#♥ ┈ Tiana ┈(About)

[darkcolinodonorgasm]

Far across the land and sea (11/?)

Summary: When he followed the woman in blue in that dark alley, Killian Jones didn’t expect to sail the high seas with a princess on the run. When she found herself near Misthaven, Princess Emma didn’t expect to partner up with a pirate who wanted revenge on the man who had ruined her life. Only sailing the high seas and traveling far, far away from home Emma will be able to live again, fighting evil witches and curses, making new friends and, maybe, even falling in love.

A/N: HAPPIEST OF THE HAPPY BIRTHDAYS TO YOU @carpedzem​  !!!!!!! I'm so sorry this is coming at the very end of your birthday, but I've had a hard time wrapping things up BUT IT'S HERE! A new chapter of FATLAS! Finally!! I won't say much about it, just that I hope you love it and that I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!! I'm sending you the tightest hugs and kitty cuddles and just all my love ♥

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11 - too many years being the king of pain

«Please, be my guests, do sit.»

With a snap of his fingers, Facilier had two chairs appear in a swirl of smoke behind them.

They winced, Emma’s fingers curling as if ready to conjure a ball of magic as Killian’s cutlass hilariously threatened a simple piece of furniture.

Facilier hummed a laugh, concealing it behind a polite cough. Clenching her jaw, Emma balled her hand into a fist and sat down, chin raised. Muscle memory and a habit she’d not quite gotten rid of had her bring cross her legs at the ankles.

Swallowing his embarrassment, Killian sat as well. He then pointedly impaled the cutlass in the ground next to him, ringed hand loosely gripping the hilt.

«May I offer you something to drink? Sweet iced tea, perhaps? May I suggest beignets to experience what Orléans once had to offer? It is very sad that after Queen Tiana’s… disappearance nobody ever dared make them. Oh, do not be afraid, they won’t poison you and curse you into an immortal sleep, Princess.» His smooth voice and peculiar accent curled around each syllable in a way that reminded of the villagers’, but not quite.

Emma looked at the feast that had just appeared in front of them, jaw dropping slightly. Though not hungry, she couldn’t deny the way her stomach seemed to open up at the prospect of welcoming such deliciously smelling treats.

You know better than accepting food from a warlock, she scolded herself. «You said disappearance in such a way that makes me firmly believe she’s not dead.»

Stirring the coffee he’d poured in a cup that strongly resembled a skull, Facilier chuckled warmly. «Pardon me, it was a poor choice of words,» he apologized, taking a deep inhale of the scent that was slowly drifting toward Emma. «Tiana is very much dead. It is her spirit that’s restless.»

Both Emma and Killian blinked at him, dumbfounded.

To be able to communicate with the dead, great power was needed: coming too close to the veil could be fatal for a novice as well as an experienced magician. The souls of the departed were to always be left in peace, for their retribution could cost any fool who dared toy with them their life.

It was clear that Facilier was quite experienced when it came to ghosts, spirits, whatever he called them, but he was no necromancer. Nay, those were rare and never flaunted their true power.

The man sighed dramatically. «I did have a hand in her demise, after all. Given my particular ability to seal deals with the dead, I've been visited quite a few times by her spirit over the years. She's a bit annoying, but I understand her point.»

Emma arched an eyebrow. «You understand her po— I beg your pardon, what did you say you did to her?»

Deep, dark eyes met hers, making her feel as if she were weightless, floating in the air. «Tiana and I made a deal. Unfortunately for her, she didn't hold up to her end of the bargain, therefore I demanded payment. Or rather, my friends did, and she was cursed to live an immortal life.» The intensity of his stare made Emma want to look away, but she couldn't, mesmerized by the bright colors she was seeing at the edges of her line of vision. «Unfortunately, she fell in love, and the true consequences of the curse emerged.»

Emma was so invested in the story that she'd not realized she'd grabbed a beignet and was munching on it, the sweet pastry melting like butter in her mouth. Powdered sugar stuck to her fingers, and only common decency stopped her from locking her fingers. Killian, on the other hand, had poured himself some iced tea, his manners once again surprising her: he seemed to be more royal than she ever had been. She wouldn't have been surprised to discover that in his veins ran/coursed royal blood.

«And what would these consequences be?» asked Killian, the tip of his index finger circling the rim of the tall glass, his relaxed position a mere ploy.

Facilier grinned. «My friends aren't of the pitiful sort, they have no emotion, and it reflects on their chosen punishment. Alas, Queen Tiana infuriated them to the point that she was destined to bring damnation over her true love as well as her kingdom.»

Taking his sweet time, the warlock sipped on his drink, unnerving Emma even more. A warm hand found its way to her knee, immediately making her relax; when he began moving his thumb in circles, she melted inside.

No, bad Emma, don't think where else you'd rather have him move his finger like that.

Tearing her mind away from dangerous thoughts, she squeezed her thighs together and looked back at Facilier, who was still smirking behind his peculiar cup.

The man took a beignet from the pile, slender fingers tearing it into pieces so easily Emma knew it would be oh so simple for him to break someone's neck. A chill ran down her alone at the thought. He wasn't someone to have as an enemy, that would simply be unwise.

«Tiana did meet her true love after decades of being cursed. To give you an approximate timeline, let's just say she was a close friend of a recent acquaintance of yours.» His eyes sparkled with mischief, an amused grin curling his full lips.

«The princess, Aurora,» Emma answered immediately, only then realizing just how long this land had been under a curse, waiting for someone to break it. Perhaps they do need a savior, Emma thought to herself. But to agree with it and be said savior, those were two completely different things.

Facilier nodded his head. «And her husband was once a friend of the prince who met his end at his true love's lips. They all know one another, their relationships give me such headaches…» he trailed off, making a show of rubbing two fingers over his temple. «Back to our storytime, Tiana and Naveen fell in love, and since he was her true love, he did break the curse. Or so they thought. You see, spirits are tricksters, especially those I deal with, they are restless souls seeking out even more desperate ones to play with.»

«And did you happen to tell that to the queen?» Killian interjected, eyebrow raised, only to be met with a scoff.

«I warned her not to break her deal, Captain, I always do. I'm a businessman just like you are, after all: if I lose my clients, I lose my practice. And word spreads fast, you and I both know that. There's no worse thing than a bad reputation.»

Despite his own feelings toward the man, Killian had to admit he was right. Yet, he did not believe for a second that Facilier was completely honest with his clientele either: one did not simply make deals with the dead without picking up their ways. Killian knew that, he too had used his business transactions as a way to learn how the world truly worked.

After a slight nod from the pirate, the warlock continued. «The curse was supposedly broken, the couple lived a fairytale life and was supposed to grow old together and finally die of old age. Alas, they soon discovered the true consequences of the curse: while Tiana kept on aging, Naveen did not.»

That was unexpected.

Emma blinked, glancing sideways at Killian, who was now even more engrossed. He might be wary of magic, but he was deeply fascinated by it as well. So much that he was leaning forward, listening intently as Facilier spun his tale.

«As one can imagine, they tried to find a way to break the curse, but this was no mere enchantment, it was a damnation, a hex cast by powerful evils that couldn't be fought with true love's kiss. Sometimes, love isn't enough.»

An eerie silence fell upon them, the warlock's words sinking in.

If love wasn't enough, then what can we do for them?

Emma bit her tongue, barely holding back from letting those words slip past her tongue. Her magic had its limits, and even then, if they'd not been able to break the hold the spirits had on the King, what could she do about it?

Dark eyes scrutinized her, full lips tilting up in an amused smile. Pursing her mouth, Emma lifted her chin. Though she might think herself weak, she wouldn't show her insecurities, not even when they were written all over her face as if she were an open book for all to read.

It was Killian who broke the silence, his voice slow, careful: he didn’t want to get their hopes high, for as he could see, there was no hope to begin with. Tales of curses had been traveling for centuries, millennia now, and each one had been broken by a true love’s kiss.

Killian’s eyes shifted to Emma, the line of her profile showing that she was almost completely hopeless, a frown bringing her eyebrows together and the lips he loved to kiss pressed in a thin line. «How did Emma manage to wake Aurora up, then?» He loathed to talk about people as if they weren’t there, but he recognized a dip into the pits of discouragement, and Emma was slowly plunging into those cold, dark waters. «Her blood woke the queen up,» Killian reasoned, «yet the prince had not kissed her, dying because of the poison her lips had been coated with. Am I wrong to assume that Emma’s blood wouldn’t be of any use in this case?»

The gleam in Facilier’s eyes brightened; had he not been a pirate, the warlock might have taken an interest in his cunning mind. «You, my friend, are quite correct. Maleficent’s sleeping curse is strong, not everyone who replicates it knows that there is a loophole, as there is a way to break it. As history teaches us, an act of true love always is the key, which is why Maleficent lied about there being a cure and ensured that the queen’s true love wouldn’t live to tell the tale - or to save her, as it is.» He took another sip of his beverage, his manners so polite and sophisticated that Emma would’ve thought of him as someone who’d once belonged in a court.

Then again, Killian could easily be mistaken by royalty as well, whereas she would have to force herself to act a certain way, only just a few particulars denoted her true lineage. On certain occasions, even she could be led to believe that she’d been indeed raised by wolves.

«So my blood...»

«Your blood, sha, was the only cure for that sort of curse, a rare one as of late, but a cure nonetheless. What affects Naveen is different, darker, and in no way breakable unless the spirits lift it.»

«And let me guess,» Emma cut him off, «they won’t listen to your pleas?» It didn’t surprise her, to be fair, she had a feeling that Facilier wasn’t particularly loved by his “friends” as he used to be. However, perhaps it had been his constant tentatives to get them to lift the curse, perhaps another affront she wasn’t aware of; in truth, she didn’t care. As long as he was trying to fix his mistakes, there was a base for her to trust him. It still felt like walking on very thin ice, reminding her of how her parents had treated-

Her breath caught, head snapping to the side until it landed on the rock shelves, where a jewelry box carved out of bone sat. Emma stood, striding to the side of the cave in seconds and coming to a stop when her eyes set on the jewel nestled in the dark purple silk inside. The black ribbon had been arranged to form the unmistakable letter “R”, a gesture of love - or obsession, but it was the unforgettable round locket that emerged from the depths of her memory.

Before she met Robin, Regina never took it off, not even when it didn’t match her extravagant dresses. Emma had always wondered who had gifted it to her, wondered what there was inside - a rare ingredient? A love letter? A reminder of the person she cared about? She’d never gotten an answer, until now.

The round pendant winked at her as it caught the dim light. Furrowing her brows, Emma forced herself to recall when Regina had stopped wearing it, if there’d been a particular event that drove them apart, but she kept coming up empty.

A dark presence loomed behind her, whispers she couldn’t decipher reaching her ears. She tensed, but her magic didn’t quite respond, instinctively knowing that the warlock didn’t pose a threat to her or Killian.

«Is she happy?»

Facilier’s words were barely a whisper, his controlled tone betraying the need he had to hear the answer. How long had it been since he last saw her? Had Regina truly cut all ties to him after she met her true love? There was no denying how deeply she’d loved Facilier, for the former evil queen typically wasn’t a sentimental person. To some, she had no feelings at all.

Emma exhaled, long and loud. «She found her true love,» was her answer, but deep inside, she was torn: she knew Robin, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that Regina had always aspired for more, that she was destined for more, not in the way her mother intended, just for someone more like her to swim in the darkness along with her yet still capable of staying afloat. Perhaps that was just what Emma would have wanted to herself had she been more like her step-grandmother.

Even without looking at him, Emma felt Killian’s presence. Perhaps it wasn’t quite darkness, but whatever sea she was swimming in, he was swimming next to her.

Behind her, Facilier dipped his head, nodding sharply. «I’m glad,» he stated, heartbreak ringing in his deep tone, all the masks he was using useless against his pain. He retreated, in more ways than one, and went back to the table.

It was Killian who broke the tension, taking in stride the small fallout and getting back on route, like a true captain; Emma felt a rush of gratefulness invade her, as well as something else, a feeling she couldn’t quite name, yet somehow recognized. She wanted to grab it with both hands and hold on, to wrap it around herself like a blanket and bathe in its warmth.

A secret smile played on her lips. Killian always had her back, she just hoped she would be able to have his, too.

«What did the queen do to enrage the spirits?»

As Emma turned around, eyes not so briefly or subtly traveling over Killian’s body, definitely appreciating the way the leather hugged his thighs and the vest was pulled tight around his torso, and the light showing off the chocolate highlights in his hair just-

«Oh, she reunited a man with his true love,» Facilier mumbled, his mood clearly souring with each second. Emma’s insides twisted, her magic beginning to fret, wanting to grab Killian and get as far away as possible.

The warlock’s gestures, from pouring the amber rum in the tumbler to bringing it to his lips to gulp it down in one go, were agitated, every movement shaky. He would not be around much longer, of that Emma was sure of.

Stepping behind Killian, one hand on his shoulder, nails digging into his flesh even above all the layers he wore, ready to poof them out of the cave: impossibly, it felt as if it could crumble all over them.

Rushing the words out, Emma asked: «Is there a way to find the king?» Her pulse thrummed in her veins, deafening her to the rumbling deep inside the cave, tales of a giant made of rocks living beneath a mountain swirling in her head.

Facilier looked at her, black eyes showing purple specks, enrapturing, warning her off. «Follow the fireflies to the bayou,» he gritted through his teeth, voice so low it mixed with the groaning of rocks all around them. «That was where they fell in love, that is where he dwells, but do not illude yourselves for one second that it will be an easy task to enter his domain.»

With one last chuckle, Killian and Emma were enveloped in thick smoke. It blinded them, suffocated them, the noises increasing volume and intensity.

Emma didn’t think: she wrapped her arm around Killian’s front and pulled him against her chest, her magic sweeping them away from the collapsing cave, the sound of rocks crashing and breaking as if in a thunder battle.

Light as a feather, the warming touch of sun filtering through grey clouds welcomed Emma as she blinked her eyes open, arms still tight around Killian’s body. They’d fallen back on the forest floor, her ass taking the burn of the impact, Killian hissing in pain as his left leg scraped against the rough bark of a nearby tree.

As they took time to catch their breath, they stared open-eyed at the mass of stones in front of them, the cave that once was, was no more.

Still panting, Emma rested her head against Killian’s shoulder, inhaling deeply so his scent could banish the sweet perfume of the beignets. Her stomach rolled, protesting, only to settle when the hunger was suddenly forgotten, replaced by another kind of craving.

«I have a favour to ask,» Killian rasped, heart beating wildly in his chest. Emma could feel it: it pulsed right beneath where her hand was resting over his breastbone.

«What?»

He tilted his head back, watching the sun behind closed lids. Cradled between her thighs, with one hand on her knee at his side and the other reaching for her fingers, twining them with his own, he seemed almost peaceful.

«Remind me to never trust a man who wears a hat indoors ever again.»

[elfyourmother]

5, 34 and 39 from the fanfic writer ask ♥

[list here]

5. Do you listen to music when writing?

Sometimes, it really depends on what I’m writing and how my squirrel brain is acting at a given time. I generally need some kind of background noise because weirdly enough it helps me focus more often than not. In the Before times when I was commuting to work on the subway every day a LOT of my writing got done in that 30 minutes or so on the train in the morning so music (and my noise cancelling Bose cans) was mandatory. But even at home, music was and is pretty important.

A lot of how I approach writing is admittedly woo-tastic because my witch training was such a fundamental part of my teen years and fandom/developing my writing habits ran parallel to that and creativity kind of went hand in hand with it. But as a tl;dr there’s a concept in old school British traditional Craft called ritual consciousness, all of the physical trappings of ritual like tools and regalia really just exist to shift the witch’s mind into Work mode, like flipping a switch from mundane to sacred space. And tbh, when I'm writing and really get into that zone where everything is just flowing it doesn’t feel all that dissimilar from my ritual work, aside from the lack of physical energy being raised. Music is a powerful tool in the arsenal, in both respects, to get into the right mindset. Lyrics or instrumentals really vary depending on squirrel brain. Sometimes words are too distracting, sometimes they help.

I’ve taken to using the white noise app on my phone for appropriate background sounds and I find that helps a lot if I can’t deal with music for whatever reason (if my focus is really off kilter).

34. Have you felt emotional while writing a scene before? What scene was it?

Constantly. I feel like if I haven’t at least one time in a fic then I haven’t done my job as a writer and I need to go back and change things or scrap it and start over because my heart’s not in it. One of the fun things about ADHD is our uh, interesting emotional regulation, as in we tend to be extremely sensitive people that feel All the Things really intensely. I have cried because food tasted too good, and a baby was too cute. I ugly cried on Princess Tiana at Disney World at the age of 36 (ask Dandy, she was there), and I cry every single time I see a fireworks show there even though I’ve seen them all like 9000 times. 

But if I had to pick out just one scene, even with this context, it’s hands down the climax of The Prodigal’s Lament, which was a Warcraft fic I wrote years ago about the night during the Third War when Kael returned home to Quel’Thalas, after the Scourge sacked it, and the exact moment he named the survivors sin’dorei. The whole fic, even though it was short, was really just me working out my 9/11 trauma again with my comfort character, because at the time I wrote it, it was the 10th anniversary of the attacks so it was an especially hard day for me (being a major milestone year it was even more inescapable than usual). But in particular the climax of the story, where Kael leads the survivors in singing the Lament of the Highborne and people start reciting the names of their fallen loved ones really fucked me up because of my history (I dont want to get into it but I lost someone I knew bc of 9/11). I had to stop at one point because I was crying too hard to focus. But it was good and ultimately very cathartic to write and to this day it means a lot to me. I had someone comment once (maybe on the Pit?) that it reminded them of a tragedy in their country and the grief they also felt and it moved them and helped them cope, which probably the single comment that has stayed with me most in all the years I’ve been writing and posting fanfic.

39. What area of writing do you feel strongest in?

Dialogue. I feel like I’m generally pretty good at nailing character voices, and I’m good with banter--when you grow up on the likes of the Eddingses and Jennifer Saunders it’s hard not to be good with banter.

[vixey-chakraborty]

♥ 253 likes

ffttswynlake: Hello, everyone! We are excited to announce the soft opening of our humble thrift shoppe: From Farm to Table! 

This may be a little different for the usual Main Street shoppe opening, after all: we need your help collecting items! Bring donations with you any time between 3PM and 8PM on Friday, February 25th and received a 10% off voucher that is good for any time after we officially open our doors on Tuesday, March 1st! 

Items accepted: any clothing, jewelry, shoes, accessories; small furniture items (small dressers, chairs, desks, etc.) and household items (lamps, picture frames, kitchen items, etc.) -- Due to space limitations we cannot, unfortunately, accommodate large furniture items such as couches or beds, however bed frames are welcome! Antique items should be donated to our local antique shoppe: Whosits and Whatsits (@theirhandlehere).

Feel free to take a look around at the new layout of the shoppe, mingle with friends, and enjoy delicious refreshments and snacks provided by Tiana’s Place (@tianasplace). 

PS -- we are hiring, if interested, contact Vixey Chakraborty at vchakraborty@fromfarmswynlake.co.uk

OOC: no one actually has to do this, but if you wanted to, it would be fun to have everyone post at some point (either during the event or before or after!) a few outfits/items they donated. I was thinking about making a Pinterest board, just thought it would be fun. If you do do that, feel free to just tag Vixey’s account!