving their car on a Monday. We are not perfect. It's so important to get that across because it's like oh, those bloody Maccas, talking again about not killing cows! It is boring. But the reality is, I like to think I am trying to do my little bit. I will turn off the lights when I leave a room; I will turn off a socket if I don't want to be using the socket. And those are tiny little things."

Paul: "Even President Obama tells you to do that."

It is a small thing they are asking us all to do. Very few of us eat meat every day of the week, but by cutting back on what we eat, we can make a difference. On average we are eating twice the amount of meat we ate in 1961, the year the Beatles first performed at the Cavern club in Liverpool. "The idea of having one type of meat for your breakfast and another type of meat for your lunch, and then another type for your dinner, and in between having your sandwiches with another kind of meat, we really do eat too much of it," says Paul. To produce a single kilogram of beef, farmers have to feed a cow 15 kg of grain and 30 kg of forage. It is a highly intensive business that is ultimately not sustainable. Livestock production is responsible for 70 per cent of the deforestation of the Amazon jungle and by 2050, the world's livestock population is expected to rise from 60 billion farm animals to 120 billion. It is a scary fact when you consider that a single cow can produce 500 litres of methane per day, which has around 25 times the global warming impact of CO2.

"I think we forget more and more that we are animals," says Stella, "and we are part of a planetary system where all of the animals are on this planet together and you are made to feel like a hippy dippy jerk that should go and live in a tipi for even making a point of remembering."

Despite the fact that she rarely gives interviews, Stella is the most vocal of the three, passionately backing up her father, shaking her head, saying 'it's all money, money, money!' about the projected growth of the meat industry (world demand for meat is estimated to double by 2050) and butting in with the odd comment like: 'Greed is not a good look. I was brought up to think this was not a good look. Everything in moderation.' And she knows her stuff. She urges me (and you) to watch a film called Home that was made by the aerial photographer, Yann Arthus-Bertrand, and launched the previous week on World Environment Day. You can link to it from her website.

As she says, she tries to do her bit. Although she already incorporates sustainable and organic fabrics in her mainline collection, she also designs a capsule Green Collection which is as purely ethical and sustainable as she can make it and is sold at Barneys in New York and Harvey Nichols in London. On her website, in between pictures of models looking supremely cool and confident in her clothes, if you click on the 'Green me' button, you can read Stella's eco tips – small things we can all do to help slow down global warming. Her London shop is powered by Ecotricity. Her skincare range, Care, is made using 100 percent organic active ingredients and is Ecocert –certified. And of course, she tells her celebrity friends off for wearing fur and doesn't use leather.

"In my industry, there is no alternative in people's minds to leather shoes. Now I'm not making a leather shoe. I'm doing alright. We can get by. Things change. Humans are the best animals - the best adapters on the planet. We adapt quicker than a tree does in the rainforest. We adapt, that's what we do."

In March, she was given an award by the Natural Resources Defence Council (which works to protect wildlife and wild places) in New York. "I was lucky enough to present that to her," says Paul. "I said that when she joined the fashion world, she first of all was employed by Gucci and my first thought, and Linda's, was uh-oh Gucci is leather city. When you think of Gucci, you think of leather. We thought about how long is it going to be before she caves in on her principles? And we waited, and we waited, and we waited, and she never did. That is a fantastic achievement… and that's what's great about new ideas, different ideas, people catch the fire, they get excited with the stuff. It's just thinking about it instead of just becoming a Gucci slave. Took a little bit of guts to do that."

Despite the fact that Stella feels she has been pilloried for her beliefs and principles, it seems to have paid off. Just as the fashion world has finally come round to her big idea of wearing jumpsuits and your boyfriend's jacket, we seem to have arrived at a moment when having principles – and a bit of compassion – is not such a bad thing. It is perhaps no coincidence that she is the only fashion person to be included in Time magazine's annual 100 most influential people list this year, an achievement she is obviously proud of, giving me a high five when I mention it. Just as any father would, Paul admits to having the magazine on his kitchen table, open at the relevant page – a tribute written by Stella's mate, Gwyneth Paltrow. "Even if you are not vegetarian somehow Stella gets you to believe," she writes. "She manages to convince you (never sanctimoniously from a soapbox) that killing animals is needless and cruel and bad for the environment."

Paul says she didn't have to be that way. "She could have caved in and we almost would have forgiven her. The pressures were so huge but the fact that she did not…" Stella cuts in. "I'm very lucky. I don't think that I am magnificent, I just think I've been very lucky. I think I've been brought up in a certain way. Mary's like that, my brother [James, a musician] and sisters [Heather from Linda's first marriage, and Beatrice from her father's second] are like that. My husband's like that. I think that you do stand out if you stand out against things. It was very hard in my industry especially to have those kind of principles and I did have the mickey taken out of me probably up to about a year ago. And people will probably read this and chuck it on their barbie and cook beef on it but the reality is I'm more impressed by people who take a risk and who stand up to good beliefs and I think in this day and age…"

Paul: "It's how the world changes."

Stella: 'The main thing is not to bang on about it too much. We don't generally bang on about it, I try to keep my head down and get on with it and design pretty frocks, that's my job. And dad makes pretty good records when he's given half an hour in between his potato mashing, and Mary's a fantastic photographer. But I don't think we want to come across as forcing people to think a certain way, I think it's just a very valid issue and life's too short to not do something you believe in. You've only got a short period on the planet to make something of your life."

With all of this passion and desire for change, I wonder if Paul will be writing a Dylan style protest song to promote their cause. "I do have a few sort of animal awareness songs, but they are very difficult to write. I wrote one called Looking For Changes that was applauded by PETA, which started off with 'I saw a cat with a machine in its brain', you know that picture? A hardcore picture. That made me write that, but it's very very hard to do and it's not my forte. I wish it was, that would be kind of nice to be driven in that direction. Songs aren't always what you are passionate about. You'd like to think that they all were but sometimes it's just about I love you, or you're great."

And with that, our time is up. Stella's phone has been ringing non-stop. "We're going to get a bit of flack for this," says Paul, who can't resist singing into my Dictaphone before turning it off. "Why do we feel we need to do it? You know what, because Meat Free Monday is a damn good idea. I mean, what are you going to tell your kids? That we can do something about it. This is one of those things that you can do."

#article #meat free Monday #vegetarian #mary McCartney #environment #Paul McCartney #stella mccartney #family #Heather McCartney #Beatrice McCartney #James McCartney #charity

[rosesnvines]

The Art of Diplomacy

This is a combination of, well, Art and Diplomacy, lol. Working on a longer story for the month and I want more chapters done before I post some of it. Hope you enjoy this little snippet!! Which also stars Callum and Harrow from The Dragon Prince (Callum and Hiccup just make such great besties). 

Callum pushed the pencil across the table. Hiccup caught it with his finger and pushed it back. Callum caught it, and pushed back to him. This little, mind-numbing game went on for a few minutes before Hiccup’s father, Stoick, picked up the pencil. 

“Dad!” blurted Hiccup as both boys finally brought their heads up from the table. 

“They’ll be here any second now,” said Stoick. 

Callum sat back in his chair and groaned. “Why do we have to be here?” 

Callum’s stepfather, King Harrow, stepped behind his chair and crossed his arms. “Because you are the eldest.” 

“And Hiccup is going to be the new chief when he’s older,” said Stoick. “He needs to get used to this.” Both boys groaned. 

“But they’re taking forever to get here!” blurted Callum. 

“Can we at least do something while we wait?” said Hiccup. “Promise we’ll pay attention when they get here.” 

“Ah, your son already has the makings of a diplomat, Stoick. But that should be no surprise considering how he’s taken care of your dragon problem,” said Harrow, impressed with Hiccup’s simple request. 

Hiccup glanced at him and blinked. “Huh?” 

Stoick shrugged. “I guess so.” He glanced between the two boys before looking at Harrow. “Alright, I think we can let them do something else while they wait. What did you have in mind?” 

“Drawing!” the boys said in unison. 

Harrow laughed as he went to another table and grabbed a few sheets of paper and a pencil. “Go figure.” 

Stoick shrugged as he placed the pencil he picked up back on the table. “Hey, it is was got us actually into talking. Looks like your son has the makings of a diplomat as well.” 

Harrow nodded as he patted Callum’s shoulder. “So it would seem. Guess they’re already off to a  good start.” 

“So then, we really didn’t have to come?” asked Callum, a little too hopefully. 

Both men glanced at him as his stepfather answered. “Oh, you still had to come.” 

The boys groaned, but in the next minute their attention was on drawing. Both of them had worked hard on fine-tuning their art skills, and it had helped to form their friendship, and eventually an alliance between Berk and Katolis. They were so focused on their art that they didn’t hear the whispered conference between Harrow and Stoick nor saw them leave the room. 

They kept at their drawing, Callum on a picture of his mother while Hiccup was drawing out Toothless. He had told Callum a lot about his new dragon friend, but hadn’t been able to show him. Toothless wasn’t allowed on this trip, Stoick thought it best not to bring a dragon along to a meeting with Scots. He warned that they could take any slight annoyance or aggression as an act of war. Harrow, having had more experience dealing with the elves on the border of his kingdom, decided to leave it to Stoick’s expertise on the matter and let him lead this peace treaty, which was Harrow’s idea to combine as many countries as possible to fight the elves if the time ever came. If the elves decided to join the alliance as well, Harrow was more than willing to let them. But for now, they were wanting to be prepared in case the elves decided to go to war instead. Harrow was glad that Berk had its own dragons, that would give them a much needed hand in a battle. 

Hiccup finished his drawing first. “Hey Callum, this is what Toothless looks like.” He picked it up and showed his friend. 

Callum’s eyes widened. “Whoa! He looks amazing!” He grinned at Hiccup. “I still can’t believe you have your own dragon!” He leaned forward on the table. “What’s it like flying him?” 

Hiccup’s face brightened as his eyes took on a faraway look. “Like freedom. No one can tell me how far I can or can’t go, or how high, or, well . . . like you’re free. That’s the best way to describe it. I’m going to have to show you.” 

Callum grinned. “I would totally like that.” 

“So, you have a  dragon, huh?” 

The boys yelped and jumped out of their chairs. They looked at the end of the table and saw a girl their age with fiery orange curls running wild past her shoulders, sky blue eyes, and was wearing an aqua dress. She looked uncomfortable in the dress, but Hiccup couldn’t help but think that she looked cute, even if she was glaring at them like Astrid would have. 

Callum was trying to hide behind Hiccup, but plucked up enough courage to say, “Who, who are you?” 

She went from having her hands on her hips to having them crossed. “I’m Merida DunBroch, my parents are King Fergus and Queen Eleanor. Who are you?” she said in a thick Scottish accent. 

Hiccup quickly introduced the two of them. “So, you’re a Scot.” 

“Well duh,” said Merida with a roll of her eyes. “Whatever gave it away?” 

Callum chuckled nervously. “That, that was a good one.” 

“Ugh.” She threw up her arms. “Why did I have to come? Now I’m stuck with a couple of wee lambs!” 

“Your parents forced you to come too?” blurted Callum. 

Merida glanced between the two. “Your dad forced you too?” 

They nodded, but Hiccup noticed that the men weren’t in the room. “Yeah,” he said, “but they’re not here. I wonder where they went?” 

Merida shrugged. “There  were two guys outside who suggested I come in here and that they go talk somewhere else.” 

Hiccup and Callum blinked and glanced at each other in surprise. What was going on? 

“Why would they do that? Dad said we had to come to learn about diplomacy!” blurted Callum. 

Hiccup groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. “If we just wasted time on this . . . I could be flying with Toothless right now!” 

Merida seemed to relax a bit at that and came closer towards the boys. “Speaking of, how did you get this dragon?” 

Hiccup grinned and told her the whole story of how he captured Toothless and how they eventually became good friends. The three sat back down at the table during Hiccup’s story and he showed Merida his picture of Toothless. 

She glanced over it with wonder. “Wow, he’s a beauty! And you’re pretty good at art.” 

Hiccup blushed slightly. “Uh, um, thanks!” 

She noticed Callum’s piece and pulled it closer for a better look at it. “And who’s this?” 

Callum smiled sadly. “My mom.” There was a moment’s pause as he took a deep breath before launching into the story of how he lost his mother and why this alliance was being created. Merida sat and listened, letting him tell his tale without interruption. 

She spoke when he was finished. “I’m sorry about your mother.” 

“Um, thanks.” 

“So, what about you?” said Hiccup. “What’s your story?” 

Merida laughed. “You wouldn’t believe me.” 

“Try us,” said Callum. 

She let out a huff. “Alright then, here goes.” She told about how she was trying to change some traditions, primarily involving her marriage to one of the other three Scottish tribes’s sons. But their mouths dropped when she talked about how her mother got turned into a bear and how they reversed the spell. 

“What?” blurted Callum at the end of it. 

Merida huffed. “Told you you wouldn’t believe me.” 

“Oh I believe you,” said Hiccup quickly, “but I’m still trying to wrap my head around the notion that there’s a witch who can turn people into bears, and only bears. Or that there’s even a witch!” 

“You’re telling me!” said Merida. 

“But, it helped you make the changes you needed to make,” said Hiccup. A big smile grew on his face. “That’s something the dragons helped us to do.” 

Merida nodded, smiling. “So I could tell from your story.” She glanced at Callum. “If your father open to cooperation with the elves?” 

Callum nodded. “If they decide to cooperate and agree to peace, but we want the alliance in place just in case we need aid in a war, which I really hope won’t happen.” He turned to Hiccup and grinned. “But, having the dragons of Berk as allies can really come in handy.” 

Hiccup grinned back. “Definitely.” 

Merida glanced between them. “Are you two really good friends?” 

They nodded and told her how they became friends through their art. They offered Merida a piece of paper and a pencil to draw something. 

She waved her hand. “Oh, I’m nowhere near as good as either of you.” 

“Don’t you draw at all?” asked Callum. 

“Only when I’m bored during school.” 

Hiccup and Callum laughed. “So do we!!” 

Hiccup pushed the paper towards her. “Come on, just something simple, please?” 

She let out a huff. “Oh, alright.” She took the pencil and the paper and began to draw. She drew a pretty simple picture of a bird with Celtic designs swirling within the outline of the bird. 

“Hey, that’s pretty good!” said Callum. 

“Nice design,” said Hiccup, nodding with approval. 

“Thanks, it’s a design I carved on my bow.” 

“Your bow?” the boys asked. 

Merida grinned. “I like archery. I like sword-fighting too, but archery is my favorite.” 

Callum leaned in closer. “Could you teach me sword-fighting? I’m no good at it, and I don’t think my sword teacher has the patience for it anymore.” 

Hiccup glanced at Callum in surprise. “Soren, not have any patience? I don’t think there’s much that could phase that guy!” 

Callum grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, well, he does get tired of things after a while.” 

“Nah, it’s more like he’s not the greatest of teachers. That, or you’re just so bad there’s no hope for you.” 

Callum glared at Hiccup. “Hey!” Merida burst out guffawing. 

“If there’s no hope for you, then there’s no way I could teach you either!” 

A loud shout startled them. 

Hiccup’s eyes widened. “Has something gone wrong with the meeting?” 

“There shouldn’t have, unless my parents didn’t like something in the treaty,” said Merida, rising from the chair. “Come on, let’s find out!” She led the boys out of the room and into another room on the right. The three paused at the scene, there was more than just the three leaders of the respective countries, but a woman and three other men as well, along with a few more Scots. 

“Lord Dingwall, they actually allowed Eleanor and Merida to come, they practically requested it!” Fergus was saying, trying to calm down the red-faced Scotsman. 

“But an alliance, with Vikings? Come on Fergus, you should know better than that! Eleanor, talk some sense into him!” 

Eleanor strode up to Lord Dingwall and looked him in the eye. “It was I who suggested that we agree to the meeting, Lord Dingwall. Besides, it’s not like we’re forming an alliance with all Vikings, just this tribe.” 

Stoick nodded. “That’s right, there are some Vikings tribes that even we are enemies with. We have made alliances with a couple, but I have no authority to speak on their behalf at this meeting.” 

“Though we do hope they will join this alliance,” said Harrow. Stoick nodded. 

Lord Dingwall glared at them. “And how do we know you won’t betray us!” 

“If we do, though that was never our intent, you have the authority to side with our enemies and fight us,” said Harrow. 

“What?” blurted Callum. The adults turned and saw the three teens. 

“Ah, how kind of you to join us.” Stoick glanced at Dingwall. “Though, it’s a bit of a bad time.” 

“They will have to learn how to navigate through these bad times, Stoick.” 

“Quite true. Come, have a seat.” 

Dingwall scoffed. “And two new contenders for the princess’s hand, I suppose?” 

The boys blinked and glanced at each other before looking at Dingwall incredulously. “What?” 

But that statement seemed to make Merida mad. “Lord Dingwall, they have not presented themselves as possible suitors, only as friends. Please don’t jump to conclusions.” 

“Hmmph,” said Dingwall as he crossed his arms. 

“And if they do decide to present themselves as possible suitors for Merida,” said Eleanor, “we will not turn them away. Merida still has time to make her choice.” 

Dingwall grumbled something, but said nothing else. 

Harrow turned to Eleanor and Fergus. “Then, do we have an alliance?” 

“But how can we be sure we can trust them?” said another man. 

“Lord MacIntosh,” said Merida, “did you trust my father at first before he came to help you?” 

MacIntosh, Dingwall, and the third man, Lord MacGuffin, stared at Merida in shock. “No,” they managed to say slowly. 

“But you gave him a chance to prove himself, and he has. Will you not now allow these two to prove themselves?” 

The three huddled and had a quick conference before looking directly at Harrow and Stoick. “Fine,” said Dingwall, “we’ll give you a chance too.” 

Harrow held out his hand and shook hands with each of them, including Eleanor. “Thank you, I will not let you down.” 

“You’d better not, “said MacIntosh with a sniff. 

“Neither will I,” said Stoick as he too shook hands. 

“You especially,” said MacGuffin, “we’re going to keep a close eye on you.” 

“I wouldn’t expect any less,” said Stoick with a little more cheer in his voice. 

“Well, is that it? Can we go now? I want to get some practice in before we leave.” 

“Merida!” blurted Eleanor. “You’re supposed to be learning about diplomacy!”

Fergus chuckled. “Let them have some fun, Eleanor, we are almost done with this meeting.” 

Harrow grinned at them. “Besides, I think the three have already done all the diplomacy they can do at this time. It’s why we suggested Merida join Hiccup and Callum, so the two of them would get to know each other and practice diplomacy, if you will, on each other. I think it seems to be working out rather well, don’t you think?” 

The teens’s mouths dropped open. “What?” 

“Your lesson is done for the day, you may go play now,” said Stoick with a grin and a wink. 

Merida recovered first. “Fine, bye!” She turned and walked out the door, heading towards the yard. 

“Talk to you later!” said Hiccup before following her. 

“Hey, wait for me!’ said Callum as he rushed out. He came running back. “Bye!” He rushed after the other two. 

Harrow chuckled. “Yes, let’s go ahead and wrap this up, shall we?” 

Fergus grinned. “With pleasure.” The adults finished up the details of the treaty while Merida got to show off her skills, thoroughly impressing the boys. 

While Merida went around on her horse, Callum nudged Hiccup. 

“So, is she a competitor to Astrid now?” 

Hiccup blushed slightly and stammered. “Wh-what? N-no!” 

Callum grinned. “Uh-huh, yeah, sure.” 

“No she isn’t!” said Hiccup as he pushed Callum. He crossed his arms and glanced back at Merida, her fiery curls flying in the wind and a smile that reached into her lips. “No, but I would like to get to know her.” 

“She seems to have more in common with you than Astrid anyway,” said Callum. “And I think she’s pretty cool.” 

“Oh, so you have a crush on her!” 

Callum glared at him. “Do not! I like Claudia! You know that!” He crossed his arms and humphed. 

Hiccup chuckled as he turned back to watching Merida. Callum was right though, Merida seemed to have more in common with Hiccup. She wanted to be a free spirit, like him. She would no doubt enjoy flying as much as she does riding a horse, and exploring, and, well, everything Hiccup wanted to do. Except maybe the inventing, but a lot of other things he wanted to do before becoming chief. He leaned on his knees, not realizing how softly he was smiling at her, yeah, getting to know Merida better was now on that list.

#mericcup #mericcupmonth #mericcupmonth19 #mericcup19 #The Dragon Prince