#* &. BELLE FRENCH / WRITING.

[ace-cf-cups]

We all know that Rumple's got lots of self-loathing, among other things connected with the way he looked in the EF because it represents how inhuman and monstrous he is.

Now imagine for some reason he and Belle end up back in the EF at some point in the show... or maybe EF 2 in S7...

And Rumple grows scaly and golden and sparkly and lizardy again and he hides from Belle because he is ashamed, because he can't bear to see the expression on her face when she sees the reminder of who he truly is...

But when Belle eventually finds him - because she always does - she takes one look at him and just... smiles and runs up to him and envelopes him in a tight hug and has the audacity to sigh contently against a very baffled Rumple.

Because as much as she loves his human form, as much as she loves him in any form, period, this Rumple - the sparkly golden disco lizard - is her Rumple, the one she met first, the one she got to know first, the one she fell in love with first.

And she missed him... she really did.

[diana-andraste]

Self-portrait with mask, Claude Cahun, c. 1928

The charm of the mask inspires petty romantic souls, but wearing the mask plays into the hands of those who, for material or psychological reasons, have an interest in not behaving in an open-faced way.

Masks are made of different quality materials: cardboard, velvet, flesh, the Word. The carnal mask and the verbal mask are worn in all seasons. I soon learned to prefer to all others these off-the-market stratagems. You study yourself, you add a wrinkle, a fold at the corner of the mouth, a look, an intonation, a gesture, even a muscle. . . . You create for yourself several clearly defined vocabularies, several syntaxes, several ways of being, thinking, and even feeling—from which you'll choose a skin the color of time . . .

This game is so engaging that it'll soon rob you of the means to cause harm (or to live, as you please). A coin out of circulation. Devoid of social value. Disgusted with its ruts, the train car leaves its rails and falls over on its side. So, all it takes is for the flesh to make way for the spirit (that being the logical progress of evil). From now on, at the roll call you'll only be able to answer "absent," you'll be incapable of taking lessons, and you'll be able to make love only by correspondence. . . .

In front of the mirror, on a day full of enthusiasm, you put your mask on too heavily, it bites your skin. After the party, you lift up a corner to see . . . a failed decal. With horror you see that the flesh and its mask have become inseparable. Quickly, with a little saliva, you reglue the bandage on the wound.

"I remember, it was Carnival time. I had spent my solitary hours disguising my soul. Its masks were so perfect that when they happened to run into each other on the plaza of my consciousness, they didn't recognize one another. I adopted the most surly opinions, one after another: those that displeased me the most were the most certain of success. But the facepaints that I'd used seemed indelible. To clean them off, I rubbed so hard that I took off the skin. And my soul, like a face galled to the quick, no longer resembled human form."

Can they say "Well done!" when such suffering seems artificial? It isn't enough to be good for clumsy sparrows, you must be able to help mechanical birds take flight. More burdensome than pain, perhaps they'll traverse either time or space.

Claude Cahun, Captive Balloon Translated from the French by Myrna Bell Rochester

[exhaustedpirate]

call disconnected

my first entry for CS Autumn/Spooky Bingo created by the lovely @hollyethecurious - the prompt was "ghost stories", i got a little carried away and made it into a bit of a crime solving thing! all my love and devotion goes to @belovedcreation for betaing!

rated T | 7849 words

also on AO3

summary: Sheriff Emma Swan gets a call about an accident in the woods, a man begging her for help. An hour later, Killian Jones is on his way to the hospital. Funny thing is, the call for help doesn't match the voice of the victim.

The call arrives just after 2 o’clock, which is lucky because there would be a whole other emergency if someone stopped Emma Swan from getting her grilled cheese. 

Ruby is supposed to be on phone duty but there is an anniversary dinner to plan and she doesn’t want to be responsible for Mulan having an underwhelming night due to her wife’s rushed planning. So Emma is covering the phones when it rings.

“Sheriff Swan speaking.”

Static greets her on the other side of the line, tensing her body unconsciously before a voice rings out. “Help, I-I fell-” It’s a strange panicked voice she’s never heard before, an accent not common to their small town of Storybrooke, Maine. She feels a tingle in her spine all the way to her hands. “The cliff gave out. Can you hear me?”

“Uh, yes, yes, I can hear you, sir,” Emma takes a deep steadying breath. “Can you tell me where you fell?”

“I w-was on the Misthaven Trail, I-I think I broke my leg,” His guttural grunt of pain weighs on her chest and she feels like she’s having difficulty breathing. “I can see the bone, I-”

Static plays up again and she feels his panic in her veins. “I can barely hear you, sir,” Her knuckles are white as she tightens her hold on the phone, pressing it harder against her ear as if it will make it easier to hear. “Can you tell me precisely where on the trail?”

“The river, Shepherd River,” His breathing becomes panicked and she knows she should keep him calm, urging him to take shorter breaths but she’d feel like a hypocrite. “I’m bleeding, please, help me, plea-”

The call cuts off and she is left with the sounds of her fast breathing. “Sir? Sir?” 

Emma tries to redial, grateful for the old technology to allow her to do so. An automated voice informs her the number is not in service and she frowns in confusion.

Maybe it was a prank.

Maybe some of the local teenagers were trying to send her on a wild goose chase so they can vandalise another section of their lovely neighbourhood. 

But the panic was real. The fear in that voice was real. The hairs on her arms are still raised as she remembers the voice, as she remembers all the alarms her body gave her.

Graham pokes his head into her office a second after. “Emma?” Her hand hurts from where she’s still holding onto the phone as if her life depends on it. “Are you alright?”

Maybe it is a prank.

The tight feeling on her chest tells her to go check it out nonetheless.

She drops the phone, with maybe too much strength, before she faces her deputy. “Are you up for a hike?”

---

It really is lucky that Graham practically lives in the woods. Emma was made for concrete roads and windows to keep the insects away. She wouldn’t last an hour alone in these woods.

The Toll Bridge crosses through the edge of the forest. The Misthaven Trail parallels the Shepherd River that flows under the bridge. It’s common to see vehicles on the side of the road - hikers leaving the last piece of civilization before venturing into the forest.

Emma parks the cruiser alongside a Chevrolet Chevelle and she’s almost sad to see it left to the whims of nature. But it probably belongs to their injured hiker. She places her hand on the hood of the car. She can still feel some warmth.

“This must be his.” She points the car out to Graham. “It’s probably been like an hour since he left. Call the hospital, ask them to get an ambulance here.”

Graham nods and grabs his phone. She lets his voice become background noise as she inspects the car. The door is unlocked, the hiker probably wasn’t expecting to be long. There’s a satchel in the back seat. She opens the door and looks inside. There’s an ID in the wallet and a buzzing in her ears when she looks at the picture on it. Killian Jones.

“They’re on their way,” Graham breaks through her inspection and everything becomes clearer. “I told them to keep their radio on.”

She nods. “We’re looking for Killian Jones,” Emma turns the ID towards him before tossing it inside the car. “Assuming he’s our hiker.”

Graham has his tracking face on as she closes the door. There’s something on the driver side floor that causes that tugging in her gut that guides her to flare up.

“It’s a good thing it hasn’t rained,” Graham points out from the other side of the car. “There are some recent footprints leading west. They’re probably his.”

“The Misthaven Trail,” Emma nods, any investigating paused in lieu of finding the injured hiker. “Let’s go.”

“Stay behind me.”

“Go get him, Fido.” Emma presses her lips together attempting to hide the smile at her terrible joke, but fails at the sight of his unimpressed look.

They follow the trail in familiar silence. Graham’s experience allows them to travel at a fast speed through the trees. They pay close attention to any sounds out of the ordinary - which is to say, anything that isn’t birds, animals or the rushing river below them.

“Emma.” 

Graham stops and she manages to stop before she runs into him. He gestures to the ground where a blanket is crumpled underneath a tree, still warm. 

“Still warm,” Emma confirms before dropping the blanket. “He must be close. Maybe he fell.”

“After all the warnings the Mayor released, there’s still people who forget to respect the forest.”

“I thought those had only been around for the past year,” Emma frowns, looking around. “I mean, you both gave me an hour-long lecture about it when I started.”

“Everyone in town knows to be cautious of these woods but there was a, uhm,” And it is the first time she’s ever seen Graham sound uncertain, his voice trembling with emotion. He clears his throat before he continues. “There was a death in these woods.”

She sees the way he looks guarded now, in pain. “Oh.”

A flash catches the corner of her eye. With a hand to cover her eyes from the sun, she turns towards it. The sunlight has caught on a metal flask within throwing distance from the blanket, she assumes. Close to it is a pile of rocks. A strange pile, each rock deliberately placed on top of the other. It must have been a while since it’s been built there according to the moss growing on them.

Emma turns towards her deputy to point that to him but sees him a few steps away looking at the ground. “Drag marks,” he points out as if he could feel her eyes on him. “He must have fallen down-”

“Help!” A weak yell cuts him off and they whip their heads to the right. 

“And ended up down by the river,” Emma finishes for him in a quiet voice, her heart beating faster at the sound of pain, as she stands next to the deputy.

Using caution, Emma follows Graham’s lead as he gets them to the river bank following the sounds of pain. Halfway down, they locate the hiker and for the first time, Graham’s confidence falters and so do his steps. A man is slumped on the side of the river, covered in dirt and blood. She can see tendrils of red flowing down the river.

“Don’t move,” Graham orders, recovering quickly, as he stands next to the victim who seems to slump at their arrival, the fight leaving his body in his relief. “We’re here to help.”

Emma kneels on one side of him and is instantly on alert at the sight of the gash in his head and the bone protruding from his leg. She looks up at Graham and he seems to read her thoughts.

“I’ll guide the paramedics here,” Graham says, grabbing the radio from his belt. “Keep him still and awake.”

She nods before he returns to the trail to guide the others to where they are. Emma places her hand on the man’s shoulder, careful to avoid hurting him further. His big blue eyes turn to her, pain and fear side by side with hope and creating a tug in her gut.

She clears her throat. “Are you Killian Jones?”

“Aye, I fell, broke my leg,” he explains in a hoarse voice. She frowns at the sound, a whole other type of tingle running up her spine. “The ground caved under me.”

There’s static in her radio before Graham’s voice rings out. “ETA is three minutes, is he conscious?”

“Yeah, conscious and lucid,” Emma answers through the radio. “Broken leg and head injury.”

“I thought I was going to die here,” Killian groans as she puts away the device. “How did you find me?”

“The Misthaven Trail is long and you weren’t exactly specific.” Emma breathes out a chuckle, her nerves slightly calmed at knowing help is coming. “But we found where you fell down. We would have been here faster but service in this area is crap. I don’t know how you called us in the first place.” She’s babbling. She does that when she’s nervous.

Killian’s eyebrows furrow together, confusion taking over the pain. “I called you?”

“Hmm, yeah, that’s how we knew to come find you.” She answers as if it’s obvious, even as a pull in her gut tries to tell her otherwise.

“I left my phone in the car,” he explains and she feels that tingle up her spine once more. “I didn’t call anyone.”

Careful footsteps and cautious voices approach them and she lets the paramedics do their job as they put Killian Jones in the stretcher and cover his wounds. Their eyes remain locked until the last possible moment before Emma follows behind the stretcher being led by Graham. 

A light flashes in her eyes once more and she looks up at it, the pile of rocks still standing proudly in the forest, a bird perched on the top stone, its deep blue wings fluttering. The hairs at the back of her neck stand in attention and she tries to make sense of what happened. 

They found the hiker exactly where he told her he’d be. His leg was broken, just like the call said - she wouldn’t soon forget the sight of the bone piercing his flesh. The voice was different, Emma noticed it right away, but there were no signs of other hikers in the area.

But if the call wasn’t made by Killian Jones, then who called them for help?

---

Loud laughter rings out from the open kitchen window. An unconscious smile stretches Emma’s lips as she looks out at the dark heads illuminated by the fire pit she borrowed from Graham. Despite being disappointed at the cancelled camping trip, Henry seemed to have forgotten all about it when she reminded him of the comforts of home camping and the awesome backyard that came with their house. 

After the day they had, Emma just couldn’t think of Henry in the woods.

“Emma?” 

Speaking of, her deputy’s voice from the phone in her ear brings her back to the present.

“Yeah, sorry.” She turns her back to the window, leaning on the counter. “I got distracted.”

“I was saying that Mr. Jones should be going into his MRI scan right now and after that, they are preparing him for surgery on his leg. The doctors said that despite the trauma his body has been through, he’s doing really well.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” Emma breathes out in relief. Against her best interests, she hadn’t been able to put this strange rescue away from her mind. There was just something about the call, his voice, his eyes, that just didn’t seem right.

She feels Graham’s patient silence on the other side and she nods to herself to gather up courage. “Doesn’t all of this seem strange to you? The whole situation.”

“Emma-”

“He didn’t call the station, Graham, it was someone else, I swear,” she interrupts, her hackles raised. “He didn’t have a phone on him either, this is all just-”

“Weird,” Graham interrupts this time and he sighs. “I should have told you earlier, but I know Killian Jones, we a- were friends.”

“What?”

“He used to live here until last year. His brother, he-” Emma waits in suspense as Graham takes a deep steadying breath. “He died while on a hike in that trail a year ago, I assume Killian went there to pay his respects. I didn’t even know he was in town until we found him.”

“Y-You didn’t say anything.”

“Well, I didn’t want to believe it was him and then, when we found him, I knew I had to stay focused. I needed to do my job.”

“Right,” Emma scratches her forehead, her brain full of conflicting thoughts. This was a lot to consider. “So who called the station? A ghost?” She asks her question sarcastically to disguise how the possibility doesn’t sound too ridiculous to her.

“All I know is that we had a long day, Emma,” Graham evades, his tone placating and calm. “We should get our rest and look at this whole thing again tomorrow, with fresh eyes.”

“You’re right,” she exhales. “Goodnight, Graham. Keep me updated.”

“Goodnight, Emma.”

Emma ends the call and throws the phone at the dinner table. She’s going to push those doubts away even if she needs to force them away. She’s got some happy campers to focus on. Emma pulls the popcorn from the microwave and picks up the platter she made with the components for s’mores before pushing the back door open carefully.

“Does anyone know any ghost stories?” Ava Zimmer is almost vibrating in her seat as she grabs a handful of chips Emma brought earlier. Camping is not synonymous with healthy food.

“Ghosts? Aren’t we too old for that?” Nicholas Zimmer, on the other hand, is trying to hide his fear with bravado.

“Come on, Nick, it’s almost Halloween.” Henry knocks shoulders with his friend’s and she can hear the grin in his voice. “And that means ghost stories. Besides, they’re not real.”

“Yeah,” Ava agrees. “It’s just spooky and Halloween is the time for spooky.”

“Just not too spooky,” Emma interrupts, ignoring the way Nicholas startles at the sound of her voice - no need to embarrass the boy. “Otherwise you won’t sleep tonight.”

“Have you heard the story of the Misthaven Ghost?” Henry leans close to his friends on the bench with a grin.

Emma is glad for her steady grip on the platter or there would be no s’mores tonight. “Misthaven Ghost? Where did you hear that sort of story?” She tries to keep her voice cool but even she can hear the edge in it - was she the last one to hear about this? -, focusing instead on placing the food down on the small camping table she opened.

“Mr. Booth is having us write a ghost story for class and he gave us that one as an example,” Henry answers and he must misinterpret her questioning as innocent curiosity but she’s not going to correct him. “Do you wanna hear it?”

“Would you mind if I joined you?” 

“No, please join us!” Nicholas grabs her thankfully empty hands to pull her to sit between him and his twin after Henry stands up to stand on the other side of the fire.

“You’re such a scaredy cat.” Ava teases, looking at him around Emma.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.”

“Kids.” Emma warns, holding their arms to keep them from hitting each other.

“Listen up! For I am about to tell you the story of the Misthaven Ghost,” Henry calls from the other side of the fire before popping another popcorn in his mouth. Emma finds herself smiling at her kid’s dramatics. “It was a cold night in October, the 30th of October to be exact. An innocent man is walking the Misthaven Trail, determined to beat all odds and finish the hike. He is alone, nothing but his thoughts and the animals around him,” Nicholas plasters himself to Emma’s side. “He carries only a phone that won’t work this far into the woods and his bravery. He hears a presence to his right, to his left, all around, feels the hairs at the back of his neck stand in attention and a voice whispers in the wind,” Ava holds her right arm now as Henry lowers his voice. “‘Get out of the woods’, it says, ‘get out’, but the hiker is too fearless to heed their warning. Suddenly, a boom lights the sky and the ground gives out from under him, and then he’s falling. He’s falling and he can’t ask for help,” Emma feels the shiver running up her spine and, distantly, she thinks maybe Henry should focus on this storytelling ability he has. “He is floating on the river then, his body weak and leaving him, his last thought on the family he leaves behind, a last goodbye sent to the stars he loved so much.”

Henry finishes with a fluttering gesture towards the night sky. Ava and Nicholas on either side of her are gripping her arm, not willing to break the silence. 

“He had a family?” Emma asks and even her quiet tone manages to startle the twins. 

“Were you scared, Ava?” Nicholas asks as he looks at his sister, a victorious grin winning over his fear.

Ava huffs and crosses her arms. “No, you’re the scared one.”

“It’s a good story, isn’t it?” Henry asks, a bright smile on his face and a proud stance to his shoulders.

“Mr. Booth told you this story?” Emma tries again.

“Yeah,” Henry grabs another handful of popcorn, now that his story is done, eating one at a time. “He wanted us to have an example of what to write but he was probably also showing off.” 

The kids laugh, everyone in town knowing of August’s designs of being a published author and his constant promises of finishing his novel soon. But there was still something niggling at Emma’s brain.

“Did he make up the story himself? Or did he hear it from someone?”

“He says he made it up inspired by a real event,” Henry shrugs. “I told Mrs. Nolan about it and she said that, about a year ago, someone did die in those woods and that’s when the Mayor put out the announcement.” He grabs the marshmallow sticks and passes them along to his friends who are still visibly spooked. “Apparently there had been lots of reports of injuries and lost hikers on that trail before that.”

“So it took someone dying for them to actually do something about it? Figures.” Emma scoffs and Henry shrugs, unaware of the turmoil in his mother’s brain.

“Okay, can we tell less spooky stories now?” Nicholas asks, begs almost, bringing Emma back to the present. The fact that Ava doesn’t tease her brother is telling.

“Why don’t I grab my laptop and put on a movie for you?” Emma suggests, standing up from the bench.

“Nightmare before Christmas?” Nicholas turns pleading eyes towards his friends.

Ava nods and then seems to remember herself. “Only if we watch ‘Monster House’ after.” 

Her twin seems to think about it before nodding resolutely. “Deal! Is that okay, Henry?”

Henry smiles, seemingly just happy to have a fun night with his friends. “As long as it’s Halloween themed, I’m in.”

Emma grins, despite everything. “Double feature it is,” she chuckles. “I’ll set it up.”

‘This is Halloween’ drifts through the open kitchen window as the kids settle down making s’mores in the yard while Emma sits at the kitchen table. She finds Killian Jones’ social media easily enough - she wouldn’t have become one of the best bail bondsperson in the business without being able to find someone’s internet footprint with only a name and a date of birth. It might be slightly illegal to have taken a picture of the man’s ID but what is she gonna do? Arrest herself?

Maybe Emma needed to take a long look within herself if she was negotiating committing illegal acts to herself… After she got to the bottom of this mystery.

Killian Jones is even more handsome than she had previously thought. Considering the only times she’d been able to actually look at him were either a small grainy ID photo or him caked in dirt and blood, it wasn’t a high bar. 

Seeing him on the deck of a small boat, a colourful shirt open to show his chest underneath, his eyes crinkled in laughter as he holds out a beer bottle in cheers to the person behind the camera is a welcome alternative. She has to force herself to scroll past the picture. 

She notices belatedly that the last post - the Hawaiian shirt distraction - is from a year ago, September to be exact. In the middle of all the thirsty comments, she finds something interesting. ‘Don’t shut me out, Killian, I’m here for you’, was posted by one bookworm33 and it would have looked weird if it didn’t speak of desperation and worry.

Emma continues to scroll down and doesn’t have to swipe too long before she pauses at a picture of Killian Jones and a man that shares the same eyes and facial features. Her gut tugs at her and she taps on the picture once, a tag covering the man’s eyes. Bejewelled40 - whose real name is Liam Jones - aside from being a Taylor Swift fan, is also Killian Jones’ brother.

There are pictures of them in boats, hiking, and visiting foreign countries, even some that include Graham. His posts also end a year ago and the ‘remembering’ on the top of his profile is an easy explanation. Clicking on the first photo - different angles to the September boat trip, focusing more on Liam Jones than his brother - she finds another comment hidden between thirsty comments and boat enthusiasts. ‘I miss you’, written simply and it’s the lack of emojis that catch Emma’s attention. Bookworm33 was clearly important to the siblings. 

It doesn’t take her long to get a better picture of the situation. Belle French, the brother’s friend, has been a librarian at Storybrooke High for the past 4 years after a troublesome divorce made her move cities. Pictures and references to the Jones brothers start a few months after that, before there’s a significant lack of Killian Jones in her pictures a year later. 

An article in the local newsletter, an announcement in the paper and a remembrance post on Facebook spells out the rest of the story. The Jones Brothers move to Storybrooke 5 years ago and join the community, Liam as the Sheriff and Killian as the Harbormaster; Belle and Liam start their romance and become engaged two years ago. A year ago, Belle’s father passes away and she travels back home and Liam is found dead on the Misthaven Trail three days later. Killian Jones isn’t seen in Storybrooke for a whole year after the funeral until Emma finds him almost dead by the river bank.

A message notification puts an end to her research. ‘Jones is out of surgery and we should be able to visit him tomorrow’, Graham texts and she looks at the clock. Emma sighs. Two hours researching and she still has so many questions.

‘Take the day off tomorrow, Humbert, I’ll follow up with Jones’, she messages back. ‘Don’t argue with me, I’m your boss, you deserve some rest’, she sends right after, expecting the argument.

‘Alright, Sheriff, I leave it to your capable hands.’ The reminder causes her to massage her temples. She has Liam Jones’ job; could this whole situation feel more like a horror movie?

Going back to Liam Jones’ instagram, Emma finds a picture of him with Graham in a nature setting. With a squint and a zoom, she recognises the setting. She swipes to find a video with Graham’s voice from behind the camera and Liam Jones struggling but determined to take his next step.

“We’re currently on mile 5 of the Misthaven Trail,” Graham explains, a very faint hint of tiredness in his tone as he sweeps the camera over their surroundings and Emma can’t help the eerie feeling at the setting sun behind the trees. “As you can see, this area is beautiful and peaceful, a great place to be at one with yourself and your thoughts.” There’s a scoff from the right and Graham laughs, turning the camera to his friend. “Liam here is having some trouble.” He earns himself a glare from his companion. “There've been a lot of accidents in this area so this is your friendly reminder to be careful where you step and to respect the forest.”

“You’ve lectured every single lost or injured hiker we pulled out of these woods. Friendly, my arse.” Emma sucks in a breath at the sound of Liam Jones’ voice. Graham’s responding laughter and voice seems to sound from underwater as he defends himself. 

Please, help me, plea-

It’s the same voice. She feels the tingle in her spine and the raised hairs on her arms she had before. How could it be possible?

Sounds of yelps outside have her jumping from her seat, her heart beating rapidly against her chest. Subsequent cheering reminds her of her whereabouts. It’s the kids reacting to the anthropomorphic house finally meeting its demise on the small screen. Emma grips onto the kitchen counter, taking deep steadying breaths. 

She needs to have a chat with Killian Jones.

---

It’s rainy and gloomy the next day when Emma arrives at the hospital. 

Maybe the weather’s a sign. It’s not like she was ever a superstitious person but it’s hard to remain sceptical after the day she’s had. The nurse tells her he’s in room 13. Of course.

In the corridor, she sees a familiar figure. 

“I thought I told you to take the day off, Humbert.” 

Emma almost grins when he startles. Almost. She simply crosses her arms as she stares him down. Graham looks away, as if he just got caught in the proverbial cookie jar, it’s a cute look.

“I am taking my day off, Emma,” Graham defends and she raises her eyebrow. “I didn’t ask him anything that could be related to the case. I just-”

“Wanted to see how your friend was,” she finishes for him.

Graham stuffs his hands in his jeans pockets and nods. “I just needed to make sure he was okay.”

“Because Liam would have wanted you to do the same.”

He looks up at her with wide eyes and parted lips. This might have been the first time she’s shocked her deputy in the year they’ve worked together.

“H-how…?”

“I did some research last night.” She uncrosses her arms to stuff her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “I found Killian Jones’ social media, which led me to Liam’s, to Belle’s and then to yours. You were his deputy.”

“The four of us bonded over being away from home.” He shrugs, trying to hide the heartache over the loss. “After Liam passed, it all fell apart.”

“I’d never seen Killian Jones in Storybrooke before today, or Belle French.”

“Killian left after the funeral, said something about a family member in Boston even though I’m sure they didn’t have any family in the States. He rejected all my calls, I had no way to find him.” Graham sighs, scratching his forehead. “Belle isolated herself the first few months. After that she would go from home to work and back. She’s been trying to go out more, determined to live her life the way Liam would have wanted her to. It’s still a slow process but at least she’s trying.”

“And here you are in the middle of everything trying to be there for everyone.”

“I didn’t lose a brother or a fiance, Emma, I’m fine.” He crosses his arms and she recognises the look on his face.

“Right, if you want me to be ‘bad cop’, I will,” she threatens.

“Seriously, Emma, I��m fine, it’s been a year and-”

“Graham,” she interrupts, holding up her hand. “Go see Dr. Hopper or I’m suspending you.”

He groans and yet, it feels like a victory. “Yes, boss.” He mockingly salutes and yet it still shows his respect.

“Go home and enjoy the rest of the day off while I go and talk to Mr. Jones.” Emma pats his arm and he nods. 

“I told him to tell you everything he could remember,” Graham informs her. “I know you can do your job but he can be very stubborn so I just wanted to make it a little easier for you.”

“Thanks,” Emma smiles amusedly and watches as he walks past her. “Hey, Graham?” He stops in the corridor and she can’t hold back her curiosity. “Liam was the sheriff before me,” Graham shifts in his feet, uncomfortable. “Did you apply for the job? I’d think you’d be a shoe-in to be the next Sheriff as opposed to an outsider.”

“Nah,” He shrugs and she can actually see the weight on his shoulders. “It wouldn’t have felt right.” His lips curl up in a small smile, a grieving smile. “Besides, you are a great boss.” 

Emma rolls her eyes but her smile is wide. “Get some rest and go see Dr. Hopper.” 

“Yes, boss,” he repeats before he leaves the hospital wing all together.

With a deep steadying breath, Emma knocks at the door of room 13.

“Come in.”

She nods to herself before opening the door. “Mr. Jones, I’m-”

“Sheriff Emma Swan,” Killian Jones nods at her. “Graham told me you were coming. Didn’t expect you here so fast though.”

“As it happens, you’re my only open case.”

She stands a few feet from his bed, arms crossed as she finally takes a look at the man they saved the day before, now no-longer covered in blood and dirt. There is a bandage on his forehead all the way down to the temple, his face, neck and hands - the only things visible - filled with small scratches, and his leg is in a thick cast. He looks tired but okay.

He looks handsome too and she’s trying not to remember his boat pictures. It helps that the hospital gown and robe cover his chest and what she knows is underneath. She’s really trying. 

“Why don’t you take a seat?” He gestures to the chair next to his bed, where she assumes Graham had been seated minutes prior. “We’re probably in for a long chat.”

She should refuse, keep him at a distance. She sits down but not before pulling the chair back a few inches. Emma catches an amused smile on his lips and she wonders what else Graham told him about her. She clears her throat focusing on being professional.

“Alright, Mr. Jones-”

“Please, call me Killian.” 

Emma nods, trying to look away from the soft smile he directed at her. “Killian.” His smile grows. Professional, Emma. “Do you remember what happened before we found you?”

“Aye,” It’s his turn to clear his throat at the wavering tone of his voice. “The ground slid out from under me and I fell, hit my head and broke my leg.”

His tone was distant, factual, and it sounded wrong in his voice. “What were you doing in that part of the woods?”

“I-uh, I went there to drink.”

“We didn’t find any evidence of alcoholic beverages and your blood alcohol levels were very low.” She raises her eyebrow at his half-truth. “Let me tell you a little secret.” She leans forward, her elbows on her knees. “I-”

“Have a thing with lies.” There is a small smile on his lips at Emma’s surprised expression. “Graham told me about that.”

“Right.” It takes her a second to recover from the surprise. “If you know, why don’t we avoid lying or, in this case, omitting part of the story and you tell me the truth.”

“Commanding, I like it.” He smirks weakly and at the roll of her eyes, he nods in preparation, his expression turning serious. “I was there to mourn my brother, Liam.” 

“Why not go to the cemetery? I’m sure you’ve heard how dangerous that part of the woods is.”

“That’s where he died,” His voice is low and she can only just hear it over the beeping of the machines. “Graham and the others found his body wrapped around on a rock in the river the next morning. He’d bled out during the night.” 

“So he got injured the day before? How did no one notice he was gone for so long?” She doesn’t mean for her voice to sound accusing but from the guilty self-punishing look in Killian’s face, that’s how he would describe it.

“A few weeks before he passed, I went through a break-up,” he sighs, settling carefully on the pillows at his back and Emma does the same on the cushioned chair. “I had fallen in love with a married woman.” She tries to contain her surprise and apprehension but it’s like he can see everything she tries to hide. “I know, I got an earful from my brother when we started dating. But she promised that she was going to divorce her husband as soon as she could find a good lawyer so she could guarantee a joint custody deal.”

“She has a child?”

He nods and his frown is enough for her to understand his conflict. “We kept it a secret. We didn’t want to do anything that would jeopardise her relationship with her son. Liam kept telling me how reckless I was being, how naive, but I kept shutting him down. I was in love.” He shrugs. “After a while he stopped trying and I was happy.”

“Her husband found out.” It wasn’t a question.

“I got greedy, selfish,” Killian’s tone turns hard, self-loathing. “We went to a cafe in town and she was nervous but I was happy, I was out in public with the love of my life.” He shakes his head with a scoff. “Her husband walked in with her son right behind him and I considered it luck that the cafe was almost empty. The boy came up to us first, asking his mom why she was there and who I was. I didn’t know what to say and her husband was looking at me like he wanted to kill me.” Killian sighs. “She asked me to leave and that she would talk to me later.”

“I’m assuming it didn’t go well.”

He actually laughs, a sharp, terrible sound. “I had gotten myself into a state when she finally met me. We yelled at each other, she accused me of pushing, I accused her of playing with my feelings. When she finally told me that she almost lost her son because of me, I shut up. She told me she was going to go back to her husband, that he was willing to take her back after the stupid mistake she made and then she left.” He finishes with a sigh and Emma leans back on her chair, overwhelmed. “I didn’t take it well.”

“Who would?” 

His chuckle brings her eyes back to his and despite the pain behind them, there’s an amused glint in the blue eyes that definitely do not get captured well in pictures. “For the next few weeks, I started drinking. A lot. I didn’t want to see Liam’s disappointment or self-righteousness so I distanced myself. That day, he barged into my house, took one look at the half-empty bottle in my hand and went off on me.” He shifts in his bed, hissing when his leg moves wrong. “I can see now that he was scared but at that moment I was angry. We argued and I told him that I never wanted to see him again and he left my house.”

“Is that why no one filed a missing persons report?”

He nods and his eyes water. “I drank the whole night after he left and the next day, I woke up to someone banging on my door. It was Belle.” His breath shudders. “She had been trying to call him all morning. Liam had told her that he would be coming to my place so she thought he’d stayed the night, when he didn’t text her or call her the next morning, she started to get worried. That fear, the feeling that someone had gone wrong to someone you love, was the sharpest cure for a hangover I ever had.” They both shared a mirthless chuckle. “We called Graham right away and when he didn’t know where Liam was, it became a town wide search.” He takes a deep breath. “Graham found his car parked at Toll Bridge and searched through Misthaven Trail.”

“He fell.” Emma wrings her fingers as she watches the emotions in Killian’s face.

“He left his phone in the car so when he fell into the river, he couldn’t call for help.” He sniffs, staring at the wall in front of him. “So imagine my surprise when you and Graham showed up to my rescue despite the fact that I also left my phone in my car and no one knew I was even in town.” Killian turns to her, his eyes still full of pain but a curious small smile gracing his lips.

Emma tucks her hair behind her ear in a nervous move and leans back on the chair. “It’s like I told you yesterday, we received a call that helped us find you.”

“Right,” he frowns. “And as I just said, I left my phone in the car, so it’s impossible.” 

She sighs. “I’m aware of that and, trust me, I’ve spent the whole night trying to figure it out and the only explanation I have is impossible.”

“Try me.”

Emma opens and closes her mouth a few times while Killian looks on patiently. “All our calls are recorded,” she says instead, pulling her phone from her pocket. “Before I came here, I went by the station to download the recording, so I’m just gonna play it for you.” Killian raises an eyebrow while Emma brings up the file.

“Sheriff Swan speaking.”

Static rings out from the speaker and she tenses up all over again. “Help, I-I fell-” Killian gasps and she gives in to his silent request and hands him the phone. “The cliff gave out. Can you hear me?”

“Uh, yes, yes, I can hear you, sir. Can you tell me where you fell?”

“I w-was on the Misthaven Trail, I-I think I broke my leg,” Killian’s eyes shine with tears at his brother’s voice, at his sounds of pain and Emma feels her chest tighten. “I can see the bone, I-”

Static plays up again and she is dreading the end of the call. “I can barely hear you, sir.” His knuckles turn white from where he is gripping the phone and a tear falls down his cheek. “Can you tell me precisely where on the trail?”

“The river, Shepherd River. I’m bleeding, please, help me, plea-”

Killian takes a shuddering breath when the recording ends and the phone drops on the bed. She should grab the phone and give him space. She should ask him questions about it. And yet, Emma finds herself grabbing his trembling hand with hers, her whole skin tingling at the touch. He grips her hand back tighter, forcing himself to take deep breaths.

“H-How-,” he whispers in a broken tone. “That’s my brother’s voice but-but how is it possible?”

Killian looks at her, pleading for an answer, for an explanation. But she can’t give him one. Emma shrugs helplessly. “I don’t know.” Her thumb moves unconsciously over his knuckles. “But if it wasn’t for this call, we wouldn’t have found you.”

To her surprise, Killian starts to laugh even as tears fall down his face, a disbelieving sound. “I can’t believe this.” He covers his face with his free hand and Emma squeezes his hand, silently asking for clarification. He sighs and looks at her, his eyes bluer than they’d been before. “I ran away after the funeral, they had barely finished covering the casket and I was crossing the town line. I knew Belle needed me to stay, Graham too, we should have mourned together, helped each other during this but I-I-”

“You blamed yourself.”

He exhales a laugh. “Aye, stupidly tried to find answers at the bottom of a bottle once again. I just kept replaying our last argument, kept seeing him bleeding out in the river and I knew I couldn’t grieve when I knew it was my fault.”

Emma opens her mouth to protest but Killian raises his hand, stilling the words she still wasn’t sure she would say. “After a night where I was almost inducted into this woman’s witchy cult,” and she really wishes she had the chance to ask about that, “I looked for help. Found a therapist, grieved. A week ago, I told him about the anniversary of Liam’s death coming up and he suggested I visit his grave, talk to him, ask for forgiveness.” He sighs. “I was on my way to the cemetery when I found myself on the Toll Bridge. I thought it was a sign when I found the marker Graham made to honour Liam. I sat there and talked to him, I didn’t realise how much anger I still felt towards him dying, abandoning me.” He laughed sarcastically. “Ridiculous, I know. I threw my flask and I felt the ground slide from under me and I thought ‘there it is, your revenge, Liam, you’re finally punishing your killer’.”

“And then we showed up.”

“And I thought that maybe you had appeared for a reason and now hearing that?” He looks at her embarrassed, shaking his head. “I sound like a crazy person but-”

“I thought I was crazy,” Emma interrupts him with a reassuring smile. “Common sense would have you think the call was a prank. But from the moment I got the call, my instincts told me something wasn’t right, that there was more to the story.”

“I’m really glad you decided to go with your instinct, then,” he smiles softly. “If you hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t have made it.”

“But you did.” She squeezes his hand and they both seem to remember that their hands are still clasped together. She doesn’t let go and neither does he. “And if we are to believe in ghost stories, your brother is adamant that you get a second chance.” 

They lock eyes, share a soft smile and she figures professionalism has been thrown out the window from the moment she took his hand. He nods and his smile widens. She kinda wishes they could hold hands forever.  

Wait, what?

“You may be right.” His voice is soft and it feels like he’s trying to look inside her, searching. “He’d probably beat up the side of the head that it took me this long to get my head out of my own arse.”

Emma chuckles and his smile widens. “I don’t think he expected you to break your leg and your head to get the message across.”

“Well,” his lips curve into a side smirk and she’s not ready for it, “I’m guessing that the service in the afterlife is a little spotty.” She laughs, surprised at his joke, and he laughs with her. Nope, she was not ready. “My brother always gave me good advice, maybe I should follow this last one too and take that second chance he gave me.”

“Oh?”

Her heart hammers against her chest at the way he looks at her. He opens his mouth to answer when the room door bursts open.

“Killian Jones!”

Emma jumps from her seat, refusing to acknowledge how empty her hand feels now that it’s no longer holding his, to make space for the shorter brunette storming up to Killian’s bed. 

Belle French.

“I haven’t heard from you in a whole year and then I have Graham calling me to tell me you’re in the hospital?!”

But Killian only smiles, clearly happy to see his would-be sister-in-law despite the guilt beginning to take root in his eyes. “I’m so happy to see you, Belle.” And it’s clear that the simple sentence breaks something in the librarian’s being. With two quick strides, she embraces him tightly. “Careful, love, I’m an invalid now,” he complains, even as his arms hold her closer, willing to ignore any pain it might be causing him. 

“You’re in a world of trouble, Killian.”

His smile only widens and he turns to look at Emma, likely amused at the overwhelmed look on her face. Belle seems to realise that there’s someone else in the room - not that Emma blames her - and turns to her.

“Oh, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you, I-”

“No need to apologise,” Emma raises her hand to stop the apology. “I just needed to take Mr. Jones’ testimony.” He raises an eyebrow at her use of his last name, clearly unimpressed by her choice to be professional. “Sheriff Emma Swan,” she introduces herself before holding out her hand.

“Belle French.” Belle takes her hand, still somewhat surprised as she looks between Killian and her. “Is he in some kind of trouble then?” Her expression seems ready for a fight and Killian’s smile seems to grow.

“No, no,” Emma is quick to appease. “I just needed the full story, that’s all.” She stuffs her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. “I actually should go write up the report.” She takes a few steps back towards the door. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss French. Get better soon, Mr. Jones.”

She starts to walk out the door. “Emma,” Killian calls and she really should not have turned around so fast. “Maybe we can grab a coffee when I get discharged? You can tell me all about safety measures when hiking.”

Emma tries to ignore Belle’s curious expression. “I think Graham might be the better man for the job.”

“He’s been trying for years, it never stuck,” He grins and there’s only so much a girl can be expected to take. “Maybe you’ll have more luck.”

She bites her lip and focuses on the hopeful look in his eyes. The last time she trusted someone, that she gave someone a chance, she ended up in prison. She should say no. 

Maybe she can justify this leap on supernatural activity too?

“It’s a date.”

The way his grin lights up a whole room does feel otherworldly. 

Just as the door closes behind her, she hears Belle’s stupefied voice.

“Killian Jones, you have a lot of explaining to do.”

Emma laughs. Maybe not all ghost stories have to have bad endings.

[imgilmoregirl]

Hello, everyone! Long time, no see.

I know it has been quite a long time, but I’m here to share some great news with you! My old beloved fic The Dark Lady has officially been turned into A NOVEL! I mean, I’ve spent so long editing it, rewriting and actually making it into a historical romance that I can barely believe it was born in ao3, many years ago.

My book Tears Of Seer is avaliable on Amazon for a very cheap price and if you happen to have Kindle Unlimited you can access it for free. I’ll leave it linked down bellow.

I would love it for you guys to take a look at how it turned out and tell me what do you think, that’s why I’ve just decided to come and share here on Tumblr too. You are a part of this story!

Also I want to leave my greatest thank you to every single person who has followed my journey writing here. You are the reason this book is out there.

Plus, in Amazon, you can also find my other two books, Sweet Autumn that it’s also a novel and Things I Did After Him, which happens to be a short poetry collection. Let me know if you take a look at anything.

Love,

T.

TEARS OF SEER AMAZON LINK: https://a.co/d/15ks5ZS

[princessmacabre]

day 40/100 days of productivity

got up at 7am

watering the herb garden

morning tea & yoga

(really) long walk along the coastline

afternoon date

household chores

cooked dinner

laundry

reading

i never been really into that sunflower aesthetic but somehow a series of things kinda led me to begin liking that flower. it reminds me of the simple saying “la vie est belle” as i am focusing on my mental health and putting in more effort in regards of it. bisous

xx

[nym-wibbly]

On your AO3 you wrote The pieces I'm proudest of are the Broken Wheel series (Once Upon a Time) and Madness for Two (Doctor Who).

What made those two series stand out above others for you if it's ok to ask?

It's completely okay to ask!

Those stories are the ones that turned out on the page looking something like the vision in my head. They were relatively quick and painless to write, probably because they're so contained compared to my long fanfics, but also because I threw away some of the self-imposed constraints that make writing harder (if ultimately more likely to be attractive to a wider audience). They're more self-indulgent and removed from canon than I normally go for as either writer or reader.

Broken Wheel explores a Dark Castle-based romance for Belle and Rumple without really digging into the pitfalls of their relationship. They desire each other and they go for it. As a canon-divergent AU it doesn't make a whole lot of sense, but as a fairytale take on OUaT's twist on a fairytale, it's kinda fun. It's quirky because Belle and Rumple are both quirky characters capable of becoming lost in each other to the exclusion of everything else. They spend the story exploring what's possible on their terms and - to deploy a phrase I didn't yet know when I wrote those pieces - matching each other's freak. I think it was the first time I wrote Rumple's POV, which I don't find easy or comfortable compared to Belle, so I'm proud of how that turned out.

Madness for Two is similar in a way - short, contained, smutty with feels, showing POV's I usually avoid because I find them hard. Self-indulgent, quirky, prioritising the Doctor/Master 'ship and smut over the more complex realities of their canon relationship. I wrote it for the 50th anniversary of the Master's debut on DW so I wanted to avoid really diving into the morality of it all and just celebrate my love for the characters. As with Broken Wheel's Belle and Rumple, I wrote Thirteen and the Master (and the subplot with Twelve and Missy) in an obsessive, claustrophobic, and quirky collision of personalities. Nobody matches freaks like those two!

In this case I added a MacGuffin to stop 'em actively fighting for five minutes so the story could work, not so much to enable the smut (though it was nice to do that for the Master's birthday - they've been jonesing for some quality Doctor-time in my head since the 1980's!) but to force their POV's to deal with the antagonism and intensity of their bond in words. I wanted them to describe each other as intimates and, in doing so, throw a light on themselves.

I intended both Broken Wheel and Madness for Two to be character studies first, smut second, love story third. The DW piece throws in angst and hurt comfort too, because that's my fave playground. I played with tone and voice and imagery more than I usually would and - on the whole - was happy with the results. I enjoy reading these stories back, actually seeing the story instead of the flaws in my writing/things I'd do differently now I've learned that bit more.

Lastly, they're actually finished pieces and not WIPs that keep me awake at night listening to the unfulfilled character voices in my head! I've always hoped to add a third piece to make Broken Wheel a trilogy, but it doesn't need it if I never can. I've never quite found the right narrative voice for it, maybe because it wants to be told from Belle's POV while the first two are Rumple's. It's a cute enough story from her POV, but I'd like the set to match and haven't yet figured out how to do that.

[moonmerkee]

[pirateswhore]

Her White Wolf

With Rumple gone, Belle is left to pick up the pieces on her own. Could a certain wolf help mend her heart? Mid season 4 AU (aka giving Belle the brain cells she needs and resolving my first queer disappointment on the show).

thank you @xarandomdreamx for being a lovely beta !

for - @caliburn-the-sword

Prologue and Chapter 1 published on Ao3:

Prologue - In the Aftermath.

It hurt like nothing had hurt before. Finding the gauntlet that she thought he had traded for her years ago. Using it, foolishly thinking it would simply point towards her, only to be led to the dagger. The dagger? Didn’t he give her the dagger? She picked it up and felt its heavy weightin her hand and an intense pull, nothing like she had ever felt before with the dagger she was given. A fake. Obviously. He lied to her, like he had so, so many times.

The next few minutes now feel like a blur. Appearing before him, seeing him holding Hook’s heart in his hand, squeezing it. Commanding him to take them to the town edge. Forcing him over it. His cowardly cries and pleas for forgiveness. And then he was gone, and she dropped on her knees and buried her face in her hands so she didn’t have to see him scramble away like a pathetic, injured dog.

The next thing she remembers is a hand and hook on each shoulder, urging her to stand up, leading her to the back seat of a yellow bug. She couldn’t quite remember or care for what they told her, spending the entire car ride back to her house staring out the window. They helped her out of the car, led her to her front door, told her something about reaching out if she needed help, and squeezed her shoulder in support. And then she walked into the flat, took her coat off and climbed into bed, pulling the covers over her, hoping it was all an awful, awful dream that she would soon be waking up from.

“Hey, Belle.”

She lifted her head from the coffee cup in front of her to see Hook standing next to her table. 

“Mind some morning company, love?”

She sniffled and nodded and he scooted into the chair opposite of hers. He ordered a coffee himself and they sat in silence for a while, her gaze dropping back down to the table.

“Thank you. For saving my life,” he spoke quietly, treading carefully through the conversation, “I wouldn't be here if you had not intervened the other day.” Days? Has it been that long? This was the first time she’d left the flat since… the incident, having spent all her time sobbing in bed. She looked up at him, meeting his gaze - gratitude, pain, remorse. He strained a little smile and tilted his head down slightly. She returned the smile and straightened her back, sniffling back a sob.

“Of course. The least I could do.” He reached out his hand to meet hers. 

“I’m not sure how much of this you heard when Emma and I took you home, but just know that we are here for you, whatever you need, okay? You have both our talking phone numbers, we’re just a call away,” he squeezed her hand and she was barely holding back tears. How was he still so kind to her after all the crap her husband had done to him? When she was too blind to see through his lies and do anything to stop him for such a long time. She didn’t deserve any thanks from him, or anyone. She could have stopped all this so long ago. All she could do now was squeeze his hand back and nod.

They drank their coffee in silence, commenting about their day and plans every so often. She confessed her remorse over not stopping Rumple sooner and Killian stated how guilty he felt over doing his bidding, at which Belle shot him a smile. 

“I'm sure we could find a way to release the faeries.”

“You think?”

“Sure! We have everything originally used to trap them, the hat, the dagger-”

“Me,” he chuckled. She rolled her eyes and continued.

“I'm certain Rumple has some books on it. Or maybe Regina does. We could set up a base camp in the library, it’s not like either one of us has anything better to do, and it could help us relieve some guilt.”

His smile dropped a little. “You’d be okay with working close to me?”

“Of course I would! Why shouldn't I?”

“I… I tried to kill you. I shot you.”

Her shoulders relaxed and she placed both hands over his. “Killian… I don’t hold that against you. You’ve changed since then. I’ve forgiven you.” 

He smiled, tears stinging the corners of his eyes. They ordered breakfast and talked about the details of researching the hat and its magic and she actually managed to forget the pain her ex husband had caused her and others. Maybe she could make up for not seeing through his charade sooner. After they finished their food, they ran down to the sheriff's station and told Emma about their plan, who seemed proud and enthusiastic, and Regina, who seemed dismissive but still offered them help if they needed it. She still had keys to Rumple’s shop, so she asked Killian and Emma to take out any books they may find useful - she couldn't bring herself to go in there. Within the hour they were walking past Granny's again, stopping to pick up a to-go order for the lunch she had placed before they left. 

She walked into the diner, seeing as Killian was trying to balance a stack of books with his hand and hook and couldn't carry anything else. Granny waved her down and said her order would be bagged in a minute, so Belle took a seat by the bar. She could hear people talking behind her, throwing a few glances her way before whispering amongst each other.

I heard she pushed him over the town line herself. Yea she finally came to her senses about him. Wonder if the pawn shop is still open? I feel sorry for her, he manipulated her. 

The pity in their voices sounded almost derogative to her. She should have been smarter, seen through his lies way sooner, left him before he could hurt her and others the way he did. But she didn't. She gave him chance after chance only to be met with deceit and disappointment. She was stupid. She knows that now. She pushed the thoughts back, trying her best not to focus on them. Just pick up the order and go, Belle. Five minutes. 

"Order for Gold?" A voice called out. She winced and made a mental note of annulling the marriage as soon as possible and getting back to her maiden name. 

She looked up and her mouth dropped open a little. Ruby. She hadn't seen her since they all came back from the Enchanted Forest (granted, she was busy) and couldn't help the smile that spread across her face. 

"Oh- sorry, is it still Gold?" The woman handed her two paper bags.

"Yea… I need to go down to the mayor's office to revert it to my maiden name. It's good to see you again Ruby."

"Yeah, it's good to be back."

"You left?"

"For a little bit, I was feeling restless and hoping to find someplace I belong. That didn't really pan out so I'm back here. Plus Granny needs my help with the diner."

"Maybe we could catch up sometime soon."

"I'd like that."

They exchanged smiles and see-you's and Belle walked out of the diner and headed to the library with Killian. Moving on and picking up the pieces was going to be hard, but perhaps she didn't have to do it on her own. 

________________________________________

Chapter I - Moving On

Ruby's return to Storybrooke brought with it mixed emotions. She didn't feel like she was part of the town, or fully accepted by the townsfolk. But there was nothing for her in the Enchanted Forest and here she at least had her grandma. Even if it meant working in the diner all her life, it was better than nothing.

Today, she was on delivery duty. Which meant driving around town in Granny's run-down delivery van all day, trying her best to not get the orders mixed up. She got back into the car and looked at the next delivery's notes: B. French, 2 grilled cheese sandwiches, 1 large fry serving, 1 medium onion ring serving, 2 sodas. Deliver to Town Library at 12:30pm

Belle.

The brunette had made herself a regular at the diner over the last week, stopping for coffee and a bagel every morning. Talking to her made the otherwise insufferable morning shift actually pleasant for Ruby, even if for just a few short minutes. Belle usually had her order to-go, saying that Killian was waiting for her at the library.

"What are you two up to in there anyways? Killian often doesn't come back to his room until after dinner time." Ruby had asked her once. The question made Belle stir in her seat for a moment.

"We're uh... We're trying to undo some of what Rumple had done. Starting with getting the faeries out of the hat."

"Oh! That's so sweet of you. Any progress?" Belle's face sank at that and she shook her head slightly. "Ah... well I'm sure you two will figure something out. You're smart."

If she didn't know any better, Ruby could've sworn she saw the blood rush to the other woman's cheeks as she mewled a small "thank you".

She rounded the corner and parked the van near the library. Ruby knew from the order that Killian was probably there as well, but a part of her hoped it would be just Belle. She couldn't pin down exactly why she wanted that and she didn't want to think too much into it. She walked to the library and pushed the heavy door open, calling out that the delivery was here. There was no response and after stepping inside, Ruby was met with an empty reception desk and no sign of either Belle or Killian. There was a corkboard in one corner with photos and notes and red string pinned into it.

"Belle? Hook?" she called out again and waited for an answer, focusing her ears to any sound they would pick up. She both liked and despised her heightened senses. They were useful most of the time but she could do without overhearing certain conversations and comments, especially the ones pertaining to her. Some people still feared her, feared she would turn into a wolf and ravage the diner's clientele at random.

She's been getting better at controlling it, or at least subduing it. She cut off a trim of her cloak and wore it on her at all times, in her hair, around her neck, or tucked into a pocket. It helped prevent any emotional outburst from triggering a transformation. She still hated the full moon however; being turned against her will and having to hide herself away all day, trying to contain the beast. Before the Moon rose into the sky at night, she was snappy, aggressive, every little inconvenience made her blood boil. The new moon, in turn, left her weak and lethargic and all she wanted to do was sleep. It had its ups and downs but she was doing her best at managing it.

Her ears picked up on the faintest of sobs and her head turned towards the back of the library. She left the order at the reception desk and made her way into the library, through the shelves and towards a back room. The sobs got louder and standing in front of the door with a ‘Employees Only sign, she could hear them clear as day.

"Belle..." she could tell it was her, the sweet perfume she wore lingering in the air. It hurt Ruby to hear her cry, and not just because it was so loud for her - Belle crying was not something Ruby ever wanted to see. "Belle?" she called out a little louder, tapping on the door. The sobs and whimpers stopped and the inside lock released, creaking the door open just a smidge. Ruby pushed it open wider and saw Belle hunkered down on the floor, sitting on a book stack with a tissue in hand. "Hey," she whispered out weakly, straightening her back but not looking up at the woman standing in the doorway.

Ruby crouched down, running her hand up and down the woman's shoulder, hoping to soother her. "I came in with your food and heard you crying, is everything okay?" Her eyes wandered to a book lying on the ground (it was unlike Belle to drop books, she treated them like sacred items). It was a Disney book, based on this world's version of "Beauty and the Beast" movie, featuring art and scenes from it. Ruby glanced back at Belle and urged her with a small smile.

"I found the book while sorting something," she started, "and it just... it hurts. That's how we were supposed to go, he was supposed to change and be a better man because of love. But I wasn't enough for him, no matter what I did."

"Oh Belle." Ruby moved closer and sat down next to Belle, putting an arm around her. "Some stories are just that - stories. And some stories have different versions, in yours it simply didn't work out." That caused another sob to escape Belle's chest and Ruby's clenched at the sound. "I'm so sorry he hurt you, but you can't put all the blame on yourself. When we love someone, we do our best to look past their flaws and see the best in them."

"Even if there isn't any good?"

"Belle, you have the wonderful tendency to see the good in anyone. Please don't let what Rumple did discourage you from it."

"What if I'm wrong about them again?"

"You weren't wrong about me, were you?" That seemingly calmed Belle's crying so Ruby went on. "When the entire town was dead set on hunting me down, you stayed by me. I'll never forget that.

Belle went silent for a while as Ruby continued to rub her shoulder. She hadn't noticed how close to one another they were, how their thighs pressed together or how good Ruby smelled until now. She also didn't realise that, with the way her head was hung, she was staring directly down the she-wolf's cleavage. Blood rushed to her cheeks but she made no attempt to move away, choosing instead to just lift her head to meet Ruby's eyes. She smiled down at her but concern was still painted on her face.

Belle had always been fond of her. She hadn't forgotten that Ruby had helped her in the past, and she was forever grateful for it. Ruby was fun, outgoing, openly flirtatious and spontaneous at times - all the things Belle had trouble expressing. She'd spent too long suppressing who she was and what she wanted in favour of coaxing Rumple to the side of good, hoping to calm the beast down long enough for the man to come out, thinking that, if she appeared more appealing than magic, he would give it up for her. Some good that had brought her.

"You good?" she finally asked, cocking her head to the side slightly. It reminded Belle of those videos of dogs, tilting their heads when intrigued by something. It made sense, she figured, considering Ruby was part wolf.

"I just don't know where to go from here," Belle confessed, "I spent so long doing everything I could to make myself good enough for Rumple. And now that he's gone? I have no idea what to do with myself."

Ruby's smile widened at that and she stood up. "There's time for you to figure that out. You won't have to do it on your own, you have friends to help you through it." She extended a hand and helped Belle up.

"Emma and Killian have been very supportive. It feels like they're the only two people in town who don't pity or resent me over Rumple."

"Wrong," Ruby stated. "There’s at least three people who feel that way."

"You?"

"Of course, silly. You're dear to me, would I have helped you if that wasn't the case?" Belle opened her mouth to say something, but simply nodded in agreement.

Ruby wasn't lying, but she wasn't being completely honest either - Belle was dear to her, but it went deeper than just friendly affection. If she had to put a name to it, it would probably be 'crush', although that felt too inane. From the moment she met her, she felt a pull towards Belle, a primal desire to help and protect her igniting deep inside her. Something about her made Ruby's heart dance; the way her face lit up when she was excited, how her eyes sparkled with an ever present hope she had for people, her undying loyalty to loved ones and her inability to give up on them. Ruby admired her for that but it hurt her too, seeing the physical embodiment of sunshine be rained on and pushed around time and time again. The love and support she had for others abused and mistreated.

It was exactly that love and devotion that had her running back to Rumple, believing all his lies and promises. Ruby respected that, she knew that Belle truly did love him (even if, in her mind, that love was misplaced and ill-appreciated) so she never made a move. However, now with Rumple gone and Belle left to once again, pick up the pieces, Ruby wished for nothing more than to be there for her. She knew she'd have to tread carefully so as to not come off as predatory, seeking to take advantage of Belle's heartbroken state.

Ruby smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind Belle's ear. "I'm here for you, whatever you need. Just as I was before."

"Thank you, Ruby. And I for you, alright?"

The two smiled at each other and for a moment Ruby felt like leaning just a little bit closer, closing her eyes and just throwing caution to the wind (she wasn't a stranger to that), but the ring of Belle's phone whisked that daydream right away. She glanced down at it, pouting at the message.

"Killian says he got caught up sailing with Henry so he's running late, but he'll be here in a few minutes."

Fuck, Ruby had forgot all about her delivery duty. Granny was going to kill her.

They made their way to the front of the library, Belle checked to see if the orders were correct and handed Ruby the money for it."

"I should get back to delivering orders, but please, Belle, know that I'm here for you. Don't be a stranger, reach out whenever." She reached out and squeezed her hand, smiling at her. Belle smiled back and pulled her into a hug, squeezing tightly. Ruby's cheeks reddened, surprised at the sudden (but very welcomed) contact.

Walking back to the van, Ruby couldn't help but feel warmth radiating off of her entire body.

[kazoosandfannypacks]

I would like you to work on the OUAT Romeo and Juliet AU’s. Both of them. Thank you, love!!!

You got it! Here's a snippet of what I got written in the Captain Swan Romeo & Juliet & Boybands AU

 Three hours passed in a manner of seconds. Instead of following through on their plans to watch a movie, they'd spent the whole time just talking and smiling and enjoying each other's presence. Killian wasn't sure which he enjoyed more: hearing Emma tell stories about her life, or the look on her face as she listened to him tell stories of his own. Either way, the time passed all too quickly.

and then here's a snippet out of the August and Belle wip, which is set in the same AU, but tells Belle's side of the story.

 Most of the Buggies' music left much to be desired, in terms of composition. She didn't mind; she was mostly just listening for the lyrics, and those lyrics were a thing of beauty. For everything they lacked in ability and charm, they more than made up for in their keyboard-playing lyricist, August Booth. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't listening for the piano track in most of their songs, that she wasn't whittling down the list of his lyrics that she'd want a tattoo of, or that she didn't consider him attractive, or, at least, closer to her type than most musicians were.

kick-in-the-pants writer's game!

[wipbigbang]

WIP BIG BANG SIGN-UPS ARE LIVE!

The 2024 round of WIP Big Bang is now open for sign-ups! Any fandom is welcome, as long as the fic is 500 completed so far and will be at least 7,500 words upon its finishing. Signing up is easy: just fill out the form linked below after you read the FAQ and take a look at the schedule.

[smugraccoon137]

500 words of notes left. Trying to finish tonight so I can edit and post tomarrrowwww

[ace-cf-cups]

“Victor!”

He barely made it through the door when Belle appeared at the top of the staircase, making the small part of him that wasn’t mesmerised by her beaming smile wonder if she was waiting for his arrival by the window ( and he would be lying if he said his heart didn’t skip a beat at the thought… he couldn’t quite remember if anyone ever waited for him before, without malicious or selfish intents not that he was anyone worth waiting for without them ).

The sight of her hurrying down the steps and towards him made him tense up, though, as it awakened more than unwelcome memories… because the last time someone hurried towards him like this, jumping into his arms the moment he stepped through the door, it was Elektra and that was the day he found out ( more like confirmed to himself, really, because the subtle signs were always there, he was just too in love to be anything but wilfully ignorant ) that she didn’t love him but merely used him as a pawn in her plans, someone to do all the dirty work for her and then run back to her side like an obedient chertov dog begging for scraps of her affection as treats for a job well done…

His blood was beginning to boil at the memories - the pain, the pure agony of that love, far worse than any pain he could ever experience physically - but then Belle was in his arms, so warm and soft ( that he knew without needing to feel her against him… though he certainly would love to ) and pure, and her lips were meeting his in a very enthusiastic ‘welcome home’ kiss - the kind of kiss Elektra would never give him - and as it deepened and he had to plant his feet more firmly on the ground to keep himself and his precious beauty from falling over, he thought of Elektra no more. 

[imgilmoregirl]

You voted, I delivered! Here's part one of my "differences between book and fic" posts saga and of course I had to start with our amazing main characters! More to come tomorrow!

In the meantime, you can get your copy of Tears of Seer right here: https://a.co/d/15ks5ZS

[shiftingmuse]

11 years ago, I did the first quick chapter for a series titled 'Dead Ringers', which is of course taken from the movie title. It was never meant to be an exact thing, just a title to go with a series based around twins 'Felix and Nicholas Gold' who are actually The Shade Durza and The Dark One Rumpelstilskin. 

Last night, I re-read, edited, added, and posted the next chapter of the series. So far, there has been some interest, and I am also very interested in continuing the series as I am re-watching Once Upon a Time! 

The name so far for the story will stay the same, but I am thinking of changing the title. 'Haunting' works for the first chapter but not the story itself. 

Dead Ringers - Haunting - ao3 x

[morosoro]

Alright Rumbellers the results of my #BuildARumbelleOneshot Polls are all in!

So to anyone else aside from myself who would like to write a one-shot, here are the parameters:

First up the genre will be…

Fluff! Ooh you Smutty fucks sure put up a fight and were winning for quite a while though! Respect!

Second up- the word limit is-

Non-existent! Write however much or however little you feel.

Thirdly, the AU will be:

No Curse Storybrooke! Shame, I was really rooting for some EF fun, but I can work with that.

Up next, our trope is:

Didn’t know they were flirting/dating! Oh how wonderful! I can’t wait to write some hopeless, oblivious characters. This will be fun!

Finally the one thing you must include is-

The chipped cup! Of course…it is the symbol of Rumbelle after all. Why did I even suggest other things? How silly of me!

So Fluffy, clueless, Storybrooke idiots with a chipped cup? Sounds like we’ll have ourselves a tale as old as time here… but I’m excited to see what twists and touches people will pull to make their stories unique!

To anyone else who wants to write, feel free to incorporate any of the other poll options if you want to add more guidelines for yourself!

Write at your own paces, I won’t put a time restraint on you, this is all for fun after all!

Just try to remember to tag your finished product with #BuildARumbelleOneshot so it can be found and read with ease. And if you want to be certain I’ll see it, tag me (@trash-000) as well and I’ll gladly read, reblog and give my thoughts!

Thank you for partaking in my polls! I’ll try to get my own One-Shot on the move asap!

[moonbeamnights]

Tropetember Day 9: 5+1 (Hard Mode Prompt - 5 times Character A’s kid calls Character B Mom/Dad + 1 time Character B acknowledges they’re their kid.)

@tropetember

Summary: Five times Neal acknowledges Belle as his mom, and one time Belle acknowledges Neal as her son.

Author's Note: Takes place in the modern AU from this post. Neal is supposed to be about six years old in this, but I don't know a lot about children so if I haven't written that accurately we can just pretend.

1

Neal had never really thought about siblings. He loved his mama and his papa, and their little family was enough for him. But now Mama and Papa were divorced and Mama was married to Belle. And now Neal had to think about siblings because Belle was having a baby.

“My mom is having a baby,” he says to his friends sitting around the table in art class. His mama is their art teacher, and Morraine glances skeptically over to where she’s talking to some of the other kids.

“She doesn't look like she's having a baby,” she says.

Neal shakes his head. “My other mom.”

Belle isn’t that, technically. Mama had explained to him how she was only marrying Belle to provide for her and her baby and so it was different than when she’d been married to Papa. She’d said it like it was a reason for Neal not to think of Belle as his parent. But Neal doesn’t know about different types of marriages and what they mean. What he knows is that Belle is nice to him and married to his mama, and as far as he’s concerned that qualifies her to be his mom.

“Oh,” Morraine says. “Well, that’s cool.”

Neal nods. He is kinda looking forward to having a sibling.

2

Neal and his friends are playing at the park after school under the watch of Morraine’s mother. They’re bouncing a ball back and forth, having given up on more elaborate games after the first few kids left for the night.

Another car pulls up to the curb. Neal, who’s just thrown the ball, looks over his shoulder and sees that it’s his mama’s car. From where he’s standing, he can just tell that Belle’s with her in the front seat, and he vaguely remembers something about her having an appointment today.

“I’ve gotta go,” he says, angling towards the pile of backpacks they’d left by the picnic tables. “My moms are here.”

Dustin catches the ball but doesn’t throw it again. He and most of the others follow a few steps after Neal, peering with interest towards his mama’s car. Neal is far from the only kid in his class with both a mother and a stepmother, but his is the only family where they’re married to each other, and his friends are naturally curious about the whole thing. Neal shrugs on his backpack and waves goodbye as he runs toward the car. He can see Mama and Belle turned to each other, talking as they wait for him. As he opens the car door, he’s greeted with two loving smiles and two voices asking how his day was, and Neal thinks this may be a curiosity, but it’s my family.

3

Normally, Neal went to school with Mama and spent the extra half hour before class started in the art room with her. But today Mama had a meeting with a parent. A very important meeting that Neal was not allowed to sit in on. So this morning he’d slept in and Belle had driven him to school.

But now, just as his hand was on the car door handle, Neal remembers that his class is going on a field trip next week. And he’d forgotten to have Mama sign the permission slip.

“Wait,” he says turning away from the door and unzipping his backpack. “Can you sign my permission slip? It’s due today.”

“Of course,” Belle says. She takes his offered folder to write on and a pen from the cup holder and repositions herself to sign. Between her baby bump and how far forward she has to have the seat, there isn’t much room for her to write. But she manages it turned sideways and after a quick thank you and goodbye, Neal heads into school with her elegant writing spelling out ‘Belle French’ on the parent signature line of the form.

4

“Mom! Mom!” Neal calls as he runs down the stairs. He skids around the corner, letting his socks slide him into the kitchen. “Can you help me with my homework?”

He finds Belle standing at the island counter, stirring something in a mixing bowl. Neal hopes she’s making cookies. She makes the best cookies.

He clambers up onto one of the stools opposite her and peeks into the bowl, grinning happily when he sees that it is, in fact, full of cookie dough. Belle glances up at him. “Your mama’s not here, kiddo,” she says.

Neal uses her distraction to swipe a chocolate chip that had fallen on the counter and pop it in his mouth before responding. “I know,” he says, perfectly aware that Mama had gone to the grocery store not long before. He slides his workbook across the counter toward Belle. “So can you help?”

5

Neal sprawls out on the living room floor, coloring in his newest coloring book. Mama and Belle sit on their corners of the couch, reading. The same book, because it's almost time for book club, which Belle says will the last book club before the baby gets here.

Suddenly, Mama announces that she’s going to bed. Neal and Belle nod and say goodnight and go back to what they were doing as she leaves the room.

It’s odd for grown-ups to go to bed before their children’s bedtime, is something that children instinctively know. But for Mama, it’s not really unusual. The first time Neal noticed, he’d thought she was sick. He’d crept into her room with his favorite teddy bear that always made him feel better when he was sick and offered to ask Papa to bring her a cough drop. Mama had gotten a little teary and bundled both him and the bear into her arms and said, “I’m not sick, baby. Just a little tired.” After that, Neal didn’t have to be a genius to see that “tired” really meant sad and that Mama always got sad after she’d been arguing with Papa.

Which raised a question now, because hadn’t ever noticed Mama arguing with Belle. He sets down his crayon, looks up at Belle, and asks, “do you make Mama sad?”

Belle drops her book.

She casts a worried glance toward the stairs Mama had recently disappeared up. “I hope not,” she says. Then she turns back to Neal with the full force of her motherly concern. “Why do you ask?”

Neal looks down at his coloring book, a little daunted by the intensity of her reaction. He was only asking a question. “I think Papa used to make her sad.”

“Oh Neal,” Belle says softly. “I’m so sorry.”

A strange feeling settles in his chest, something like being about to cry but warmer. He finds himself leaping off the floor and running to hug Belle.

As she wraps her arms around him, she says, “I try very hard not to make you and your mama sad. I promise I’ll always do my best for you.”

“I know,” Neal whispers. He can tell that being married to Belle has been good for Mama, even if she still gets sad sometimes. “I’m glad you’re my mom.”

+1

Belle hadn't left the house since Gideon was born, so when she finally feels up to taking a walk, she knows she needs to. Milah carries Gideon up to the front door to see her off. If she’s trying to prove that she’s capable of watching him, she doesn’t need to. She loves the baby almost as much as Belle does, and Belle trusts her completely.

Belle kisses them both then turns and heads out for her walk, smiling into the fresh air. She walks the few blocks from their house to Main Street, then finds her feet carrying her in a familiar but long-ignored direction. She stops in front of her destination and takes in the nostalgic sight of it and the floral scent that smells like her childhood. Her father’s flower shop.

Belle hasn’t been here, or even spoken to her father, since she was married to Gaston.

It had gotten tiresome to talk to him, to always try to explain why she couldn’t “just leave” when she knew he’d never understand. It had been painful, too, because when her father insisted Gaston wasn’t good for her, she’d known he was right and she’d felt lost and trapped in the reminder that she couldn't do anything about it. So she’d gradually stopped visiting, stopped calling, stopped texting.

Not to say that Moe was a bad father. He’d been the best father she could ask for, when she’d been a child. He’d simply been out of his depth dealing with her first marriage. To be honest, so had she. She couldn’t blame him for that.

The shop door chimes, announcing her entrance. Her father looks up from the bouquet he’s arranging at his workbench. “Belle!” he exclaims and rushes over to hug her. Belle leans into the embrace. It’s as warm and loving as ever, as if he’s already forgiven her absence.

“It’s good to see you, Father.”

“I’m so glad you came back,” her father says, and tears spring to her eyes from how much she missed him.

“Me too. Oh! And you should come to dinner sometime. There are some people you should meet.”

He frowns at that. “Not more of Gaston’s friends, I hope.”

“No,” Belle chuckles. Once, she’d made the mistake of inviting him to one of Gaston’s dinner parties. The night had ended with him thoroughly disgusted by the arrogant jerks her then-husband hung out with and her thoroughly embarrassed by the same. It shows how far she’s come that she can laugh about the incident now. “No, absolutely not. I want you to meet my wife and our two children.”