#windy hills refuge

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Forspoken Photo Dump 91: Visoria; Shepherd's Meadow, Part 2

#forspoken #forspoken photo mode #athia #visoria #visorai: shepherd's meadow #windy hills refuge #bonus avoalet in the distance #boggart #water garden: western belfry #fount of blessing #rosewood fount #merveil bridge #fort eminn #monument to strength #breakzombie #breakzombies #graenn #merycodus #canis dirus #vorona #miacis #monument to wisdom #monument to wisdom: head for the plains #bonus junoon in the distance

[valyalyon]

6 Roadside Rhapsody

Previous Post | Next Post SEA MASTER LIST OR #LYONSEA DIVIDERS

CW: non con, descriptions of SA with receiving party asleep, unprotected sex, gaslighting, manipulation. MDNI. 2.3K words.

The morning of January 4, 2019 was warm, enough so that Rocco realized they finally had a window to leave Lilac Gorge for Laguna Hills. The window was small, but it’d take 9 hours to reach Laguna Hills.

They’d have 2-3 days of good weather, but he planned to get them there in 2 days. They could only drive up to 4.5 hours a day, because of daylight hours and a worry that the van would overheat.

The worry was not an unfounded one, as they had been seeking refuge in the Lilac Gorge to avoid the van overheating.

Rocco drove slow down the streets of the Lilac Gorge, speeding up in the last couple of streets. Angel watched the lilac fields fly by from her window, and she saw Lazarus again.

well, the highway has a way of playing tricks on tired eyes…

Lazarus was standing with his motorcycle on the side of the road, looking at the cars that drove by on the road beside him. She held her breaths when their eyes met, and the world just stopped.

seems that you’re the only thing that never leaves my mind.

His black eyes looked into her green ones, they were alone in space for just a second.

Then he disappeared.

The van exited the Lilac Gorge, and returned onto the Red Highway.

This part of the trip out of the Gorge involves a gradually steeper Highway, all the way up the ridge of the mountain range surrounding the Gorge.

The road had been cut through a low slope in the ridge, and on every side of the Highway there were powerful jagged cliffs. Endless and orange “loose rock” signs along the road.

It was a dangerous section of the range, and within a half hour they’d reached the entrance to it.

The sun that had been rising in the sky darkened, disappearing entirely in the powerful shadows of the cliffs.

Angel was entirely too stressed, but wasn’t letting it be known. While she thought it was beautiful, because it was, she had very bad anxiety.

It was something that overcame her frequently and as they drove out of the Gorge it definitely overwhelmed her.

Trying to just focus on the beauty of it all, she kept her eyes up on the cliffs.

The road was windy and tight, with a speed limit of 65 within the cliffs. If she looked at the road, she would be too scared by the speed.

Rocco was driving maybe 70-75mph, instead of the limited 65. She knew bringing it up to him would only cause him to get defensive and start a fight.

Instead, she watched the cliffs.

Then, he spoke up, “come here, Star… I’m rock hard…”

“Is that a joke?” She asked, at first not taking her eyes away from the cliffs. Her nervousness was seeping into her hands, they were getting sweaty.

“Get over here!” He demanded this time.

It kind of surprised her. She immediately took her eyes off the cliffs and turned her attention to the needy man.

“I haven’t cum since last night and I only got to cum once before you said you were tired,” Rocco was driving effortlessly with one hand, the other gripping his hard cock.

“You’re selfish,” she told him, but she did move. She unbuckled herself and moved to his side.

She got on her knees, putting her hand onto his cock, telling him, “focus on the road and slow down.”

He promised to drive safe, slipping his cock into her unsuspecting mouth immediately, “fuck… you feel so good, do you know that?”

get head while I’m driving…

She hadn’t been ready for him just yet, but she started to suck his cock without hesitation. Her mouth covered him in spit, leaving him wet to the touch.

Her head bobbed up and down expertly along his cock, making sure to please his tip and play with his balls while she did.

She wanted him to finish in her mouth, she wanted to fuck him for awhile… But, that was later… Right now, she wanted him to cum quick.

Her tongue ran along the slit of his cock, tasting his precum and slurping it up. It was so natural between the two of them, but it was scary sometimes.

Sometimes, he was different. Sometimes, he got too far ahead of himself. It was a lot and he didn’t fully understand Angel.

Still, she did anything to be around him. As she continued to bob her head, he continued to weave along the Red Highway’s many turns out of the mountain range.

He entered that portion of the drive where everything went down into a desert steadily over the course of hundreds of miles. It connected to the long Western winding H-40.

During this part, the feeling of his Star’s mouth around his cock was driving him insane. His balls unleashed every bit of his semen into her throat.

She was waiting happily for it, working hard to get it. He tasted so good to her, she was always so attracted to him and enjoyed this…

Angel didn’t know what to do. She felt she lost herself in love… Fuck, she couldn’t help but love though.

She swallowed every drop cleanly, pulling away without leaving a mess. Scooted over then to the passenger seat, and sat herself down.

Angel plopped herself back down on her seat.

Heliosea, the country our story takes place in, has many Highways. Each highway is numbered in a traditional sense, with the Red Highway being officially named H-35.

To get to Laguna Hills, they’d need to take an exit for H-30. As the sign approached, Rocco merged over.

The exit took them on an overpass, eventually lowering them onto H-30 where they started Westbound. This highway was known by the locals that lived along it as the “Opportunity Highway”.

Despite having recently gotten on it, Rocco decided to pull into a town along the Opportunity Highway for the night.

The town was smaller than a lot of the ones Angel had seen before. There was no strip club or bar, just a little motel, a gas station, and a dirt lot for resting from the drive.

By night fall, the two were laying on the roof of the van, staring up at the endless sky of dying stars. Angel was lost in thought when she heard Rocco clearing his throat.

Her eyes turned to look at him, and he was already waiting for her. He grinned from ear to ear, and his eyes were the lightest she’d ever seen them, “I love you, Angel James…”

At first there was silence, because Angel was surprised. Her eyes searched his face, just as the uncertainty crept into his eyes.

“I love you too, Rocco Bennett,” she reached out for his face and kissed his lips.

From there, the two were wrapped in one another, kissing and laughing. The radio was on blast from inside the van and the two started fucking in that empty lot.

He had her legs on his shoulders, and he was slamming into her.

Maybe ten or fifteen minutes, but soon the two were cumming together on the roof of the van, then rushing to get down as they heard a car coming up the hill.

Angel hopped down with Rocco’s semen dripping out of her, and he helped her into the van. He climbed in after her.

They hopped into the bed together, making out passionately and undressing one another. They were always so hot together, steaming up the windows of the van.

Rocco came in Angel again that night. He couldn’t help himself, holding her up on his cock as she trembled and begged for him.

Rocco dreamed and obsessed over Angel in a way not many would understand. He thought about her constantly.

When she was beside him, he was thinking about her. When she wasn’t near him, he was thinking about her even more.

He was obsessed with this girl, he couldn’t finger out way. He couldn’t figure out what she’d entranced him with. Rocco, though? Addicted to her.

Although Angel could hold up all night most nights, the last few nights she hadn’t been sleeping much. Having cum so many times, she lazily passed out in the bed.

Rocco kissed her and whispered in her ear, “come on, wake up, Star… I need more so bad…”

“Mmm…” she moaned from her sleep land, adjusting her position in the bed.

He moved from the bed to the front of the van, sitting down on the driver’s seat to check his phone.

There were several missed calls from Grace, and so he checked his texts.

The last text read: Booked us a show for tomorrow a couple towns down. you coming or not?

He checked the previous messages for the address and saw that the town was along H-30. He decided they’d stop there and stay there until the day after, and finish the last few hours to Laguna Hills that morning.

He responded: we’ll be there.

After that, he was still thinking about fucking his Star. He turned around to see her asleep on the bed. She was naked still.

He sighed, and walked over to her, touching her naked breasts. He kissed them, then sucked on them. She didn’t move, still passed out from all the exhaustion.

His hands moved greedily down in between her legs, and he parted them, allowing his fingers to enter her slowly.

He didn’t want to wake her, he wanted to just finish in her and join her in bed.

No response to his fingers, so Rocco started to spit on his rock hard cock. He needed to make sure it went in without struggle, so he made sure it was really wet.

Then, he slowly began pushing his tip into her.

With no reaction from her, he started to inch all the way in. Her spread lips happily took him, and her unconscious body breathed stilly and snored quietly.

“Your pussy wanted another round,” he whispered into the air as he filled her all the way up, “look at how wet and ready you are for me while you’re sleeping…”

He slowly began pumping his cock in and out of her, spitting down in between their legs to keep her wetness going. Her pussy kept taking him so easily, and he began moaning under his breath.

Rocco increased his pace, wanting to finish quickly so he wouldn’t wake her. He continued groping and squeezing her breasts, touching her sleeping face.

She fluttered in her sleep, moving her hand up to her face and swatting him away. As she did this, Rocco started to finish inside her, holding her down by the waist.

He pulled out once he was sure that he let all his cum out into her. He cleaned himself off and then came to the bed.

Angel was waking up and started mumbling, “Mmm… why… why am I so wet?”

Rocco joined her in bed, “Did you piss yourself?”

Her fingers moved and she touched herself, feeling the familiar consistency of cum in between her pussy. Her vagina was bigger as if somebody had just been fucking it.

“Rocco?” Angel started, her eyes opening, “did you fuck me and cum inside me while I was asleep?”

He shook his head, confused, “no. You said you didn’t want anymore. I respected that.”

“Then why do I have cum leaking out of my open vagina?” Angel asked, turning to face him.

Rocco smiled and kissed her, opening her mouth even when she tried to pull away. He groped her breasts, “mmm… It’s probably cum from earlier. You probably held onto it.”

“You cleaned me and I tried to get most of it out,” Angel protested, “you do realize what you did is rape?”

Rocco started sucking on her breasts, and played with her ass at the same time, “I didn’t cum in you again, although I wouldn’t mind if you let me do it.”

“I’m sleepy,” Angel’s lips were turned into a pout expression.

“You’ll get plenty of sleep later… I just want you to feel my cock slamming into you how you like it,” Rocco muttered as he began to suck on her neck, and started fingering her pussy.

Angel moaned against him, struggling slightly, “we shouldn’t… we did so much… I’m tired…”

“Star, a man deserves to cum at least three times in a day,” he tried reasoning, starting to press his cock to her entrance.

“You raped me while I slept and came in me then,” she tried reminding him.

“I promise, I didn’t… That’s old cum… I’m a respectful man I would never use your body while you’re asleep,” he seemed so sure of himself, but his greed was evident.

He slowly put his tip into her pussy, and said, “you feel that? How could you sleep through that?”

“Mmm…” her eyes stared up at him as he forced another kiss onto her mouth.

He slipped his cock deeper, stroking shallowly just to tease her, “this is a cock, Star, that needs you enjoying yourself to be happy.”

Her moans escaped her mouth, her legs trembled against him. He went all the way in with his thrusts, not taking it easy with her.

Within a few minutes, a trembling Angel was orgasming along his cock. His balls released his seed into her, for the fourth time.

An issue that Angel might not have realized in that moment is that he had done that to her before. He had taken advantage of her in her sleep before, more times than he’d be able to count.

He found that he could never get enough and most of the time she could keep up for hours but whenever she passed out and he still had more… His mind would cloud and he would do it. He’d rape her in her sleep.

He pulled away and laid down flat, ready to sleep.

next post will be some good old DIE, so no ending to the Rocco storyline for a few days! Not sure when next update will be, but I'm hoping soon <3

SONG REFERENCES Great Divide by Ira Wolf Stealth Mode by J. Cole featuring Bas

#non con #somno fantasy #somno breeding #somno k!nk #gaslight #smut #dark romance #tw abuse #lyonsea #bluestlyon #booklr #writeblr #creative writing #literature

[tribbetherium]

The Early Temperocene: 135 million years post-establishment

Down to Size: Glaciocene Survivors in North Westerna

It is a breezy afternoon in the montane meadow of North Westerna: a land that broke off in the Middle Glaciocene and had remained isolated since. This landmass had served as a refuge while the harmsters wreaked mayhem during their brief rule in the Late Glaciocene, and today its northern latitude has allowed it to remain relatively cold and windy even in a world that has warmed: allowing cold-adapted Glaciocene fauna to persist in this last stronghold. In the alpine meadows, high up on the mountainous plateaus, small patches of conifer forest dot the landscape, blanketed with a wide array of grasses and low-lying flowering plants. And it is in this lush little haven that a very unusual little creature is hard at work.

On the foot of a grassy hill, a small, furry animal is busily excavating a small hole in the ground, creating a suitable small burrow. With small, upward thrusts of his head, he flings load after load of dirt, pausing momentarily to keep a look out for danger before resuming his business. The breeding season is approaching, and he is seeking to entice a mate, by providing her with a perfect nursery to raise her young, typically only one at a time, but born quite well developed and able to follow its mother around within days. He is quite unremarkable at first glance: a brown-furred stout creature about the size of a small beaver. But it is his digging implements, a pair of two-pronged tusks, that betray his true ancestry. This small burrow-digger comes from a most unlikely lineage: he is one of the last hammoths, once long ago the most immense of land animals to ever walk the planet.

This tiny heir to mighty titans is a wooly marmoth (Nanomammuthumys diminuta), weighing only five to ten kilograms in a tremendous counterpoint to its Glaciocene cousins that grew to sizes of up to twenty tons. It seems an incredulous journey for a lineage of giants to shrink to such a miniscule scale: and yet, upon observation of other living genera, the progression from gigantic grazers to miniature ground-dwellers becomes more evident.

Several other hammoths persist on North Westerna: bigger they may be than the wooly marmoth, they nonetheless represent a mere fraction of the sizes their forebearers attained twenty million years ago. In those days of icy blizzards and long periods of fasting, being big was an advantage, to better retain heat and store fat to go for days without food, as little was available. Now, however, a great size was a liability, and with empty niches left vacant by the end-Glaciocene mass extinction, leaving a lack of any large predators on the continent save for small fearrets and predatory ratbats, the dwarf hammoths had even less motivation to be big, gradually becoming smaller and smaller generation after generation.

The wooly marmoth thus represents insular dwarfism at its most extreme, though other, larger hammoth species represent more basal descent, as rungs of divergence on a trend of decreasing size. The sheep-sized curved-tusked bullbleat (Choerotaurus curvidens) is one common example, grazing on the open plains in small groups, and focusing mostly on tough grass and roots to reduce competition with the continent's other primary herbivores: the ungulopes. Thus the bullbleat represents almost a return to the niches of their mison and cavybara ancestors, who filled very similar ecological roles in the days of the Therocene and Rodentocene.

Some of the dwarf hammoths have even begun specializing into new ecological niches in stark defiance of their superficial appearance of a leftover evolutionary dead-end. The mountain rammoth (Capramammuthus gracilis) is a perfect illustration of this: able to scale steep cliffs with the aid of gripping toes capable of gaining purchase on rugged terrain in ways that the singular-hoofed ungulopes could not, the rammoth has become more slender and gracile than its kin, able to access alpime vegetation growing out of reach of ungulope competition, which it uproots from the mountainsides with the help of its short, broad tusks.

The biggest living hammoths are found on the northernmost plains of North Westerna, the northern oomingyak (Boviamammuthomys bubaloides), the most basal of all surviving hammoth species, and prominently displaying the trend of increasingly-derived hammoths getting ever tinier. Indeed, even with the claim of largest living hammoth the oomingyak is already a very-dwarfed species in comparison to Glaciocene hammoths, at only about one to one-and-a-half tons in weight, though it lives an ancestral lifestyle akin to its long-lost brethren, roaming in herds in the tundra to feed on the hardy plants that grow there.

The age of the great hammoths has long since ended, but the story of this fascinating lineage is not quite over yet. On one isolated continent, where the changes of the Therocene have taken slower to take hold, and where the murderous legions that enslaved their mighty kin had never managed to reach, these tiny titans persist: stubbornly clinging onto the fringes of a world that had been altered far from the frozen age that gave rise to the first of them.

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

#speculative evolution #speculative biology #spec evo #speculative zoology #hamster's paradise

[stitch1830]

Change

Kantoph Mondangst here we go! I'll probably have more to add to this before it's posted on ao3, just a heads up :)

......

“What are you doing?”

He said nothing as he kissed her neck and gently rubbed her stomach while she cut vegetables for dinner. They weren’t unwelcome gestures, in fact, she quite enjoyed the attention. Still, Toph had tasks to complete and she couldn’t have her boyfriend cling to her like this for the next six or so months. So when he didn’t stop kissing her neck and rubbing her stomach, she feigned being exasperated and once again commented on his antics. “Don’t you have something better to do?”

“Nope,” he replied quickly, grinning into her neck. His hands gently wrapped around hers and coaxed them to release their hold on the knife and vegetables, and once she did, he turned her around to face him. “I have nothing to do except kiss you and say hi to our little baby badgermole all day long.”

“That baby badgermole is barely a baby right now,” she teased.

“Nonsense. I can tell already.”

“Are you calling me fat??”

“Please Toph. You’re perfect the way you are.”

“That’s not a no, Hotshot.”

He said nothing, but leaned his forehead against hers and swiped his thumb over the small swell in her belly. Normally, such close quarters and cheesy gestures would’ve had Toph complaining until the man stopped, but with Kanto, it was okay. In fact, she enjoyed it. Loved it, even.

His hair tickled her forehead as he stood there with her, leaning on the counter. She could practically feel his mind reeling with thoughts, and one of them he thought aloud. “You can actually feel the heartbeat, huh,” he quietly remarked.

Toph chuckled. “Yeah, ever since Katara said that’s what the echo was, can’t stop hearing it.”

“I wish I could feel it.”

She teasingly clicked her tongue at him. “If you weren’t such a lily-livered earthbender, you probably could.”

“Hey!” he playfully shouted as he wrapped his arms around her, effectively ‘trapping’ her. “Some would say I’m a pretty good earthbender.”

“Pretty good doesn’t cut it with seismic sense, Hotshot.”

He grumbled and buried his face into her neck, and she breathed out a laugh as his towering figure huddled over hers. They stood in their kitchen, content with the silence and the intimate moment they shared with one another. Pretty soon, those moments would be limited, so there was no need to rush. And it was strange how soon things would change. One moment, they were two, the next, they would be three. A change that while they had months to prepare for, would still be rather sudden for the both of them. For that, a wave of apprehension overwhelmed Toph. The idea of motherhood was distant, and she wasn’t sure she’d ever be prepared.

It was as if he knew what she was thinking, because he commented on the very same idea.

“Funny,” he began. “A year from today, our lives will be so different. And the year after that will be different, and so will the year after that.”

The comment seemed straightforward, but it left Toph curious. She had only told him last week that she was pregnant, and while he had been ecstatic then, there was that fear in the back of her mind that this wasn’t what he wanted. She swallowed thickly and noted, “You say that as if it’s a bad thing.”

“Not at all,” he reassured her quickly. “If anything, it’ll be amazing and perfect. I just mean, it’s crazy what can happen in a year.”

“I suppose,” she pondered.

Toph meant to say more, but she refrained. Perhaps it was the uncertainty of the change, or the weariness she still felt about becoming a mother, or a combination of both. Change could be good, but she feared it wouldn’t be all perfect like he dreamed it would be.

He seemed to be reading her thoughts once again. “Don’t worry,” he began, “I’m going to be with you every step of the way, and you’re going to be a great mother. The very best mama.”

She could hear the smile in his voice, and as quickly as her worries came, they disappeared. Her response, however, was filled with sarcasm and sass for their continued banter. “I feel so much better knowing you’ll be there to hover all day,” she jabbed. “And of course you’re not worried about being a dad. You’ll be a natural.”

“True,” he replied, mimicking Toph’s dramatic tone. “But that’s only because we’re gonna have a baby girl that’s gonna be just like you. And I know you like the back of my hand.”

Toph scoffed. “How do you know that??”

“A father’s intuition.”

“Well, my motherly instincts say it could be a boy. And if he’s anything like you, I know you like the earth beneath my feet.”

“Oh yeah?” he jokingly challenged. “What happens when I pick you up from the ground and you’re not on the earth, huh?”

His hands found her waist and did just that. He lifted her up and set her on the counter, her feet losing the sense of the world around her. Toph laughed at his antics, and he chuckled with her as her legs wrapped around his waist. “I’d hit you until you put me back down,” she threatened, thumping his chest with her knuckle.

Kanto breathed out a laugh. “I suppose I deserve that.”

She smiled at him while his thumbs smoothed out the wrinkles on her shirtfront. Her hands found his face and traced out the marvel and joy etched on it. Things were perfect, even with change looming over them. Oddly enough, it didn’t seem so bad with Kanto around for it, despite what she thought moments ago.

He looked up at her. “I know you’re still worried, but I’m really looking forward to what this year is gonna bring us.”

His heart beat with hers, and his hands were warm and gentle and reassuring, and fear was far from her mind. All she felt was joy and excitement with him.

So she didn’t hesitate to respond, “I’m looking forward to it, too.”

~~~

She dreaded this day. She wanted anything but this day to come.

But the days came and went with the wind, and a year had passed since she felt his heart beat in time with hers, a year since his warm hand was in hers, a year since she heard this deep, calming voice.

She hated today. It reminded her how much things could change in a year.

Toph bitterly chuckled at the thought. He wasn’t wrong when he spoke about change before they had Lin. Change came suddenly and unapologetic. And their lives were so different from a year ago. But they weren’t better. That was apparent.

The memorial itself was a lovely, intimate ceremony with her friends and some close work colleagues in attendance. He would’ve loved it, or, she hoped he would’ve. Out of all the endless conversations they had, death was not one of them.

All the flowers had to be shipped in; Republic City’s bitter winter started to roll in early, and no native flora could withstand the sudden overnight freezes. Still, it was important that the hill had a flowery aroma with the incense. His botany obsessed heart and mind would’ve rattled off all the different types and facts of each flower, and he would’ve spent half the time describing each petal in great detail to Toph.

She insisted that there be at least one panda lily to set by his memorial, and the lengths she went through to have one in bloom in time for today was no small feat. It hung low by her side in one hand, the other occupied with her—their—daughter. Poor Lin didn’t understand the reason behind today. The chilly wind bit at her cheeks, and she sought refuge in the crook of Toph’s neck while she waited for the adults to carry on with whatever kept them outside on this cold, windy afternoon.

Zuko gave the speech. It was lovely, really, but Toph didn’t remember a single word of it. And all the hands and pats to her shoulder and back felt distant; they weren’t his steady hands, and if they weren’t his hands, then she didn’t want their support.

At the end of the formal ceremony, those in attendance dropped a single, unique flower by the memorial portrait. Some took a moment to say something to his picture, others dropped the flower and left. It meant a great deal that so many came to honor him, but truthfully, Toph didn’t care about anyone in attendance. She didn’t care about the number of flowers that dropped to the ground for him. Because in the end, only one mattered, and it wasn’t even hers.

When everyone dropped their flower in honor of him, Toph set Lin down and held onto her hand. Katara handed her the very last flower designated to be placed for him, and Toph gently steered Lin toward the memorial. It took a few moments, but when Toph and Lin arrived at his picture, Toph placed her panda lily on the pile for him, and gave a white chrysanthemum to Lin. She wrapped Lin’s chubby fingers around the stem and gestured toward the flowers.

“Come here, Lin,” Toph prompted, rather shocked that her voice sounded so strong and calm just then. “Give your flower to Daddy.”

At the sound of his name, Lin toddled over to his memorial and the pile of flowers. Her little body crouched down to the level of the pile, and she set hers on top.

Toph pulled Lin into her arms and whispered to her, “Good job, Lin.” She placed a single kiss on Lin’s cheek, and listened as her daughter said, “Dada,” over and over.

She ignored the sting of the breeze as it hit her tear-stained cheeks. “Tell Baba you love him,” she told Lin.

Lin whispered to the wind those words, saying them only loud enough for Toph to hear.

Spirits, she hated all of this. Time moved so slowly each and every day, and yet, here they were, remembering his life because it has been a year since he was alive. She hated that a year had passed, she hated that she still wasn’t over it, she hated that all the things they used to forever memorialize him were things that she couldn’t enjoy to their full extent, and she dreaded the day Lin wouldn’t call for her Baba any longer. Because that day would be sooner than Toph cared to think about.

There were too many people around, now. Toph wanted a moment with her family, no matter how broken it was. But it didn’t feel right to snap at the others and scream at them to leave, so she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Until finally, Toph Beifong got her wish. As the crowd disappeared and all who remained were her closest friends, Toph only told them once that she wished to be alone. When they left her alone with Lin and his memorial, and as her friends waited at the bottom of the hill, Toph wept openly for him. For the drastic swerve her life took, for the inevitable reality that she’d spend more time separated from him than they were together, and for the change that the future held for her, because she no longer looked forward to it.

#kantoph #toph #toph beifong #kanto #lin #lin beifong #atla #lok #writing #the long winding road to you #the chief and dep series #like a boomerang i always come back to you series #kantoph mondangst #the angst is strong to start the week lol

[secret-captain-swan-blog]

Castle on the Hill

English Literature PhD student Emma Swan just needs money to pay for her last semester of grad school tuition. Killian Jones has always dreamed of opening a bookshop but has never been able to afford it. So when the small principality of Misthaven is looking for their lost princess, the pair decide that this might just be the perfect money making scheme.A Multi-chapter Modern Day + Lost Princess (think Rapunzel/Anastasia-esque) + Book Lovers in a Coffee Shop AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 94580/ ?

Prologue (Part 1 + 2) // Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8 // Ch 9 // Ch 10 // Ch 11 // Ch 12 // Ch 13 // Ch 14 // Ch 15 // Ch 16 // Ch 17

Read on: Ao3

--

Killian is reading in the garden when it starts to rain. It’s not a lot, just drops against the thin pages of his book. He’s nearly to the end of Jane Eyre now. He’s honestly ready to be done with the book. Where it had once been enthralling, it now seems tiresome. The pain of the loss of Alice lingers folded in it’s pages.

He’s wondering if he should seek some refuge from the rain, when he looks up to see Emma running across the field. She’s windswept, her hair falling loose from her ponytail. Yet she’s still beautiful, like a Romantic heroine, her dress sticking to her torso. He can tell there are tears in her eyes.

He rises to his feet, striding as quick as he can to her. They meet in the middle. He wraps her in his arms quickly. Something is wrong, he notices instantly, from the slump of her shoulders and the desperateness she clings to him with. Her hands knots in the back of his shirt, holding on to him.

“Emma, love?” He asks into her hair. “Whatever is wrong?”

It must be the statue, he thinks. It must have gotten into her head. He should not have left her there by herself. She had heavy emotions that he should have been there to help her with.

“Killian, I can’t,” she mumbles, her voice half delirious.

“Can’t what?” He prods, fear trickling through his body.

She sniffles and whispers again, “I can’t.”

It’s windy outside, the rain picking up, and he can’t hear her well.

“Come, love,” he says. “Let’s get you inside. It’s getting bad out here.”

She shakes her head against his chest, “No. I can’t.”

He rubs his hands up and down her arms. “You’re going to catch a cold, love. I want to hear what’s upset you, but some place a bit less damp and cold.”

“No, no,” she says. “We can’t go into the castle. I can’t deal with it.”

“Deal with what, Swan?” He asks, slipping his hands down her arms to take her hands in his. He raises them to his lips to kiss them softly. They are already freezing.

“They’re going to tell me that I’m the lost princess,” she whispers. “And I’m not ready for it.”

He tries to process what she is saying. She’s the lost princess. She’s not ready.

His mind flits through all the evidence that he’s been trying to not point out for so long. The uncanny resemblance between the girl in Killian’s memories and Emma herself. The name. The accent. The right history. The scar on her shoulder. Even the chin. Killian’s spent so long trying to get Emma to remember something. For the connection to hold. And maybe, just maybe this visit to the gardens triggered the very thing that Killian’s been dreaming of. Maybe, even after last night’s fight, she has finally had the epiphany that he knows, he’s certain, must be coming.

But maybe that’s not it? Killian doesn’t want to get his hopes up. Reality rushes through him. Maybe the Queen or Regina just think that Emma is the lost princess and they want her to go public about it for publicity. Maybe now they’re manipulating her, asking her to pose as the princess. For what? For Misthaven Morale?

He’s going to need more information. Emma’s given him such few words, but his mind is spinning with possibilities. He knows, he’s certain, that something fundamental, potentially something he’s yearned for, is changing right here and now.

He brushes his hand against her hair softly, like he would a timid animal. She curls into him more, shivering.

What she needs, he realizes, obviously isn’t to go back into the castle. She needs to talk and in more than one way, unfreeze.

“Come love,” he whispers into her hair.

He leads her out of the castle grounds, the statues and winter garden behind them. Looking back now, he’s uncertain why he thought it was a good idea to take her there when she was in a bizarre state from the night before. As they weave down the cobblestone, she sniffles now, looking a bit less anxious. He thanks the gods for that.

There is a little tea shop in the grey stone shops lining the road. Called “The Castle Gate Cafe,” it’s lace doily sort of place. The counter boasts an assortment of cakes. He situates Emma in a table that’s tucked into a bay window off to the side that overlooks a damp patch of garden.

As he orders an Americano, a cappuccino, and a slice of lemon lavender cake, he glances back at Emma. Her face is distant, as if her thoughts are in another world.

When he comes back to join her, he presses a cappuccinos into her hands. She closes her eyes and takes a sip, her shivering subsiding.

“Sorry,” she says, after another pensive sip. “I must have seemed crazy back there. Or pathetic.”

“Emma, love, you seem traumatized,” he tells her.

She swallows, “I think I am a little.”

He takes a bit of the lemon cake. It’s sweet and soothing. He puts a piece of it on a fork and passes it to Emma. She takes the bite and gives him a smile.

“I was really affected by what I saw in gardens. I felt so ashamed for scamming the queen. I honestly couldn’t take it anymore. I was like in a weird trance or something, I swear. I felt like an out of body feeling, I don’t know.”

He takes a bite of cake and nods at her to continue.

She rambles, ”So, I went into the castle and all of a sudden, Mary Margaret was there and I just had to tell her everything.”

Killian chokes on his cake, “Everything?”

“Yeah, about the opera and our old plan and everything,” Emma manages.

He frowns knowing this means risking her security in Mishaven, her trust with the Queen, and the possibility of her returning to the country- and to him. “What happened?”

“She didn’t care. Killian, it’s crazy. She said that it doesn’t make a difference. She loves me,” Emma admits.

He reaches out to take her hand. Killian knows how much this means to her- to get the Queen’s affection and approval, to be loved by a parental-type figure in the way she’s always yearned to be. He knows it because he’s wanted it too. That’s part of why he’s never taken Ruby’s Granny’s generosity for granted. He rubs his thumb against her palm, part of him so understands and is proud for Emma.

“That’s marvelous, Swan,” he says.

She takes another sip of cappuccino, before she presses her lips together, and looks up at him.

“But then all of a sudden, Prime Minister Mills walked in,” she tells him.

He lets an eyebrow lift in place of a question.

“And she said that she took DNA from us both, without either of us knowing,” Emma says.

Killian thinks back to the week before, the suspected break-in. Of course it wasn’t the hooded man, it was the Prime Minister.

“We’re related,” Emma tells him. “I’m Mary Margaret’s daughter.”

So he was right.

He’s been right all along. It’s her. Emma is the girl from his childhood. It was Emma who he used to play games with in the castle courtyard. It was Emma who he used to eat sweets with in the kitchens when the cook would make them an extra treat. It was Emma who he ran across the field with that dark night. It was Emma who saw his brother right before he died. It was Emma who was now his sovereign. Emma.

“You’re the lost princess,” Killian says.

He feels a weird bit of emotion well up in him, a feeling of completeness that now is crescendoing. The girl who disappeared that night has been found. The lost girl who never had a family has been welcomed home.

When Emma looks up at him and sees the emotion in his face, something changes in her too. Tears spring again to her eyes. He quickly moves from his seat to slide in the booth next to her. His arms wrap around her. His lips kiss her hair. He tries to hide his sniffles, but he can’t.

She wraps her arms back around him, burying her face in his chest.

“We found you, Emma,” he whispers. “You came home to us.”

She sniffles.

“Killian, I don’t know how to react to this,” she murmurs back. “You’re crying, Mary Margaret is crying. I don’t know how to feel. I don’t feel like a princess. I don’t feel like my life is changing. I still don’t remember anything. It’s not like a sudden dramatic flashback or anything. All of these people keep looking at me like I’m supposed to be crying, but I don’t even know.”

Killian tries to be attentive to her. He realizes that Emma isn’t experiencing this moment as he is. He needs to be there for her. Princess or not, Emma is his girlfriend. She needs him to support her through this emotionally cataclysmic moment.

“Don’t know what?” He asks, brushing another hand through her hair.

“How to be a princess? How to be a daughter? I’ve only ever been Emma Swan. I’ve only ever been lost or alone or fighting for myself. I just want to go back to Durham and write my thesis. I don’t want to learn how to curtsey or use dumb shrimp forks or whatever people do in those Hallmark lost princess movies.”

“I’m not quite sure what a Hallmark is,” Killian replies.

“It’s not important,” Emma says, sniffling and sighing. “It’s just. I’m not really sure I ever wanted this.”

“Emma, you have a family,” he says emphatically, tears still in his eyes. “You have a real life fairy tale. You weren’t reading Blanche Neige all these years to run away from that. Princess Emmaline Georgette Analise Charmant Blanchard Nolan, I promise this is everything you’ve ever wanted.”

She smiles and sniffles and nods, “Yeah, I think I know that. Maybe that’s what scares me the most.”

He hugs her tight.

“I still don’t know what to do,” Emma says. “I ran away from the Queen.”

“You ran away?” He laughs.

“Yeah, I didn’t know how to react and she was crying and I absolutely couldn’t be in that room another moment,” she says.

“Oh love. Oh Swan,” He says, amused. His voice is still ragged from tears. “I think we should go find your Mum now. She’ll be wanting to hug you too after all these years.”

--

They walk back into the castle. Emma has to fight against everything inside her that says to turn her back, head for the Misthaven airport, and take off for North Carolina. But Killian’s hand inside her own helps, a lot actually. She lets it ground her, stabilize her. He’s still looking at her with tears in his eyes that makes her uncomfortable, but she’s managing.

Queen Mary Margaret and Prime Minister Mills are standing in the foyer when they arrive. She realizes that everyone else is gone- the secretaries, the dignitaries and diplomats, or whoever else might be in the castle. It’s just them.

“Your Royal Highness,” Regina says, “I’m truly sorry for springing the news on you in an improper way. I apologize.”

Emma tucks some hair behind her ears. It’s still damp from the rain earlier, which has now turned into a gentle mist.

“It’s fine,” she says. “I’m sorry for running away. It’s an old habit, I guess.”

“Emma,” the queen says finally, her voice choked up.

Mary Margaret takes a step forward, her lips pursed to hold back a sob.

Emma realizes that like it or not, this is her life now. She can keep running from it. Or she can embrace it. It doesn’t mean she needs to give up everything. Those details- her thesis, her livelihood, the dumb shrimp forks- they can be sorted out later. But right now, she’s just found out that this woman who has been nothing but a kind motherly figure to her these last few months is her actual real life mother. The least she can do is hug her.

She crosses the space and steps into her arms. It feels like melting, like comfort. Like a blanket wrapped around you on a cold day. Like turning the doorknob on your apartment door. Like a bowl sized cappuccino made just how she likes it. Like home. Mary Margaret, Killian, Misthaven- this was her home. She has a home. She is home.

“I’ve had a few assistants go out to get some Mamie’s coffee and croissants for you,” Mary Margaret says. “And we’ll call in some take away later for dinner.”

Emma doesn’t say that they just got coffee, because really, she always wants coffee. And it sounds, oh so cozy, to drink more coffee in this castle with the Queen. With her mom.

“I was thinking that I could give you a tour of the castle,” Mary Margaret says. “And then maybe, this is silly, but we’ve got these old home videos David used to take of you as a child. They’ve been too painful for me to ever watch, but maybe, since you’re here- we could watch them together.”

Emma smiles. She could do this. And maybe the home videos might even help her process and visualize and remember.

“That sounds great,” Emma tells her.

“I’ll just see you later then,” Killian whispers from behind her.

“No, no,” Mary Margaret says. “Please, Killian, you are family. Stay.”

Emma turns to smile at him and offer him her hand. “Stay.”

--

It’s late that night when they make it back to Emma’s apartment. After the long, harrowing, revelatory day, the clean white apartment and cozy house plants are the perfect greeting.

Emma is pretty sure she’s never been so tired. The rain and the emotions of the day have left her past drained. She leans on Killian as they walk in.

“Shower,” she mutters, as she stumbles towards the bathroom.

When Killian doesn’t follow immediately, she turns to him, “You too.”

He chuckles, before following her into the bathroom. She turns on the shower and cranks it up as high as it will go. That’s all she can think of right now- warm water and then a long sleep in her bed.

She strips off her clothes. Despite how tired she is, she glances behind her to see Killian’s expression. It’s something of admiration as he takes her in. She smirks and raises her eyebrows, before stepping in.

He’s inside the stream with her, sooner than she expects. The hot water alongside Killian’s arms wrapping around her lulls her and she feels the stress of the day leave her. She lets her eyes flutter closed as she leans back against his chest.

“What did you think of the evening with your mum?” He asks.

Emma smiles at the fact she has a mother. It’s a fact that is going to take a very long time to accept and set in, but for now she’s honoring her personal intention to embrace it.

“It was good,” Emma says.

“You know you can be honest with me,” Killian tells her, his hands moving to rub her shoulders. She realizes all the tensions she’s held in.

“No, I’m being honest,” she insists. “It was like having a family. A very rich, ridiculous family. But a genuine cozy little family.”

Killian nuzzles her hair, before moving to get her lavender aromatherapy body wash. He dabs it on a loofa and begins to rub it all over her.

“It was weird with those videos,” Emma murmurs.

She thinks back to the happy memory from less than an hour ago: of her, Killian, and Mary Margaret piled on a couch in one of the more comfortable lounges of the hilltop castle. They’d had takeaway pizza, which Emma could process now as a gesture from the Queen to be “chill” and let her ease her way into this.

They’d watched these videos of Emma with her family as a child. Baby Princess Emma waltzing with her father. Baby Princess Emma riding around on Prancer in the woods. Baby Princess Emma giggling as she plays tag with Killian down palace corridors. It’s weird to look at that little girl and know that it was her who did those things.

“I guess,” Emma says, as Killian switches from washing to shampooing, “I’ve been thinking for the last months, since I got here, that Princess Emma is this other person. A person who probably hates me for impersonating her. A person who is far more innocent than myself. A person who is probably dead.”

Killian starts rubbing shampoo into her hair and it’s fundamentally soothing. She lets out a soft sigh.

“It’s just weird to think that she’s me,” Emma says. “We are one in the same.”

She turns to face Killian and looks up at him. “You aren’t saying anything. I’m just monologuing here.”

He shakes his head as he runs his finger along the scar on her shoulder.

“I know, love,” He says softly. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I’ve thought you were her this whole time. I know you don’t want to hear it.”

She takes his hand from her shoulder to bring it to her lips to kiss his palm.

“No, it’s fine,” Emma says. “As much as I wanted to deny it, I knew you had your suspicions the whole time. Even last night, you did. And in the end it doesn’t matter, because here we are anyway.”

Killian reaches behind her to turn off the water. He kisses her softly before opening the curtain. He passes her a towel and she wraps it around her shoulders, following him out of the bathroom.

She pulls on a Duke Writing Studio t-shirt and a pair of underwear, before toweling off her hair and crawling into bed. Killian is already there, arms ready to pull her close.

Her eyes flicker closed naturally and she sighs softly.

She supposes that is another good, but terrifying thing about this whole situation: every obstacle of distance that was between her and Killian has faded. Misthaven is her home now.

She knows that she has plenty of thoughts about that to fret over in the future. A tendril of fear and another of anticipation wind in her stomach, but for now the wave exhaustion crashes over and pulls her under.

--

The next morning, Emma tries to fall into her normal schedule. She needs routine and hard work to ground her. She always has. It’s a coping mechanism.

Killian is still sleeping when she wakes. She makes coffee in the French Press before heading to her desk overlooking the park. She pulls the soft grey blanket off the couch and wraps around herself, before opening up her thesis materials. She’s just a happy little Emma in her quaint, minimalist Misthaven apartment enjoying her coffee and working on her PhD.

She doesn’t know much about what the future holds, but it has to hold her dissertation. She’s spent so much time on it. She’s put in so much work. Looking at it now, she hopes that she won’t look ridiculous for writing her thesis on her own mother’s work or specializing in the literature from the country she is now sovereign of. But she thinks that if she can keep the Blanche Neige secret under wraps and she can probably pass off a decent thesis.

She smiles fondly at herself as she starts typing- she can be the first Princess with a PhD. She googles it just to fact check herself. Frowning, she realizes that a Japanese princess has already beat her to it.

A princess , she reminds herself. She’s still processing it. If she’s being honest, she’s probably at a sort of denial stage in the process because she’s feeling pretty chill about it. The shock of it has worn off, but she’s certain that the reality hasn’t set in yet either.

“How is my princess this morning?” A groggy voice asks from behind her.

She turns to see a disheveled Killian leaning against the door frame of her bedroom. He’s just in boxers and his hair is sticking up in all directions.

She purrs, “Come here.”

He walks behind her chair and loops his arms around her. She feels the scruff of his beard on her cheek as he leans down to give her a kiss.

She turns her head to kiss him on the lips, her hands cupping his face to pull him down to her. His body curves around hers to deepen the kiss and pull her close. She feels so soft and delicate, like she’s something so precious to him. She’s grown to like that feeling- like she matters.

Her arms lift to his shoulders and he uses his own arms to lift her. Her legs curl around his torso.

“Sorry about the coffee breath,” she whispers, self conscious.

“Dammit Emma,” He whispers, as he falls onto the couch.

She transitions perfectly into straddling him. Her hands dive into his gloriously disheveled hair. His head lowers to kiss her neck, then her collarbone, before he settles to lick at the base of her throat.

She hums in pleasure. All her thoughts, her worries, her cares are gone. All she can think of is Killian, the man she loves- and it’s bliss.

Then a phone's ringtone strikes the air and the spell is broken.

Emma stumbles off of him to head for her bedroom where her phone is lying on her bedside table.

“Hello,” she asks, not pausing to glance at the number.

“Emma, darling,” replies Mary Margaret.

Her mom. The queen. Blanche Neige. It’s almost dizzying.

“Oh hey,” Emma says, sitting on the side of her bed.

“I was wondering if you and Killian would like to join me and Regina for brunch,” she says. “We have a lot to go over- publicity, citizenship, castles, balls.”

Emma can hear a smile in her voice, but her own stomach churns. The denial phase is slowly slipping away into something else, some sort of reality setting in. She can’t have slow and silly mornings with her boyfriend because she has princess responsibilities.

But she feels, alongside of that, a weird sense of duty well up in her. Of course, she must be at this meeting. She can tell that just like the night before, the Queen is trying to make it easier for her. She isn’t throwing her into royal duties, just inviting her to a casual brunch.

“Yes, certainly,” Emma says. “We’ll be there.”

“It’ll be at my place,” Mary Margaret says. “The Summer Palace. I’ll send a car for you in about a half an hour. See you then!”

Killian pokes his head in and she explains the brunch meeting.

“I’ve actually got work this morning, love,” He explains. “I can skip it, for certain, darling, if you want. I don’t want you to go alone if you are nervous.”

Emma can’t believe she forgot that Killian has a life outside of her. But of course he does. She senses that everything for them is going to change very soon. “Publicity” the queen said. It may be one of the last times that Killian will get to work in peace, or work at all.

“It’s fine,” Emma says, rising to meet him and kissing his cheek. “Go to work, Killian.”

They launch into action, mutually displeased to leave behind their moment on the couch, but both busy with their plans. Emma changes into a pair of black jeans and a sweater, hoping that it’s a nice enough outfit for brunch with the Queen. Her hair, messy and tangled from sleeping it in wet, goes up into what she hopes suffices as an elegant top knot. A spritz of perfume, a bit of concealer and mascara, a peck on Killian’s lips- and she’s out the door to meet the car.

The Christmas decorations are up in their full glory when Emma arrives at the summer palace: fairy lights, garland, and wreaths of evergreen adoring the palace. She exits the car and is greeted by a doorman who informs her that the Prime Minister and Her Majesty are in the Forest Room. Emma nods and makes her way through the palace, trimmed with Christmas cheer, before finding the tea room.

“Emma, darling,” Mary Margaret says, crossing the room to envelop her in a hug.

Emma wants to resist, because that is her instinct. Flashes of Ingrid, of other foster parents flash through her mind. People she thought she could trust, but proved her wrong. It’s hard to believe that there is actually someone here who truly loves her and won’t leave. But it’s true. So she lets her mother hug her and lets herself relax into the hug. A part of her that has always been raw and ragged, now feels soothed.

“Did you sleep alright?” She asks.

Emma nods.

“Well there is fruit and patisserie on the sideboard, coffee and tea as well. If you prefer a hot breakfast, you can just order from one of the footmen,” The queen directs.

Not being fussy, Emma takes some strawberries and a pain au chocolat. She fills one of the dainty mugs with coffee and then joins Mary Margaret and Regina at the table.

“Shall we dive into it?” The Prime Minister asks. “We need to decide when to send out the press release. I’ve already had it drafted and you can review it if you please.”

She pushes Emma a piece of paper with the official Misthaven seal on it. Emma tries to skim it, but her mind is too all over the place to focus.

“I think it’s best to do it as soon as possible,” Regina informs her. “It would be disastrous if the information was leaked from someone else. Obviously there will be a lot of commotion about it at first. This is, afterall, a nearly impossible event to happen- lost princess finds her way home. So I expect that we’ll have a fair bit of international coverage. It’ll be best if you lay low during that time, avoiding reporters and the like. However, once it dies down, you should be fine. Misthaven is too small to have the insane paparazzi that English and Swedish royals face.”

Emma nods. The words paparazzi makes her squirm and want to run away. She thinks about the simple pleasure of drinking coffee at Mamies or sitting, editing her paper, in Killian’s pub. She wonders if she’ll ever get that pleasure again. Or at least how long she’ll have to wait to do that again.

“We’ll hire you security as well,” The queen adds. “At least until the hype dies down and even after, so we all know you are safe.”

Emma nods again. She wishes she brought a notebook to take notes.

“You’ll obviously move into the house in the Southern Valley,” the Queen tells her. “And we’ll have to make plans for the Christmas ball. It’s a bit last minute for a dress, but we can figure something out.”

Emma feels her forehead crinkle, all of it hitting her too fast to process.

“But, I’m leaving Misthaven next Thursday to be back in America for Christmas,” Emma says. “I already bought the ticket.”

The only way that Emma could buy the ticket was through her grant and fellowship. There was no way she could afford it on her own. She couldn’t just buy another one because she changed her mind about when she wanted to go back.

“What do you mean going back to America?” Regina asks, perplexed.

“To go back to Duke and finish my PhD,” Emma explains.

“Well clearly that isn’t important now, is it?” Regina says.

“What do you mean?” Emma says, startled. Her mind races with defensive thoughts. She can’t lose her thesis. “That’s everything. My life’s work.”

“Emma will finish her PhD,” Mary Margaret says. “Of course she will.”

Emma feels her pounding heart decelerate.

“It might be in your best interest, however,” the Queen says. “To take a semester off. See if you can take a small leave of absence. I’m sure it’s understandable, just so you have time to transition.”

Emma wants to say no. She wants to say that she spends Christmas with Belle and her father each year. She wants poinsettias in the green house and presents under the tree.

But then she thinks about waking up on Christmas morning with Killian beside her. A Christmas tree in her own house. Emma’s never even entertained the thought of having a house of her own before because it seemed too impossible. But now she’ll have one and a family of her own to spend Christmas with. Yes, she’ll have to stay. It seems silly now to have even thought otherwise.

“What about my flight home?” She asks. “I already bought it.”

“Don’t take it, obviously,” Regina says. “I’m not even sure why we are talking about this. You’ve just inherited a hundred million euros, I’m not quite sure why you’re hung up on this.”

Oh.

Emma tries to process a hundred million.

She thinks about stealing concealer from the drugstore because she couldn’t afford it and she wanted to cover up the bruises.

She thinks of eating a grilled cheese every other day and sleeping in the library.

She thinks of all the opportunities she said no to- studying abroad, nights at the theater, dinners out with professors- because she couldn’t afford it.

And now she has a hundred million euros.

Emma doesn’t realize she is crying until her fat tears fall into her coffee cup, a sob coming out of her chest.

“Emma,” Mary Margaret gasps, coming over to her and placing a hand on her shoulder. “My dear, what is it?”

Emma tries to breath and chokes on her breath, a hiccup forming.

“I’ve never had money like that,” she says. “Nothing close to that. I’ve always had to scrape and fight for scraps. I don’t know how to have this life now.”

Mary Margaret and Regina exchange a look and the Prime Minister leaves the room.  The queen lowers herself down so that she meet Emma face to face.

“Emma,” the queen begins, rubbing her back as tears tumble from Emma’s eyes. “I am terribly sorry that you’ve lived a life you didn’t deserve. I’m so sorry that you’ve had to experience such horrible poverty and so much financial anxiety. I’m sorry for every moment you’ve been lonely. Every moment you’ve wondered where your mum was. I’m sorry that I couldn’t tuck you in at night and take you on nice holidays and buy you new books. I can’t begin to understand what your life has been like, but I can tell you it’s going to be better now.”

Emma sniffles and looks up at her.

“You’ll never want or fret about money. You’ll be able to help others with that money, make a difference in the world. You and Killian will be able to give your kids everything you didn’t have,” The queen says.

The queen beckons Emma into another hug and she obliges.

“You are going to have a good life now, Emma,” the Queen tells her.

Eventually Emma’s tears lull and Regina returns. They start to make plans for Emma’s move, which is to happen in two days. They take her measurements to send to the dressmaker for Emma’s dress for the ball, which will also double as her public debut. And they pass along a debit card for her new royal bank account. Regina advises she starts updating her wardrobe with pieces that are “couture” and informs her that once her move is finished, a stylist will come to help her look a bit more sophisticated.

The comment makes Emma want to roll her eyes, but she decides that isn’t very princess-like and resists.

It’s overwhelming and totally new. But Emma is trying, with all her might, to shove the walls down. If they come up now, she’ll only hurt Mary Margaret and Killian. She hasn’t worked this hard to turn on them.

As the driver takes her back down from the mountaintop palace, she leans her head against the window. She imagines herself turning into a tree, roots growing deep into the ground, branches reaching towards the sky. She tries to think of herself as being unmoved here, firm of purpose and place. Growing a home here in this place, here in Misthaven.

She has the driver drop her off at Mamie’s, where she gets a cappuccino and reads a book of fairy tales. Emma decides she needs to make the most of her last few days of anonymity. It starts to rain again, the weather decidedly cold now, Indian summer behind them. From Mamie’s, she can see Killian’s pub across the street and across the blustery street she can just make him out at the counter. She sends him a text telling him to come over when he finishes his shift.

As she flicks through her phone, she realizes she has a text from Belle.

Sorry to change our usual plans girl, but Will invited me to Misthaven for Christmas to meet his family. Any chance I can convince you to stay in Misthaven for Xmas as well?

Emma taps back.

Haha I just decided today to stay in Misthaven for Christmas too.

Emma smirks to herself and sips her cappuccino as she waits for a response.

Yes, amazing!! Can you stay with Killian then? Is it okay if Will and I take back his apartment?

Rolling her eyes, Emma replies:

In a huge plot twist, I’m actually getting my own place in Misthaven. I’ll explain more later on facetime when I am not at a coffee shop. Loooong story.

#Captain Swan #CS fic #CS fic rec #cs ff #cs ff au #cs modern au #killian jones #emma swan

[itsmoonphobic]

𝕾𝖆𝖓𝖈𝖙𝖚𝖆𝖗𝖞 ☁︎

✞︎Sanctuary- refuge or safety from persuit,persecution or other danger

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐓𝐌𝐒 𝐚𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: @netherbricknick !! 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐓𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐲 & 𝐓𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐏𝐡𝐢𝐥! 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐦𝐚𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐮 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!! 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤,𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬!

☾︎ Make sure to check out Nick!They are so talanted and creative!I am in love with their work so go and shower them in love and affection!! ☽︎

The air outside was refreshing and calming.Peace and silence filled the small village located to the far south of the loud and vivid kingdom.Unlike the cozy hamlet tucked away under nature's wing the tavern was filled with people and life.Salesmen,soldiers,guards and mothers with their children occupied the cobblestone streets.Different shops and houses decorated the avenues,each one of them standing out in a unique way.Some were selling food and medicine while others focused on weapons and jewelry.

The residents who reside in the main town don't usually wonder of so far away to even get a chance to discover the petite village near the forest.People complained about unsettling feelings and experiences when they got too close to it so they mostly decide on turning back around and leaving it alone.The dark,foggy woods and wide,open fields surrounding and spreading all around the thorp could never be seen as intimidating and unnerving by the inhabitants but they sure were mysterious and full of old abandoned ruins from retired buildings that were once used as shelter and homes by many people.

Small critters and wild animals roamed the ground and claimed the wilderness as their home and safe space.From foxes to mice,wolves,bores and all sorts of birds could be spotted if enough attention is payed to the surroundings. The view from the top of the hill where the village was placed on and had written down it's history was stunning. Stargazing and sunset diving was something everybody enjoyed doing on long summer nights.Winter was usually cold and windy,so people stayed burried inside their homes warming up next to their fire places and baking bread.

One place stood out the most.A graveyard was located near the village.For such a small place the polished grey gravestones filled up quite the amount of space.Many names of people who suffored all sorts of misfortunes and unfortunate incidents were carved into the old stone.No one really liked the cemetery.Sure,places like that never gave welcoming and comfortable vibes but something about that particular graveyard felt especially unpleasant to everyone spending their lives there.

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"Tommy wait up!" A boy with hazel hair shouted at his companion who was a few meters infront of him,running recklessly deeper into the forest.It had just stopped raining a few moons ago and the ground was finally dry enough to go and explore again!Tubbo,the brown haired fella,was currently chasing after his feral brother who was too stubborn and careless to ever lend an ear to his brother. The forest scared Tubbo,but he could never admit that infront of Tommy.He knew that his twin would most likely tease him about it and drag him out into the woods even more just to prove to him that there is nothing he has to be scared about.

"C'mon Tubbo!!Don't be such a party pooper!" Tubbo had tried convincing Tommy to turn around and maybe go to their parents music shop instead.But the hot headed blond wouldn't give up on his intentions.Tubbo sighed and came to a halt.His feet were burning and they were probably bruised from all the nonstop running.He placed his palms on his thighs as he breathed heavily.He dropped his head between his arms and concentrated on calming down his rapid heart beating.After what seemed like forever the small boy got up and averted his head towards the direction where he last saw Tommy,infront of him.

"Tommy can we please just go ho-Tommy?" Tubbo stopped mid sentence.Tommy wasn't there anymore.Where did he go?Tubbo looked around,his blue eyes scanning the area. But the blond haired boy was nowhere to be found.Panic started to rise in Tubbo as he began searching for Tommy around every single corner.Now he was really starting to freak out,sweat began dripping down his forehead while his heart beat increased,it felt as if his organs were mixing up with eachother.His hands were trembling and the poor boy was at the verge of tears.

"Tommy this isn't funny come ou-!" A loud scream echoed through the forest,Tubbo's eyes were wide with fear and shock- Tommy had jumped out of a nearby tree trunk that had crashed onto the ground after a heavy storm,and managed to scare Tubbo even more than he already is. Tommy was laughing,meanwhile the hazel haired brother was clutching onto his chest tightly,now his heart must have exploded without a doubt.But the confirmation of the swift and unsteady beating convinced him otherwise.

Tubbo glared at his laughing brother who still didn't stop his cackling even though the situation wasn't that funny. "That's not funny Tommy,I was really scared.." Tubbo informed his brother,twirling his foot in the dusty ground of the to be dark forest if they didn't make their return back to their village soon.Tubbo told Fundy,their babysitter,that they were only going out for a short time period and that he and Tommy would return shortly.Now it has been over two hours and Fundy must be getting worried about the two brothers for sure.

"You're such a scaredy cat Tubbo!" Tommy playfully punched his brothers shoulder smiling. "We can go back home now if you want to,I'm hungry anyways." Tommy reassured his brother who seemed to immediately realx and loosen up at the mention of their home way.Tubbo grinned,happily nodding his head:"Lead the way then!" Tommy nervously chuckled,scratching the back of his neck:"You see,there's only one teeny tiny problem-" Tommy locked eyes with his brother a shit eating grin on his face. "I don't remember the way back."

"You what now!?Tommy please tell me you're joking,this isn't funny anymore!" Tubbo practically yelled at his brother who has been messing with his head for far too long now. He knew Tommy was reckless and he knew that his brother never thought things threw before attempting them but every normal human being with a functioning brain could surely remember their way back home.Tommy shook his head,his grin faded as he realized the situation both him and Tubbo were currently in.They were lost.

The sun was slowly disappearing behind the horizons as the moon prepared to take on it's shift and rule the sky.Pink and orange ombres were fading into purple and indigo ones.Stars that shimmered like diamonds danced happily on it.The air was getting cooler and it began to sting their exposed skin as goosebumps quickly rose over it.Tommy silently sat down on the cold grass covered ground.Tubbo copied his actions,placing himself next to his brother.The two brothers shared one glance between eachother.Tubbo crossed his arms over his knees and layed his head down on them,the brown locks of hair tickling his pale skin in the process of doing so.The young boy was close to bursting out in tears.It was cold and dark,everything seemed even more scarier than during day time.

Tommy eyed his older twin carefully.A pit of blame and regret was growing in his stomach.He knew that Tubbo was about to cry,he knew Tubbo was afraid of the forest even if he never confirmed it out loud.He noticed the expression change on his face whenever he would mention going outside.Tommy picks up on the lame excuses Tubbo lets out just so he doesn't have to come along.Tommy felt awful he shouldn't have pushed him,he shouldn't have dragged Tubbo with him.It was all his fault,they were lost becouse of him.His pale blue eyes wandered infront of him.All the trees and shrubs growing and filling up the forest looked the same to him.There is no way they would find back home during night time.

"I'm sorry Tubbo." Tommy whispered,his voice trembling as he let out those simple three words.Tubbo's head perked up,his blue eyes searched Tommy's face for any other emotion than regret and sadness but failed.Tubbo knew Tommy better than he did himself.The fact that his younger twin genuinely apologized made Tubbo's heart soar in joy. He smiled softly at Tommy,sniffing and wiping away a stray tear that threatened to fall down his reddened cheek.

Tommy felt a pair of arms wrap around him and embrace him in a warm and safe hug.Tubbo burried his face in Tommy's chest and let himself be consumed by his brothers body temperature.Tommy looked at Tubbo with suprised eyes.He blinked a few times processing what's happening.Once his brain registered what's going on,a smile crept onto Tommy's thin lips.He returned the kind gesture,throwing his arms around his brother's shoulders. Tubbo's smile grew as he held on tighter to Tommy.The two of them shared a quiet moment of brotherly affection before Tubbo loosened up and removed his arms.

"It's okay Tommy,next time we shouldn-!" Tubbo suddenly screamed,making the blond hair boy next to him yelp and jump up in suprise.Tubbo's eyes were glued onto something behind Tommy's back. "Jesus christ-You need to stop screaming so much Tubbo!My ears hu-" Tubbo grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him towards him in a hurry before Tommy could continue his complaint.The poor boy was so confused by his brothers hectic antics.He watched as Tubbo's breathing became heavy and shaky and his hands started to tremble once again.Tommy lightly grabbed them in his and tried calming the older down.

Tubbo on the other hand had other plans.He pulled his hands away out of Tommy's grasp which in return made Tommy throw his hands up in playfull defense.Tubbo's eyes didn't move one bit the whole time.Tommy followed his gaze curious to see what was so interesting that his brother didn't pay attention to him.He was concerned after seeing that Tubbo has been staring at nothing but the shadowy silhouettes emerging from the tall pine trees and the pure darkness of the mysterious greenery.

Tommy exchanged glances from that spot back to his brother.This went on for atleast five times until the baby blue eyed boy finally decided to get up of the ground and tenderly waved his pale hand infront of Tubbo's face.To his suprise his brown haired brother didn't move a muscle.He continued to stare down the spot where nothing was.It was very clear that whatever or whoever Tubbo was looking at didn't seem very appealing and calming to him.His eyes were filling up with that oh so familiar fear and panick.

"Tommy...What is that thing-?" Tubbo questioned Tommy pointing his shaky finger towards the spot he was staring down with his fearfull blue orbs,his head turned slightly to his brother's side but the direction he was keeping his eyes on didn't change.Tommy eyed Tubbo,his head cocking to the side in a confusing manner.There was clearly nothing there- Either Tubbo is scared and his imagination is playing tricks on him or Tommy is going blind.

"What do you mean?There is nothing there Tubbo." Tommy explained to his older twin,his eyes traveled to the spot once again but like the past ten minutes he wasn't able to detect any possible danger or person.

"What do you mean there is nobody there?Can't you see him standing over there?" Either Tommy was playing dumb which isn't the time for right now,or Tubbo was going crazy. "Oh my god Tommy now he is talking to me- Please tell me you can hear him!" Tommy was starting to freak out both over his brother and the fact that he started seing things and that Tubbo wasn't the one to play tricks like Tommy does all the time.Plus that scream and reaction definitely weren't fake,they were far away from fake.

"See who?Tubbo what the heck are you talking about?" Tommy inquired about the whole shenanigans that was being displayed infront of his own eyes.Normally Tommy would tease Tubbo and make it seem like he saw it to and joke around about it but this time everything seemed a little too sketchy and scary.Tubbo was rambling to himself,his whole system was breaking up and the fact that Tommy didn't see the wierd,translucent man was making him freak out even more.The poor kid was beginning to question his sanity.

"Tubbo calm down bro,what do you see?"

One harsh breath ended his waterfall of words and he seemed to start thinking of the best way to describe the see through man.It's as if Tommy could see all the cogs turning inside Tubbo's brain. "He has blond hair, a slight stubble growing on his chin and ehm,oh he is wearing a green cloak of some sort." Tommy nodded,the best thing to do,even if Tubbo did end up imagining it,was to calmly talk with the brown haired boy,his heart had enough near exploding experiences for today.

"You said he talked to you,can you talk to him?"

Tubbo looked at his brother,his breathing slowed down and he looked more awkward than afraid.Tommy watched as Tubbo shyly let out an experimental "hello?" after a few seconds passed Tubbo let out a soft "okay" and once again turned to his brother. "He can understand me." Tommy grinned,gently patting Tubbo on the shoulder and encouraging him to ask the strange man more questions.

"Can you ask him what his name is?"

"He says his name is Phil."

......

"Can you ask him if he's human?"

"Phil says that he's a ghost and he died.."

......

"Can he tell us how he died?"

"He says that he's not comfortable with sharing that information with the two of us."

Tommy nodded.So a ghost huh?The blond boy was confused as though why he isn't able to see and communicate with Phil.He stood next to Tubbo and listened to the one sided conversation between his brother and their new ghost friend.

"He asks what we're doing out here in the woods all alone at this time of hour?" Tubbo informed his younger twin about what Phil asked him.Tommy snickered:"Telk him we got lost while playing!" Tubbo gave one nod before turning his head back to where Phil was.The brown haired boy giggled:"He can hear you Tommy!" Pale blue eyes widened as Tommy happily grinned at the news that their ghost friend Phil could hear his voice loud and clear even if Tommy himself couldn't see or hear him.Tubbo started talking with Phil again his face lighting up as he let out a happy:" Really?!"

"Tommy,Phil says that he knows the way back to the village and he can bring us back home safely!" Tubbo enlightened his brother as he turned away from Phil to face Tommy completely.The blond boy's eyes lit up as he excitedly thanked the ghost and happily agreed to let Phil show them their way back.Everything was better,even if it's letting a wierd ghost they just met take them home,then spending the night on the cold forest ground.

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The walk home was rather comforting and sweet.During their trip back to their village Tommy couldn't help but feel safe and comfortable in Phil's presence.Phil,the ghost the two of them met in the woods wasn't seen as dangerous or violent by both of them.Tommy was walking next to Tubbo while the older twin silently followed after the ghost since Tommy didn't posses the ability to see him.The two brothers trusted Phil and his promise to bring them home safe and sound,without a single scratch or splinter.

Phil didn't talk much to Tubbo along the way.But he would gladly answer any questions the two twins throw his way. The lights that shone through the different designed windows were coming into view.And soon enough the shapes of rooftops of the houses their village consisted of could be made out.

"Tubbo!Tommy! Where are you!?" The distraught shout of a man sprawled out through the late night air.Tommy and Tubbo quickly recognized the man to be none other than their assigned babysitter Fundy.Tubbo felt a ping of regret as he remembered that the brown eyed man couldn't see with his left eye and therefore it must have been hard to look for them during this time.Before the two of them parted ways from Phil to reassure Fundy that they are indeed okay and alive,they said goodbye to Phil and thanked him for bringing them home all the way out of the forest to their village.

Tubbo told Tommy that Phil said no problem an he's always around if they want to talk to him!After both of the brothers felt the exit of Phil's presence they ran towards Fundy who was desperately walking around with a lantern and even knocking on the neighbor's doors to ask if they have seen the two troublemakers around.

"Fundy!!Over here!We're okay!" Tommy shouted in Fundy's direction.The relief that washed over Fundy's face was enormous.He was glad that he didn't have to explain how he lost both of the kids while watching them to their parents.Even though Fundy was happy that they are back in his line of one-eyed sight he was also very mad and disappointed in the two seven year olds.The two of them promised him to be back by dawn before the sun sets and now ot was way beyond two in the early morning.

"Where were you two!?Do you have any idea how worried I was about you boys?" Tubbo and Tommy shamefully shared a look between eachother as they lowered their eyes and dropped their heads to look at the floor.

"We're sorry Fundy,we got lost while playing in the woods and we had trouble finding our way back home." Fundy's eye widened,he fixed his eyepatch and softly sighed while pinching the bridge of his nose. "You two are going to be the end of me one day,ya' hear me?" He ruffled their hair with each of his scarred arms.Tubbo and Tommy giggled as Fundy continued to mess up their hair. "I'm glad you two are back home safe,did you get hurt?" Tommy shook his head for both of them. "Nope!Phil helped us get home!"

Tubbo nodded confirming Tommy's bold statement.Fundy eyed them in confusion. "Phil?Who is Phil Tommy?" The story Fundy heard that night was something he never expected.

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"So Phil's a ghost huh?" The three of them were seated at the dining table inside their house,Fundy prepared them hot stew and freshly baked bread he bought from the market today with the few silver pendants he had left. Tommy was stuffing his face with bread while he spoke: "Yeah!I can't see him but Tubbo can,and he's really nice to!" Tubbo nodded,joining in on the conversation:"He said that he's always around if we ever feel alone!" A smile formed on Fundy's lips as the man remembered the good old days of his golden childhood when he used to have imaginary friends.

He decided not to ask anymore questions about Phil as he watched the two brothers stuff their throats with the delicious food presented on the table.Fundy's eyes averted themselves to the fireplace which was producing a decent amount of fire in it.He observed each spark and each piece of ash that found their way out of the pile of wood and fell to the ground,instantly loosing their orange glow.After Tommy and Tubbo finished their meals,Fundy cleaned the table while the two of them took a bath.He could hear them laughing and splashing around in the water,once again a big smile creeping onto his chapped lips.

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"Alright you two today's been a long day so keep those eyes closed when I blow out the torches." Tubbo and Tommy were tucked into their beds,shuffling under the white bedsheets until both of them found a comfortable position to sleep in.Fundy gave them one last smirk and blew out the torches as he quietly closed the wooden door behind him and let sleep take over the two twin brothers.

"Goodnight Tommy." Tubbo yawned as he stretched out his arms and turned his body over to the colder side of the pillow. "Goodnight Toby." Tommy softly spoke,closing his eyes and again feeling that comforting and welcoming presence next to him.

That night both Tommy and Tubbo fell asleep with a smile on their face,a light wind gust filled the room that fresh summer night,and it wasn't becouse of the open window :)

𝖅𝖍𝖊 𝕰𝖓𝖉 ☘︎

𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐍𝐢𝐜𝐤,𝐈 𝐠𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐚𝐦 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭! 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠,𝐈 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡!𝐋𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 <3 𝐈 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 @netherbricknick 𝐚n𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭,𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭!! ❤︎

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[claude-frollo-archives]

Imposed Fate

Imposed Fate A Count Duckula Story

Chapter 1. Prelude of a Nightmare

       One fateful date, Tuesday 7 April 1870, Richter Von Gosling, a student of the arts of healing, decided to visit Transylvania in order to shed light upon a mysterious and disquieting subject, which was a case of vampirism. Legends and stories about the undead had the young scholar read before, yet he remained  sceptical, until his colleague and confidant Reinfelt witnessed an attack by one of those creatures, and not an ordinary one but Count Duckula himself, a feudal Lord supposed to be dead centuries ago. Despite of the absurdity of the notion, Richter was not to doubt his friend; therefore, he had to investigate in more detail about this terrible menace and put it to rest.

   The evening of Gosling's arrival, a thunderstorm loomed above the village, the weather cold and windy but rain was not to fall yet. Not a soul could be found wandering on the streets, there was a sense of quietude, a preface of the storm that soon would be unleashed over the town. Despite the feeling of impeding peril, inside the public house 'Ye Tooth and the Jugular' the mood appeared to be festive, with the regular crowd assembled for a pint or two, regardless the tragedies of life. In this place, the scholar found refuge as well as some more information concerning the malevolent aristocrat provided by the innkeeper and the parishioners. Gosling thought the recently gained knowledge would be enough to prepare a scheme to destroy the vampire.

    During the following days, the scientist worked in the development of a mechanism designed to shoot a wooden stake but cleverly set inside a camera. When the contraption was completed, the gander headed towards Castle Duckula, an ominous fortress that oversaw the village from atop a hill. Presenting himself as a photographer from a newspaper, Gosling attempted to gain access to the castle and destroy the Count; these actions would end the suffering of the villagers and bring peace to Transylvania. No time was wasted once he entered the Castle. Introductions were quick, the battle between Count Duckula and Von Gosling finished as quickly as it started and not even Igor -faithful manservant of the undead Count- was able to interfere. However, due the thrilling sensation of triumph, the scientist returned to the town without realizing that the stake managed to harm Duckula, but it failed to stab through the Count's heart.

    "Got him, the vampire is destroyed! ..." Exclaimed the deluded scholar as he rushed his way back to the village bellow, eager to tell what he assumed to be good news. "... The beast is no more!"

     Meanwhile, the Count lied motionless on the stone ground. Igor knelt beside his defeated master, lifting the wounded vampire on both his arms. "... Master, Master! ..." The old vulture sobbed in anguish, fearing this to be the last hour.

   "... Is all right, Igor! …" Duckula replied as he rose to his feet, dusting and straightening his suit jacket. Praised the Abyss, his Lordship was not slaughter, much to Igor's relief. "It was just a mere scratch …" The Count added with anger on his raspy voice. "... But he shall pay for this ... he shall pay!" He growled and proceeded to concentrate his energy in order to cast a spell. "... Come here, to my aid, oh winds of north, I summon your powers---…"

   "Milord... if I may be so bold to provide advice... I must remind his Lordship that the appropriate way to conjure for the assistance of this element, Sire, would be quite simpler: ‘come gust of wind and be wild’… Brief but no less effective, of course" Igor admonished his Master on the proper casting of dark incantations.

   "Thank you Igor, I had almost failed to remember that part … Anyway, you had already cast the spell, so you have heard it wind, obey our demand and be wild!" With that, the Count cackled with cruel glee, an aura appeared to surround his frame and a red spark was ignited on both his eyes, like flames of fire as he began to transform, while outside the fortress, gust of heavy wind gathered to form a dreadful tempest.

   Oblivious of the dangers ahead, Gosling stormed into the tavern. "… Is done!--- The vampire--- destroyed! ..." The gander addressed the landlord, though he was out of breath and could barely articulate a word.

    "What do you mean, young man?" The perplexed innkeeper questioned, while three peasants seated on a corner enjoying their last drink of the night, just had to listen and stare with curiosity.

    "… ... What I am trying to say is that the vampire fiend is no more!---..." Gosling recomposed before resuming his speech in a serious tone. "... The Count now rests in peace, finally there would be no more suffering ... is over." He softly stated, honestly believing that evil was successfully vanquished.

   A tense silence filled the inn until one of the peasants reacted. "... That is impossible!" He muttered in disbelief. "… Count Duckula defeated, requiring no effort?!" Added the landlord in dismay. "Yes, on the times past, I know the tale, the vampire was destroyed... but he was cornered by a group of vampire slayers! When we talked about the Count, I never thought you would attempt something so stupid, what have you done, lad?!"

   Gosling was completely appalled, realising something must have gone wrong and to learn that the Count was previously overcame, then who was this Duckula he had just met?! However, before the scholar was able to find his voice, the farmer seated near the window screamed in fear. "He is leaving the Castle! ..." Every fowl residing at the hostelry turned to the window. They saw the rainstorm and a giant bat flying from the castle in direction of the village. In matter of few minutes, chaos settled on the town: the wind destroyed some of the houses, demolishing the roofs of the buildings. Duckula on his bat form attacked people running outside in a futile attempt to seek shelter from the storm; others tried to escape the wooden debris carried by the whirlwind, people cried in panic, the peaceful slumber of the village residents turned into a nightmare.

   "Where are you, my dear Gosling?! Not so brave to defeat me?! ..." The evil laugh from the Count could be heard amid the commotion. "... Come, come out to play, do not make me wait!"

    "I am afraid he is calling for you!" Exclaimed the innkeeper’s wife who stood on top of the staircase, from there she threw Gosling’s luggage; the two suitcases landed loudly at his feet. "If you have any respect for anything sacred, get out of my house! ..." She ordered furiously, pointing to the main door of the hostel. "... Away with you!"

   "Wait, please!--- I don't understand! …" Gosling stammered. "My intentions were honourable; I was only trying to be of aid!”

    "Yeah, thank you for your help, you just made everything worse for our village!" Retorted an angry peasant. "Why did you have to mess with the Count?! Now his wrath is unstoppable, he would go on rampage until sunrise and is all your fault!"

   "I did try to do something, while you appear to accept this fate without resistance, why you don't fight back? For what reason you would even stay in a place like this?!" Although the scientist's response came out with a hint of defiance, in truth there was guilt within his heart.

   "Because this is our home, foolish lad! …" Replied the proprietress without hesitation. "We shall not abandon our land! If someone has to leave, that would be you!”

   "Very well said, Madam! Now you, go away!" A peasant urged Gosling to walk out the inn. "Hope he eats you, better you than us!"

   "Came on folks…" The landlord interceded. "… Don’t be cruel with the outsider, he couldn't know any better, after all he is only a boy."

   "… Oh nein, I am not! I will show you, I … I shall stop that fiend at once!"

    "No, if you go out he will kill you!---..." The innkeeper warned but he was unheard. Von Gosling stepped out the tavern and the sight of destruction and the monstrous vampire bat, rendered him to freeze in fright. However, the landlord had followed him and he placed the travel cases on Gosling's hands. "Come on, son … I wish I never told you about the Count." He said with regret and grabbing the young doctor by the arm, he led him to the back door of the tavern despite protest of the parishioners but some of them were to agree on the fact that at the present it would be for the best to escape.

    "I don't care if this is the land where I was born!--- The stranger was right--- I don't want to die!" Despaired one of the farmers as he hurried out to prepare a cart and soon enough, several of the town's people had joined him. Before Gosling was able to object, the innkeeper pushed him inside the stagecoach. From above, Duckula witnessed these actions and he was utterly amused. The giant bat could deliver an attack directly towards the doctor, given how easy was to detect him due his antiquated attire and the camera he was carrying; still, he interfered not for he had mused a greater plan since the instant he laid his eyes on Von Gosling. "That mortal had come to face me--- he failed no doubt, but he arrived on his own choice ... or maybe was it a design of fate? ..." The creature growled quietly. "... Nevertheless, I detected on him no greed for a reward or a desire of fame, not even a wish for vengeance ... What a disgusting attitude! However ... Could it be?---.... ... I wonder... ..."

   In the meantime, the doctor was still unable to fathom the burden he would be carrying now that the threads of fate had been tampered with. ".... Sir., oh please I---... I thank you ..." Gosling at last found his voice to express gratitude to the innkeeper. "... I will be praying Gott for your souls until I am able to come back---..."

   "Prayers?! ... Don't trouble yourself, it would be of no use" Said one of the villagers, quietly and embittered. "... God have forgotten about us."

   "That cannot be true! I shall pray for you all, our Lord will never forget His children!" Gosling stated firmly as the cart began to move.

   "Well, then I pray God I will never see your face again … may He bless and keep you!" Von Gosling frowned in sadness, lowering his head upon hearing those last words from the proprietor of 'Ye Tooth and the Jugular', the man who had just saved his life.

   As the stagecoach departed from the village, Gosling silently stared at the silver cross pendant he had on his hands, a gift from his mother that now held a much more profound significance. "… So, they believe our Lord has forgotten, ja? ..." He lamented in shame and remorse; no matter his efforts or his courageous discourse, in the end he was left trembling with fear in times help was most needed, it was an absolute disgrace. "… … I am to return, this is not over yet--- this awful mistake must be corrected … I will be back; that fiend shall be destroyed, I am going to save all those souls ... is a promise!"

           Later, at the break of dawn, the Count had enough leisure time and his thirst was quenched, so he returned to his fortress. As expected, Igor was patiently waiting for his master's arrival. "Did you find that miserable mortal, Master?" Greeted the sinister butler.

    "Ah, I let him go …" Duckula replied calmly, tonelessly even, like if the latest episode were of no relevance.

   The vulture raised a brow with suspicion at the Count’s answer; after such an eventful evening, this behaviour from the master was something unforeseen. "… I am not sure, Sire … you should have taken the life of that wretched miscreant ... or perhaps brought him here to me, I could have offered that Gosling a most proper … … care."

   "Worry not, dear Igor." The Count spoke, a grin crept onto his beak. "... Amongst all the pleasant visitors we have received through these the years, this one had proven to be the most interesting opponent".

    "Oh indeed, Milord, Indeed! There is no use on finishing the fun so early …" Igor rubbed his hands in pleased anticipation of the delightfully wicked punishments he would be able to inflict over that insolent gander.

    "That is right; you got the idea, my Igor!" The Count chuckled darkly. "… He is coming back, I assure you, and I will be waiting …" Then, the vampire grabbed Igor by the necktie, pulling his head down to meet his gaze. "After all … ..." Duckula continued, lowering his voice into a threatening though gleeful snarl. "… We have plenty of time ... … … don’t we, Igor?!"

________________

This is the first chapter from an old fanfiction of mine I am re-writing (began in 2009, is 2020 not completed yet, only three chapters are ready), is an attempt to set a prequel for the Count Duckula series, based on the Dear Diary and The Rest is History episodes, a particular scene that appears on the show's intro, the Castlevania games and last but certainly not least, Dracula the novel. Posting it here now as an experiment given I have no idea how it would look like on Tumblr, and so happy to see fans of the series!

Count Duckula and the characters on this chapter belong to Cosgrove Hall.

#duckula #count duckula

[helenofsimblr]

Guy stood before the stairs before him and craned his neck up and up and up some more. He had no idea why he came to this place of all places seeking refuge. It was like it called him here. Either way the castle was at the top of a very very tall hill. It was rather windy here. He checked his phone, he saw he had 5 missed calls, all from his mother. He put the phone back in his pocket.

Guy: Its going to give me a really good workout.... or a heart attack... 

Guy remembered the old proverb about how journeys of 1000 miles begin with a single step. Guy took the first step.

***

It occurred to Guy as trudged up the stairs to the top of the castle he had no idea what was up there, vampires? Aliens? A drug den? Hobos? He had not a clue. But he hoped the only company he’d have in there would be spiders and maybe the odd rat. That he could cope with. His aching body protested the exercise he was subjecting it to. As he got higher and higher up the pull to the castle got stronger. An attraction, like magnets how he was pulled here. It was almost like the old castle called to him...

***

When he finally reached the top he fell to his hands and knees, sweaty and tired. He tried to catch his breath, it was really windy up here and the wind and the sweat from the epic stair climb came together to make him feel rather cold. Suddenly a thought occurred to him “what if its locked?” Guy didn’t really accept that as an option.He turned and saw this gigantic stone gargoyle, facing towards downtown San Myshuno it gave him a bit of a start. Without any further delay though he made his way to the front door, and he tried the handle...

#ts4 #ts4 story #sims 4 #sims 4 story #Tales From the District #season 1 #guy

[ericahitshawaii]

Beaches of emerald...or at least moldy green color

Today I begin my circumnavigation of the island as I leave my home base in Kona on the west side of the island and head for Hilo on the East side of the island.  I will be making a pit stop at a few magical places along the way, the National Historic park of Pu’uhonua o Honaunau and the green sand beach of Papakolea.

But before I head out of Kona I decide to stop at a farmers market in Kona...because I love farmers markets.  You understand so much about a place by analyzing the kind of cheesy trinkets they sell that “represent” their community.  Fascinating.  The one purchase I was most excited about was the fresh fruit available.

Breakfast of champions.  For $5 (total) I got fresh mango, papaya and pineapple.  I don’t even what to contemplate what this would have cost me in Minnesota or how gross it would have been.  This may have ruined fruit for me forever.  It was SO MUCH better than fruit I have ever had in the midwest.  So. Much. Better.

Anyway, on to my first stop.  Pu’uhonua o Honaunau.  I can gladly check another National Park of the list.  This national historic park was founded in 1955 and up until 1819, it was known as a place of refuge (Pu’uhonua) for Hawaiian that broke a kapu (or ancient law).  Hawaiians that were sentenced to death for breaking a kapu would flee to this city of refuge to be absolved of their sins by the priests that resided there.  Others that would seek refuge there included warriors that were defeated in battle or people fleeing war.  This site was used for hundreds of years until the end of the practice of Kapu.Outside of the walled city of the Pu’uhonua was a village that was reserved for the powerful ali’i (chiefs) on the island. (Think of it like a vacation timeshare for island royalty.)  They would stay for several months and socialize, make deals, hold ceremonies and pay their respects to past chiefs.  Many generations of chiefs, 23 to be exact, were buried here and that is another reason it held important significance to the Hawaiians.  The site now has recreations of some of the temples and heiau (houses) ans well as the remains of the original walls and foundations of temples within the City of Refuge.

A halea (thatched shelter) on the Royal Grounds

An ancient board game called konane.

Entrance to the walled City of Refuge.

Walls were built out of lava rock and were fitted together with amazing precision, using no mortar.

Recreation of the temple where Hawaiian chief would worship and refugees were absolved of their sins, so that they could return safely to their homes.

Temple.  Some of the laws that you could be sentenced to death for under the kapu system included casting your shadow on an ali’i, fishing out of season or a woman eats a meal with a man.  Harsh.

Those who wanted to visit the City of Refuge would have to boat/swim to this inlet in order to access the entrance to the city.  It was very dangerous.  There were strong currents and very sharp lava rock to contend with.  Not for the faint of heart.

This site is still considered a sacred place with extraordinary mana (spiritual power).

My next stop was to visit the very southern point of the Big Island (and the entire Hawaiian chain).  This is the site of one of only four green sand beaches in the world. (The other three are in Norway, Guam and the Galapagos Islands)  I had no idea what an adventure it would be to GET to the beach.  It requires a very rugged and steep  2.2 mile hike to the beach.  The only people that are allowed to drive to the beach are Native Hawaiians due to the danger of tourists driving the rough roads and tourist being disrespectful to the land there.  So hiking it was.  The hike was beautiful  I represents the strange diversity of the Big island.  The west coast is more what you think of when you imagine Hawaii: perfect sunny weather and white sand beaches.  But the souther area is more hilly, cool, windy and filled with huge expanses of what looks to me like prairie.  Only prairie that borders the ocean.  Also, prairie that is scattered with lava rocks.  So strange.  I made the extraordinarily windy and hilly walk with two German friends that were also making the hike in.  According to my handy fitbit, I climbed the equivalent of 100 floors over the course of the hourlong hike.  Dang.  I’m getting too old for this.  But it was worth it.

View from the hike to the green sand beach. (German friends in the background)

More views from the hike.

And here we are.  The green sand beach.  I won’t lie.  At first I was a little disappointed.  I was imagining emerald or neon green sand.  It’s really more of dark “mold” colored green, that is hard to see from far away.  But once you get down to the beach itself, you can really see the green and how unique and special it is.  So why is the beach green, you might ask?  Well...it is due to a special kind of mineral that you sometimes find in lava called olivines.  You can find olivines in other beaches where there is volcanic activity, but the reason there are only four in the world has to do with the concentration of olivines.  Because of the shape of the cove, the olivine crystals are concentrated into this inlet and the much lighter normal sand gets washed out to sea, leaving a mostly green sand beach.

Part of the specialness of this trip was the sheer amount of effort it took me just to get there.  As many of you know, I have a fear of falling.  (Not a fear of heights, more of a fear of tumbling down steep hills and unprotected ledges).  I was very disappointed to see that the beach was at the bottom of a very steep hill and rock face.  I was sure that I had walked all the way there and wouldn’t make it to the beach.  But there was an interesting path down that included some wooden stairs and traversing narrow groves in the rock.  Totally unnerving but it got me down to the beach.

Precarious path down situation.

Narrow grooves in the rock face to get to the beach.

Now you can see that the sand is pretty green.

Having successfully made ti to the beach, it was time to head back.  There was absolutely no way I was making the hike back.  The wind had really picked up and it was going to start getting dark in the next hour.  Luuckily for me, some of the local Native Hawaiians are camped out above the beach to give silly tired tourists rides back to the parking lot.  This in itself was quite an experience.  You ride, standing up in the back of a pickup truck over some fo the bumpiest terrain ever.  Roller coaster-esque.  There were several time I feared for my life, but they totally knew what they were doing and got us back in one piece.  Stellar.

After a long day, I headed to my new accommodations, and Airbnb in Hilo.  BTW - I took this pic the following day.  It was super dark by the time I actually got bak to the Airbnb.  A lovely Bed & Breakfast with a garden in the back that had so many mysterious fruit trees.  Lovely.

My room.

Next stop: Volcanoes National Park.

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Forspoken Photo Dump 90: Visoria; Shepherd's Meadow, Part 1

#forspoken #forspoken photo mode #athia #visoria #visoria: shepherd's meadow #graenn #fount of blessing #lilac fount #shepherd's meadow: eastern belfry #chichek #bonus avoalet in the distance #monument to strength #chapalania #water gardens: western belfry #bonus junoon in the distance #harvest lands belfry #windy hills refuge #merveil bridge #fort eminn #rosewood fount #boggart

[bowerykept]

MUSE   PLAYLIST.

post 3-5 songs that remind you of your muse. rules:   repost,   don’t   reblog.

001: jackrabbit — san fermin : want to live like an animal ? / by the skin of your teeth ? / put your good face on, you're foolin' no one / you're a jackrabbit underneath / one step forward, step right back / run for the hills, honey, run for the hills, honey / run for the hills, don't look back / everything you've seen is doubled / anywhere you go you lose / when you're lost in the woods / and, alone in the world too

002 : under the bridge — red hot chili peppers :  i drive on her streets / 'cause she's my companion / i walk through her hills / 'cause she knows who i am / she sees my good deeds / and she kisses me windy / i never worry / now that is a lie / it's hard to believe / that there's nobody out there / it's hard to believe / that i'm all alone / at least i have her love / the city she loves me / lonely as i am / together we cry

003 :  it never ends  — bring me the horizon : i've said it once, i've said it twice, i've said it a thousand fucking times / that I'm okay, that I'm fine, that it's all just in my mind / but this has got the best of me, and i can't seem to sleep / it's not 'cause you're not with me, it's 'cause you never leave

004 :  when it rolls in — sims : from here the birds seem so full of grace, so full of finesse / but they're just like the rest, surviving the storms / it's not if but how it will break you down /and how attached you are to that shaky ground / will you let it take you to where it wants you to be? / when the wings are too heavy to fly / and there's no refuge in sight / the ones who will survive / will be brave enough to stare it back in the eye / through the mouth of the pliers / the birds on a wire sing so desperately / and it brings you to your knees / it gets so painful, it's okay though / let the rain fall / let it wash away / it's okay / when the storm comes it might take you, it might break you / let it break, let it break, let it break / it's okay

005 : strictly game — harlem shakes :  the east coast kids, man, we just don't know / singing, "wait, wait, stop, drop me, go, go, go" / but I'm taken by the hand to a blue pay phone / we can break blue laws with our skin and bones / and now i'm back in the city, i'm counting brick brick brick / heard of milk crate kings, speaking soft and thick / he said, "if life gives you lemons, then thus god bade / so put a little bit of bitter in your pink lemonade"

tagged   : @truesxn​ tagging   : : )

#❝ 𝕚 𝕟𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕝𝕠𝕠𝕜𝕖𝕕 𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕞𝕠𝕞 𝕛𝕖𝕒𝕟𝕤 ❞ ( ooc. ) #❝ 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖'𝕤 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕠 𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 ❞ ( hc. ) #hc

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

Vancouver Adventures, Vienna: Day 5

My mother volunteered herself for baby sitting duty, for which I was most definitely not needed, so I used the day to tackle a couple of hills. But before that started, I got a breakfast first: muesli!

It was housemade by the hotel, but was basically just overnight oats. The toppings are vital for texture.

And then I went on the hunt for the library. More backstory: last time I was in Vienna, I tried to find two different libraries. One ended up being a museum wing of the national library, which was hosting a cool freemason exhibit. The second ended up being THE national library, which requires membership or something to get into, like the library of congress.

This time, I started with the Bibliothek im Rathaus. Which is supposedly inside the city hall building, but is utterly un-navigable. I gave up. BUT the adventure led me to some fun discoveries.

These fountain and benches were found just a little ways through a park beside city hall. Were it any sunnier, I would have sat and enjoyed it a while.

As it was, it was cold and windy, so I took refuge at Cafe Landtmann's. And boy was that ever a good choice! I got an eisschokolade, and a lemon-elderflower cake.

The eisschoko was the perfect thing after my long walk, and while the cake was a little crusty like it had been sitting out too long, it was light and refreshing. I took my time to sit and read, which was really nice.

After that, I tackled library option #2. And guess what?

I fucking found it.

So it ended up being a modern library and not the towering stacks amid gothic architecture that I wanted. But it was like coming home. I'd take this over that stuffy old books store any day.

I planted my butt at a table and wrote for more than five hours. I reworked my writing group submission to the point of completion (for now), which currently sits at about 11k. Definitely an accomplishment.

And then I trammed home. It was a different route than I've ever taken so far, but it led me to one of the prettiest streets in Vienna.

We got McD's for dinner, because most other quick restaurants and stands were starting to shut down. Some notes for my Americans: some locations almost feel like actual fine dining. They put a kind of slaw on their burgers. They sell fried cheese with red currant dipping sauce. They have fancier burgers and sauces.

The fries are the same.

I also got a slice of cake from their cafe bc wtf I was not going to miss out. (It's currently sitting in my hotel fridge bc I got too full.)

It was a day of relaxation and solo drifting around the city, and as much as I love my mom and seeing her excitement at everything here-- there's something to be said being able to stretch your legs and walk at your own pace.

#travel adventures: vienna #day five #library day

[tribbetherium]

The Middle Therocene: 55 million years post-establishment

The Hills Are Alive: Plateaus and Highlands of Westerna

Lying north of Ecatoria is the temperate continent of Westerna: a land characterized by conifer forests, grassy plains, and most notably, highlands and mountain ranges of higher elevation, where cold, windy plains grow high above sea level. The plant life here are mostly grasses and short shrubs, and the few hardy trees that do grow here sprout nearly diagonally from the strong winds. The flying insects here are few and far between, many since having lost their ability of flight to avoid being blown away by the powerful currents of air and taken on lifestyles akin to crickets, munching upon the abundant grass and never taking to the sky, their now-useless wings serving instead to make chirping mating calls, or as defensive shields.

These cricket-analogues begin chirping just as dusk settles and true night commences, as it it the time when both Alpha and Beta disappear from the sky, revealing the stars in the sky. But nights are rarely ever dark in HP-02017, as not only does the planet have two suns-- but two moons as well.

Today is a rare and unusual day, as the two moons are simultaneously full and rise side-by-side at dusk: a phenomenon that occurs only once every several years. Larger Pyramus, similar in size and brightness as Earth's moon, becomes full every 30 days, while smaller, brighter and further Thisbe enters a full phase every 59 days, barely missing a perfect alignment with Pyramus's orbit and thus taking about 59 cycles--effectively about 59 months-- before the full moons line up again. Tonight, their combined brightness is as bright as twilight, and Westerna's wildlife begins to stir: creatures of the night beginning to awaken as the creatures of the day retreat for the evening.

The high alpine grasslands of Westerna are home to many herbivores: ever present are the boingos, here the Westernan plateau boingo (Boingo westerii), which graze in the vast elevated grasslands as they travel in herds. However, their hopping locomotion, while efficient on flat ground, is poorly suited for the steep cliffs of Westerna that form mountain ranges: instead, mountain hamtelopes known as ramsters thrive here, where their surefooted gaits are better adapted for scaling the rocky precipices. Most adept of them is the hilly clinghorn (Capraceromys manipus), a hamtelope species equipped with long, flexible toes that can grip the rocks as it climbs, and a leathery pad on its head that in males is further adorned by a pair of curved keratinous horns: shed yearly and regrown like antlers, they are used when males butt heads during the breeding season.

Westerna's plateaus also serve as a refuge for certain older lineages that have endured the test of time. Notable is the grazing moink (Cricetochoerus dottum), a very basal cavybara species that in fact is still in the same genus as the first giants of the Middle Rodentocene, now dwarfed by the megafauna of the Therocene. Another relic is the omnivorous highland aarmot (Fossiomustelomys montus): one of the last of the primitive rabbacoons that has endured in the mountains of Westerna, even as its cousins elsewhere have been outcompeted by more specialized forms: by zingos as small predators, by lemunkies as tree-climbing frugivores, and by ferrats as insectivores. Here, the aarmot holds out where its cousins could not as a generalist jack-of-all trades: the very feature that doomed them in competition against masters of one. With shorter ears and stubby limbs it scarcely resembles its Rodentocene cousins, adapted to a cooler clime quite unlike its original habitat.

Predator niches here are quite expectedly filled by carnohams on the ground and ratbats-of-prey in the air. At night hunts one of the more unusual of the ratbats, the ape-faced owlangutan (Bubopithecops monkei), a nocturnal hunter with a wingspan of about two feet, distinctive for its rounded body, flat face, and large eyes, perfect for detecting the movement of prey-- typically small rodents as well as insects-- and a deceptively small-looking mouth that can open to a surprising width to grab small prey with needle-like teeth. And down on land prowls the lynx-sized mountain leeron (Pumamys jenkinsi): a thick-coated carnoham notable for its foolhardy charges into herds of cavybaras and boingos, forcing them to scatter into a panic and making one single target much easier to pick out.

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

#speculative evolution #speculative biology #spec evo #speculative zoology #hamster's paradise

[arianaofimladris]

Old fears

Summary:  As Maedhros gets wounded, old fears come to life again. Set after Dagor Bragollach.

Written for Silmarillion whump bingo we made with Anduniela. Prompt filled: panic attack

Old fears

The winter dusk came quickly, the night was cold and windy. The patrol moved quietly and in haste through the terrains that had been safe not a long time ago. They all wanted to make it back to the fortress as soon as possible.

The enemy was closer than they had anticipated. The groups of orcs came closer and closer, and the one they had encountered the previous evening was a day and a half away from Himring. That group ceased to exist once the elves split up and took away the orcs’ advantage of shooting, but their arrows did do some damage. Fortunately nobody was killed.

Maedhros tried to focus on the fact that with some luck he would return to the castle with all the men he had left with. None of his elves was wounded gravely enough to slow their pace and he controlled it himself, though he let someone else lead. No losses, that was a good, a very good news, he reminded himself again, trying not to remember about the worse ones. Like about the dull pain in his shot shoulder. Or about the dreadful moment when his sword slipped from his weakened fingers as an orc was barely few steps away from him. Or about...

Thick, awful fear made his heart beat way too fast at the memory of hands gripping him suddenly from behind and dragging as he had been trying to reach for his dagger at least. At the vision of shackles he had seen for a moment around his wrists, the real and the non-existing one. At the darkest nightmares that were about to come true if the one grabbing him would drag him farther, back to...

It was Aphedir, Maedhros reminded himself, furious that he was going to pant as he seemed to lack air in his lungs. The hands that had grasped him and dragged him back belonged to his soldier, who rushed to protect his commander. An elf, not an orc. Companion. Friend.

“We stop for an hour,” ordered Maedhros as the sky was lit by a grim, cloudy morning. “Put the guards, eat and rest. The wounded in the middle.”

The patrol dispersed neatly in the small valley. Maedhros appointed the guards and went with two scouts to check if their supplies hidden nearby were still there. He was glad to see that no one and nothing had touched the nailed and tarred barrow and the stock of dry wood was still in its place. He left it to his companions to hide the supplies again, as they did not need to use them and walked around the valley. He wanted to check on the guards again, but he caught his adjutant’s stare and gave up. He ignored an empty space left obviously for him among the wounded, gathered together in the middle of the camp like he had ordered, and sat a bit farther away, where he could lean against a big stone. He was protected there as well and he could watch the entire camp, but no one could approach him from behind. Right now he would not bear anyone out of his sight, even if it had been one of his brothers.

“Fire?” asked Aphedir. He had a bag with herbs in his hand and he was swinging a small cauldron on his finger.

“You may.” Maedhros nodded, glancing at the wounded. “Prepare whatever’s necessary.”

“How’s...” started Aphedir, but something in his commander’s eyes made him drop his question. “I’ll have it right away.”

Maedhros was grateful for that; a question about his arm was the last one he wanted to hear right now. He remained in his position, watching the whole group. He had a few new elves from Maglor’s scouts, whom he had taken with him to show them the terrain and their hideouts, as they were now defending Himring together. His brother picked the ones he knew would manage the pace the eldest son of Feanor usually kept. Although they had done well, Maedhros took extra time to watch the one who was wounded. The elf was sitting quietly as Aphedir checked on his dressings. No one complained, but they also didn’t hide anything.

Food stuck in his throat, but Maedhros forced himself bite after bite to eat. His own order applied to everyone with no exceptions and he really didn’t need anyone to remind him that, even with just a gaze. His fingers could hardly grasp the travelling bread, but when Maedhros rested his wounded arm on his knees and helped himself with the other arm, he managed to raise his hand to his mouth. The movement was painful, but he preferred that to asking someone for help. Not here, not now.

“Everything’s in order.” Aphedir crouched by his commander at the very end.

Maedhros was painfully aware that he could not send him away to tend to the other wounded, as they had already been looked after. His companion deprived him of this excuse.

“Very well,” he nodded, making no move towards Aphedir.

“May I?” The elf reached for his arm and Maedhros needed all his willpower not to jerk away. Fingers touching his forehead made him shiver in disgust.

“There’s no need. The dressings hold well,” he hissed, cursing the stone behind his back that prevented him from moving away.

“But there might be a fever,” Aphedir pointed out with discontent; this could be expected of orc arrows. He left Maedhros a mug with herbs without a word, providently sticking it into his hand.

The mug proved to be more difficult to handle than bread. It was dragging his hand down and Maedhros had to lean to his knees as he was unable to lift it even for an inch. He drank perhaps half of it, when something rustled behind him and he turned around automatically. Too swiftly. A spasm of pain ran through his arm and his fingers loosened their unsteady grip. He splashed the rest of the herbs on his knees with a muffled curse.

***

The merciless wind would not let forget about the winter that still held the hills in her icy grasp. Nobody left the buildings unless they had to. Especially during the nights no one walked the walls except the guards.

Nevertheless, Maedhros took the watch. He should have been weary, he was weary from the fight, the blood loss, the tiring march, but his anxiety would not let him stay in his chambers, let alone get some sleep. He needed something to do.

He spent the evening with Maglor, learning what had been happening during the two weeks of his absence. The singer had just recovered after the attack of the dragon that had destroyed his lands and chased him to seek refuge in Himring, so he watched his brother anxiously, until Maedhros got irritated and left, excusing himself with weariness. However, he hoped in vain to get some rest.

Maedhros sighed and rested his elbows on the stone crenel. Alcarino had made it clear that if he wanted to heal his arm quickly and without trouble, he should rest if for a couple of days at least. But right now it was nearly impossible and the concept of being utterly helpless when they still had to be vigilant...

A rustle was all it took. The instincts kicked in before he realised where he was. A turn, a kick. A jerk and then pain. Legs swept with a well-aimed kick. A curled silhouette. Good, it meant he wasn’t fighting. No weapons, but it didn’t mean defenceless. Maedhros could never, ever be defenceless. Never again.

And a voice. Unfamiliar, but not atrocious. Surprised, frightened. Elvish.

An elf. The cry of surprise was made by an elf. Maedhros took a step back, panic fear was replaced by sheer fury as he looked more consciously at the silhouette at his feet. The youngling was just sitting up, staring with fear at the son of Feanor. He touched his momentarily swelling eye, but didn’t move otherwise. Maedhros didn’t know him, so the boy must have been from the refugees who had come with Maglor.

“Lord Maedhros?!” The guard from the nearest watch ran towards them and as he noticed the boy, anger appeared on his features. “Terendo, have you lost your mind?!”

Maedhros leaned against the wall discreetly as it suddenly dawned on him what had just happened and his vision blurred. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. Though Alcarino had given him something for the pain, his arm ached as if pierced with an incandescent iron rod. His left, the good one, the only one... He could also feel a warm liquid dripping to his elbow. Not good.

“Maedhros?”

The eldest son of Feanor shook his head, trying to get rid of the weariness, and opened his eyes. The guard was watching him with worry, as if expecting him to require help. The unlucky boy scrambled back on his feet unsteadily and stood behind, watching them and clearly not understanding.

“Take him from here and explain our rules,” hissed Maedhros, nursing his wounded arm. “And send someone to Alcarino, tell him to come to me. I’ll be in my chambers.”

“Right away.”

***

Alcarino didn’t take his time, he knocked at the door and came in soon after Maedhros, who barely managed to take off his cloak and loosen his jacket. Then his fingers would not work, whether he liked it or not.

“Close the doors.”

The healer raised his brows questioningly, but he obediently turned the key. Maedhros rarely locked himself in such a way and right now it must have been hard for him to manoeuvre the key.

“What’s the problem?” he asked calmly and placed the package with fresh dressings on the desk.

Maedhros made some vague gesture with his stump, pointing at his soaked sleeve; he ceased trying to unbutton his jacket. He sat silent as Alcarino carefully freed the wounded arm from the clothes and removed the soaked bandages. Only when he was cleaning the aggravated wound, Maedhros hissed angrily.

“Shall I stop?” Alcarino removed his hand with a clean cloth and waited until Maedhros got eye contact with him. He masked himself well, but he was barely hiding his tension. “What happened?”

“I didn’t hurt him,” muttered the wounded, moving closer to let the healer continue. “That idiot surprised me!” he hissed, angry at someone or at himself.

“Who?”

“Some youngling from Makalaure’s elves amused himself with creeping on the guards and took me for one of them,” explained Maedhros, irritated. “Fool! I could have sent him down the walls!”

That explained a lot. Himring’s crew knew that their commander was not to be taken from behind and surprised, unless you wanted to get yourself trampled into the ground at best. And startling wounded Maedhros was a sign of utter foolishness... or the lack of knowledge. Alcarino repeated that out loud.

“Well, he’ll know now.” Maedhros made a move as if to shrug, but the healer’s hand kept him still. “Thank you.”

“Do you intend to rest? Shall I help you?” Alcarino pointed at the boots, tying the ends of the sling around Maedhros’s neck. “Then let at least your arm rest for a while. Don’t move it,” he ordered when, just like he expected, Maedhros shook his head at the mere suggestion of sleep.

“Might be hard.”

“Do you want me to keep you company?” Alcarino decided to ask directly.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” snorted Maedhros with offense. “And I will be a poor company,” he looked at the healer, then gave him a crooked smile. “Maybe you want to call for some food and wine as well?” he mocked and waved his left elbow weakly, pointing at the sling restraining his movements.

“If you wish so.” Alcarino tossed a loose, unbuttoned tunic over his back. “I don’t have ask to know you didn’t go for supper,” he added gently.

“Too much trouble.” To prove his words, Maedhros placed his arm on the desk with effort and tried to grasp the mug the healer had brought. Leaning forward and helping himself with the stump, he managed to drink half of the contents before putting it down to prevent it slipping from his grasp. “It’s not getting any tastier,” he commented with ostensible disgust.

“But it’s also working, Nelyo.”

The informal form, used rarely by his brothers, surprised Maedhros for a moment; enough for the healer to lean forward over the desk and place the mug by his lips. The wounded glared at him with visible offense, but then gave up the pretence and accepted the help.

“We’re alone,” Alcarino reminded him. For some reason Maedhros was anxious and he could barely control it. The healer didn’t know if the helplessness or something else was the cause. Surely the incident at the walls didn’t help, but earlier something must have driven Maedhros from his chambers and made him seek the healer’s company. Alcarino doubted the son of Feanor would tell him, but he didn’t intend to push him.

“I’m not stopping you,” muttered Maedhros, putting the stump under the sling, checking if he would be able to remove it himself. “I’ll manage.”

“You don’t intend to lay down,” Alcarino pointed out. “But perhaps a bath could help,” he suggested.

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’ll prepare it.”

Maedhros looked keenly at him, as if showing he knew what the healer was doing, but then he just nodded.

Alcarino left and waited outside for a moment to make sure he would not hear the key turned in the lock. Maedhros’s private bathroom was situated a few chambers away and even now, with the fortress being overcrowded, it remained for the sole use of the sons of Feanor. The healer went in to check if the water in the pipes coming from the kitchens was warm enough. Dissatisfied, he asked for two cauldrons of boiling water from the kitchens. He returned to his patient when everything was ready.

Maedhros seemed to not have moved an inch. He sat stiffly in his armchair with his arms crossed tightly on his chest, but Alcarino soon realised he was wrong. The wounded was rubbing his stump against his side and he froze for a moment as the door opened, but when he saw who came in, he returned to his attempts to massage his arm. Alcarino had not seen this gesture for a very long time.

“Everything’s ready. Let’s go.”

“Wait. Take it off.” Maedhros was pale and sweaty, the dark circles under his shining eyes more visible than earlier.

“I don’t want you to wet the wound,” said the healer calmly. “Leave it.”

“Take it off,” commanded Maedhros more sternly and stood up swiftly despite his weariness. “Don’t tie me up. Not you. I know,” he said impatiently. “Just take it off. Please.”

“You’ll have to hold your arm up.” Alcarino gave up and removed the sling.

Maedhros sighed with visible relief and closed his eyes for a moment. Calmer, he went to the bathroom and let the healer undress him. Alcarino pretended he didn’t feel the muscles tensing at his mere touch.

The water worked as usual. After a moment of following the healer’s every move with his vigilant stare, Maedhros calmed down and leaned against the tub. Warm water brought relief and helped to relax the tensed muscles. Alcarino smiled to himself as he noticed that the eldest son of Feanor stopped staring so intensely with those steel eyes of his and closed them, leaning his head back. He knew, however, that he could not let him sleep. Not just yet.

“So, what’s been going on around?” he asked.

Maedhros glanced at him with a hint of a grim smile playing on his lips, as if he wanted to ask whether the healer really wanted to know, but also aware why he was doing that. He sank in deeper into the water and started reporting, as if he was on a council meeting.

I can be found in here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17533274

Good or bad, I’d love to hear what you think. Thanks for reading :) 

#my fic #Maedhros #Alcarino #The Silmarillion #The Silmarillion fanfic #post Thangorodrim trauma #whump #hurt/comfort

[japowpatrol]

JaPOW, JapAVALANCHE, JapOUCH!

After arriving at the Bearmont hotel located at the base of Asahidake, I met with my group to get aquainted and plan for the week. My group was made up of Sam (21 y/o guide from Australia), Rob (53 y/o rad lad from Utah who insists he is not a Mormon and dedicates his life to doing rad stuff at a stoke level of 11 to prove so), and Andy + Jane (an older couple who telemark ski and fly planes to get around in their hometown Australia).

Japow:

Looking at the forecast at Asahidake, I knew we were in for something special. Snowfall was projected for each of the next ten days with > 1 m of accumulation expected for the four days of planned skiing! It was “puking snow!” (“Taku san no yuki!”).

Japavalanche:

Visibility was low our first day and winds were pushing 75 km/hr. We lucked out and managed to catch one of the only two trams that ran that day with maybe seven other riders. Once at the top, it was a total whiteout. Our guide Sam began leading us out of the windy whiteout along a skiers right route to get down to the trees. After keeping close proximity to one another to orient ourselves during the traverse, Sam, Rob and I all stopped in the same area on a ~25 degree slope to regroup and plan our continued route down. I was third in line and had observed some cracking in the snowpack during our traverse. Part of me argued internally that “This [was] Japan, they don’t get avalanches in Japan, the snow is too light, the slope, too moderate”. The rational part of me then opted to mention the cracking I had observed that had started to develop at our feet. Only a moment later and the three of us were caught in a class 1 slide that broke off as a slab from a few metres above. Our guide Sam got caught up in the worst of it as I kept my eye on him while he was carried through the snow rapids roughly 20-25 m down slope. Rob was carried maybe 5-7 m down, while I was kept out of the main current and travelled 3-4 m. I skied over to Sam to make sure he was alright; he was buried past his waist but had managed to stay upright and keep on his skis. Poor guy, not 10 minutes into guiding a week long backcountry tour and he gets caught in his first avalanche ever! Things get worse for Sam...

Japouch:

Once Sam had managed to dig himself out of the snow, he began to traverse to skiers left. Now, including our group of three, there were a total of ten riders on the entire hill at this point in time. So what could possibly have happened next? Well, once Sam had made his way out of the danger zone, he sought refuge just below a groomed lip. While taking my turn to traverse over to my trustee guide, I witnessed the second catastrophe in as many minutes unfold; this total nutter (Yank) came out of nowhere, sent it off the lip (respect), and absolutely pelted Sam into a double eject (respect revoked). Tough morning. We were, however, able to salvage the day by finding a safe run in the trees we ended up naming “Hell Hole” as at the bottom of one of the runs, I buried myself 3 m into a creek bed and had to be helped out. And yes, Sam also sunk into a creek bed of his own.

[evolutionarydesigns]

After checking out of our AirBnB we took the dogs for a walk on a very easy trail, Burford Trail. It's an easy walk and perfect for a warm up trail. At the top of the hill it was windy. Bella and myself were wind blown. #oklahomainstagram #Oklahoma #igoklahoma #ig_countryside #oklahoma_ig #rural #rsa_rural #rsa_rurex #rsa_outdoors #weather #ipulledoverforthis #renagade_rural #trb_members1 #trailblazers_rurex #mobilephotoravpower #backroad_visions #hiking #hikingadventures (at Wichita Mountains Wildlife Refuge) https://www.instagram.com/p/CG6t6fYAKfW/?igshid=b2qsakzfz7u4

#oklahomainstagram #oklahoma #igoklahoma #ig_countryside #oklahoma_ig #rural #rsa_rural #rsa_rurex #rsa_outdoors #weather #ipulledoverforthis #renagade_rural #trb_members1 #trailblazers_rurex #mobilephotoravpower #backroad_visions #hiking #hikingadventures