#I will say I forgot how much I loved Mark and Margaret it’s good to see them again

[roys-our-boy]

you know what. Tecchou profile time

[rumblelibrary]

Headcanons for Laszlo plz,

Doctor!Reader was going a Institute to see Laszlo, prepare tea. Talks about how Laszlo adore these children’s in Institute. But then you felt your heartbeat that Laszlo was the sweetest and he was trying to kiss you on his office. We chuckles and hopefully get to know each other more

A Study on Feelings [Dr Laszlo Kreizler x Doctor!Reader]

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: mention of murder and abused children

Author’s note: I hope I made a good job for your request 💕 thank you for allowing me to write it.

The case they refer to is made up and not related to the series.

You stepped out of the carriage thanking the driver, he bowed his head to you touching the tip of his hat respectfully.

The day was slowly dying, the sun was disappearing among the grey clouds of New York sky, the city trembling of life was going toward a well earned rest, but the joyful sounds coming from beyond the gates of the Kreizler’s institute were the real blessing of the day.

“Doctor Y/L/N” the familiar voice of Doctor Kreizler welcomed you as he walked outside the heavy gates “I am glad you made it to visit us” he said referring to himself and the whole Institute altogether. 

You couldn’t help but smile back admitting how it was unmissable for you to do such a visit.

Words aside he caught your attention as he was without his jacket, a more easy look that, in such a time where people took hours to dress and undress, it was a proper sight.

As you got inside the sound became more clear, the children rushing one after the other while getting in their beds, the smiling faces, the happy chats.

It felt such a blessing to be able to witness such a pure joy.

“Please, pardon my attire, the kids and I were playing, right?” He asked to a child that nodded he looked down shyly, not able to cross eyes with you but clearly trusting the doctor. Laszlo noticed that reaction, but he opened his left arm in front of you to invite you to go further.

Tenderness and attention gravitated around this place, it was a calming space, but also rooted into the process of healing the kids were going through.

Something hard to explain, something that could only be felt in a place like the Kreizler Institute.

You followed Laszlo inside as he gallantly showed you the way around, room after room, hall after hall to his office.

“This place is magnificent” you murmured to him 

“It is, indeed, but not just architectonically, the kids make it special” he assured as he thanked the lady at service for bringing hot water to him.

“You like brewing your own tea?” You asked him once alone.

“What does that say about me?” He joked and you shrugged lightly observing him in such a mundane situation, in his little ritual.

“That you’re very fond of control, you probably spend a lot of sleepless nights here, and you take pride of your tea selection”

He chuckled at your words replying quickly

“Sounds like somebody that I know, do you have a favourite tea?” 

“I will try your favourite, if you allow me” you said pacing around the study during the whole conversation, your eyes going quietly from the chalkboard to the books open on the big table, the intense scente of wood covering the room joined with the gentle notes of the vanilla coming from the books.

The place felt relaxing and professional, serious but cozy.

“I admire your work, Doctor Kreizler” you confessed honestly as he let the tea brewing “now, I believe you called me for a very specific matter” you added as he pulled out those papers and books you were meant to see together.

You stared at him as he explained the case, word after word, his hand moving along every detail, apologising for every gruesome one, showing proofs, the ideas he had, the intuitions and troubles.

“May you go back to that last victim?” You asked as you proceeded to collect the tea and to pour it yourself as he was now more challenged to go through the topics, you saw something he didn’t and that intrigued him. He wasn’t completely blind to your presence there and, probably, he also tried this hard to impress you. He felt a bit silly, showing off like a peacock all his feathers about solving murder cases.

You smiled as the time flew by, your teas followed one after the other marking the edges of the pages and turning cold as you spoke and shared ideas. At some point you took off your jacket to be more comfortable while writing on the board adding those possible explanations to the motifs of the new killer he was investigating on.

“Doctor! Doctor!” A tiny voice called and you both turned around as a little girl rushed in, blonde hair blowing in the air already wearing her night dress as she handed the big black jacket of the doctor back to him “You forgot it”.

“Oh, thank you so much Margaret, you have been most precious, now go to bed or Mrs Morenko will get worried” he smiled at her lovingly and she nodded valiantly before rushing away.

You kept quiet as you observed her and smiled how she skipped around happily.

“She is the girl you told me about?” You asked him and he nodded closing the door after her and moving back to the table, standing beside it as he gently tapped on the wood with his fingers.

“You can’t prevent polarisation, it is harder with kids” you assured him moving by his side to interject his stare still settled on the wood under him.

“I should have seen it coming, she is getting into a place I never meant her to be. I wanted her to be freed by the need to please her family and now she substituted it with the need to please me”

“You substituted her parents in her mind, an evil man and an evil woman, you’re the sweetest of the mothers and the most protective of the fathers. You can’t blame yourself on this.” 

He listened to you  and you could almost see the little gears in his brain elaborate your words, his right hand abandoned on his side, hair slightly falling on his temple as he pressed his lips tightly together.

“I did her wrong being so soft on her”

He concluded closing his eyes for a moment before looking up at you realising how close you actually are.

“Do you expect me to punish you now?”

You asked back at him and that surely took him by surprise as he tried to babble what he meant and he wasn’t self pitying himself and how you probably didn’t want to listen to his children’s problems too, you were already helping too much.

“Doctor Kreizler” you interrupted that river of words “as professionals we need to understand how to treat our patients in the best way to bring them further in life and not backward. You know just as I do how if you utilised a strong and threatening attitude you would have just taught her that the way to deal with life is to submit to the more aggressive ones, which is way worse than a young ten year old having a crush on the man that taught her she can be strong, isn’t it?”

He looked at you and smiled moving his head on side with a small tilt letting your words sink in and probably glad you defined him in such a way.

“I just love these kids” he breathed out as his eyes drifted somewhere in the space “they are picked up so soon in life and set for failures and successes they never meant to have, somebody else reading through them seeing fault in desire and poverty in tenderness”

You felt you chest tighten as he spoke, his eyes now shining, his voice narrating slowly those lives and achievements. His passion and hard work showing as he guided some papers closer to play out that moment the embarrassment of having opened up to you like that.

“The truth is, Doctor Y/L/N, that we can do so little, and the best thing we can do is to teach them not to accept little from life”

You smiled at him softly “You’re right”.

He smiled back as his dark gaze dropped down on your lips and he leaned in carefully, his eyes up at you again searching for consent, you imperceptibly wet your lips as you realised he was closing the space between the two of you.

Then a familiar voice coming from outside the window calling his name.

He paused midway and you could see a soft pink take over on his cheeks and behind his ears, he murmured something moving away from you as he opened up the window letting in the cold breeze.

“Laszlo! There’s another victim! Come down! Now! She is still alive you have to speak to her!” John shouted from his carriage “Move your ass!” He added shouting again as Dr Kreizler clearly was upset by the interruption and rolled his eyes to that vulgar talk.

You chuckled slowly picking his jacket and moving behind him. He noticed you and gulped down letting you help him with it.

“I apologise, I have to go, but Dr Y/L/N, I pledge for your forgiveness”

You nodded slowly as you were thinking about it as you picked up your own jacket.

“That could be earned by giving me the permission to call you Laszlo myself”

He smiled with a light nod just admiring the way you didn’t let any embarrassment run through the two of you.

“I couldn’t in any way refuse a requests coming from you, Y/N”

You nodded to him placing your hat back on your head with a smirk

“Good, now don’t stand there, we have to go” you said as he froze halfway through the door.

“Pardon?”

“You don’t expect to introduce me to this case and make me forget about it, or about you” you said and he let out a breathy chuckle holding the door for you open before following you outside.

This was the beginning of something new.

Tags: @cazzyimagines @that-stupid-head-tilt-thing

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #401

“my love is just waiting to turn your tears to roses”

Do you typically do your makeup the same each time? Or do you like to change it up often? IF I wear makeup, it's essentially always the same. Who is the last person you were in a room with just the two of you? What were you doing? Yesterday with Mom. We were trying to find the best deal on Eco Earth, a substrate we're getting for Venus. What was the last really good book you read, and what was it about? If we're talking REALLY good book, then The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. In short summary, it's a dystopian future novel where women are now basically just objects used only for repopulation, even having their names stripped from them. They follow very strict rules as society has returned to horrible misogyny. As a woman, the "oh my god, this is possible" aspect of it is terrifying, and it causes such a sense of disgust and urge to ensure women rights always continue to be fought for. Do you feel safe in your country? For the most part, I'd say. I guess. There are places I'd feel safer, though. How many meals do you eat a day? Three. Have you ever performed a solo dance in front of a crowd? No, but I was supposed to my senior year in high school; the seniors at my dance studio were always welcome to do a solo in celebration. Mine was a modern dance to "Coma White" by Marilyn Manson, wanting to tell a story about depression and how being medicated could feel, but I eventually decided like halfway through learning the choreography that I was just too nervous to do a solo. Have you ever sung a solo? No. When you go to McDonalds, what drink do you usually get? Coke. Have you ever had to call and complain about a product you bought? No. Do you own a designer purse? Definitely not. I'm not wasting that much money on something like that. What’s the weirdest rumor you’ve ever heard about yourself? Apparently, Jason and I had a baby in high school even though I was obviously never pregnant. To my knowledge, it was started by his ex. Who is now a good friend of mine lmaooo. Life is funny. What was your favorite Saturday morning cartoon growing up? Pokemon, of course. Would you ever have an affair? Nope. Would you ever have a one night stand? Nope. Where you present at any major historical events (e.g. 9/11)? No. What are your opinions on marijuana legalization? Legalize it, but treat it similarly to alcohol in that driving under the influence is illegal and punishable, and I believe you should be of a certain age. How about abortion? I am pro-choice. I was pro-life most of my own life, but now I am very firm about a mother being able to choose if she wants to endure a pregnancy or not. Like, that is a MASSIVE life event that almost inevitably changes - and sometimes traumatizes - people. I do believe a fetus is its own body and not part of the mother's, but rather in the mother's, but the belief that a woman decides what she wants in her body is her choice, too. I'm not very fond of people treating abortion as a simple, regular form of birth control, like it's nothing but an "lol whoops," but I still believe it is ultimately her decision, and she should always be free of judgment for doing what is best for her. Do you wear skirts or dresses more often? Neither. I wouldn't dare wear a skirt more so, though. What do you think about tipping at restaurants? There should always be an expected minimum, imo, unless the person was truly, sincerely, genuinely fucking awful. Waiters do not have an easy job, fight me about it, and they're just trying to survive while putting on a happy, jovial face, all the while dealing with hungry people who can be such assholes. I believe the actual tip should relate to actual service, but again, give them something. Would you ever get back together with any of your exes? One, absolutely. The other would take a shitload of consideration and proper communication on his part. Do you have a preferred coffee brand? No, because I don't like coffee. Do you usually befriend your coworkers, or do you prefer to keep work separate from your personal life? IF I had a job, I'd like to build a friendship with those I have to engage with almost every day. What is something you frequently forget? Dates, ages, names, what I was about to do five seconds before I forgot... Pretty much everything. My memory is frightfully poor. Is there any drama currently going on with your family? No. When you take a nap, do you nap in bed or on the couch? In my bed. Were you raised by both of your parents? If not, then who raised you? Both; my parents split when I was somewhere around 17, though, but I'd say there wasn't much more "raising" to do at that age. Have you ever stolen anything? If so, why? No. Have you ever plagiarized someone else's work? Hell no. What's your most-used mode of transportation? My mom's car. Have you ever taught someone else a useful skill? Not to my recollection. Does seeing everyone else's 'perfect lives' posted on social media ever bring you down or affect how you feel about yourself? It actually does, honestly. Not ALWAYS, but if I'm being honest, it does most of the time. I've contemplated deleting Facebook for that reason, but with is also comes things that make me happy, and I think I'd feel even more isolated without it. What is your favorite Hostess/Little Debbie snack? This is SO impossible for me to answer. I loooove Hostess and Little Debbie treats. I want to say honeybuns, but I also love those chocolate cupcakes with the white swirls on top, as well as Twinkies. Very few exist that I don't like. Do you/your family buy loafs from the bakery or bagged on the shelf? We just buy bagged bread. What’s the best news you’ve gotten lately? My APAP mask is definitively WORKING!!!!! :') Mom got an app that connects to the machine via Bluetooth that monitors the effectiveness of the mask, evaluating many factors of your sleep, and it's detecting a definite decrease in disruptive behaviors or something like that. It is so, SO encouraging to know that. ^And, the worst? Hm. Oh, probably some news on something serious a good friend is going through, but I don't feel it's my right to disclose what. It's just a very worrying and potentially dangerous issue that I wish I could help her with. Would you rather receive (or give) flowers, chocolates or jewelry? I'd appreciate any, but my fat ass is drawn to the chocolate, ha ha. What *I* would give would vary depending on what the person liked. How do you feel about coconut? Smells lovely, but is otherwise gross. ^ Ever cracked one open? No, but omg I've always wanted to, haha. What’s the best thing about being your gender? I guess the fact it's more "normal" and "accepted" to show our emotions. Fuck that generalization, though. I don't give a shit what your gender is, you experiencing emotions is NORMAL and welcomed to be expressed. ^ And the worst thing? The ability to be raped and impregnated by it. Do you do your part to save the earth? I don't do nearly enough. :/ We recycle, but that's about it. Well, none of us DARE to litter either, but I still don't feel like it's as much as the earth deserves from its denizens. Who do you think should have their portrait on a bill? I don't know or care. Why did you last feel exhausted? Yesterday was my niece's birthday, and I spent essentially ALL day playing with her and her brother. I have a very limited battery when it comes to kids, and I was running on empty for hours. My anxiety was SO high and I really needed a break from them, but they're too young to really understand that Aunt Britt can only socially run for so long before I'm completely burnt out, and TRUST ME, I was there for sure. I didn't want them to think they did something wrong, you know? I just had to keep going. I slept like a baby last night though for sure, haha. Have you ever used emotional blackmail to get your own way? Wow, no. Has anybody ever used emotional blackmail on you? No. Who did you last worry about and why? Sara for health reasons. Are you currently looking for a new place to live? Not actively, but Mom and I definitely want to move. We feel very out-of-place here in the suburbs. Which would you prefer as a view; mountains or the sea? Mountains. Do you have a mouse for your laptop? (Assuming you have a laptop) Yes. I canNOT play games with a trackpad. Do you apologize a lot? Extremely excessively. When you get married what do you think you’ll put most of your focus and money into? Do you mean like, for the wedding? In that case, probably the venue. Being a photography buff, I want a place I think is really pretty to have pictures taken. What’s something you complain about frequently? My legs hurting, my weight, and being hot. Do you have anything planned for the summer? Nope, and that's fine with me. I'd rather stay inside away from the heat. Who usually makes dinner in your household? My ma. Do you have a blog? Just on Tumblr. Does anyone in your family snore loudly? My mother does because of gerd, and at least when my father still lived with us, he snored super loud, too. Do you want to fix anything with anyone? Yeah, a few people. What shows do you watch? Right now, only Meerkat Manor: Rise of the Dynasty. Whenever The Edge of Sleep comes out, I will 110% be watching that, too, because Mark is a key actor in it. :') Plus the concept seems super cool. Have you ever broken someone’s heart? I don't know. Who was the last person you had a conversation with on the phone? Me mum. Does the song you’re currently listening to remind you of anyone specific? No, given it has like... one lyric, haha. Do you own any TV show soundtracks? No. Last thing you did that made you feel like an adult? I mean I guess sign myself in at the doctor's. What’s your favorite picture of your mom? Dad? Oh my god, there's a candid one I got of Mom laughing when she was posing as my subject for a photography assignment, and I cherish it with ALL my heart. I want to share it with essentially the whole world, but yeah, I'm not gonna put my mom's picture here. As for my dad, I like this one I took of us at Red Lobster for his birthday a year or two back. Last TV show series you finished? Fullmetal Alchemist with Sara. Favorite flavor of cream cheese? Regular. What US state would you like to visit? Alaska. Last meal you made yourself? I put a chicken pesto thing in the microwave earlier for dinner.

[thisislizheather]

July Jiffs 2021

Yes, this monthly post should’ve been written on August 1st. Don’t be such a stickler, it’s not attractive. In any case, my apologies, it definitely will happen again. Here’s what went down in July!

You can find my favourite tweets of the month over here and here.

I ate the July-only-special Emmy cheeseburger dumplings from Mimi Cheng’s and they were incredible. I feel bad that you missed eating them.

Above Photo: Emmy Burger Dumplings (emmy cheeseburger dumplings in collaboration with Pizza Loves Emily/Emmy Squared, dry-aged beef, Grafton cheddar, crushed pretzels, caramelized onions, and Emmy Sauce. Pan-fried only. (8 pieces) $16.45

Nathan and I have been making homemade green iced tea every day and I think we might officially be better than you now…? Weird how that happened.

I finally found rain boots! I got them during the Nordstrom sale and I can’t wait to test them out. Those boots and this rain coat? Finally my life is figured out.

I wrote about the day trip I took to Connecticut.

Dying to see the movie about Celine Dion ‘Aline’ because it sounds insane.

I went to The Met to see the roof finally and what a time I had, I can’t wait to go again after October 29th when the fashion exhibit opens.

Above Photo: The Met rooftop, July 2021

Above Photo: The French decorative arts wing, The Met

Did you know that China imposed a cybercurfew barring those under 18 from playing games between 10pm and 8am? I kind of love it? I might not be allowed to have that opinion out loud, but here we are.

It’s summer so I’m making these tomato sandwiches semi-daily but I reeeally want to make this one with garlic aioli next.

I had the pizza at Spunto’s in the West Village and A+, will definitely go again.

I made crab cakes at home for the first time (with this dipping sauce) and I can’t believe how easy and incredible they were. Crab cakes > lobster, ANY day.

Ate the meatball parm at Scarr’s because I’m clearly crushing life and it was really good. I don’t think I’ve ever had a mind-blowing one, so the search continues.

Above Photo: Meatball parm at Scarr’s, NYC

I’ve been wanting a great club sandwich for months, so I went to Marks Off Madison and it was beyond satisfying. The bar area is perfect if you’re eating alone and the staff was stellar. Their Times review is so well deserved.

Above Photo: Club sandwich at Marks Off Madison, NYC

I used this Becca body highlighter (look it was $5 at Marshalls and we’re all depressed, leave me alone) to use at a wedding and did my legs look shiny? Not sure, I received approximately zero feedback on it but here’s the verdict: it’s a perfectly okay product. I think I just wanted to try something from Becca since they’re going out of business next month.

I also tried and already returned the lip plumper from Grande Cosmetics, which was a disappointment. Lip plumpers never work, when will I learn. Hot sauce lips might just truly be the only answer to temporary plumpness.

As a Canadian, I hope you’re aware of Mathew Evans and Henry Woodward because you should be. CAN’T believe I didn’t know about them until now. Where the hell was the Heritage Moment for them?!

I made a strawberry crumble coffee cake and it was too, too good, it’s such a perfect recipe if you have an abundance of strawberries and you’re sick of making jam. Adding sour cream made it moist as hell and I have to remember this for future coffee cakes.

Above Photo: Strawberry crumble coffee cake

It’s insane that it took me three decades to finally try caviar, but I did and now I want it by the boatload. I was gonna ask why no one told me, but everyone, everywhere has always been vocal about its greatness, so I’ll close my mouth.

I had to get an Indian wedding suit tailored, so I went to India Sari Palace in Jackson Heights and I can’t recommend it enough. Never had something tailored so perfectly. (I’ll never forgot Mindy Kaling saying years ago how rich people don’t buy better clothes, they just have all of their clothing tailored to their bodies so everything just looks better on them.)

I made this lemon butter ricotta zucchini pasta and it was summer in a bowl. I charred and added fresh corn as well and that sent it straight through the goddamn roof.

I’ll always look at the trivia page on IMDB of any movie I watch, so I can’t believe I didn’t know most of these Back To The Future details.

I bought this Zara dress for one of the weddings I went to and I can’t believe how much I loved it.

Above Photo: The Zara dress

I visited the new Dominique Ansel Workshop and I hate to say it, but it’s wildly overhyped. Maybe I’m wrong, but isn’t the chocolate in a chocolate croissant supposed to be a little melted and not hard as a rock? And the tomato tart tatine was weirdly underdone, too. What’s going on?

I made these eggless chocolate chip cookies that were wonderful.

In failure news this month, I optimistically tried to start a wardrobe challenge but brutally flopped on following through with it so I will attempt it again soon!

Incase you care, August is the only month you can apply for SNL tickets so get on that, if you so desire.

I maintain that this is the best moment from any of the Paranormal Activity movies, it still gives me chills.

Look, I’m a simple person. Sometimes you just want some Dippin’ Dots without trekking to an amusement park.

Above Photo: Dippin’ Dots in Flatiron, NYC

The Enbridge Ride to Conquer Cancer benefiting benefiting Princess Margaret Cancer Centre is a two-day, 200-kilometre cycling journey through the Canadian countryside on August 28/29, 2021 - support my good friend Greg who’s apart of it over here!

Things that I’ve been rewatching:

Desperate Housewives and I have zero idea why, it’s an objectively bad show. I grow to hate each character more and more as each season passes by, what am I doing and why can’t I stop.

Old Shrill episodes because I’m so, so sad it’s over forever.

New things I’ve watched:

I’m still in awe of how good this second season of Dave has been and I can’t wait for the season finale next week.

The movie Mystic Pizza - what a party! I mean one viewing is enough, but a pretty good movie.

I finally watched the movie Soul and it was (of course) really good, but my brother was right, it really felt like it was just missing one thing. I can’t explain it, but it was maybe one element away from being a perfect movie.

I tried the croissant soft serve from Supermoon Bakehouse and they’re truly doing the lord’s work over there. Just unreal. They’re only open Fri/Sat/Sun, but their offerings are above and beyond a regular old bakery.

Above Photo: Croissant soft serve at Supermoon Bakehouse, NYC

Some things I’m looking forward to this month: I’ve never even heard of a buckle but now I must make one, I’ll continue to mark things off of my summer list, I’d like to get in at least one more pool, I can’t wait to take a little drive for another mini-trip, and I think I’ll try to spend my remaining summer days tanning on my roof. Oh and of course I need to start plans for October. It’s going to be more fun than ever before, stay tuned.

If you have any interest in reading what went on in June, come on over here.

[minaminokyoko]

Peace Talks Reactions

Hey, Dresden Fandom. You guys may or may not be knee deep in Peace Talks, but if you are, I welcome you to the below reactions, in handy dandy bullet form. I would love to discuss the book if you’re interested, whether you reblog with comments or shoot me a chat. I just finished the book, so all spoilers are below the Read More tag. 

Woof. Well, at least it was something after six fucking years of waiting.

·         So before Butcher’s giant hiatus, we had this first chapter of Peace Talks already and I have to say I still feel like I felt six years ago: I don’t really know where he’s going with Thomas becoming a father. In terms of what that will do for him as a character. For Harry, it’s different. Harry keeps it close to the chest with his decisions, willing to die for the greater good in an instant, and becoming a father made him have to be more careful and thoughtful in his actions to be sure he can be there for his baby girl. I’m not sure where Butcher is going with this for Thomas, but I guess we’ll see.

·         I was pleased to find out Harry decided to stick with the protected apartment and is trying his best on Dad duty. Me gusta.

·         Right, let’s get to the first big elephant in the room: Ebenezar. Oh my fucking God. I want to punch his fucking lights out. My friend and I have argued about his reaction to seeing Thomas at the apartment already. I know Eb has Harry by a thousand years or more in experience, but it pisses me off that Eb can’t be bothered to learn more about Thomas. Nope. Just skip straight to irrational anger.  It was also disappointing to find out that Eb is not a part of Harry’s life as much as I thought he was in the past, so clearly he doesn’t understand how important Thomas is to him. I’m a bit miffed that Harry didn’t explain Thomas is his half-grandson to help him understand, but at the same time, Harry might be worried about what that revelation will do. Either way, it displays a massive lack of trust in Harry. To think Harry—who has survived all this fucking shit from the supernatural world so far—is just a pawn and he doesn’t know how incredibly dangerous the White Court is. Eb is downright disrespectful and insulting to his own grandson. I’m sorry, but I think he’s being an asshat in huge proportions by just thinking Harry is too stupid to know better and by not asking him why he feels loyal to Thomas.

·         In that same vein, Eb’s whole thing about wanting Harry to leave Maggie somewhere can kiss my ass. I’m with Harry on this one. It’s not that I don’t trust the foster care system and I think anything negative about adoption, either. Maggie is a target because she’s a Dresden. That’s it. There is nothing she can ever do about it. She is the daughter of Harry Dresden, Captain fuckin’ Disaster of the supernatural world. There is no place she can go where she will be safe and Harry is honestly her best shot at being watched over and protected, but not only that, if she’s gonna be in danger her whole life, she might as well be loved and cared for by her father too. Harry brings up such a good point about feeling abandoned and rejected and how Eb’s “protection” jag didn’t work for Margaret either. I know he wants what’s best for her, but I agree that Maggie has a better chance of surviving at Harry’s side than somewhere else. Hell’s bells, that’s how this whole fucking thing started anyway. Susan’s bitch ass hid the kid and it didn’t work. Sheesh.

·         And now the other elephant in the room: Murphy. I think part of me forgot how severe her injuries were. I had assumed months of PT and such would allow her to be mobile again, but then I read Chapter 5 and now I’m just angry and hurt. You don’t know what you’ve got ‘til it’s gone. You just don’t. I can’t help it. Murphy is my favorite, goddamn it. I’ve reread the books where she’s helping Harry the most because their dynamic is so phenomenal. They’re my OTP. She is one of the best written female characters I’ve ever known, so ripping her ability to be at Harry’s side away is so…2020. It’s just a nasty, horrible thing and it’s shot my excitement for this novel right in the foot. I didn’t realize how important it was to me that Murphy is Harry’s badass ace in the hole until I was told she’ll be lucky to walk again. I know things have to get worse for characters in order for them to grow, but fuck this so much. I am praying she gets a magical contract or healing or a wish or something so she’s back in action or I’m done.

·         With that same elephant, fuck Jim Butcher for skipping over the foreplay at the end of Chapter 5. Yes, I said it. Fuck him. I know he thinks it’s funny to frustrate us, but this is an act of betrayal of the highest order. Why? Because I’ve waited TWENTY FUCKING YEARS for Harry and Murphy to go canon, and what does he do the first time we, the audience, get to see them in a relationship? Cut to curtains fluttering. Fuck you. We deserved that foreplay scene. No, I will NOT use my fucking imagination, pun intended. I just paid you $15 to use YOUR imagination, Jim. You spent fifteen books building up the trust, love, loyalty, and sexual tension of these two characters. That’s countless words and countless pages. And now that they’re FINALLY together, nope, skip it. Skip what should have been something intimate and powerfully emotional. Ha-ha-fucking-ha. I hope you step on a Lego barefoot. I will try to have faith that Butcher will give us what we want—a canon version of Chapter 14 of Skin Game—but if he doesn’t, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind.

·         The thought of Mab and Lara Raith working together is utterly terrifying. No. Just no. Ugh, there are bad times ahead. I also thought it was kind of contrived that Lara is owed favors, which forces Harry to not be able to say no, and I think it’s a bit lazy on Jim’s part for this convenient block to be there and he can’t refuse the favors. It just felt like he didn’t want to put the energy into painting Harry into a corner this time, so here, a convenient favor. That being said, I cackled when Mab called him a bowl of porridge. That was legitimately hilarious. What a bitch.

·         Mm, Harry just called Murphy his girlfriend. I’ve waited twenty years for that alone. *happy sigh*

·         Oh, great. Someone sent Thomas to assassinate someone. I’m betting blackmail, whether he admits to it or not.

·         LOL @ Harry’s cursing policy with Maggie.

·         Harry. Don’t. Make. Promises. EVER.

·         I would not be the least bit surprised if this assassination attempt is Mab’s idea to cut off all of Harry’s allies but her so he will have no choice but to use her protection more often. Mab is a cold fuckin’ piece. Pun intended.

·         Harry, for real, do not square up with Ebenezar. You are a wolf, for sure, but that man is a werewolf by comparison.

·         I’m getting real tired of Ebenezar’s anti-vampire schtick. I get it. They’re bad. Now shut up.

·         This is so unfortunate: I’ve been missing Lara Raith just because she’s a hoot but with this whole favor thing and Harry and Murphy being fitted for chastity belts, I’m more tired than anything else.

·         Oh, neat, one of Gard’s sisters!

·         Of course Lara knows about Thomas being Ebenezar’s grandson. It’s Lara.

·         Oh, good, I’m sure whatever deal Harry just made with Molly isn’t stupid or reckless.

·         Yes, Sanya is a VERY weird man. That is an understatement, Butters.

·         Aha. I had a hunch it was River Shoulders and not the Genoskwa.

·         And oh good, the Genoskwa’s not dead. Yay. I hate you, Butcher.

·         Now there is a good tidbit of story for the series: that the reason everything is accelerating into bad news is we’re about to hit that 666 year mark that people are talking about, where the even worse shit hits. We’ve had small clues about Harry being starborn and this helps provide context for the shit that happens to him. I hope it’s not a Chosen One scenario, but it does explain why he’s been in so many scrapes and why he’s made it out of them so far. However, I tend to dislike destiny in most stories. It can get tedious. We’ll see what’s in store.

·         Ugh, and there it is, but I already knew Lara was gonna make poor Harry break Thomas out from the book trailer anyhow. Sigh.

·         Murphy calling the White Council useless is a fuckin’ mood and a half. I swear, they ain’t nothing but useless since these books first started. Harry hit the nail on the head earlier with Carlos and the Wardens, that they spend a lot of time talking at Harry but not listening. That’s been their entire M.O. from the start. They don’t listen to anything he has to say; they just insist they know better and that he should fall in line, not caring about what he has on said line, which is very often innocent lives. I love the hypocrisy of them preaching to him about making cold, rational decisions when it’s not their asses who have to deal with the consequences. Yes, there is fallout from what Harry does, but the opposition is always there and it doesn’t act solely based on what Harry Dresden does. I really fucking hate the Council at this point.

·         So we get a second of tender kissing in the tub and an “I love you” and then Butcher cuts away again. I am so over it. I don’t have enough energy to put towards how angry he’s making me right now and he doesn’t deserve it anyway. I cannot believe he spent all this time building this relationship up and then makes it canon and won’t touch it. Fuck you.

·         Murphy immediately spotting all three of Harry’s tails is life. God, I love my bad bitch.

·         I do like that Harry has been practicing his Veils. That’s smart. It also shows character development and wisdom that he’s recognizing how much more useful stealth is and that even though it’s hard for him, it’s worth the effort to learn. Good book boyfriend.

·         It’s still Murphy, bitch. Injured or not. My queen is a queen. Try her if you want, Freydis.

·         PFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFT MURPHY YOU POOR CATHOLIC DARLING COME HERE. That pass was hilariously unexpected in a book that hasn’t been all that funny so far. Thanks, Jim. That got a whole bunch of cackling out of me.

·         “I like your brother.” I just clapped and squealed. I mean, duh, of course Murphy likes Thomas, but this pleases me greatly to hear her say it aloud. Murph is tough and doesn’t like to say stuff like that out loud usually. I’m delighted.

·         For all my complaints, I appreciate Butcher bringing Murphy in to help Harry plan everything. She’s hella smart and experienced in matters where you need to get someone out without being all guns a-blazing. And it is an apology for her being benched halfway thru Skin Game, imo.

·         Oh, shit. Harry doesn’t know Molly’s the one who attacked Carlos. Ugh. I bet this is gonna explode in someone’s face.

·         And Harry just fucked up the rest of his friendship with Carlos, not know Molly already did the same thing. Greeeeeeeeeeeeeeat.

·         “You just went from a three to a six.” Jesus Christ, immortals are so savage, I swear. I laughed, tho. That was mean as hell.

·         I’m dying that Freydis wants a threesome with Harry and Murphy. I mean, who can blame her? Fuck, I want a threesome with Harry and Murphy, if I’m being totally honest here. The thirst is so fucking real.

·         Finally, someone made a joke about Harry and Murphy getting together.

·         Ah, this IS what I missed about Lara, though—she loves to fuck with Harry for the lolz and nothing other than the lolz. I mean, he’s such a peach. I would do the same thing.

·         Also, Jim, for God’s sake, make up your mind about vampires getting burned! I don’t get it. Thomas can touch Harry, and Harry is and always has been loved, so when do vampires get burned and when do they not? We’ve seen Harry touch Lara even when Susan was still alive and remember the kiss in White Night? MAKE UP YOUR GODDAMN MIND. I had a debate about this with another fan because it’s so goddamn inconsistent! If anyone being loved by anyone else burns them, then that would mean the entire world would be in the know about White Court vampires because they’d get burnt left and right touching people who are loved. I thought it only happens if they try to feed, not just touching each other. I think Jim needs to pay better attention to his own lore or finally spit out an explanation. We’ll see if he does later with that whole kiss thing from the book trailer, I guess. Argh! *Yosemite Sam curses*

·         I’m really starting to hate Harry’s condition and the fact that he didn’t stop to ask Eb what it is or how to stop it. Ugh.

·         Oh, good, and now everyone will think Harry and Lara are a couple. Convenient. Like they don’t already have constant trust issues. I’m sure Eb won’t block a gasket or anything.

·         Oh, yay, a Malcolm Dresden flashback! This is a delightful surprise. Like a lot of the fanbase, we’ve always wanted to know more about him. He seemed like a good man.

·         Yay! Vadderung to the rescue!

·         Okay, I do NOT like Murphy being alone with a starving Thomas and Lara. Not one little bit.

·         Ah, so the goddess Ethniu gets introduced in this book. That’s why Peace Talks got split and then Battle Ground popped out as the next book.

·         “You’re out of the White Council if you do this.” FUCK YOU, EBENEZAR. Jesus Christ, fuck you. All the Council has EVER done is use and abuse Harry Dresden. They have constantly blamed him for everything or forced him to fight their goddamn battles. You can shove it right up your old crusty ass for all I care. I am sick to death of this belief that they are just so righteous and trustworthy and good when they’re self-important douchebags who think that people are ants and can’t be bothered to protect them unless it directly benefits the Council.

·         I think I’m angriest because up until this point, Ebenezar has been mostly reasonable and it feels inorganic that Jim pushed him this hard. It’s just kind of exhausting because it feels like the plot needs Eb to lose his shit instead of it being something natural. I won’t be shocked if we find out he’s been compromised somehow, but I guess I’ll have to find out myself.

·         Murphy is right on the money. We thought we knew Eb, but we REALLY don’t. And that sucks. A lot. Especially since Harry has barely any family at all.

·         I can honestly tell why this book took Jim six years to write. It’s awful stagnant. It’s the exact same reason that the first draft of Of Fury and Fangs kicked my ass. I wrote the story in the first draft incorrectly, in a way, because all the characters were passive for the most part, and the other half of the problem was that I got halfway through this book and thought up an idea for a better book, but in order for the better book to happen, there were too many things I couldn’t ignore in this one, so I still had to finish it and make it good. Peace Talks, to me, feels like it’s obligatory to set up the next book, and maybe that’s why it feels lackluster to me. It’s a transitional book, which isn’t a bad thing, but it’s definitely in the bottom five of the entire series. Transitional books aren’t bad, but they aren’t good either. Most authors know that this tends to happen if you write a trilogy. All the really big, important shit tends to happen in the first and third book if you’re not careful. In this case, yeah, there’s stuff happening, but it’s largely passive. It’s kind of like why back in 2010 people were so hard on Iron Man 2—it spent all this time setting up shit for the MCU, which in the long run is a good thing, but that makes it weak when it tries to stand on its own. 

As it stands, Peace Talks is mediocre. Jim took way too many shortcuts. It felt rushed, ironically enough, because he was so busy moving pieces around to set up for Battle Ground that Peace Talks doesn’t really stand out as interesting or likable like the other books. I really understand why he got stuck and couldn’t write on it for six years. My two biggest beefs here are him pushing Ebenezar into the antagonist role and him completely fucking bailing on the Harry/Murphy relationship after sixteen books of waiting. I mean, yeah, fine, because everything in this book is just set up for Battle Ground, maybe then we’ll get more acknowledgment of the romance and the importance of the relationship, but as it stands, I’m dissatisfied with both aspects. This is part of why we didn’t want a hiatus. If you make us wait this long, inevitably, the result is not going to be up to par. There are VERY few things we as people have waited forever for that ended up living up to our expectations. I almost feel like all the fan theories and fanfiction was a better, more creative result than what actually happened in Peace Talks. That’s harsh, I know, but I’ve been reading the fan generated stuff for six years and that’s just how I feel. 

This is a mediocre novel that’s placing a LOT of weight on what’s to come, which is dangerous from a quality standpoint. It could be a lot worse. I was expecting a disaster. Instead, I got a disappointment. I can live with it, but only if Battle Ground makes up for it. If it doesn’t, then we’re all in a world of hurt.

I’ll take maybe a week or so and then consider if I want to do an actual review or not. We’ll see how I feel once I digest everything and talk it out with friends.

Overall Grade: 3 out of 5 stars

[geronimo-11]

I can't just pick one, I'm afraid! - Jacob puts together a surprise for baby John - John and Casey at the Rye’s party - Broken

Jacob puts a surprise together for baby John

I love exploring the Seed’s childhood, and things they must have done for each other. We know that Jacob was the de-facto protector of his brothers, and he did his best to provide for them, so I think he must have tried to create little memories as best he could - especially for John who was so young.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

It’s the third time in ten minutes Joseph has asked that question, and Jacob grunts in lieu of an answer. He finishes tying a rope to the bedpost and doesn’t turn around when he does finally respond.

“Sure. John’ll love it.”

Out of the corner of his eye Jacob can see his little brother shifting uneasily beside him.

“I’m not talking about John. Dad’s gonna be mad if he sees this.”

What else is new?

Jacob doesn’t bother hiding the sneer on his face as he ties off the other end of rope to the opposite bed post with a little more force than necessary.

“The old man can kiss my ass.”

I know this is pretty vague, but I don’t want to give away too much. It’ll probably be easy to guess what’s happening whenever I actually get it posted, but still lol

John and Casey at the Rye’s party

Casey feels like she just can’t get away from him. She sees him at the Spread Eagle all the time, he showed up to Church with his family, and she couldn’t get away from him at the Testy Festy either. And every time he meets her with a sharp smile and silver tongue- usually asking after her family property, but sometimes flirting with her. She had hoped the Rye’s party would be an escape, but when he shows up with his brothers she feels like the universe is working against her.

She rolled her eyes and ignored him, staring pointedly down at the buffet table in front of her and only half paying attention to what she was putting on her plate because she could still feel the heat of him at her back.

“Where’s Joanna?” His question was innocent enough but he was standing so close that Casey couldn’t help but shiver when his words brushed past her ear.

Personal space. She thought bitterly to herself, but she didn’t say anything. She actually wanted to enjoy herself today, clingy property obsessed assholes be damned.

“Home,” she answered absently. Maybe if he thought she was disinterested enough he’d leave her alone. There were plenty of other people here for him to harass. Unfortunately, she momentarily forgot how persistent he was, and was only reminded when she still felt his presence at her elbow.

Reaching for another spooned dish on the table Casey was about to turn and tell him to go away, when there was a loud, wet sound like running water. She turned and saw the spoon in her hand was now empty. Glancing down at the dish she had gotten it from she frowned. It looked like some sort of soup, but she didn’t see any bowls out. Scooping the mystery dish once more Casey watched in fascination as the liquid spilled over the sides, weighed down by what looked like macaroni noodles.

“The hell?” she whispered to herself, scooping at the concoction once more.

“You shouldn’t play with your food,” John quipped beside her, sounding more annoyed than she’d heard ever heard him.

If you’re wondering if I wanted to write this scene just to make fun of the Seed’s for the watery mac-and-cheese, the answer is yes.

Broken

After months of talking to Joseph and his family, listening to his sermons, and seeing how the Project looks and acts like the family she always wanted but never had, Maggie starts to break down and goes to Joseph looking for guidance.

If Joseph was surprised to see her he didn’t show it. A warm smile spread across his face when he opened the door, faltering only slightly when he saw how red and puffy her eyes were.

“Margaret,” he greeted softly, taking in her disheveled state with concerned eyes. “Are you all right?”

Maggie offered him a tight lipped smile and started to nod, stopped, and then shook her head.

Joseph’s brows drew together in growing concern as Maggie’s lower lip started to wobble with the threat of tears. He opened the door and stepped aside. Maggie entered without another word.

She stood in the middle of his small living room as the front door shut with a barely audible click. Bringing her hands up to her face she wiped quickly at her cheeks and eyes, brushing away the new round of tears that had been brewing since he opened the door.

These were different tears, though. Instead of grief and hurt she only felt relieved. In the seconds since she’d seen him she felt a peace settle deep in her bones that she never felt in all the years she had been with Mark and willingly deceived herself into believing that he was the only family she needed. She knew better now.

[harrisonstories]

Above: The Beatles playing at The Cavern (1962), Below: Some of George Harrison’s letters to Margaret “Maggie” Price (2019) [click to enlarge]

NOTE: This is a lovely piece written by Anne for the BeatlesTalk blog. It was originally in Dutch and can be found here (if anyone would be willing to provide a better translation, let me know). Pat Hodgett is referenced a few times, and if that name sounds familiar, it’s because this is the same Pat who wrote about the Cavern days in the 60s, here and here.

“When George Harrison looked at me, I forgot everything around me” - in conversation with Margaret Price

We are still in Ye Cracke, the Liverpool pub where John Lennon and Stuart Sutcliffe came to drink many beers during their student days. There are old stories of wild scenes. Of a drunken John Lennon who, swimming, made a splash of beer on his stomach. He will undoubtedly have had the laughters on his hand: young, challenging, full of bravado, a life ahead of him. Where would Lennon have been, I think. On the floor or perhaps on the small bar that is to the left of the entrance? There are not many more options. Soon my attention is back with the lady who has just joined our company and Mark Lewisohn shifts a pencil drawing.

Puzzle pieces

She appears to be called Margaret Price and from her conversation with Mark I notice that they have known each other a little longer. “You’ll definitely have to talk to Margaret later,” Mark tells me. “Margaret is one of the girls who first followed The Beatles in The Cavern.” That sounds interesting. Apparently Margaret helps Mark to put a number of puzzle pieces in that great Beatles story in place. The conversation is about Polythene Pam, who was immortalised by John Lennon with a short song in the great Abbey Road medley. “No Mark, that’s not Polythene Pam either”

As far as we know, Lennon based his Polythene Pam on two women he met in his younger years. One of them was probably Pat Dawson (Hodgett), who belonged to the group with earliest Beatles fans. Just like Margaret, she was one of these Cavernites. Mark is still looking for a photo of Pat. Her features are engraved in Margaret’s memory, so she made an attempt to mark Pat in a pencil drawing. It turns out that Mark regularly emails Margaret with a photo. Always with the question: “Is this then Polythene Pat?” Email after email, photo after photo. Margaret’s answer is always: “No, Mark, that’s not Pat either.” The drawing must ensure that the flow of e-mails stops. Unless of course Mark really thinks he found Pat. “I once had her daughter’s phone number,” Margaret involves me in the conversation. “But I never called again.” A track can end up dead. Years pass and people disappear in the past.

284 steps in 4 minutes

When Mark and Margaret have finished talking, we get the chance to get to know her more extensively. She was about 15 years old at the time and everyone still called her Maggie. Small in stature, timid and … head over heels in love with George Harrison, who was just a few years older. Maggie went to work immediately after high school, at the regional office of department store chain FW Woolworth. Her lunch break began at noon and together with her friends she was, exactly 284 steps and 4 minutes later at The Cavern in Mathew Street. They showed their membership card, threw the required entrance fees at the counter and rushed down the stairs. There was no time to lose: coats and bags on the front seats and quickly to the bar for a cup of tea and a sandwich. At 12. The Beatles (with Pete Best in their ranks) would start playing for 15 hours. Until 1.15 p.m. Then Maggie and her fellow Cavernites had to return to the office quickly. Undoubtedly full of adrenaline, after seeing their favourite band.

“Without The Beatles there would be no blow in Liverpool”

“We all liked the Beatles, but I had something special with George,” says Margaret. His look was so special. When he looked at me, I forgot everything around me: “He was very warm, he drew you in.” Or George knew she was crazy about him …“Yes, he knew that, he also knew me by name. I wasn’t sure about the others. ” Margaret started to correspond with George and always received a faithful response to her letters. “It was incredibly boring when The Beatles left for Hamburg for extended periods,” she says. We didn’t feel like going to look at other bands, we were bored to death.” Maggie George also said that in her letters, which also dealt with everyday life:

George shares the news about the EMI contract with Maggie

From the letter that George Maggie sent from The Star Club in Hamburg, Mark Lewisohn quoted an important passage that was relevant to his historiography about The Beatles. As I write this story, I grabbed the Extended Edition of Tune In, I open part two and slide my finger along the letter P in the index: Price, Margaret. There she is! With references to pages 1192, 1452 and 1515. Presumably in May 1962, George writes to Maggie from Hamburg: “We are all very happy about Parlophone, as it is a big break for us. We just want to work hard & clean for a hit with whatever we record. We don’t yet know what the producer will want.” The passage refers to the good news that The Beatles in Hamburg received from Brian Epstein: he had finally managed to arrange a recording contract for them: on 6 June 1962 in London. From the other letters from Hamburg, George Maggie regularly says that life is over there and longing for home. “Are you also in the theater tomorrow at Mark’s lecture?” Margaret asks me. “Then I’ll take the letters.” A promising offer.

In a plastic bag

When we have climbed the stairs of the Epstein Theater the next evening, I can already see Margaret on the lookout above. “I have the letters with me,” she says, laying her hand on her shoulder bag. “Maybe we can talk further later.” After the show we take a joint taxi to Hope Street, for a seat in the lobby of the hotel where Mark Lewisohn is staying. Wibo, Michiel and Jan Cees talk to Mark, I’m fine: on the couch next to Margaret.

The letters arrive on the table

Her bag opens and she places a number of copies and a thick manuscript on the table. ‘I had to sell the original letters when I got divorced in 1995 and needed the money. Moreover, I wanted them to be better preserved. They had been in a plastic bag for years and I saw them slowly but surely perish. Based on the copies and Margaret’s personal memories, a friend of mine wrote the manuscript of what could become her book: “He supplemented my memories with a good story about the context, just as Mark would.” I browse through the A4 pages and see a very well written story.

Dignity and pride

Margaret explains what it was like to lose The Beatles to London and to the world: “Everything changed. In The Cavern it became more and more crowded, we as friends of the band lost our places to the real fans, and thus pushed a bit further back. When The Beatles went to London, we were angry with the city government. Why didn’t Liverpool have good recording studios, why couldn’t we keep The Beatles? Why did we, as friends of the band, have so enthusiastically purchased that first single Love Me Do? Had we made The Beatles too big for that?” Margaret went on with her life, just like the other Cavernites: “For us, those world-famous Beatles were no longer the guys we were laughing and waving shyly in a local coffee shop. Once we were boys who, after their evening performances, which I also visited, said to me: ‘Shall we take you home? Get on in.’ That is how our contact with them was. We were not fans, we were their friends at the time and we did not want to run after them. When they really became famous, I didn’t follow them anymore. It wasn’t the same anymore.” I listen carefully and witness a beautiful piece of Liverpool dignity and pride.

With a birthday cake to George

One of Margaret’s most precious memories of George is his gentleness: "Pat Hodgett’s mother had a Bed & Breakfast on Mount Pleasant, was able to cook and bake well and was prepared to make a birthday cake for George. Pat and I took bus 74 on Georges birthday to his parental home on Macketts Lane to offer him that cake. Although George himself was not at home, his parents let us in. They apologised for the bare walls of the new social housing where they had recently moved into. The plaster still had to dry, no paperwork was allowed. We didn’t care. We were allowed to browse in George’s record collection, which contained a lot of music by Carl Perkins. The next day as I ran down the stairs of The Cavern during my lunch break, George was waiting for me at the bottom. He grabbed my arms and thanked me for the cake. George was a nice boy. He used to joke at me, while I was standing behind a group of worshipers. A few days later I received a letter from him, in which he apologised: “You know, Mag, I had too much of a drink.”

Sharing with the world

At the end of the evening I ask Margaret if she will publish the manuscript with the letters and her memories. “At the time I mainly wrote it down for my children and grandchildren. Would anyone else be waiting for my story?” she answers. "I think there are certainly enthusiasts to read your book. Maybe more than you think,” I tell her. “Moreover, you have a beautiful manuscript ready.” “Maybe I should find out if I still have the rights, or have to acquire, to quote from those letters,” she hesitates. “I never really worked on that.” We say goodbye and exchange e-mail addresses. I intend to email Margaret now and then to continue to encourage her to share her stories with the world.

[cssns]

Event Roundup Time!!!!

I am SOOOOOOO sorry y’all!!! I completely forgot to do an event roundup!!! Please forgive me!!! Fanmail from @killianjones4ever82 brought it to my attention and I’m so glad she did! We had an incredible summer and we need to have a post that can be easily accessed with all the fabulous fics and gorgeous artwork that dropped for the event! So without further ado, here we go!!!!

Under the cut, because this is gonna be a LOOOOOOONG post!!!

Here is a link to the entire collection of fics on ao3.

@welllpthisishappening opened us up this year with her first fic for the event, All the Subliminal Things. Rated T with four chapters. COMPLETE. Artwork by @resident-of-storybrooke.

Emma Swan does not believe in soulmates.

Or so she says. Because if her soulmate did, actually, exist, he should have shown up by now. So, she must be a fluke, a broken cog in a system that really doesn't make much sense anyway. It is, she figures, why she agrees to meet David's friend before Regina and Robin's wedding. This guy doesn't believe in soulmates either.

She's intrigued.

Until she hears him talk. And everything flips after that.

At the end of June, Laura posted All Was Golden In the Sky. Rated M and we have five chapters left. Artwork by @resident-of-storybrooke, extra artwork by @distant-rose and @optomisticgirl can be found on Laura’s chapter blog posts.

Magic is dying.

Emma knows it. She can feel it, the emptiness rattling around in her, like it’s trying to make sure she disappears as well. What she doesn’t know is what to do about it, because, suddenly, there is a man in Storybrooke claiming she’s the Savior and a seeress certain a prophecy promises the same and the last thing she expects is for her minimal amount of lingering power to pull her away.

To New York City.

And another oddly familiar man with blue eyes and a smile that sinks under her skin and makes magic bloom in the air around her. Things are about to get interesting.

@darkcolinodonorgasm posted One Day, a LadyHawke AU with artwork by @sherlockianwhovian. Rated T and we are two chapters in. 

By day, Emma is the beautiful swan gliding over the waters of Misthaven's pond, but when night falls, the voice of the wolf the people living in the little town hear is Killian's cry. The curse was meant to be forever, to keep them always together yet eternally apart. No force in Heaven would be able to break such spell, nor any force on Earth. Or so Emma and Killian thought.

Towards the end of June Sara posted Hidden Paths Between the Moon and Sun, the sequel to her Hades and Persephone AU, Until the Stars Are All Alight. Artwork by @sherlockianwhovian. Rated M with one of six chapters so far.

The King of the Underworld has never taken a vacation before, not a proper one and not one that lasted more than a few months. Now that his firstborn is capable enough to take the throne ad interim, Killian can finally show his beloved Queen the world, giving her the honeymoon they never had the chance to have. But the King’s plan doesn’t stop quite there.

@allons-y-to-hogwarts-713 posted original art Killian Falls for Siren Emma

Come all you pretty fair maids, whoever you may be

Who love a jolly sailor bold that ploughs the raging sea,

My heart is pierced by Cupid, I disdain all glittering gold, There is nothing can console me but my jolly sailor bold.

and Paranormal Photographers/Reporters.

When you hear the knell of a requiem bell Weird glows gleam where spirits dwell Restless bones etherealize Rise as spooks of every size

@donteattheappleshook posted Just Human Vol2, the sequel to her submission last year, Just, Human. Artwork by 1 2 by @djlbg. Rated M with five chapters. COMPLETE.

A continuation of last years CSSNS story Just Human. Now that Killian is a ghost and Mary Margaret knows everything, what does life have in store for a group of supernatural misfits? With the threat of Gold gone, Emma learns that sometimes just being human is the most complicated challenge of all.

@thislassishooked posted Wake Me Up Inside. Rated M with three chapters so far. Artwork by @tennant-the-tigger.

Killian Jones has lived longer than any man has a right to live. Most would argue that what he was doing was not living, but merely existing. The day he lost the love of his life was the day he lost the will to live, but instead of ending his life he inadvertently became the strongest being on earth and unfortunately indestructible. His mortal enemy followed him into immortality and craves the power only Killian possesses. With his brother by his side and the help of a quirky, blonde hematologist, who makes him question whether he is ready for death after all, he will fight against evil, but more importantly, for the cure.

@let-it-raines posted Not Your (Soul)Mate. Rated M with sixteen chapters. COMPLETE. Artwork 1 2 3 4 5 6 by @captainsjedi. 

Killian Jones doesn’t like the idea of soulmates. He sees how happy his friends are with theirs, but he still doesn’t like the idea, not when he’s found love and lost it time and time again only to still not know his sign. He has no markings on his skin, no voices in his head, but then one day he meets Emma Swan and everything changes. Because, well, he may not have ink on his skin to tell him who to love, but the very first time that he hears Emma’s voice he knows that she’s the one for him. Then again, that could simply be his desire talking. After all, for every word she speaks, he becomes aroused.

It’s not the worst thing in the world to be incredibly attracted to a beautiful woman, but things aren’t that simple when she doesn’t have any interest in being his soulmate.

He’s screwed. And not in the good way.

@shireness-says posted A Drowning Soul Will Clutch at Any Straw. Rated T one shot. Artwork by @hollyethecurious.

Though this is far from Killian Jones' first encounter with a mermaid, he's never met any quite like this blonde siren. Together, can they break a cruel curse?

@snowbellewells posted her first fic for the event, Face to Face in the Broad Daylight, her sequel to last years Run to Me (In the Dead of Night) in early July. Rated T with five chapters so far. Artwork by @branlovestowrite.

Here we have a sequel to my werewolf, alternate season two and beyond fic from last year’s CSSNS. You probably want to read that story "Run to Me (in the Dead of Night)" first, or it might be a bit confusing in places. This second story in the same universe partially exists just because I wanted to revisit these couples and enjoy a bit more of their fluffy happily ever afters. However, we may also see them get into some new surprises and challenges, and of course we need to see if Rumplestiltskin is still under control or back to his usual scheming and plotting. I hope you will enjoy. 

Marta also posted at the end of July A Story Told at Last. Rated T with three chapters. COMPLETE. Artwork by @branlovestowrite.

Historical Literature Professor Henry Mills has the chance of a lifetime before him. He might finally uncover the truth of a folktale that has intrigued him for years. But, when the whole story comes to light, will he be able to accept the story that needs to be told?

@thejollyroger-writer posted her first fic of three for the event, Love After Death: The Afterlife Hotel. Rated T one shot with artwork by @captainsjedi. 

Emma Swan has spent sixty years in the afterlife believing she was never going to meet her real soulmate, after believing in the wrong name tattooed on her wrist. But when she keeps seeing the same new guest of the Afterlife Hotel around, might she be able to learn how to love again?

Megan’s second fic for the event was What Happened in Berkshire. Rated G with two of three chapters posted. Artwork by @captainsjedi.

When Emma’s boyfriend leaves her for the woman he’s been cheating with, she accepts an offer from her hospital to move to England. While she is out celebrating her thirtieth birthday with her friends before they head back to America, she drunkenly kisses the statue of Captain Hook in front of Eton College, and he comes to life. Together, he and Emma try to figure out what this curse means for them by searching for the witch that cursed him in the first place — are they really True Love, as he wants to believe they are, or did Emma’s magic go awry?

Megan’s third fic for the event was Falling Paws Over Heels. Rated T one shot. Artwork by @captainsjedi.

Captain Killian Jones -- the notorious Captain Hook -- has heard all kinds of stories during his travels around all of the realms. But the story that has always interested him the most is that of the enchanting sorceress of Storybrooke, a small town in the Enchanted Forest's Misthaven, the sorceress who takes men to her bed, but will only give her heart to the man who befriends her cat. Will Killian be the one who finally has what it takes?

@gingerchangeling posted Luck of the Irish. Rated M with one chapter of seven so far. Artwork by @resident-of-storybrooke.

Emma needs parent volunteer hours. So she offers to chaperon Henry's upcoming field trip to the museum. Its just a pack of prepubescent angst ridden children, an exhibit about dead people, and a rock used in blood sacrifices with a curse carved into it. What's the worst that could happen?

@jarienn972 posted A Simple Spell. Rated T with six chapters so far. Artwork by @cocohook38. 

This story is my entry into the 2019 Captain Swan Supernatural Summer event and is my first venture into AU territory. Storybrooke remains our setting but I've switched up some of the characters and familial relations to better suit this tale of prodigal witch Emma who returns to her birthplace to learn lots of secrets about herself and cast a spell that could change everything.

@profdanglaisstuff posted The Very Witching Time. Rated M with six chapters. COMPLETE. Artwork by @gingerchangeling. Extra artwork by @mariakov81 can be found on Saira’s chapter posts on her blog.

Emma Swan is a hereditary witch, last in a long line of wise women who for centuries have guarded the coast of Maine and the small village of Storybrooke with their homemade cures and their ancient magic. She holds the delicate balance between magic and mundane, but now that balance is threatened by a new foe, one capable of bringing an end to everything Emma is and everything she loves. To defeat it she will need all her power, help from her friends and neighbours, and the loyalty of a very unusual dog who answers to the name of Killian.

@searchingwardrobes gave us the first of two fics for the event, An Education in Southern Gothic. Rated T with two chapters. COMPLETE. Artwork by @hollyethecurious.

Fact: there’s a graveyard between the football field and the science building. Debatable: a ghost haunts the halls of Misthaven Hills High. Emma Swan is about to get an education. Killian Jones is about to get a whole lot more.

Melanie’s second fic was titled Until the Day Breaks and the Shadows Flee. Rated M with eight chapters. COMPLETE. Artwork by @hollyethecurious.

Every night, she traces the contours of his body as Killian whispers words of love against her skin. But can Princess Emma ever be fully happy with a husband who only comes to her in utter darkness? A Captain Swan AU of the Roman myth of Cupid and Psyche.

@spartanguard posted Sick of Love. Rated M with three chapters. COMPLETE. Artwork by @sherlockianwhovian.

If Emma’s not careful, she just might bump into her soulmate. Physically. And while she might like the idea of what comes with that—an almost psychic connection whenever they make skin contact—she’d rather not deal with the awful withdrawal sickness that can come when they inevitably leave her; she’s got a son, so she doesn’t have time for that. So she keeps herself covered and thinks she’ll be okay. Until she meets Killian, who does the same thing. Will their barriers protect them, or just hurt them more?

@snidgetsafan posted Whom the Gods Love Die Young. Rated G (for the moment) with one chapter so far. Artwork by @tennant-the-tigger.

The bride bit into the shiny red apple as everyone cheered around her, the wedding ceremony ending with this ritual gesture. The clapping and hurrahs soon turned to screams of horror as Snow dropped the apple, choking and clutching her throat as she fell in her groom’s arms, a last I love you leaving her lips before she died, David’s screams the loudest of all.

David and Emma travel to the Underworld to claim back Snow after her untimely death. In order to do so, they're going to have to face the dark and mysterious God of the Underworld and complete his challenges.

Seems simple enough until you add magic, divine quarrels, and the worst thing of all: feelings.

@eastwesthomeisbest posted original artwork, The Love of the Samodiva Pts1 and 2.

In Bulgarian folklore Samodiva is an ethereal female wood nymph. She is unearthly beautiful and eternally young. Her hair is blond and long, her waist is thin and petite, her eyes can bewitch and dazzle or even kill. Any man who lays eyes on her instantly falls in love. Samodivas’ attire consists of long white gowns and shirts and a rainbow-coloured or green belt. They have a white mantel, also called a shadow, in which their power lies. They like to ride deer, using twisted snakes for reins and often carry with them bows and arrows.

If a huntsman accidentally kills a samodiva’s deer, she will make him blind or give him a disease which will inevitably lead to his death.

The wood nymphs live in dark forests, in big old trees, caves or forgotten huts which are near water sources, wells or rivers.

Samodivas can be spotted from spring to autumn. In winter they live in the mythical village Zmeykovo, which is located at the edge of the world and is a home to many mythical creatures. When they are on earth they are active at night and disappear immediately when the sun comes out, because they fear it.

At twilight, the samodivas go to fresh water sources, strip naked, wash themselves and their clothes which they lay out to dry in the moonlight. They keep a watchful eye on their drying clothes, because if a man steals their mantle, where their power lies, they turn into normal women and have to obey the man. After washing themselves and their clothes, the samodivas gather around and start singing and dancing. It is known that the samodiva’s songs are the most beautiful and their dances are the most graceful. If a late traveller sees the samodivas’ dance, he is enticed to join them and dances with them from midnight to dawn. When the sun’s rays appear, the nymphs disappear in haste and leave the traveller to die from exhaustion. The samodivas love music and often kidnap shepherds, so that they can play kaval (shepherd’s pipe) for them while they dance.

Samodivas are not always harmful. Sometimes they appear like normal working women and help with the harvest. They would especially help women with children. If a man does something good for a samodiva, she becomes his patron or a sworn sister. Sometimes, a samodiva can fall in love with a human and bear him children, who grow up to be great heroes.

Samodivas are forest creatures and therefore knowledgeable about herbs and cures. However, they never share their secrets willingly. The only way to obtain their knowledge is to eavesdrop on one of their gatherings.

@courtorderedcake posted two fics for this years event. Hallow rated E with eight chapters so far with accompanying artwork 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11.

"The Goblin King was prepared to host the Darkness, stealing Fae women away to their corrupted lands underneath the ground as concubines. The Darkness chose another in his stead, but not before this selected vessel enacted a devastating attack in its vengeance, revealing its hatred & rage. The battle was a lesson the old kings had forgotten; never underestimate an opponent. Many more lives were lost as they razed over any who dared defy The Goblin King's will. Only the pure love of our rulers united in matrimony, breaking the Vorpal Dagger, sealed the darkness and the Goblin menace away. The light flourished under their fair rule, and the queen bore a child as pure as moon beams, swan feathers, and starlight. They lived happily ever after, and shall be written in history as Heroes for All Time."

This is the history Princess Emma memorizes from the day she is born, paraded about and presented only with the highest protection. The palace is a cage she wishes to escape, desperately. Not careful what wishes she made, Emma discovers history is written by the victors - The Dark One has an entirely different version of the events that took place.

Roses, rated E with two of four chapters so far. Artwork by @eastwesthomeisbest.

A CS retelling of Tam Lin, the classic fairytale. Liberties taken. Magic and Fae BS in play.

@pirateherokillian posted Wanderer Redeemed. Rated T with just the prologue so far. Artwork coming soon from @tennant-the-tigger.

Emma, Goddess of Hope and Happy endings, finds herself in need and her only real chance of ever getting what she desires comes in the form of Killian Jones, a shunned outcast of their kind. A Modern-Day Gods Captain Swan AU written for CSSNS.

@ilovemesomekillianjones posted The Soldier, the Witch, and the Dragon. Rated M one shot with artwork 1 2 by @spartanguard.

When soldier Killian Jones shows up on witch Emma Swan's doorstep, two worlds will collide. He will learn of worlds and wonders he never imagined possible and she will learn that true love might just be in the cards for her. Witches, Dragons and Magic, Oh My! A CS story for the 2019 Captain Swan Supernatural Summer event.

@whimsicallyenchantedrose posted Until the Stars Are All Alight. Rated T with two chapters of twenty so far. Artwork by @clockadile.

CS LOTR au: When Emma Swan steals a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, she has no idea it will lead her toward an adventure filled with danger and intrigue, sacrifice and a love stronger than anything she could imagine. Tasked with bringing the Savior home, the elf, Killian Jones of Misthaven travels to the Land Without Magic. Can he convince Emma to fulfill her destiny before the Dark One regains power and takes over all of the Enchanted Forest?

And last but certainly not least, @teamhook posted Rionnag Dorcha Gorm (Dark Blue Star). Unrated with two chapters so far. Artwork by @hollyethecurious

It is said that evil is not born but made. This is how an act of kindness is twisted into a story about revenge. Emma and Killian are childhood friends until a tragedy separates them will another reunite them.

I’ve read all of these fics and they are all absolutely FANTASTIC!!! It’s been so much fun reading all these wonderful fics and staring at the gorgeous art that went with them!! Be sure to let them know how much you’re enjoying their hard work! The WIP’s will continue updating until they are finished and I will be back at the end of the month with everything that has updated in September! Until then folks!

[momo-de-avis]

Do you have any recommendations of female artists (sculptors and painters)? (I went to a museum and now im salty lmao)

Off the top of my mind, I might remember someone else some time soon:

Sonia Delaunay. My girl LIVED and BREATHED art. She was the type to literally, and I mean wholly, surround herself with art to the point of living inside art. She sewed, made costumes for the theater, she made puppets, dolls, quilts, even furniture. She was an incredible, outstanding painter. She is at the centre of Orphism more so than Robert, her husband, who was more of a cubism guy. Now, from what I gather, a lot of what people say about Sonia in other countries is coupled with her husband, as if you can't talk about her without mentioning him. To a degree, that's correct because the two had a really secure partnership. They were both creators, and they pushed each other. It was incredibly inspiring tbh. But Sonia has her own merit, and in Portugal she is actually way more relevant than Robert bc of the influence she had on our modernist circle.

Lee Krasner. If only people sort of forgot she was Pollock's wife. Her method of creating is fascinating to me cause this girl just destroyed her past work completely, but instead of throwing it in the trash, she reused it to create new works. Art historians in the post modernist era weren't too kind to her, but she's being avenged. She's methodical and clearly puts so much thought into her composition her creative process is fascinating.

Julia Margaret Cameron. This woman is one of my favourite artists in the world. Cameron began taking photographs at 42 years old after she moved to the isle of Wight in England. She was gifted a camera by her daughter who just wanted her mother to be a bit less bored, and Cameron went on to create over 3000 astonishing photographs that are at the core of the pictorialist movement. She was also INCREDIBLY well acquainted of her society. I mean, literally every famous victorian person you can think of, she met them. The majority of famous photographs you can think of? She took them. She was very honest about her work too. Its really endearing because Cameron was so concerned about her own honesty in capturing beauty she didn't give a fuck about the actual mechanics, which resulted in a lot of photographers at the time labelling her "an amateur". She also refused to photograph high society folk that weren't her friends, and mostly photographed her maids. It must be said that Alfred Lord Tennyson absolutely DESPISED every single illustration made for his Idylls of the King, so much artists knew they were in for hell if they were commissioned the book's illustrations. Cameron was the only person Tennyson personally asked to illustrated, and he absolutely adored her work.

Hannah Hoch. I love Dada so it couldn't miss. Hannah Hoch was married to uhhhhh... Huesekbeck I think? I keep forgetting. Either way, she was part of the Berlin Dada group, and they gave her hell for being a woman. Yes, it's nothing short of that: they didn't want her to belong because she was a woman. Especially her husband, who she supported throughout his life and then he died and she was like "lmao maybe you should have made good art, my bitch". Hannah Hoch mostly makes collages, and it's incredible. Its a very poignant work about being a woman in post-Weimar Germany and the societal issues Germany faced after World War I.

Claude Cahun. There's a post I made about her going around so I wont prolong myself but essentially, though she used female pronouns throughout her life, she identified herself as androgynous and created an INCREDIBLE set of photographs. She was a surrealist who became the inspiration for Davie Bowie and Andre Breton lauded this woman breathless. She was also arrested for taking part in the resistance against the Nazis and lived her whole life with another woman who was her partner. Her work focuses tremendously on issues of gender and our perception of our own bodies.

Camille Claudel. Infamously, she is known as Rodin's lover. Camille's story is a very tragic one. She was a tremendously talented sculptor who accumulated patrons throughout her life, and though she had an a rough affair with Rodin (and he was a bit of a dick), he did praise her work and tried very hard to preserve her artwork. The issue was Camille's family, who scorned her and shamed her for being an artist and her life choices, and destroyed a lot of her art after sticking her in a mental institution where she died at like, 70. But Camille's work is... Well, it's beautiful. Its the kind of work you can see that conflict between being a woman in her society while desperate to liberate herself. Though she incorporates Rodin's language, she has her own mark, her own hand, and her own language.

Janet Sobel. She is actually the first person to coin, use and employ the technique of dripping. You know, the one Pollock gets all the praise for? Essentially, Janet Sobel was a grandmother by the time she picked up a paintbrush. She was also a ukranian emigrant with little to no english, and she engaged in art at her son's insistence. When her son Sol Sobel brought his mom's artwork to the major New York circles (she lived in New Jersey), she immediately caught the eye of Peggy Guggenheim, who put together a collective exhibition about female abstract expressionist painters. That exhibition was in 1946. Pollock was there, he msde a remark wbout Sobel's work, and in 1947 you have the first Pollock dripping painting. Do with that information what you will (and also, check for photos of how Sobel painted, it's so adorable and it just explains SO MUCH MORE THE CONCEPT OF ACTION PAINTING THAN POLLOCK). Eventualyl, Sobel stopped painting and disappeared, and there are several factors as to why we forgot her: Pollock was the CIA's bad boy, so yeah; she spoke little english (she befriended Marc Chagall and Mark Rothko bc they both spoke russian and they claimed that being with Sobel felt like being back home) and she developed an allergy to oil painting.

Maria Helena Vieira da Silva. We're moving to the french circle here, and yes she is portuguese but she belongs to the french post modernist circle. She's an abstract painter who draws a lot from cityscapes, and I think it's worth taking a look at her work.

Niki de Saint Phalle. Now Niki is incredible. She's mostly known for her Nanas, which are immense outdoors sculptures of women with thick bodies, defying the notion of slenderness imposed by fashion magazines that prevailed in the 50s. She also engages with her own trauma of sexual abuse and explores the notion of sexuality a lot, as well as women's bodies outside the realm of sexuality. At a given point, she collaborated with Jean Tingely a lot so she made a series of kinetic sculptures too.

Martha Rosler. I know you said painting and sculpture and I've already talked about collage lmao but Martha Rosler belongs to the first wave of feminist art and those mostly concern video art, though Rosler is very well known for her collages Bringing the War Home in which she literally brings the Vietnam war home. It's worth looking at her work.

Ana Mendieta. Another tragic story. Ana Mendieta was incredibly worried about the notion of the female body as perceived outside the realm of something sexual and nature. She works a lot with perishable material, works of art that are organic, that is, that will disappear with time. One of her most well known methods is leaving an imprint of her own body on natural surfaces, like a beach, or a field of grass, and then photographing it. Ironically, that was exactly how she died: she fell off I believe it was a 10th floor and onto the hood if a car. There is still speculation about it and everything points towards there having been a fight between her and her partner at the time, Carl Andre, who neighbours believe pushed her out the window. Carl Andre never saw justice and Ana Mendieta died at like 25 years old and at the prime of her career.

Kara Walker. She's a pretty young artist who's creating artworks as we speak and she confronts the notion of blackness with US history so blatantly it becomes monumental. She also makes large scale works to defy this message. If you ask me, she's one of the best artists living today.

Hilma af Klimt. She was a Swedish abstractionist and surrealist who was really focused on the occult, and made monumental paintings that engaged with things like the human psyche.

Lizzie Siddal. Now, Lizzie is better known as the Pre-Raphaelite muse, immortalised in Millais' famous Ophelia, but she was an artist of her own. And not just any artist. John Ruskin tutored her and praised her. In fact, he considered her biggest flaw being her love affair with Rossetti lmao she is very naive and honest about her work, and I would also recommend taking a look at her poetry.

Eleonor Fortescue-Brickdale. I know very little about her, but she was a post pre-raphaelite illustrator who, and this is just me, follows the trend of Julia Margaret Cameron. Her paintings are beautiful and seriously, look at both their work and try to see the similarities hah

Helen Frankenthaler and Joan Mitchell, two abstract expressionists who developed their own mode of painting and who border the Colour Field Painting (think Rothko).

Tamara de Lempicka. She's the glamour gal. She makes paintings about the glamorous life of high society and is very interesting because she depicts female nudes in a very intimate way. If I am not mistaken, Tamara de Lempicka had relationships with women, so that tells you a lot. She's very cubist in technique, more so than style.

Faith Ringgold. Oh my God, Faith Ringgold is fantastic. She is a black american woman who paints about the experience of being a black woman, but not just paint. She's best known for her Tar Beaches series, which as quilts she stitches while telling the story of a little girl who dreams about a world while spending time on her tar beach, which is the rooftops of the buildings in Harlem. Please do check her work, she is fantastic.

I'll leave well known names out because they are easy to search like Frida Kahlo, Artemisa Gentilleschi, Josefa d'Obidos, Sofonisba Anguissola (these three are located in the late renaissance period, so there's a lot of portraits, religious themes and still life), Mary Cassat, Berthe Morisot (both impressionists who focus on private female themes), Rosa Bonheur (naturalist who makes landscapes mostly), Evelyn de Morgan (post pre-raphaelite). Also check Zinaida Serebriakova, Georgia O'Keeffe, Lavinia Fontana, Louise Bourgeois, Angelika Kauffmann, Elisabetta Sirani, Romaine Brooks, Sophie Tauber-Arp, Varvara Stepanova, Paula Rego, Bridget Riley, Leonora Carrington, Vigée le Brun, Yayoi Kusama, Francesca Woodman. Etc. These are like .. top of my head with a quick google search to make sure I wrote the names right haha

[thejacketandthehook]

Before Dawn 7/?

Title: Before Dawn

Author: thejacketandthehook (aka everystareverywhere)

Summary:  Emma Swan and Killian Jones only had one thing in common: Emma’s best friend and Killian’s brother were dating. But Emma and Killian could not get along. That was, until the day they had to work together through a tragedy that no one saw coming.

Rating: General (but that will change to Mature in later chapters)

Word Count: 27,009

Disclaimers: I own absolutely nothing.

Author’s Notes:  So, I’ve been in the mist of writing this particular story for almost two years. And I’m hoping that if I have support, I’ll be more motivated to finish it. So my story is based off of the movie “Life As We Know It” starring Katherine Heigl and Josh Duhamel. 

You can also read it here: A03

@searchingwardrobes

"We can do this," Emma murmured

"Absolutely," Killian replied.

"We are two very well educated adults. Well, sorta well educated. I mean, I didn't -" Noting that she was getting off topic, Emma cleared her throat and tried again. "We're smart individuals. We have faced more in our lives than others. We can do this."

"I have complete faith in us."

They both looked down at the laughing Henry, who was giggling and wigging his legs at his guardians.

"He shite all over himself, didn't he?" Killian whispered.

"I don't want to look," Emma groaned before backing away from the changing table.

Killian gently took her by the shoulders and moved her closer. "Together."

"It's going to be bad," she warned.

He nodded in agreement. "Yes, but we'll get through it."

They both took a step towards Henry, who unfortunately let out some gas, making both of them back away once more, only this time they were covering their noses.

"Bloody hell, mate! What did you eat?!" Killian's voice was muffled, due to his hand.

"Killian, we have to clean him."

"I know, I know. I just...Good Lord, mate!"

Emma took a deep breath through her mouth, and still she could smell Henry. Oh, this was not going to be pretty. "Okay. Okay, this is what we are going to do. We're gonna --"

"Do we have gloves?"

Emma raised her eyebrow. "Gloves?"

"You know, the gloves that doctor's wear."

"Oh, those gloves. Yeah. In the bathroom."

"And a mask?"

"I doubt it."

"Okay, gloves. I'll get the gloves." And then Killian all but bolted out of Henry's nursery.

Emma shook her head but looked down at the smiling boy in front of her. "Well, at least you think this is funny," she muttered, giving a small smile thanks to his giant grin.

Then Emma noticed something, and gently lifted Henry's foot.

"Killian!" she almost screamed as she picked up Henry by his underarms.

"What?!" he yelled, seconds away from panicking.

"Turn on the water for the bath! Now!"

She ran out of the bedroom and hoped to God Henry wasn't dripping onto the floor.

~*~

Before....everything, Emma lived a fairly simple life. She had her work, she had a small but useable apartment, and she had Elsa and Henry. And Walsh. And she was content. She really was.

Emma met Walsh through Elsa. It was when she was pregnant with Henry that she began looking for furniture. Refusing to even think about going to retail store, she insisted on going to a small (and somewhat expensive) furniture shop just off of Main Street. While Elsa was glancing at the furniture, Emma was too busy having an almost heart attack over the prices of the furniture. And when the owner of the shop, Walsh Green, came over, she insisted he talk about why they had to pay so much more for the furniture than anywhere else.

Walsh made a sounding argument, that even Emma was nodding along at the end. She still thought it was expensive, but it was her nephew that she was thinking about, so Emma and Elsa (along with Liam, of course), picked out which furniture they wanted for the child's first bedroom.

Emma had noticed that Walsh was checking her out, but Emma and relationships....well, she wasn't good at them. A one-night stand? That she could do. But to get into a relationship with boyfriends and girlfriends and dates and flowers and romance...

Emma would rather run to the hills.

She was burned before by relationships, she wasn't going through that mistake again.

Walsh was different though. They didn't start dating right away. In fact, she didn't see him again until after Henry was born. She went back to the store looking for a night table and once more he was there. And he was nice. And considerate. And extremely patient.

She liked Walsh. A lot. She really did. If she had to write down everything she wanted in a man, Walsh would be it.

But after everything that has happened over the course of the last five months, being in a relationship kind of took a backseat. She needed to focus on Henry, that was her priority. And then days turned into weeks which turned in months, and she realized that Walsh wasn't just in the backseat. He was out of the car completely.

And the worst part? She was kind of glad for it.

She felt incredibly guilty for it, but Walsh just made everything that was happening with Henry and....just everything more complicated.

The part that made her cringe the most was the fact that she didn't even really notice that anything was amiss, but rather Killian did. It was while they were cleaning up their supper (salmon with a lemon dressing and roasted vegetables that even had Emma sighing with pleasure) that Killian asked:

"How's Walsh doing?"

Emma was scrubbing at the baking pan (he swore than he used a cooking spray, and she was pretty sure he forgot) when she stopped. She honest to God had no idea.

"Um, he's...he's good."

"Haven't seen much of him lately."

"Right, well, he's busy. And I'm busy. We're both busy, so..."

"Right." He nodded, lightly twisting the towel in his hands. "Right. It's just, you haven't seen him on any of your days off."

She continued scrubbing, but raised one eyebrow. "You stalking me?"

"No. No! No, of course not. I just---I notice...things."

She shook her head before they heard a thud in the living room. Killian instantly dropped the towel on the counter and ran over, Emma picking up the towel to dry her hands, following him.

"He's fine," Killian commented once he assess what happened. "He dropped that toy I gave him for his birthday."

"It made a loud thud."

"He dropped it outside the playpen."

"Ah," she commented before walking back towards the sink. She handed the towel back to Killian before rolling up her sleeves once more.  Once she ready, she continued. "I, um, I talk to Walsh. Every few days or so." Though, honestly it was bordering on like a week now.

"Oh, okay. Glad to hear that's still...going."

"Yeah. Yeah." They were quiet for a moment before Emma blurted out, "I was pretty sure that Walsh was going to propose the night that..." She gestured to the living room where Henry was. Killian nodded in understanding.

Emma handed him the baking pan, and he's scrubbed it dry like he'll be marked if it's not dry enough. Looking down, Killian asked, "And what were you going to say? If he did ask, I mean."

She gives a nonchalant shrug as she washed the glass Killian used. "I was--am, I am in love with him. I would have said yes." Emma looks down to see the towel now lying on his feet. "Killian, what's going on? You keep dropping stuff, and I thought we had discussed that I'm the klutz in this house."

"Butterfingers tonight, love, nothing more." He took the glass she was holding and promptly started to dry it. "And now? If he asked now?"

"I don't know. Everything's complicated now. Now it's not just me I have to think about, but Henry. And you. You've become an intricate part of my life. I mean, we share custody of Henry, and that's huge."

He nodded, putting the glass in the cupboard. "And how does Walsh feel about Henry?"

"Henry he loves. He's has no problem with Henry." Emma refused to look at Killian.

And he knew why. "It's me, isn't it? I'm the one causing the problems?"

Emma dropped the sponge in the soapy water. "No!" Killian cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. She looked back down at the sink and bit her lip. "Small problem. Minute, really."

"Emma--"

"Walsh has to work through it, Killian. We spoke about it." He spoke. Emma tried to listen, but he just calling up the same argument: "I don't understand why you two have to live in that house together! Why can't you go back to the apartments you had and just have shared custody or something?

She knew where he was coming from. She did. But she tried to explain that it was for Henry's sake, but that just fell on deaf ears.  So she just....stopped talking to Walsh.

"When are you going to see him again?" Killian asked.

"Um, tomorrow. I think. I have to check."

Killian raised an eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing.

~*~

As soon as they were done, Emma ran upstairs to get her phone. She had a message from Mary Margaret (a photo of Leo that sort of look like he was smiling) and sent back a reply, before immediately looking for Walsh's name (and it was a little further down on the list than what was probably proper for someone's boyfriend) and shooting him a text to meet up soon.

His response wasn't encouraging:

Oh, remember me, did you?

Oh boy.

Of course I remember you, silly, she texted, though she couldn't believe how badly her hands were shaking. Shit, shit, shit, she kept thinking as she continued, Things have just been really busy here with Henry. He's walking without falling over all the time, so he's keeping me on my toes. And he's really close to talking. The doctor said any day now he could say his first proper word.

Silence.

What did she expect? She barely has messaged him, let alone seen him in a week. And then out of the blue she's like Hey, don't forget about me!

Shit.

Yeah, sounds like it, he wrote back. Think Kurt can spare you for a couple of hours tomorrow? Or will "Henry" suddenly be needing more of your time?

First of all, his name is Killian. Second of all, wtf is with the quotations around Henry's name? He's a little over a year, Walsh! He needs attention.

Can you come tomorrow?

She had a idea on how tomorrow was going to end, but she still typed, Yes.

~*~

"Oh, how cute! How old is he?"

Killian grinned at the woman who was currently bending over to look at Henry who was in his stroller, eating the cereal Emma packed for him. Killian needed to get his bottle out soon, because last time he forgot that Henry also needed to drink something, Emma almost had a fit.

The woman, who was pretty and young and currently showing more than she really needed to, especially since it was almost mid-October in Maine, held little interest for Killian. He was grinning because Henry had more cereal in his lap than in his mouth and for some reason that made him laugh.

"He's almost sixteen months."

"How precious! And the handsome father taking him out for the day!" The woman stood up, and she somehow still showed so much skin. For reasons he didn't quite understand, Killian got uncomfortable. "Your wife must be so pleased."

It was not unusual for women to flirt with him, especially when he had Henry with him. Actually, he's pretty sure more women have flirted with him while he's holding Henry than when he was just out on the town. And in the beginning, it was fun. He walked around with Henry, smirking at all the looks he got from the women who passed him on the streets. It was almost comical in a way. He still was a bachelor, that was true, even if he did have a kid.

And a woman at home.

Somewhere in the last couple of weeks, however, taking Henry to the park became less like a game and more like a drag. Emma noticed it too, how he stopped going to the park as often or stopped taking Henry out with him during his morning run. She made some kind of comment, something about why he didn't take Henry out as often as he once did. She didn't say it to be mean or snarky, but more like she was curious. He felt bad that Henry, who could now walk around and babble with little difficulty, was pretty much stuck in the house unless Emma took him out. So he grabbed Henry's bag and stroller, Emma made both of them up some snacks, and off to the park they went. Beside, Emma was out meeting with her...Walsh, so some fresh air was exactly what both Killian and Henry needed. And what was better than the crisp autumn air?

And he was enjoying himself, running after Henry, making sure he got down the slide safely, even patching up a small scrape. Now they were quietly enjoying their snacks when the woman came along and made Killian remember why he stopped coming in the first place.

The woman kind of reminded him of his ex-wife, with the long brown hair and small nose. But she lacked Emma's smile, her green eyes, and he now was realizing that perhaps he has a thing for blondes.

And the more the woman flirted with him, the more he realized he was utterly screwed.

So, when she asked about his wife, his mind screamed at him to tell her, "Nope. No wife. Just me and the little guy." Which wasn't exactly false, but wasn't the complete truth either. But something else, something he didn't want to look at took closely made him say, "Yeah, she enjoys some quiet while I take the little one out."

The woman made a face, almost like she knew he was going to say that before smiling once more, telling him he has a beautiful boy, before hightailing it out of there.

Killian turned the stroller around, so Henry faced him. The little one was picking up the cereal he had dropped and gave a small cough. Reaching in the back of the stroller, Killian took out the bottle filled with water that Emma had prepared and gave to Henry, who dropped what cereal he was holding and reached out for it. As he sucked happily, Killian watched with a small smile.

Then he remembered the woman and his lie and his smile faded.

He leaned closer to the boy before saying, "This isn't going to be good."

~*~

"Emma, I think we need to talk."

Taking a deep breath, Emma turned her body to face Walsh. They were at his apartment (he insisted), and since she had a feeling how this story would end, she didn't argue it.

"Yeah, I think so."

Walsh looked at her for a moment before saying, "Emma, this just isn't working."

She nodded. She knew it was coming.

What she didn't expect was what Walsh was going to say next.

"I mean, you suddenly having a kid was...Not something that I planned. But I understand your predicament, so I went along with it. And Henry is a great kid, but I know you have your hands full with him right now." He paused, and she was going to start talking, but he continued. "But Emma, this situation with Kevin is just...I don't like it. I don't like how he's with you all of the time."

"Not all of the time, Walsh. And his name is Killian."

"It's all the time, Emma. Did you know I saw you at the supermarket last week? You, Henry, and Kevin walking down the aisles together. And you just looked so...domesticated. If I didn't know any better, I would have thought you were a family."

Emma knew what he was referring to. It was their usual run to the supermarket, to pick up food for the week. Henry sat in the front basket, typically eating a piece of fruit that the store puts on display for children to munch on as their adults shop. At one point, Emma was insistent on getting Pop-Tart cereal (best thing invented, to be honest), and Killian was listing all the reasons why that would be a horrible idea, the amount of sugar number one on the list. And had this conversation have happened months ago, they would have gotten into a screaming match right there in the cereal aisle. But instead, they were both laughing, Emma almost mocking Killian for his reasons why they shouldn't buy it, as Killian tried to put the box of cereal into the cart without Emma noticing. Then Killian took a bit of the banana Henry was munching on, making him laugh.

"Walsh," Emma sighed.

Walsh stood up and began pacing. "I knew this was bad idea. I knew you two living together would become a disaster."

"It's not a disaster, Walsh."

He gave a humorless chuckle. "Maybe from where you're sitting. But from my perspective, this is a disaster. The woman I'm in love with is in love with another man!"

This man Emma stand up and put her hands out in front of her. "Whoa, whoa, whoa. I am not in love with Killian Jones! I will admit that I don't hate him as much as I used to, but I most certainly am not in love with him!"

Walsh, however, barely would even listen to her. "I know what I'm seeing, Emma. You're taking care of Henry, sure. But I also can see the writing on the wall. You may not be in love with him, but you most certainly have feelings for him."

"I respect him." When Walsh scoffed at that, Emma continued, "Walsh, our relationship doesn't include Killian."

For the first time that evening, Walsh raised his voice. "Like Hell it doesn't! Our relationship was fine until he came into the picture!"

Emma took defense. "No, our relationship was fine until Elsa and Liam....until I got custody of Henry!"

"When you first got custody, I still saw you. You had your breaks or days off or whatever, but I still spent time with you. But after our little vacation or whatever, you...you just disappeared. Suddenly I barely got a message from you. And I know that Henry is a baby and he takes up your time and whatever bullshit you want to pull out of your ass. But how much was it that Killian was right there, and --"

Emma held up one hand and closed her eyes. She was so angry in the moment, that if she didn't leave the room right that instant, she would either cry or smack him. And, honest to God, she wasn't sure which way she was going to go.

"Stop right there. I have been through Hell, Walsh, and have been for a very long time. Long before Killian, and way before you. Yes, Killian and I get along right now, but that's because we both lost someone very close to our hearts. We are grieving, and he's the only one who understands how I feel."

"Help me understand then!" Walsh argued.

"No. There is some grief that you just...you just can't explain it. And Killian..." She shook her head. "I'm sorry Walsh. I'm sorry I put you though this the last few months. But what I'm really sorry for is if I had the chance to change it....I probably wouldn't."

And with that, Emma picked up her bag and left his apartment for good.

~*~

When Emma finally arrived back to the house, Killian was sitting on the couch, a soccer game on the television, and Henry next to him. Henry had no idea what in the world was going on, but he raised his arms when Killian did and laughed when Killian gave him a hug in celebration.

When Killian noticed Emma in the room, his face immediately fell and he paused the game. "Mate, maybe you should go play," he said to Henry, picking him up and placing him on the ground. Henry tottered a bit before gaining his balance and walking over to him mat with toys on it.

Killian scooted over on the couch and patted gently. "What happened, Swan?"

Emma placed her bag on the floor next to the couch and all but collapsed next to him. "It's over."

"What's over?"

"My relationship with...with Walsh. It's over."

When he didn't say anything, Emma looked over at him. "Oh," was all he said. Then he cleared his throat and continued. "I'm....I'm sorry to hear that." He placed his hand over hers. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. She wasn't crying, no. He wondered if she was in shock.

"Yeah. I'm fine. I mean, it's sad, but..."

"Did he break it off, or...?"

"It was him."

Silence, and then Killian asked, "Was it because of Henry?"

She shook her head. "No."

Killian's eyebrows knitted together. "Then what...?"

She sat back and crossed her legs and arms. She put up her wall, and Killian knew that unless he wanted to go ten rounds with her, he wasn't going to get any more information out of her.

"I don't want to talk about it. It's done."

Killian respected her decision and sat back. They sat in silence and watched Henry as he played with his toys. Killian turned the game back on, but was barely paying attention to it, just watching Emma bit her lip from the corner of his eye.

Both adults focused when Henry got up from his mat and tottered over to Emma. He smiled up at her, and she ran her fingers through his hair. She froze when he said, "Ma-ma."

Emma's eyes grew and her jaw dropped. She looked over at Killian, who's mouth also popped open and both of them looked at Henry with amazement.

"Henry, did you just--?"

"Ma-ma. Ma-ma! Ma-ma!" he said again and again and again, leaning on Emma's legs and bouncing a little.

"You said your first word, Henry!" Emma shouted with glee as she quickly picked Henry up and spun him around, holding him tightly to her. Killian too got up and when she stopped spinning, he took Henry from her arms and gave him a hug as well.

"I'm so proud of you, my boy! Now try Kill-i-an."

"Oh, Killian, he's never going to get that," she scoffed as she rugged the baby's back. "He can't even fully say 'Emma.'"

"Fine," he huffed. Looking back at Henry, Killian tried again. "Come on, Henry. Say 'Killy.' 'Kill-e'"

"Ma-ma."

"We'll get there."

Emma took Henry from Killian and bounced him around, making the boy laugh. She noticed Henry's bag and stroller in the corner by the door and asked, "Oh, you went to the park?"

"For a little while, aye."

"So, how was it?"

Killian rubbed the back of his neck, and before he could say anything, she replied. "That bad, huh?"

"No, not bad. Just tiring."

"I'm sure getting flirted with left and right must be exhausting," she teased.

He cracked a small smile. "Why do you think that women flirt with me wherever I go with Henry?"

"Because you're a guy who's holding a baby and you don't have a wedding ring. Women eat that crap up," she said before she sat down with Henry on her lap.  

She was reaching over for one of his toys when he asked teasingly, "And what, you don't?"

She looked up at him and smiled. "Nope. You made me totally immune."

And just like that, Killian suddenly felt something, something deep in his chest. It was almost like getting shot with a thunderbolt, the electricity running through him. Suddenly it all made sense, why he wasn't interested in the women who flirted with him, why he suddenly had a desperate urge to get home every day after work, why he no longer wanted to spend his nights on the town but rather on the couch next to Emma.

It was because somewhere along the way, he actually had fallen in love with her .

And it was right then, right at that moment when she smiled at him, her green eyes dancing with mischief that he realized just how deeply he had already fallen down the rabbit hole.

"Excuse me," he muttered before practically running to the bathroom.

Slamming the door shut, he held tightly to the sink, taking deep breaths.

He, Killian Jones, was head over heels in love with Emma Swan.

Just what in hell was he going to do about it now?

[welllpthisishappening]

Idk if you're taking prompts, but if you ever feel compelled: the Blue Line cast reacting to Gritty.

Ok, ok, so you are either a genius or a mind-reader or possibly both because several months ago when Gritty was introduced to the world, I texted @optomisticgirl​ and I was like...I’m going to write about Gritty. And because she is lovely, she encouraged said writing. Only I am woefully bad at posting things in a timely fashion, so it’s just kind of languished in my docs. Until now! 

So here is approximately 6K worth of very tired new-mom Emma, supportive friends, a road trip in Philadelphia and this very specific goal. Also, if you guys have not encountered Gritty yet, let me introduce you:

LOOK AT HIS EYES! WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE. Also on Ao3 if that’s your jam.

“Ok, so, according to your list, we’ve only got the jerseys and the sticks left. Are they all game-worn though? That’s not...that’s not on the list.”Emma made a noise, not sure if it was an agreement or a disagreement or just the general sound of complete and utter exhaustion. She was having a difficult time keeping her head up. And her eyes open. Her eyes actually felt like they were falling down her face.

She was, at least, seventy-seven percent positive that wasn’t supposed to happen.

And, really, in the grand scheme of parenthood and the actual action of parenting in the middle of a season and a second-straight Cup defense, Emma knew a distinct lack of sleep was, more or less, part of the deal.

She also didn’t care.

Because her eyes seemed to have a distinct weight to them and Matt kept crying at regular twenty-minute intervals that appeared to be getting worse the longer they were stuck in Emma’s office. They were still stuck in Emma’s office.

“Em,” Mary Margaret muttered, voice quiet and cautious and that was probably because Emma hadn’t ever stopped making that noise.

She was just kind of grunting at this point.

She had no idea what to do to get her kid to stop crying. It had gotten worse since the game started.

“Are we losing?” Emma asked suddenly, and Mary Margaret’s eyes widened slightly. That was probably because they weren’t weighed down. Metaphorically, or whatever. Emma was far too tired to worry about the metaphors of it.

“No, no, I mean...not winning either, but I don’t think Arthur’s broken that many white boards. So, you know, grand scheme.”Emma made a different noise. She hoped it sounded more like a laugh than it felt. It kind of hurt, like it was lingering in the back of her throat or trying to scratch its way out and none of these things seemed particularly healthy.

“Grand scheme,” she echoed, eyes flitting towards the TV screen in the corner of her office.

They’d done road trips throughout the season – and none of them were particularly easy, but Emma was fairly certain she was still holding on to the majority of her sanity. She was at least confident her eyes weren’t actively trying to fall out of her face.

And she had help, a small army of people and in-laws who were more than happy to pick Matt up or bring Matt somewhere and Emma was fairly sure Merida was still reporting on her eating habits to Killian. It wasn’t easy, but it was ok, and Matt’s eyes seemed to actually light up every single time Killian came home which, in turn, did something incredibly specific to Emma’s entire soul.

This road trip, however, seemed intent on slowly, but surely killing her.

There were teething issues and sleeping issues and the kid seemed determined to to pull himself everywhere – knocking over everything in sight like some kind of six-month-old masquerading as Godzilla. He was still working on sitting up, but Emma had to admit even the attempt was impressive and Killian was convinced their son’s diction meant he was some kind of inevitable genius.

That genius kept him up and babbling for hours at a time.

Emma had no idea if the pile of jerseys behind her was game worn.

“If I fall asleep right here, right now, in front of you, is that going to super weird you out?” Emma asked, gaze flashing towards Mary Margaret. She shook her head.

“I’ve definitely seen you sleep in weirder places.”“Ah, yeah, that’s probably true.”

“That one time, senior year, when David had four finals in one day and you had that ridiculous...what was it...French?”Emma nodded. “French II. Because I needed a language requirement and they wouldn’t take my sports management electives instead.” “God, your dean was the worst.” “That’s an incredibly scathing insult, Reese’s.” “There are children present.” Emma’s laugh was weak at best and drifting dangerously close to depressing, eyelashes fluttering despite the sounds coming from her kid and the hockey game. “I think we’re starting to deal with some object permanence actually. He’s like...aware that I’m not going to disappear if I move away.” “He’s a genius, obviously.” “You and Killian should start some kind of campaign.” “Don’t actually suggest that around him,” Mary Margaret grinned, and she was already starting a new list. “He’d go on the record or shout it from center ice or something.” Emma hummed, not quite able to make any other noise when her heart was so busy doing whatever in her chest, but Mary Margaret was absolutely right and Killian would probably call Dorothy and get some kind of special edition of Sports Illustrated printed. And, honestly, she didn’t mean for the sigh to just fall out of her the way it did, but she’d apparently lost complete control of everything and she needed to find Kristoff.

He had to know about the jerseys.

“Hey, hey,” Mary Margaret said quickly, reaching out and tugging the pen Emma forgot she was holding out of her hand. “What’s going on with you? You know you look kind of pale.”“That’s not really the best way to start this.” “How much sleep would you say you’ve gotten on average in the last week?” “I don’t want to tell you that.” “Why?” Emma lifted her head, slowly and a little repentantly, which didn’t really make any sense because Mary Margaret was not her mother. She was the mother and she was, approximately, eighty-two percent positive she was messing it up.

Matt wouldn’t stop babbling and crying and Emma’s arms felt like they were going to fall off. It was because she kept having to pick him up. So he didn’t knock over merch for whatever Garden of Dreams event they were planning for.

She genuinely could not remember the name of the event.

“You could come back home with us,” Mary Margaret suggested. She’d never let go of Emma’s hand. “We’ve got that pop-up thing and--”“--David’s got to work tomorrow, Reese’s. You’ve got to work tomorrow. The kid wakes up, like, several times a night to scream at the moon or something.” “Did you just suggest your own kid was a werewolf?” “At this point I really don’t know.”

Mary Margaret scoffed and her smile felt a little placating, but Emma was so tired and so sure she was ruining everything that she almost didn’t care. She wanted to be placated. She wanted this road trip to be over.

She desperately wanted to find a children’s medicine that made sure her kid didn’t suffer in agony so he could, eventually, eat solid foods.

“You also have to work tomorrow,” Mary Margaret pointed out. “Just, you know...if we’re covering all our bases.”“You’re mixing up sports references.” “Playing a good shift? Does that even make sense?” Emma shrugged. “That question is way too in-depth for the amount of consistent sleep I’ve been getting. How important do you think it is to get to REM?”

“Incredibly.”“Yeah?” “Yeah,” Mary Margaret nodded. “So, uh, I’m going to say something, ok? And I want you to bite your actual tongue if you have to so you don’t interrupt me because I know you’re going to try and interrupt me.” “That’s actually kind of scathing, Reese’s.” “That’s an interruption.”

Emma mimed zipping her mouth shut, staring at Mary Margaret with something she hoped was as much sarcasm as one expression could contain, but she figured she kind of missed her mark when she had to lean back and move Matt in the swing they’d put him in once the game started.

He would have tried to walk into the TV otherwise, Emma was certain. Object permanence or something. And possibly how much he wanted to see his dad.

She absolutely hated road trips now.

“Alright,” Mary Margaret starts, nodding again like she’s psyching herself up for this particular brand of hope speech. “I know you were off after Matt was born and that was good and, you know, medically necessary, but have you considered...maybe using some of your personal days for stuff like this?”The silence in the room wasn’t really silent – Matt was still babbling and Emma could make out the dim sounds of the puck hitting the boards in Philadelphia and the commentary in the background. She blinked, licking her lips and she wasn’t exactly comfortable, one of her hands still twisted with Mary Margaret’s, while the other tried to move Matt in some kind of consistent rhythm. The babbling was quickly turning to something that sounded like the tell-tale sounds of a complete and utter meltdown.

Emma briefly considered joining him.

“Thoughts?” Mary Margaret asked.

Emma tilted her head. “That doesn’t count as an interruption?”“I actually expected the sarcasm completely, so I’m not even turned off by that at all.” “What are you then?” “Worried about you and your distinct lack of REM sleep. And whatever horrible, no good, very bad things your mind is making you think because of that lack of REM.” Eventually, Emma was sure, Mary Margaret would stop being so impossibly good at reading her or knowing her or, possibly, just sharing a few of the same brain wavelengths. She hoped not.

Because those wavelengths made sure Mary Margaret stayed in the office that night – not bothering to ask, just sitting on the ground and tugging Emma’s list out of her hand with a practiced familiarity that defied decades.

“You should take this show on the road,” Emma muttered, working a quiet laugh and knowing smile out of Mary Margaret. “I bet you could make millions.”“Who would you get to babysit all the time, then?” “You don’t have to do that.” Mary Margaret squeezed her hand. “I want to. A whole line of people want to. Several professional hockey players are beating down metaphorical doors to want to.” “I’m not sure that last sentence made much sense,” Emma laughed, and it was still a little shaky and questionably watery, vision swimming a bit in front of her, but she took a deep breath and that felt like a step in the right direction.

“And I’m not sure you’re qualified to discuss sentence structure.” Emma rolled her eyes. “Honestly though,” Mary Margaret continued. “You don’t have to be some kind of superhero. I know you could be and usually are because, well--”“--You going to get sappy on me, Reese’s?” “Yes, don’t interrupt. I know you were worried about all of this and it happened suddenly and without much planning, and that’s not really your game, but…” She took a deep breath, shoulders heaving with the force of it and Emma didn’t think she imagined the slightly glossy look to her eyes. “You are doing an incredible job, Emma,” Mary Margaret said, no hint of anything except absolute and complete honesty in her voice. “I don’t know how you’re doing it.” “Was that last part a compliment?” “Of the highest order. Because you’re doing it all. That’s kind of where I'm going with this. I know you’re worried. But the crying is normal and the lack of sleep is normal and you could probably call the pediatrician about the teething thing if it’s freaking you out.” Emma let out a breath she didn’t realize she was hoarding, only slightly stunned by the mind reading going on in her office. Matt threw something. The game on TV got louder.

“I just…” Emma muttered, twisting her lips when the words got caught in the back of her throat. With the emotion. There was too much emotion. She was a mess.

“I know you do,” Mary Margaret promised. At some point she’d laced her fingers through Emma’s, thumb tapping just above the relatively-new laces sitting on her left wrist again. “Everyone does. And you are. The crying jags aside, that is the happiest and most loved kid in the entire National Hockey League.”“That’s definitely the marker we were going for.” Mary Margaret scoffed, shifting closer to Emma so she could wipe away a tear she hadn’t noticed either. “Don’t lie to my face like that, it’s not cool.”

Emma nodded, tugging her lips behind her teeth and trying to remember what any semblance of confidence looked like. Matt quieted for a moment, the sounds turning a bit closer to whimpers and that was, somehow, even worse. It made Emma’s body tense and her spine seemed to audibly snap back into place when she jerked around, eyebrows pulled low as her lungs desperately tried to get oxygen back to her brain.

“I know we’re not really doing that whole pronunciation thing yet, kid,” Emma said, pulling out of Mary Margaret’s and tugging Matt against her chest before she could remember all the reasons the websites told her she shouldn't. “But it’d be really great if we could fine tune what, exactly, has got you freaking out so much. Dad’s going to be home tonight.”

It didn’t work.

The sounds were still there – sinking into Emma’s skin and that same soul that never quite knew what to do with the idea that this was her life. She bobbed on her feet, rocking back and forth and trying to find a comfortable way to hold Matt and work her phone out of her back pocket at the same time.

That didn’t work either.

She was going to scream.

Or cry.

Or fall on the floor and sleep for several days.

Matt squirmed against her, tiny hands gripping her shirt and for a kid who seemed particularly interested with the National Hockey League he had a pretty good right kick, a move he appeared intent on perfecting by landing it in Emma’s liver.

“What if we just walked to Philadelphia?” she asked, directing the question more to Mary Margaret than Matt.

Mary Margaret smiled. “I don’t know if that entirely efficient. They’re already at the second intermission anyway and--”She didn’t finish the sentence, footsteps coming down the hall and a noise that might have been genuine laughter and not just exhaustion-induced insanity and Matt nearly flew out of Emma’s arms as soon as Ruby rounded the corner of the open doorway.

She was holding takeout bags. So was Henry. She’d brought Henry with her.

“Hey mini-Jones,” Ruby said, hardly breaking stride as she walked towards him. “You causing problems up here? We could hear you as soon as we got off the elevator.”“Not as soon as we got off the elevator,” Henry objected. “It took us at least a few steps before we heard him. Impressive lungs though.” Emma groaned. “You guys are all throwing out really horrible compliments.” “Aw, c’mon,” Mary Margaret sighed. She hadn’t gotten off the ground. “My compliment was good! And genuine!”

“Also,” Ruby added, moving some of the bags so she had a free hand to tug on the back of Matt’s onesie. “She managed to surreptitiously text me when it was becoming more and more obvious you guys were never getting out of here, so not only do I come with a plethora of promises that you’re the best mom this side of the Mississippi, but I’ve also got just a questionable amount of fried food to back up those claims.”“Do those go hand in hand?” Henry asked. He had to move a few piles of paper on Emma’s desk to find any open space, but there really was a ton of food and he kept smiling and maybe the Rangers would score in the third period.

That was almost optimistic.

Ruby shrugged. “I don’t know and I don't care. Emma’s too tired to be worried about my sentence structure anyway.”

“These are not the compliments I was promised,” Emma said, but she was tired and practically overflowing with sentimental thoughts and deep-rooted parental desires and maybe she’d take tomorrow off.

Merida probably knew what the event was called anyway.

“The compliment is that you’re some kind of super mom who’s really worried about totally normal teething schedules. Also you and Cap need to coordinate your worry a little better because Scarlet said--”“I’m sorry, are you gossiping about mine and Killian’s parenting with Scarlet?” Ruby didn’t quite glare, but it was almost like a scowl and Henry did try to turn his laugh into some other kind of noise. Mary Margaret was never going to get off the floor. “Give me a little credit, Em,” Ruby sighed. “Did you see the way Cap skated in Carolina?” “I watch the games, Ruby.” “Exactly. So we all know that no one in the Jones household is sleeping and you’re both absurd parents--”

“--In a way that is actually a compliment,” Henry added, flashing a smile when Emma’s eyes darted his direction.

“Again, exactly,” Ruby muttered. “But Cap could barely stay on the ice for more than thirty seconds and then they had the off day and now Arthur's breaking whiteboards in Philly and you have no idea what your event is called.”Emma blinked. “How do you know that?” “About the shifts or...because that’s kind of just basic math.” “That’s not really Emma’s strong suit either,” Mary Margaret muttered, shrugging when Emma gaped at her. “French II and that intro to stats we took sophomore year. Your academic downfall.”

“I passed both of those classes,” Emma said, and Henry wasn’t even trying to mask his laugh anymore.

“Ehh…”Emma rolled her eyes, but she didn’t really have a leg to stand on and she needed both of them if she was going to make sure the kid her in arms stayed there. “Is Scarlet worried about Killian’s sleeping habits? Is that what’s happening?” “Robin too,” Henry said, answering a question that wasn’t entirely directed at him. “He said Killian’s trying to murder mattresses.” “That’s impressive,” Ruby muttered. Emma didn’t object when she pulled Matt out of her hands, thankful for the lack of weight on her forearms and the no-longer present threat to a variety of internal organs. “The road trips are going to be garbage from here on out, Em,” she continued. “But we’re all still here and Cap’s destroying hotel furniture because he wants to be home that much and you’re way more organized than you honestly have any right to be and Mer said the jerseys were game-worn. Obviously.” “She didn’t say that second part,” Henry added.

Ruby waved a dismissive hand through the air. “That’s neither here nor there. So, we’ve brought the food, the third period’s about to start. Direct us, o fearless community relations leader. What has to be organized?”They weren’t quite a well-oiled machine – Matt was far too loud and squirmy for that and Emma’s legs didn’t entirely appreciate when she leapt up with five minutes left in the game, but she had some kind of sixth sense, or so Ruby proclaimed, and she might have actually fist pumped when Killian pulled his stick back.

It wasn’t the best shot in the world. It wasn’t even the best shot he’d taken all season. But it was a shot and there was a bit of power on it and her soul did something absurd again.

Mary Margaret’s breath caught. Loudly.

The Philadelphia defense hadn’t stood a chance, not really, and Killian hadn’t been sleeping much either, even when he was home, not really, but he still moved up the ice with a speed that was as ridiculous as attractive and Emma had clearly lost her mind. She wasn’t supposed to be attracted to an attribute of her husband’s game.

Her mind, however, did not care.

Her mind was moving as quickly as he was, a streak of blue up the ice and it was actually some kind of miracle the Philadelphia defender didn’t trip over his own skates. Robin’s pass slide between a pair of orange jerseys and around a stick that wasn’t entirely on the ice, the puck landing in front of Killian and he didn’t slow down when he pulled back. His hips barely moved, like he wasn’t even trying, and Henry mumbled something that sounded a hell of a lot like did that even go in behind Emma.

She nodded.

And the light went off.

She wasn’t sure what noise she made, but Killian spun around, back colliding with the nearest board in the Wells Fargo Center as his arm wrapped around Robin’s shoulders. They did something stupid, a shake of their heads and smiles obvious as the camera zoomed in and--

“Oh, they planned that,” Emma muttered, Ruby’s quiet hum of confusion barely audible when Matt started to make noise again. “They planned that,” she repeated. “The whole play. Did you see that? Robin didn’t even look up. He knew Killian was going to be there.”Emma turned back towards Henry, the smile on his face turning a little smug and a little knowing. “What do you know?” “That Robin was annoyed Killian was trying to pummel hotel mattresses into submission and demanded they discuss some kind of breakout on the power play if they were both going to get negative amounts of sleep.” “That last one verbatim?” He nodded. “It wasn’t a power play though.” “Guess Killian’s just that fast.” “Maybe he could walk back here,” Mary Margaret mumbled, and Matt was logging some pretty good mileage as he moved from person to person in an office filled with now-organized merch.

“I wouldn’t put it past him, actually.”Emma hummed or laughed or dissolved into those emotions that had been tugging at the back of her mind for the majority of the night, and she was almost confident they’d be able to get out of the Garden without anymore issues or concerns regarding her ability to parent, but that lasted less than a full second and the scream that came a few feet away echoed in between her ears.

That wasn’t biologically possible either.

“Oh my God,” she sighed, visibly deflating at Mary Margaret’s wide eyes and Ruby’s not-so-quiet gasp. Emma was going to comp the car she called. She was going to call out the next day. “What is happening here?”

She reached forward, pulling Matt back and wincing at several well-placed kicks. “What are we doing, kid? Did you not just see Dad score? That was a good goal! We’re probably going to win now. Aren’t we cool with winning?”“Ma ma ma ma ma maaaaaaaaa.”

The word got less and less pronounced the more Matt kept repeating it, twisting and turning and yanking on the ends of Emma’s hair and the front of her shirt. His legs flailed and his head dropped back and she was absolutely going to have the most impressive forearm muscles of anyone on the entire island of Manhattan.

“You know, I thought we were almost drifting close to actually falling asleep,” Ruby mused, trying without much success to rest her hand on Matt’s back. “Wishful thinking, I guess.”“Welcome to my world,” Emma mumbled. She shifted her weight between her feet, trying to work back towards the swing and the teething ring that was probably just lukewarm plastic at this point and they’d been doing so well. The road trip was going to end on a high note and she was going to be some kind of mother of the year with a husband whose speed on ice should probably get studied at some point.

That was such a weird sentence.

She was so goddamn tired.

And she didn’t know what to do next.

Emma muttered a string of increasingly absurd nonsense, trying to smile and not burst into tears, but that was proving more and more difficult and she was dimly aware of laughter coming from the TV.

“Oh shit,” Henry whispered, clicking his teeth when Mary Margaret made some kind of reproachful noise. “No, no, no, just...ok, don’t tell Gina I said that, but, listen, Emma, turn around. Don’t let Mattie look at the TV.”That was not the string of words she expected. At all.

“What?”“Where’s your remote?” “What?” Henry growled, his whole head rolling in frustration, and that wasn’t right either. There were takeout containers everywhere. One of them crunched under his feet when he moved, darting towards the TV with his hand already out and Emma was worried he was going to punch through the actual screen.

And that was when she saw it.

“What the hell is that thing?” Emma demanded, gesturing wildly towards the ice in Philadelphia and the furry, orange monstrosity shooting t-shirts out of an air-powered gun. “Oh my God, why are his eyes moving like that?”She expected Ruby to laugh even less than she expected Henry to swear. Maybe she’d just walk home. Screw the car. “Gritty?” Ruby asked, and Emma could not come up with a single word to respond to that.

The stupid thing was trying to dance on the ice. Matt cried louder.

“What is a Gritty?” Emma shouted, Henry still making ridiculous noises because her TV was state of the art or something and there were no buttons on the actual thing. “Ok, ok, Mattie, Mattie, we’ve got to breathe kid, the absolutely terrifying monster is not going to come out of the TV and attack us.”

“Should we be referring to him as a monster?” Mary Margaret asked. She grabbed the jersey on top of the closest pile, throwing it over the TV screen and it didn’t really cover everything, but it was at least a start and Emma was kind of terrified of Gritty.

Whatever that actually was.

“He’s a mascot,” Ruby reasoned. “I mean...we’ve all seen mascots before, right?”Emma shook her head, disbelief in her gaze. “We don’t have a mascot. Oh my God, Reese’s, do you think he was crying about this asshole the whole game?”

“I think that seems entirely possible,” Mary Margaret said, a hint of a smile tugging at her mouth.

“This is not funny!”

“I mean…”“It’s not!”

“It’s a little funny,” Henry admitted. He was still trying to find the remote, but the game was almost over and Emma figured even terrifying, demon mascots had to get off the ice when there was a faceoff to take. “How have you never seen Gritty before, he was like...a cultural phenomenon.”“Can we please stop referring to him by his name? That is a man in a suit. An absolutely terrifying, shouldn’t exist suit.” “He’s been around for months, Em,” Ruby said. “All season. Oh.” “Oh. Oh, what?” “And you were worried you weren’t super Mom.” Emma didn’t respond immediately, but she tilted her head and tried not to covet that title too much. She wondered how quickly the entire New York Rangers could get out of Philadelphia. “Where are you going with this?” “They announced the mascot right before the start of the regular season,” Ruby grinned. “Henry’s right. He was all over the news and late night and social media because, you know--” “--He’s terrifying?”

“It’s the eyes, I think. If he didn’t have googly eyes, it wouldn’t be an issue.”“What does this have to do with my parenting skills?” “More like you becoming a parent,” Mary Margaret corrected. “I think you were a little preoccupied with, you know, giving birth to be worried about Philadelphia mascots that never should have existed.” “Wow, that’s harsh, M’s,” Henry muttered, still kind of laughing and he grinned when Emma’s head snapped his direction. “But also true.” “See,” Ruby crowed. “You haven’t done anything wrong, Em. If anything, you’re saving mini-Jones’ mental stability from the get because you made sure he wasn’t aware of a world where Gritty existed. And you totally went into complete Mom mode as soon as Henry said.” Emma wasn’t sure she was actually capable of blushing at this point – her capillaries or whatever were probably too exhausted, but she had never been very good at science either and Matt had finally stopped crying.

Mary Margaret’s eyes were distinctly glossy again.

“It’s ok,” Emma whispered, tightening her hold on Matt slightly and he didn’t squirm at all. He might have burrowed further into her chest. “You’re ok, I promise.”

And she didn’t walk back uptown, both Mary Margaret and Ruby scandalized at even the notion. She sat in the back of a town car instead, a sleeping baby next to her, a quiet that, somehow, made it easier to breathe. Mary Margaret helped her carry everything upstairs.

Emma didn’t plan on falling asleep, but her eyes had other ideas and she didn’t hear the lock click back in place, startling on the couch when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

He grinned at her.

“Hey,” Killian muttered, crouching in front of her and brushing the hair away from her eyes. “You can’t possibly be comfortable.”“I don’t know that I could actually move, honestly.” “I’m not sure that’s much better.” “Nice shot.” “It was an experiment.” “Yeah, I figured,” Emma said, and she appreciated whatever his eyebrows did at that. “Please, Locksley didn’t even lift his head up. Did you have to come up with some kind of signal, or how did it work, exactly?” “Do the years of experience not count?” Emma made a contrary noise, twisting despite the protests from several dozen muscles and Killian, tugging lightly on the loose tie still around his neck. His grin got bigger. “We counted. Scarlet was supposed to pass out of the zone and I had six seconds to get up the ice. Locksley had four to get to the other faceoff circle.” “I wasn’t aware Scarlet was part of the plan.”

Killian hummed, a quick brush of lips over her forehead and it was an impressive exercise in balance. “We had some time to kill.”“So I heard.” “Henry?” “Maybe you’re the genius.” “Ah, that just means it’s genetic,” Killian said. His fingers clearly had minds of their own, drifting over Emma’s neck and her shoulder and the bit of skin where her shirt had twisted underneath her. “You didn’t have to try and wait up for me, love.” “Try being the operative word.” “I appreciate the effort.” “You’ve got to sleep more on the road.”

“You’ve got to sleep more all the time.”She clicked her tongue, scrunching her nose and Killian’s capillaries clearly weren’t too exhausted to blush – particularly on the tips of his ears. “Ruby or Reese’s?” “Both. And David. They’re worried about you.”

“It was just a shitty road trip,” Emma whispered, not trusting herself to do anymore. Plus the sleeping kid a few feet away. Especially the sleeping kid a few feet away. “Did you hear about the mascot incident?”Killian blinked. And blinked again. “What?” “There is apparently some kind of actual monster masquerading as a mascot in Philadelphia and our kid is fundamentally terrified. Screamed every single time they showed him on the broadcast. Apparently.” “Apparently?” “I didn’t realize until the third period.” Emma’s nose was going to get stuck that way. Her sigh sounded impossibly pathetic when it fell out of her, throat tightening against the wad of everything stuck in the back of it and Killian really could not have been comfortable. He didn’t move. “We can’t fix everything, Swan,” he said softly, fingers still tracing absent minded patterns on any bit of skin he could find. “I don’t think there’s a clause for mascots anywhere.” “And you’ve read enough websites. You’d totally have found it.” “So would you, love.” “I’m so tired.” It wasn’t an admission, not really. Everyone knew. Strangers on the street knew. Gritty probably knew. God, she hoped Gritty didn’t know. But it kind of felt like one anyway, and she really could not cope with the realization that it only took Killian six seconds to get up an entire NHL-size hockey rink.

And she hadn’t really considered the fact that he hadn’t kissed her yet, but the move still caught Emma by surprise, quick and somewhere dangerously close to bruising and they were both slightly codependant disasters who just wanted to give their kid the world – particularly one without horrifying and badly named mascots.

“So we should probably get you off the couch,” Killian said, standing back up and Emma didn’t take his hand so much as she threw her palm against his. He laughed under his breath. “Move the kid? Don’t move the kid?”“Move the kid,” she groaned. “He’s bound to wake up soon anyway, I think he’s preprogrammed to know when you get home.” Killian’s ears got redder. And that was worse than recorded speed on the ice.

He brushed his lips over her cheek, moving across the living room and Matt didn’t wake up immediately, but he twisted and made a few pointed noises, Killian only wincing slightly when he bobbed on his feet to try and quiet him. “The workout after the workout,” Emma muttered, a hand on his shoulder and body against his back, and she swore she heard him smile.

“Ah, this is better.”“A line.” “A first line, actually. That’s got a very impressive plus-minus rating in the last few games.” “Are we acknowledging that stat?” “When it benefits me.” Emma laughed, pressing her face into the fabric underneath her cheek and if she was going to keep making sweeping assumptions regarding Killian, then she was positive she felt some of his muscles loosen underneath her. “Parents of the year,” she mumbled.

“I bet we could organize some charity event to practice slapshots at Gritty’s face.”“That’s violent.” “In defense of a kid, Swan.”

“Yeah, that’s true,” Emma agreed, and there were feeding schedules and equipment to move, but sleep was almost there and it was always easier when she and Killian were in the same bed. “C’mon, if we don’t move, I’m going to fall on top of you.” “Not the worst thing in the world.” “That was another line.” “Yeah, it was,” Killian said, an easy nod and smile and they both slept through their alarms the next morning.

And Gritty never really went away, a lesson Emma wasn’t entirely sure she appreciated, but was sure the world thought was important – something about confronting fears and our own childhood worries and the ability to overcome both. The mascot was still there, orange with far too much fur and those goddamn googly eyes, terrifying Matthew Jones for the majority of his childhood and road trips he and his, eventual, younger sister got to go on.

The mascot was still there, shooting t-shirts into a screaming crowd at Wells Fargo, nearly two decades later and Emma hadn’t considered the implications of that when she put on a different jersey with the same name and number as it always was. At least she hadn’t until Henry chuckled lightly next to her, elbowing something that might have been her spleen to get her attention.

“Did you tell Rol?” she asked, glancing towards the grown man with his own kids who was doing a pretty good job of being super dad too. “Mattie’ll be mad if Rol’s got something else to trash talk tonight.” Henry shook his head. “Who do you think I am, Emma?” “Someone who knows about a professional hockey player’s deep-rooted mascot fears.” “You’re making assumptions. And, no, I never told Rol. It’s Matt’s first game in Philadelphia. I’m excited for him. I’m not a jerk.” “But?” “How do you know there was a but?”

Emma pulled her eyes away from the ice, nerves churning and pulse beating loudly in her veins and she’d been far too concerned about Matt playing in Philadelphia for the first time and playing against Roland, but Henry just smiled at her. The kid standing at his feet tugged on his jersey. A Locksley jersey. Always now.

“But,” Henry echoed. “We did discuss some quick exit options out of the arena if he’s suddenly attacked by Gritty.”

Her laugh jumped out of her, entirely impossible and far too loud to be acceptable and Emma didn’t think before flinging her arms around Henry and hugging him as tightly as she could. He hugged her back.

“I doubt the mascot will attack,” Henry muttered. “But now, at least, we’re prepared.”“Exactly.” The mascot didn’t come back onto the ice in the first period, but Matthew Jones, making his Philadelphia debut against the guy who helped him practice the wristshot he was quickly becoming known for, made it up the ice in seven seconds flat, the puck on his stick and the light going off almost as soon as he pulled back to shoot.

Emma jumped and Henry jumped and Killian might have hit the window of the suite, pride practically radiating off him. “We’ll get that time down, Swan,” he promised. “Five by the end of the regular season.”

“Parents of the year,” Mary Margaret said, a twenty painted on both of her cheeks that were quickly getting smuged by the tears in her eyes. “With some headlines to prove it.”

Emma didn’t answer – absolutely could not answer while her kid was still celebrating – but she nodded and Killian tugged her against his side, a kiss to her temple and the belief that they’d done something good.

[ilovemesomekillianjones]

Holding On to Pieces of Us - Chapter 3

SMUT advisory! @spartanguard I am so excited to see what you have up your sleeve for this chapter. Thank you @hollyethecurious for beta services rendered. @kmomof4 CSSNS fucking rocks, thank you! I put in my cut line!!!!!! **Edited to include what @spartanguard had up her sleeve! Go check out her fabulous manip here. 

Ch. 3      Rating E      8.5k words     ao3     ffnet   Tumblr:  ch. 1    ch. 2

Emma was woken by loud pounding on her door and two concerned voices yelling her name. Rising from the couch she squinted at the blazing sunlight filtering in through her window. “Coming!” she shouted with annoyance.

“Oh my god, Emma! Where the hell have you been?” Mary Margaret’s words were as strong as the hug she wrapped Emma in. “We’ve been so worried.”

David hugged both women, sighing in relief, “Thank god, you’re okay.”

“I’m fine guys.” Emma broke away from the group hug, and sheltered her eyes while walking to the window to draw the curtain.

“Where were you?” Mary Margaret pressed.

“Wait, how’d you know I was back?”

“Your car is in the driveway,” David said as if it should be obvious.

Emma’s eyes went wide, before quickly schooling her features. “Geez, I’ve been gone like a day. I went for a hike after my appointment and got stranded in the rain, I decided to find high ground and rough it.” She immediately regretted mentioning the appointment when she saw both of their eyebrows raise in expectation.

“So? What’d they say?”

“I have uh… it’s just a vitamin deficiency. In fact, that reminds me, I have to go pick up my prescriptions.”

“Come out with us for breakfast, first?” Mary Margaret asked.

“No, I can’t, I have to shower, when I got home last night I went straight to bed. I’ll catch up with you guys later, okay?” She wasn’t trying to be rude as she ushered them toward the door. But she had to figure this out. How the hell did she get home? How was her car back? How much time had she lost?

“Alright, we can take a hint,” David said, throwing his arm around her shoulder and giving her a half hug. “Dinner tonight?”

“Perfect.”  

“Our place or yours?” he asked.

“Mine.” Emma slapped a smile on her face, ready to agree to anything just to get them out of the house.

“And never, ever do that to us again. Call or text… or something.”

“Got it, mama bear,” Emma ribbed Mary Margaret. “Who knew I’d have such wonderful parents as an adult, after a childhood with none.”

“I’m going to start taking that nickname as a compliment,” Mary Margaret laughed.

Emma just rolled her eyes, smile still firmly in place until she shut the door behind them.  

“What the hell?” She was more confused than ever now. She’d finally gone completely off the deep end and created that alternate universe where it was just her and Killian, but she had also blocked out a complete period of time where she would’ve had to drive herself home.

Deciding to investigate, she walked out to her car, but not before donning her darkest pair of sunglasses. “It’s so fucking bright,” she muttered, the irony was not lost on her that the weather was in direct opposition to her current mood.

Opening up her car, she sat down in the driver’s seat and was immediately assaulted by his scent. It was just as strong as her imagination had conjured last night. She was about to go back inside when she noticed that the seat was scooted too far back, she pressed the toggle to adjust it to her settings.

Reaching over to grab her jacket from the passenger seat, she startled slightly as she remembered she also wasn’t able to account for how she’d come to be in different clothes than she’d worn yesterday.  When she lifted the jacket a piece of paper fell in her lap, picking it up Emma was bewildered to see Killian’s unique handwriting.  

Swan,

Please forgive me love, I did not want to leave you last night. I have been away from you for too long and I was ill prepared for your presence. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to control myself. As promised, I will return to you tonight.

Yours,

Killian

“Oh my god! It was real?” Emma’s free hand flew to her neck, praying for the mark upon her body that would further prove he existed.

Grabbing all her belongings that had been magically waiting in her car, including her phone Emma raced back into the house.  Her heartbeat was frantic as she approached her bathroom, hand still caressing her neck.  When Emma looked in the mirror and revealed the area, she was exhilarated to see two faint puncture marks. She didn’t even care if it was insane. Killian was alive! Well, technically undead, but he was still in this world.

There was so much to do. She started with a long, hot shower where she washed away the grime from her wilderness trip and the anguish of a year. After dressing in leggings and a tank top, and primping for the day, a day where she would see Killian, she cracked open her laptop. She researched everything she could about vampires, searched the world wide web like an addict, until her stomach audibly protested its neglect over the last two days.

Steak, Emma thought. Steak sounded beyond divine. She didn’t really feel like sitting out at a restaurant by herself, yet she didn’t want company, at least not the company of anyone who was available. Running to the grocery store she bought a family size pack of boneless ribeyes and headed for home. She pulled out all she needed to prepare one of her favorite steaks, thinly sliced garlic inserted into slits in the steak, marinated in worcestershire and barbecued to medium well.

The moment she set to her task though she felt as if she was going to lose her lunch, a lunch she hadn’t eaten. Chalking it up to being over hungry, she forewent the prep.  Emma practically skipped outside to light the barbecue and threw the slab of meat on the grill. It smelled divine as she waited impatiently for it to finish cooking. Medium will do, she thought as she plated up her very plain steak.

Emma cursed her impatience as she felt the sting along her skin from standing too close to the barbecue for too long. As she cut into the steak though, she realized she couldn’t have been standing there too long as the steak was rare, not medium, or medium rare, but rare rare. And it looked delectable.

She practically moaned when the first bite graced her palette. It was so tender and juicy… and bloody. Her eyes popped open, having closed them in delight of the first taste.  “No way,” she murmured. Sensitivity to the brightness of the sun, aversion to garlic, skin tingling after standing outside, eating a bloody steak? “Am I…” Emma’s hands shot to her mouth where she felt her teeth, no fangs, she thought with an air of disappointment.

She laughed out loud at the absurdity of her situation. Either she was experiencing some post bite symptoms, or she was psychosomatically exuding vampire traits.  Either way, what the ever loving fuck? She’d been ready to call it quits two days ago, now she had a renewed vigor for life, or whatever she would be living with Killian.  Because yes, she already knew her answer. She wasn’t going to live without him for one more moment, she was going to embrace a future with him, even if it was different than the one she’d hoped for a year ago.  

Emma spent the remainder of her day researching more about vampires and tidying up her place, even the bedroom that she hadn’t slept in for a year. She had every intention of bedding her man tonight, she would’ve last night if given the chance.  She freshened up and dressed for the evening while the sheets finished drying, then made the bed. Dusk was settling outside and her body tingled in anticipation. She chuckled when she heard the knock on her door.  He was earlier than she’d have thought was possible for him to be out. But perhaps so long as the sun wasn’t shining, he was okay, or maybe he was just as impatient as her.

“You don’t have to knock, you’ve obviously taken to coming and going as you please,” she called out as she walked to the door.

“Hi!” Mary Margaret and David greeted enthusiastically.

“Hi,” Emma croaked, after staring blankly at them for a good five seconds.

“And what do you mean coming and going as we please?” Mary Margaret questioned.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure we were more than entitled to stop by this morning after you went missing,” David added. “And we’re invited tonight!”

“Right, of course, “ Emma said. “I thought you were somebody, uh, nevermind. My mistake, you are most definitely allowed to check up on me, and yes, I did in fact invite you over tonight.” Fuck, fuck, fuck. What could she tell them, she couldn’t say she forgot, or wasn’t feeling well. She was all dolled up, hair, some light makeup, a dress, heels. Shit!

“You’re so dressed up... oh my gosh! Do you have a date tonight? You look like you’re ready to go on a date. Oh my god, she has a date,” Mary Margaret gushed. “I’m so happy for you, Emma! Let us get out of your hair.”

“I don’t have a-”

“Give her the wine, David. Maybe she and this mystery man want to get a little liquored up.”

“I don’t-”

“Do we know him? Nevermind, details tomorrow! Let’s go honey,” Mary Margaret told David all but pushing him back through the still open door.

“I don’t have a date,” Emma yelled, then softly added, “as such.” Because really, how was she going to explain that she was going to see her missing boyfriend who was now a vampire? How was she going to explain that her friends weren’t going to see her again? She wasn’t questioning her decision, of that she was one hundred percent decided. But the finer points, the particulars, those were going to take more thought than she’d even thought to consider.  

“You got all dressed up for us?” David asked suspiciously.

She wasn’t going to lie to them, but she didn’t feel like just busting out with the truth was going to help matters either. David would have her 5150’d before Killian got there. Turning swiftly, she headed to the kitchen where she uncorked the bottle of wine, took out three glasses, poured every last drop evenly between them, promptly handed her guests their drinks then drank deeply before either could offer up a toast.  

“Look, I don’t know how to possibly say what I need to say without you both thinking that I need to be committed. I’m just going to have to show you. But while we wait, let me tell you about my appointment.”

“You’re kind of not making too much sense, Emma, are you sure you’re okay?” Mary Margaret asked.

“I’m sure I am going to be,” she answered cryptically.

“What are we waiting for?” David asked.

“You’ll know it when you see it, of that I am sure.”

“Ooookay,” Mary Margaret drew out her word as though she already thought Emma was crazy. “Then while we wait for the big reveal I want to hear about these vitamin deficiencies and what the doctor is doing to fix them.”

“Well we still have to eat right? How does steak sound?”

The Nolan’s both nodded their heads signaling that steak sounded great. “I’ll go light up the grill,” David said. He barbequed the steaks while Emma and Mary Margaret prepared a salad and roasted potatoes.

After some small talk about office gossip and the latest cases while dinner was prepared, the trio sat down to eat. “So, Emma, what’s the news?” David asked.

“So, it turns out I don’t have any vitamin deficiencies after all.”

“Well that’s good news,” Mary Margaret beamed.

“I actually have stage four brain cancer,” Emma said, cutting into her steak and avoiding eye contact. She didn’t want to see their pity, but this could hopefully bolster the support she would want from them when it came time to tell them when, why, and how she was leaving them.

Mary Margaret’s fork and knife clattered to her plate and she fixed Emma with a stern glare. “That’s not even funny!”

David just stared at Emma, mouth slightly ajar, silently assessing her demeanor.

“It’s not supposed to be funny, M. It’s not a joke.” Emma spoke in a low voice before glancing briefly at her friends pain filled eyes.  Hopefully Killian would get there soon so she could tell them that despite her diagnosis, she was not sentenced to death.

“What are the treatment options? When do you start? How can we help? We’ll have to talk to HR to get you taken off the rota-”

“David, I, uh, I’m not going to seek treatment, it won’t be nece-”

David stood up from the table so hastily that the chair flew back and tipped over hitting the floor with a clatter. “What the hell do you mean you’re not getting treated? Over my dead body!”

Mary Margaret began to sob loudly in her seat as David stood with his hands on his hips, face red with anger. This was not at all how she had seen things playing out. Where the fuck is Killian? “As I was saying, treatment won’t be necessary.”

“Why the hell are you just giving up?”

“I’m not giving up. I… I promise this will all be explained in just a few minutes.  Let’s just finish our dinner.”

“I’ve lost my goddamn appetite,” David cursed, causing another loud sob to burst from Mary Margaret who could count on one hand how many times she’d ever heard her husband curse. He calmly turned around, picked his chair up off the floor and pushed it in, then walked outside.

“Oh, Emma,” Mary Margaret sniffed, “please tell us what we can do to change your mind.  You just have to get treatment. Not even trying is like giving up hope.” Reaching her hand across the table she squeezed Emma’s. “Back when Killian... disappeared, I- I don’t remember everything. But I remember that whatever happened snapped something inside of me, I broke… but David came to see me everyday, and then you came to see me. And I knew I had to fight. I knew I needed to hope for the best. Believing in the possibility of getting better could be a powerful- holy shit! Daviiiid!!” Mary Margaret screeched at the top of her lungs.

Emma listened as her friend started in on one of her hope speeches, when suddenly Mary Margaret paled, cursed, then screamed for her husband, all right before her eyes rolled back in her head and she fainted right out of her chair before Emma could do anything.  

“Bloody Hell!”

Emma’s head whipped around toward Killian’s voice, “Thank goodness you’re here!”

“Maybe I should come back at a better time?”

“NO! This is the perfect time. The shit has hit the fan, David is ready to haul me to the hospital to receive involuntary treatment, and Mary Margaret is about to preach hope like never before.”

“What the hell is going on?” David shouted running in from out back. “What is the scream- Who… I… Wha- Emma, what the fuck? Is this why you’re all dressed up?”

Emma couldn’t help it, none of this was good, but it wasn’t bad either, she giggled. “I told you, you’d know it when you saw it.”

“This isn’t funny Emma, my wife is passed out, and you’ve taken to finding a stand in for your dead boyfriend. No offense,” David added cordially, looking at the man in black leather.

“None taken, mate,” Killian smiled.

“Wow, you really do look just like him, and you got the accent down. Is it real, or did she ask you to talk like that?”

“I assure you, it’s real.”

“David!” Emma chastised. “I didn’t ask him to do any such thing. This is Killian, the real Killian.” Emma was now on the floor with Mary Margaret’s head cradled in her lap. Her friend was still out cold.

“Enough, Emma. Do you have any idea what this could do to her if she wakes up and this rent-a-Killian is here, do you even remember what happened to her when he disappeared?”

“Of course I remember,” Emma snapped. “I remember every painful moment of the last year.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything. He’s real, David, and I don’t care if you believe me. I can explain everything if you’d give me the chance.”

“Fine, but I want him out of here for when Mary Margaret wakes up. I don’t want this putting her back in the hospital.”

“Fine,” Emma answered petulantly. Apparently not everyone was going to warm up to this development as quickly as she had. “Can you wait in our room, just for now. Please don’t leave though, Killian?”

“As you wish,” was all he answered before he vanished from the spot he had been occupying.

Emma rolled her eyes, “He always did have a flair for the dramatic, wouldn’t you say?”

David didn’t answer. He was frozen in his spot, jaw hanging open, eyes wide as saucers.

“Close your mouth, you look ridiculous.”

David snapped his jaw shut then scrubbed both his hands over his face and through his hair. “Just what the everloving fuck is going on, Emma!”

“Keep your voice down! Your wife is going to have a meltdown if you don’t get your foul mouth under control.”

“She’s already having a meltdown! Explain. Now.”

Emma stood up and grabbed Mary Margaret below each arm, “A little help?”

David grabbed his wife’s ankles and they moved her to the couch. Returning to sit at the table, they stared at each other for a moment before Emma began the whole tale. Everything from her hallucinations that weren’t hallucinations, to Scarlet’s arrest, to her diagnosis, to her trek into the woods, to the discovery that Killian was their vigilante killer, and finally to what he was and what he could offer her.  

“Now if you need more proof that it’s really Killian, then you’re going to have to talk with him. I’m sure there are things he can say or do that will convince you.”

David’s jaw was having a hard time staying in the correct position tonight. He felt as though he might need to physically hold it up. Either Emma was completely mad, or the world as he knew it was changed forever. He looked over at his sleeping wife, wondering if she’d be able to handle this development, and was startled to see she was awake with silent tears spilling down her cheeks.

Rushing to her, he knelt down by her side and slid one arm under her back and one under her knees. “Come on, it’s late, let’s get home.”

“No,” Mary Margaret whispered. She sat up and looked first at Emma, and then at David.  “I want to know. I need to know if it’s him.”

David sat down next to his wife, and wrapped her hands in his. Looking at Emma with a pleading look in his eyes, he beseeched her one final time. “I want to believe you, Emma. Really, I do. But if this is some kind of hoax, or twisted reality you’ve created, I’m begging you to stop it now.”

“I swear to you both, it’s not,” Emma vowed, while walking over to take a seat.

“Are you sure, hon?” David asked Mary Margaret who nodded her head vigorously in response. “Bring him out then.”

“Okay.” But before Emma could even call his name, he reappeared, this time sitting on the loveseat along the opposite wall of the couch, right next to where Emma had sat down.

“Oh!” Mary Margaret yelped, hand clutching her chest.

“Sorry, Snow.”

Mary Margaret’s sharp inhale morphed into a slightly hysterical laugh. “Oh my gosh! It’s him!”

“What?” David and Emma asked in unison.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Emma started, “I know it’s him, but what the hell happened in point five seconds that has you convinced?”

“He called me Snow.”

David and Emma shared a confused look.

“It’s an inside joke,” Mary Margaret said. “When David took me to Cabo for a week, I came back bragging about my tan. Killian laughed at me and said I was still white as snow. He even went so far as to show me that his arms were still tanner than mine and he hadn’t even had to leave dreary Maine for it. Ever since then he’s called me Snow.”

Emma laughed at the simplicity. “Well there you go Sir Skeptical, your wife is a believer. And here I always thought he was making fun of you because you always get so excited when it snows.”

Looking at David, it was apparent that he was still a bit unsure.

“Come on, mate. What do I have to do to convince you? Your favorite drink is the daiquiri, even though you rarely order them because you don’t want the guys to laugh at you. You have a thing for fairies, Tinkerbell, Crysta, even the fairy godmother in Shrek. You prefer loose fitting boxers to boxer briefs because you don’t want your boys to suffocate, oh and you... eh, you like that thing the wifey does… you know with her pinky fing-”

“Alright, that’s enough Jones!” David’s blush shot from his neck to the tips of his ears.

Mary Margaret burst out laughing, while Emma had a look of distaste on her face, “TMI Killian, but you got him! He’s a believer.”

David finally let out a chuckle. “Of all the shit you know about me, you chose to start with those?”

“You could’ve stopped me at anytime, Dave.”

“I’m starving,” Mary Margaret cut in, “let’s eat and you can tell us all about the past year.” She sounded so enthusiastic one would think she was talking to a friend who’d left to explore the world.

The four settled at the table and Killian regaled them with his tales from life as a vampire. Although he left no detail out, he did make sure to censor the gorier parts.

“Lately I’ve been exploring Cartographer’s Bluff. Do you remember that portal I told you about Swan? When we took our first camping trip?”

Emma nodded, while Mary Margaret and David looked at him cluelessly.

“I’ve heard rumors for years that there’s a portal to another… realm, a place where a diverse spread of supernatural beings live. It’s why the maps we look at show more land than we see when we are hiking.  That land does exist, but it was cursed, locked away beyond a portal that isn’t visible to the human eye. Supposedly the supernaturals lived in secret among humans for years, but over time people started to suspect something otherworldly about the community in general and so they decided it best to go into hiding to protect themselves.”

“Have you found it?” Emma asked.

“I did, it’s a very faint field protecting the area, but I can see it. I haven’t had the nerve to crossover.”

“Why not?” David asked. “Don’t you want to see what else is out there?”

“Of course, but I guess a part of me always wished, or hoped that I’d be with Emma again. I don’t know if the portal is open to come and go as I please, or if I’d be trapped there forever.”

“You’ll always have me now.” Emma reached out for his hand and squeezed it when he laced their fingers together.  

“Ha!” Mary Margaret exclaimed. Placing her hand on top of both of their hands she smirked at Killian. “Guess you can’t call me Snow anymore, seeing as I’m waaaay more tan than you now, and I didn’t even have to leave dreary Maine to do it.” She laughed heartily as she mocked his own words.

“It would seem you are correct, it only took my death to achieve this feat,” he deadpanned.

Mary Margaret’s laughter immediately ceased, and her eyes turned down sadly.

“Snow, it was a joke. Please forgive me, it’s too soon for such flippancy.”

“No, it’s not that. I just… it made me realize that your solution to Emma’s condition is to make her a vampire. Does that mean that you two will leave?” The woman’s big green eyes filled with tears again as she contemplated losing her friend.

“We haven’t thought that far in advance,” Emma said hurriedly, trying to head off a huge discussion before she and Killian had a chance to discuss it themselves. “I promise you both I won’t disappear again without telling you where I’m going.”

“Emma and I still have a lot to figure out, but you guys will be the first to know outside of us,” Killian added.

David and his wife both nodded their heads solemnly, taking their friends at their words. After finishing dinner, cleaning up, and the reiteration of promises, the couple took their leave. They were wise enough to know the couple needed this time to formulate their plans.  

As soon as the door shut Emma turned to Killian and launched herself into his waiting arms. “Don’t ever fucking do that again!” She hugged him with all her might and relished the feel of his arms wrapping strongly around her.

“Oi! Such language. You kiss me with that mouth?”

“You’ve never complained before.”

“I suppose not. Now what is it I’m not to do again?”

“You are never to disappear or magically poof me away and leave without a word again.”

“It was for your safety. I was having a hard time controlling myself with you, always have.”

Emma looked up at him with a seriousness in her gaze, but momentarily found herself lost in the bright blue hue of his eyes tonight. “Your eyes are so blue tonight, they were pale yesterday.”

“I wasn’t properly prepared yesterday. Tonight my thirst is quenched I suppose you could say.”

Emma huffed, and broke from his embrace.

“What is it?”

“How? I mean, you didn’t drink that much from me last night. I don’t want you to… you know. You don’t, like… I mean… are there others?”

Killian just stared at her as she continued to stumble over her words. “What is it you’re asking, Swan?”

A rosy shade of pink colored her cheeks as she realized she was going to have to come right out and ask. “Are there other girls?”

“Other girls for what?”

Emma rolled her eyes at his obtuseness, silently cursing him for making her a jealous brat. “Do you drink from other females?”

Killian burst into laughter, his eyes alight with love for this girl.

Emma’s mouth dropped open, then she spun on her heel and stormed to the bedroom.

“Wait up, love.” He got to the door just as it was slamming closed and stopped it with his foot. Emma was laid out on her back, arms folded across her chest, staring at the ceiling.

Laying next to her on the bed, he took it as a good sign that she didn’t tell him to leave, or even turn away from him when he slowly crooked his arm across her stomach. “Emma Swan, are you jealous?”

She growled in irritation, but still didn’t turn away. “No,” she muttered petulantly.

“I think you’re jealous,” he crooned.

“Well what the hell do you expect, I mean you were hard as a rock last night when you drank from me. You think I want you doing that with someone else?”

“Mmmm I was,” he growled, splaying his hand across her stomach, “but you know what darling? I was hard as a rock because it was you.”

Emma turned her head, “Yeah?”

He nodded his head. “After I left you here last night, I knew I couldn’t see you again without first quenching my thirst. Remember the stockpile I have at the, what did you call it? House of horrors? I drank my fill before seeing you tonight so I could control myself.”

Emma giggled at the title and at assuming the worst. How could she so quickly forget the mini blood bank he had back at his place.  “Sorry,” she whispered sheepishly. Turning her body toward his she scooted further into his embrace.

“Nothing to apologize for. I imagine I’d feel the same if you were to let someone else taste you.”

“Well, you don’t have anything to worry about, I don’t know any other vampires.”

“Maybe I wasn’t talking about that kind of tasting.” Killian arched his eyebrow and licked his lips.

Emma watched as he transformed from man to vampire, his fangs clicking into place in the blink of an eye. Her heart rate soared, but not out of fear. As surreal as this all still was, she was turned on by his fangs, as was proven by the swirl of want she felt between her legs at the thought of him tasting his fill of hers.  “Oh, that’s only for you.”

“Only me? Even after a year?”

“I don’t know if I’d have ever moved past you, Killian. I might’ve become an old spinster. But I assure you, after only one year, yes, only for you.” Leaning in, Emma touched her lips to one fang, then the other before taking his mouth.

Killian groaned into her mouth when he tasted her tongue on his. He tightened his hold at her lower back and kneaded her flesh, wanting to feel more of her. “Your soft, wet, mouth tastes just as delectable as I remember.”

He’d always loved to kill her with words. She felt that familiar swell low in her belly, and she pressed into him further. “What else do you want to taste?”

“Everything you have to give.”

Their eyes mirrored each other’s, beautifully colored irises, blue versus green, barely visible around wild pupils.  “Take it,” she whispered. Before she could take notice, Killian transported, where he had been laid beside her he was now standing next to her side of the bed. Emma took the hand he offered her and stood up with him.

He removed his black leather jacket, then took both Emma’s hands and placed them on his chest. She didn’t need to be led further, Killian had always enjoyed when Emma undressed him, with her eyes and especially with her hands.

Slowly caressing the planes of his chest, down to his abs and then back up again, Emma pulled the shirt from his jeans at the same time, then set to the task of unbuttoning it. With each new bit of skin that was exposed she felt new want blossoming. Her hands caressed his pecs, fingers skimming through his thick chest hair, then moved up to his shoulders to push away his shirt.

Even though he couldn’t blush, she saw a shy modesty bloom under her scrutiny.  He still had his tells, she noted as his hand came up to rub at the back of his neck. A sure sign he was a little shaken. “Just as gorgeous as I remember,” she murmured. Moving forward, Emma inhaled deeply at his neck then feathered light kisses along the column of his neck as she deftly unfastened his belt. “I missed you so much,” she whispered into his skin as she unzipped him.

“I missed you too, my love.” Taking her face between both hands he brought her mouth to his to cement his words.

Emma slid his pants down his hips and thighs while he kissed her senseless. She felt his hard length against her stomach and couldn’t help the giggle that stole from her mouth.

“What’s so funny?”

“No blood, no heartbeat, and now no knickers? I seem to remember you had quite the collection of those hot little boxer briefs that packaged everything so… deliciously.”

“Perhaps I forewent my knickers for your easy access.”

Emma laughed again, “Good idea. Goddamn you look so good. You’re just missing one thing.”

“And what would that be?” He quirked his eyebrow as she unfastened the necklace, his necklace, she wore.

“I want you to have it back, now that you’re here to stay.” Emma stepped behind him and fastened the necklace for him. She kissed his neck and wrapped her arms around his waist. “I also want to feel it drag along my body when you’re on top of me,” she whispered into his ear.

An involuntary shiver coursed through his body at her seduction. Then she was gone, the warmth of her body no longer pressed to his, and he found himself desperate for her touch.

When she walked back around him, she faced away from him, toward the bed, then swept her hair upward with both hands signaling Killian to unzip her. The dress fell to the floor seamlessly, and she whipped back around to face him, without warning she jumped up and clung to his body. He caught her as if she were a feather. “So it’s true what they say? Vampires have super strength?”

“Aye, there are many things that are different about me now, Swan. We could discuss them all at great length if you’d like?”

“Uh-uh, not right now. We have more important matters to attend to.”

“Such as?”

“Shut up and get inside me, Killian Jones.”

“As you wish.” He laid Emma out on their bed and crawled between her thighs, then kissed her lips once, before setting to leisurely teasing every inch of her body. He ran his lips down her neck before feasting on her breasts like a man starved, all the while inhaling deeply, her scent like a lifeline.

Just as she’d wanted, Emma could feel the delicate drag of the pendants on his necklace along her throat, then down her sternum as he kissed his way down her body. “Hurry up,” she whined. “It’s been a year,” she added when he chuckled at her impatience.

“Don’t I know it,” he murmured. “Let me enjoy these a bit more.” He sucked and teased his fill before moving further down her body, finally settling where she wanted. Killian massaged her hips, up and down her rib cage, then placed his mouth upon her.

The moan that emerged from Emma would have embarrassed her if she wasn’t busy being so impatient and greedy for his mouth. She fisted her fingers into his thick hair, encouraging his actions.  

Killian hummed his approval into her folds when her delectable taste graced his tongue. He worked her quickly, but expertly, his tongue seeking everything she had to give. He brought two fingers to her entrance, soaked and ready to be penetrated and slid them in without warning at the same time as he sucked her clit between his lips.

“Yes,” Emma gasped at the sudden but welcome intrusion. It’d been far too long, and she was on the brink of utopia from just one thrust of his digits. She bucked her hips to meet the curve of his fingers, the wet slide music to her ears. The sound of sex had always been a turn on for Emma, and after a full year, it was as though the sense was heightened.

Killian added a third finger to her divinely swollen flesh and delighted in her cries of passion as she immediately came. “That’s it love, let me hear you.” He coaxed her through her aftershocks, waiting patiently for her to come down. “Hearing you get off is second only to watching it, Swan.”

“Then allow me to come again… for your pleasure.” She smiled like the cat that got the canary, before adding, “Tell me how you want to watch me come.”

Before Emma could process a thing she was straddling his waist while he lied out on the bed. “What the-”

“Super speed,” he shrugged throwing his hands behind his head.

“So that’s true too. What about super stamina?”

“Oi! My stamina was always super.”

Emma collapsed onto his chest in a fit of giggles. Her vampire boyfriend was still a drama queen. “Oh, Killian. That wasn’t a complaint.” She braced her hands on either side of his head and pushed up so she could look down at him. “I never had any complaints in that department,” she purred as she slid her still wet folds up and down his length. Emma watched as his eyes rolled shut. “You like that?”

“Fuck yes, you’re so warm and wet. I want to feel you wrapped around my cock, love.”

She kissed him briefly then licked and gently bit her way along his jawline. “As you wish,” she murmured into his ear.   

Killian’s eyes sprang open as he didn’t want to miss a moment, she just felt so good. He watched as she braced her left hand on his chest and gripped his shaft in her right to line him up to her. His cock strained as he felt the warmth of her entrance, and he swore she was teasing him. “Ride me, Swan.”

Hearing those words brought back a flood of memories, so many nights spent making love. Torn between slamming home and making him beg, Emma slowly sunk down onto him until he was fully sheathed. She didn’t move, she needed to adjust to the way he stretched her, she also wanted to savor the full feeling she’d been deprived of for so long.

Killian didn’t realize he’d closed his eyes again until he felt her forehead rest on his. He brought one hand to her hip and the other to the back of her head. “I love you, Emma.” He punctuated his words with a fervent kiss, hardly giving her a chance to answer.

His words and ardor spurred her to action and she withdrew her hips before gliding back home again. Emma alternated between kissing him and watching him. The muscles of his body moved smoothly under his skin as he guided her hips. She got lost in the way his arms flexed, his stomach tensed and settled, the tick of his jaw, and she thought watching him in the throes of passion might be the most gorgeous thing she’d ever witnessed.

Killian moaned and whispered encouragement and obscene words to her as she worked herself closer to another peak. He was mesmerized by the way her breasts bounced as she rode him, but only when he could pull his eyes from her expressions of heat, happiness, and wonder that all made their way across her face. He knew the moment she reached that crescendo, when she threw her head back in ecstacy and called out his name. And again, hearing her come undone was second only to watching. Pumping into her still, Killian’s orgasm started to crest through him and he was inundated with a maddening desire to bite and feed from the woman who’d just thoroughly ravished him.

Emma watched as Killian’s release took him. He was beautiful, but something was just slightly off. His eyes paled a shade, and he looked slightly feral. Then it dawned on her. “Drink,” she commanded. And once again she found herself in a new position without experiencing how she got there.  She was laid out on her back and Killian was poised above her now, still thrusting deeply into her. She didn’t say anything, but only swept her hair aside and offered her neck.

Without another moment’s hesitation Killian sunk his fangs into her tender flesh and pulled deeply from her thrumming vein. Her breathy moans had him fucking into her harder, as he realized she loved his bite. The swell of her walls against his cock had him seeing stars until he finally let go and let the pleasure take him on a ride.

The moment her skin was pierced Emma entered a state of euphoria. She felt pleasure course throughout her body, settling in every nerve ending. The way his fingers grazed her skin was perfect, the way his chest rubbed against hers was perfect, and the way he stroked against her clit with every thrust was perfect. Her whole body tensed as she sensed Killian’s orgasm, and then a wave of pleasure like none she’d experienced before swept her up with him, and her body relaxed as gentle wave after wave washed through her.

Not for lack of want, Killian withdrew his fangs from her neck.  “That was…”

“What ha-”

They both chuckled at the utter fuckstruck tone to their voices, and Emma collapsed against Killian’s chest.

Running his hands through her hair he enjoyed the warm press of her skin against his cool body. “You are so warm. I’ve missed you so much, my love. Tell me you’ll stay with me forever?”

If he had a beating heart it would have stopped at her hesitance to answer. Taking in a deep breath he didn’t technically need, he tried to find his center again. “I understand. I didn’t mean to pressure you, please know that I will accept any decision you make.” He kissed the top of her head, then rolled them so they could get comfortable.

There was something off with the way her body rolled so listlessly as he moved them. “Emma, are you quite alright?” Brushing her hair away from her forehead he saw that her eyes were open, but glazed as if she wasn’t seeing. “Emma, love, wake up,” he shouted as he shook her gently. Killian checked for her pulse, but even with his heightened senses could only detect a weak and fading pulse. He couldn’t comprehend the thought of losing her after he’d only just got her back. But he couldn’t fathom turning her without her permission either. “Please, wake up. Tell me what to do,” he pleaded. Holding her limp body tightly to his, he prayed to any god who might hear him for Emma to wake.

“Emma!” Killian was sitting up in bed holding her tightly with his forehead rested on hers. She was still breathing but it was shallow. He pressed his lips to hers and a broken sob spilled forth. Emma’s whole body jerked in his arms as she struggled to inhale.

“Breathe love, just breathe,” he soothed her.

“What happened?”  

Killian still had her held tight in his arms, unwilling to let her go. “You tried to leave me, you were barely breathing, and your pulse was almost nonexistent.”

“Why are you bleeding?” Emma brought her hand to his face and brushed her thumb across the drops of blood on his cheek.  

“Shit, sorry. Will you be okay If I go to the bathroom to clean up?”  

Emma nodded her head. “I’m fine. But why are you bleeding, did I hurt you?”

“Of course you didn’t.” Killian stood up from the bed and raked his hand anxiously behind his ear.

“There’s that blushless blush,” Emma teased as she watched him. “What is it, bashful?”

“I thought I was going to lose you,” he whispered. “Crying is a messy affair when you’re a vampire.”

“I’m not going anywhere, all you would have to do if I was dying in your arms is turn me, then there’ll be no getting rid of me.” Emma stood up off the bed and held her hand out to him, “Let’s get cleaned up. If that’s what comes out of your eyes when you cry, I’m sure I need to bathe after what we just did. Unless you’re ready for round two.”

“I’m always ready for you, but we need to talk first.”

“Fine,” Emma sighed, knowing that serious Killian with his good form, morals, and integrity was going to make an appearance.

~CS~

“Are you hungry?” Killian asked as he dried his body.

Emma watched his naked form as he toweled off, her eyes were quite focused as she enjoyed the show. “Only for you,” she murmured as she slipped on her silky robe.

“On the contrary, I can hear your stomach,” he chuckled.

“Stupid vampire hearing,” she muttered while drying her own hair. “I can eat anytime, I’d rather make up for the last year by having you again.  I haven’t gotten to... you know.” Licking her lips she crudely gestured a blow job, then smiled devilishly as he began to harden before her.

“Naughty vixen,” he smirked, “I promise you, once we’ve talked, if we move forward together-”

“What if, Killian?” she interrupted. “There is no if, only when.”

“Well then, after we talk, when we move forward together, you’ll have an eternity to suck my cock.” He waggled his eyebrows at her scandalized expression, while throwing on a pair of his old worn sweats.

Emma feigned offense before bursting into giggles. “I love you, you filthy animal.”  

“Come on.”

Before she could make another attempt to lure him back to bed, he poofed them to the kitchen where she was sitting on the counter watching him practically warp around the kitchen while preparing her pancakes, eggs, and sausage. She was almost dizzy.

Once he’d prepared her plate he swooped her up and transported them both, food and all to the back patio. “Now we talk.” He sat her in a chair at the small dinette and sat across from her.

“Talk, talk, talk,” Emma rolled her eyes before scooping a bite of pancakes into her mouth. “Mmmm, just as delicious as I remember,” she commented through a full mouth.

“So classy.” He watched as carefree Emma returned. She’d been such a shell of herself over the past year.    

“Shut up!” she laughed, punching him in the arm. “Actually don’t shut up, you talk all this talk you need to talk, and I’ll eat.”

“As you wish. All the things I am about to say aren’t to discourage you, but I do need to say them, because I want you to really think it through before you make your decision.”

“Okay, I’m all ears.”

“No more food to start, you won’t be able to enjoy those light and fluffy pancakes, nor your beloved garlic steak. No sunlight... tanning, the pool, the beach, all gone. A warm body will be a thing of the past, and no more beauty sleep, not that you ever needed it. You won’t be able to be around humans for a long spell, it’ll just be you and me.”

Emma reached across the table and entwined her fingers with his. “I don’t see the problem with any of that. I would give up food, sleep, my warmth, my heartbeat, the sun, moon, and stars to be with you.”     

“Fortunately you wouldn’t have to give up the stars, Swan.” Killian squeezed her hand lovingly as he gestured toward the star laden sky with his other. “We can always enjoy this. Alas, those are the more superficial things. We would never be able to stay anywhere forever if we intended to live among the living, they’d realize we were different if we maintained our youthful good looks for too long. You’d have to watch every human you love die, eventually. And… no babies.”

Emma contemplated his last two thoughts as she pushed around the bits of food left on her plate. For the majority of her life she hadn’t wanted kids, she’d never had a mom and was quite sure that she didn’t know the first thing about how to be one. Only once Killian had come into her life had she even considered kids, they’d discussed it a time or two. Ultimately, had everything worked out happily ever after, they probably would’ve had a couple kids. But now, the fact was, she wasn’t going to have kids either way, she probably didn’t have nine months left to try, and she could handle that.

“David and Mary Margaret,” she murmured, they were a different story. Her eyes watered as she thought about them growing old and eventually dying as she and Killian would remain never changing.

“I can… enthrall them, I suppose you could say.”

Emma stared at him blankly.

“You know, enchant, glamour, hypnotize them.”

“To do what?”

“To forget. Everything about us, it would be as if we’d never existed in their minds.” Killian watched silently as an array of emotions flitted across her face, a bit of sadness, some nostalgia, and even the hint of a smile.

“No, I can handle it. I don’t want you to… mess with their minds. Wait! Have you messed with my-”

“Never love,” Killian cut her off, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Emma stood up and tugged on Killian’s hand. “C’mon.” She led him to their swinging loveseat.  After guiding him to sit criss cross she sat opposite him so they were facing each other. Grabbing both his cool hands in her warm ones she laced their fingers again placing them in her lap, and looked into his eyes.   

“I know you may think I am being quick to jump, and flippant, but Killian, I know in my heart that I’m making the right decision. Some might think me weak for not moving past your death, but the fact is, I could have moved on, I just didn’t want to. I had no desire to live in a world without you in it. You were, are the greatest and only love of my life, I had no desire to move past that. I would have lived out my life however I was able to navigate without you, but now I don’t have to, and nothing you can say or do will change my mind.”   

“Gods I am blessed, if a demon like me can be blessed.”

“You are not a demon,” Emma whispered, wiping at the bloody tear that traced the curve of his cheek.

“Knowing all that you know now, I don’t understand how you can still love me so unconditionally, but I swear you won’t regret it for even a single moment of our eternity.”

“Good.”

Pulling Emma into his lap he threaded both hands into her hair and pressed his forehead to hers. “I love you, Emma Swan.”

“Prove it. Take me back to bed.”

“One track mind,” he chuckled.

“Better yet, who needs a bed. Take me right here, vampire.”

“You’re amazing, Emma.”

“I love you, Killian Jones, enough talking now.”

Tagging: @onceuponamirror @teamhook @artistic-writer  @courtorderedcake @jarienn972 @therooksshiningknight @ultraluckycatnd @resident-of-storybrooke @captainswan-shipper88 @winterbaby89 @cssns please let me know if you’d like to be tagged, or removed from the list. 

[theonceoverthinker]

OUAT 1X10 - 7:15 AM

Unfortunately, I’ve no jokes popping out at me for my opening this time, but a little birdie told me you should head below the cut.

(Got that one in at the literal eleventh hour! I work for my lovely readers ;) )

Press Release Mary Margaret and David continue to grapple with their unrequited love, and Emma and Regina grow suspicious over a mysterious new stranger in town. Meanwhile, in the fairytale land that was, Snow White yearns to ease her breaking heart as Prince Charming’s wedding to King Midas’s daughter approaches. General Thoughts Past During my review of “Snow Falls,” I commented on the fact that as that would be the only time we’d get any substantively meaty Snow and Charming scenes for quite some time and that every other episode’s flashback would depend on how well that episode handled them, I wasn’t joking and this is the first episode where you feel the effects of it. (For more on that, head on down to “Flip My Ship”). It’s weird, I never saw the nuance in King George, but damnit, he is right. True Love being worth fighting for regardless of the obstacles is one of the central themes of OUaT, and I think for the most part, the show does a good job of showing that. However, we sometimes forget that that pursuit is not without its consequences (Depriving others of the prosperity and peace that David and Abigail’s marriage would bring to their kingdoms), and here, George lays that out in no uncertain terms. Is he most likely acting more in the interest of himself and his kingdom more than anything? Yes, but the validity of what he’s saying still remains. His plans and reasoning are well thought out and admirably complex. I feel guilty. In the past, I just saw him as this one note villain, but holy hell: a few years can really do a lot to change one. I wish we saw more of him, only to see more of this viewpoint. Snow and Charming definitely do end up winning the day, but the idea of sacrifices and bloodshed are for the most part all but abandoned after this episode. The fact that David, immediately after hearing what George has to say, writes a letter to Snow discussing how he’s willing to abandon everything else without a second thought for her almost makes him unlikable in the face of that. The only thing that save his is that damnit, Charming lives up to his nickname!

Snow’s aspect of the story is interesting too. We see these two sides of her battling. The first side, of course, is her love for Charming, and that’s strengthened both by the letter she receives and the fear she has of losing him to his arranged marriage. However, what’s really clever is that the fear she had back in “Snow Falls” didn’t go away, and Rumple, Grumpy, and George help to reinforce her own doubts by giving the pursuit of love an actual cost - one’s heart, freedom, and potentially not theirs, but their beloved’s life. It’s a very clever use of characters. Actually, after a day or two, I realized that Snow’s arc was even stronger than I gave it credit for. In this episode, despite having her reservations about love, she does overcome them despite what I pointed out, and it’s only the fear of Charming dying that makes her back off. The ultimate resolution is so much like the character herself: Tragic, but not without that bit of hope always by her side (In this case, her new friendships and the breaking of David’s marriage). Present So I basically had no strong thoughts on this episode (Apart from dread at a certain aspect, but I’ll discuss that shortly) until we see Mary Margaret nearly fall down the cliff. 

Then it hit me: The David and Mary Margaret storyline is this episode is the most fanfic-y, romance novel-y material I have ever seen (And that’s not a bash against it at all). Like, you get that mutual pining, David saves Mary Margaret after some tension, they’re stuck in a cabin together, they both love animals. Entire weeks’ worth of soaps don’t have half as many romance tropes as this storyline does! That said, the more I see of David Nolan pre-broken curse, the more I dislike him. He simply refuses to own the choice he makes and with these small windows of time the show is giving us, it’s either unrealistic or horrible of him to jump from one woman to the other. And yeah, at this point in the series, Abigail wasn’t too kind, but David didn’t know that, in hindsight, she hasn’t done anything more than be annoying, and everything we’ve seen of Kathryn has been delightful, patient, and kind thus far. I really feel like there needed to be more of a time discrepancy or evidence of some real trying on David’s part before suddenly doing whatever he could to see Mary Margaret. It makes David’s speech after releasing the bird so eye rolling to listen to (Though Josh’s puppy dog eyes and loving gaze make me really wish there was more to it) because while he claims that he has feelings for Kathryn, the most we’ve seen of it is a shaky scene together outside the Nolan house and a kiss that is now spoiled with the knowledge that it came right after David made a move to go see his crush. As for the August and Emma storyline, well, for one thing, they have a fantastic rapport. August’s ability to dodge questions like a skilled Mario Kart player dodges banana peels faced off against Emma’s focused and pointed questions is the greatest battle of wits. It positively glued my eyes to the screen, and the fact that I can say that despite knowing exactly what happens is so cool! Insights I love that opening shot! For one thing, it grants a special level of ambiguity as to what realm we’re in for those slow first couple of seconds. For another, they get Henry walking towards August through his reflection in the motorcycle! The cinematography of this show is so under-celebrated, and my ful props to them! Also, completely-unintentional-and-thus-hindsight-ily-badass foreshadowing of Henry riding a motorbike in the future! So I’m aware I’m 100% wrong about this wacky theory, but follow me on this. The episode is called “7:15am” and the most famous time on the show is 8:15. Is this, alongside a significant time for David and MM, an allusion to the fact that they’re figuratively one step behind the curse? I started blushing out of secondhand embarrassment when Mary Margaret revealed how much she knew about David’s schedule. “Love is the worst. I wish there was a magic cure.” It’s called booze! Wow! This is the first time I’ve seen Snow and Red have a scene together in a while! I missed their friendship! I find it so interesting how stories of The Dark One are kept under such wraps. In the “Desperate Souls,” the Dark One’s existence is borderline common knowledge because of how the Duke yielded him. However, Rumple - possibly due to fear or just a desire to be left alone - took the opposite approach and kept his reputation so quiet over the centuries, so much so that his mere existence is now questioned. Given his rather large...estate, what do you think he had to do to make that happen? Yay!!! We get to see Snow’s cloak again!!! Also, I don’t care if it’s just a set - the design for the scene between Rumple and Snow is creepy and beautiful! I love the atmosphere! It’s simple and shady! Rumple’s going on about all this anti-love stuff and I’m like, “Let’s talk in a year, bro.” Seeing Charming send out that bird makes me wish for a scene where the two of them spoke of Snow’s uncanny ability. ...Also, nice transition! XD I actually forgot that Grumpy gave the basics of his origin story before his episode came out. “Give us our best shot.” I can’t help but feel like that was so intentionally slightly off the mark from “our best chance,” showing that something’s not quite right. I love how as MM is getting her coffee at the end of the episode you can just HEAR the “fuck” as she hears the bell. Arcs David and Mary Margaret finding each other - One thing that I can say is that we get development here. Look, I’m not a fan of cheating plots, but it is interesting to see Mary Margaret and David struggle to find a happy middle ground in an emotionally complicated situation. That said, the lack of time and real commitment to being with Kathryn makes me question why they’d even bother having the cheating subplot. Snow and Charming finding each other - This episode builds right off of both the conclusion of “Snow Falls” and the insight of “The Shepherd.” Additionally, I like that Snow and Charming aren’t stuck in the “Do I have feelings for this person” phase of their romance for long because it allows for the rest of the arc to take off well from here. The Mystery of August Booth - We get a brief introduction of this arc here, and it wastes no time connecting to the main players: Emma and Henry. There’s also a cool subversion where we get an immediate insight into something that would otherwise be a several episode mystery in another series. However, both the man and mystery are still prominent and we as an audience know there’s still leagues to explore with him. Favorite Dynamic Snow and Grumpy. While their friendship is given very little time to build, not a second of it is wasted. Even as I know how Grumpy’s story ends up, those first niblets we get here make do a really good job painting his emotional dilemma and making a connection to Snow’s quest. Snow - in turn - gets to build off of Grumpy’s negativity by showing both optimism that opposes him cynicism and kindness when Grumpy and Sneaky leave the jail cell despite them intending on leaving her there. That wish for happiness is so sincere that it could melt steel. And the reciprocation that blossoms as the flashback progresses is just wonderful. Writer Had to do a bit of research (And by research, I mean a Wikipedia article, full disclosure) for this one because while the story (The basic actions and plot points) was written by A&E, the teleplay (The dialogue and smaller actions) was written by Daniel Thomsen. Thankfully, in regards to breaking this down, this information does me quite a few favors. Last time, I wasn’t able to do more than theorize what each writer contributed to the scripts, but right now, I can do a bit more to discuss the finer points. First, let’s tackle A&E’s role. I genuinely feel for the basic layout of this story. Regarding the past, I have no complaints. The broad strokes of emotional buildup work and the conclusion feels completely earned. My thoughts on the present prove to be more challenging. I don’t like that it ends as a cheating story, per se, but if that was to be the story, the basic layout of it does work. There’s a proper building of stakes and the big picture character beats hit home. However, execution is where I have my problems, so let’s tackle Daniel Thomsen. Again, I really have no problems with the execution of the flashbacks, save for oddly amazing piece of development for the villain and his motivation that is just kind of brushed aside. But that’s just a matter of doing too good a job. My issue is really with the present events, or just the things that aren’t on the page that really should be. It’s hard for me to feel sorry for David for walking out on Mary Margaret when there’s hardly an implication that he’s giving himself and Kathryn a fighting chance. I know I’m supposed to be feeling how he’s caught in between these two sets of memories and the kiss at the end does retain its weight, but so often during this episode, I just wished that he would make a choice and stick to it. What makes this all the more aggravating would be if there was just one or two more lines about making an effort there. And for a while, Thomsen was showing that through David and Kathryn’s interactions and the way he talked about her and things were feeling more like a real push-pull for him, but it was ruined the moment David said that he had been planning his coffee trips to coincide with Mary Margaret. At that line, my faith was shattered and it harmed my perception of the character. Rating 8/10. This was an entertaining episode to watch. Snow’s journey in the flashback was such an exciting story to witness, especially when it comes to seeing her interact with all of these characters for the first time. This is Ginny’s episode to shine in both realms and the show makes sure that you know it through the array of emotions she pulls off throughout the runtime. So much of Snow and Mary Margaret’s character is expanded upon through all of this. The present stuff is pretty flawed for reasons I explained above, but damnit, this show knows how to sell fairytale magic and fate and some impressive forest locations, music, shots, and animal habits really sell the scope of the small story. Flip My Ship Snowing - I love that lingering effect that’s clearly been had on Snow. Love nestled itself into her like coins in a couch sofa. But at the same time, there’s still that cynicism from the last episode and while love is pushing it out, the tragedy of their circumstances still keeps it there. And the cute look as she’s watching Charming go off to pack - both times! That is a woman in love! And then the sorrow when she has to end things with Charming is so hard because every gleam of her eyes just screams that this is the last thing in the world that she wants to do! AND as she’s walking away, she looks like she’s gonna collapse from utter sadness! DAMNIT, GEORGE! Swan Queen - Emma’s so flirty in that scene by the car and it’s just adorable against Regina’s no-nonsense business attitude! Captain Swan - “Not a day goes by that I’ve not thought of you.” Oh, that line brings back retroactive parallel memories! :D

()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()()

Thank you for reading and to the fine folks at @watchingfairytales for putting this rewatch together! See you all next time and...be careful of the fruits you eat. They maaaaay be from a poisonous tree. ...If you can’t tell, I love a good stinger.

Season Tally (81/220) Writer Tally for Season 1: A&E (31/70) Liz Tigelaar (17/20)* David Goodman (16/50) Jane Espenson (16/60) Andrew Chambliss (8/40) Ian Goldberg (8/40) Daniel Thomsen (8/10)* (* = Their work for the season is complete)

Operation Rewatch Archives

[wierdogal]

U.ST (University of Storybrooke)

Summary: U.ST has always been the acronym for the University of Storybrooke…and no it does not mean Unresolved Sexual Tension between the librarian and one of the department chairs.

I loved this little thing I did for Rumbelle Revolution before and decided to add a new chapter to it :) Hope everyone likes it!

[Chapter 1] [AO3]

Regina groaned as she let her head fall on her desk. Here she thought she wouldn't be having anymore problems since Jefferson's idea had worked.

Belle and Gold were together and they seemed to be the perfect couple anyone could ever imagine. They were disgustingly romantic and sweet. Every single person on campus (student and teacher alike) seem to like them together, or as Roland puts it ships them.

But only a week or two into this new established relationship amongst the staff...a new problem has arisen and it's like she could do anything about it.

Robin entered her office with a smile. [Not that she herself was innocent when it comes to the complaints.]

"I take it Blue has been up your arse?" asked Robin as she sat opposite her desk. "So who had the most charges?"

"Belle and Gold," answered Regina but she lifted her head and glared at him. "We have three accounts by they way. We should really just avoid seeing each other and make out inside the car."

"That's still within campus so Blue we still have our heads," replied Robin with a grin. "I'm sure we can find any of the hidden places most students snog use."

Regina made a face and just groaned once again. The annoying busy body named Rheul "Blue" Ghorm was the university's HR head and even if she is easily swayed about relationships within the workplace, she was very strict about displays of affection.

Seeing as there were a lot of campus within the admin and teaching staff, Blue made a tally of violations against the staff's rules on displays of affection...which every single couple violated once or twice.

But Belle and Gold really did a number on that tally. They've been together for a week and they got a total of 75 violations.

"Blue is calling for a admin and staff meeting," groaned Regina. "No doubt to scold us for acting like the teenagers we are supposed to be teaching."

"Maybe we should get Jefferson and his matchmaking talents on the job," joked Robin but he raised his arms in surrender when Regina glared at him. "What? I think it's a good plan."

"I pray for the poor soul you guys are going to match with Blue," said Regina as Robin laughed and headed out of the office.

xXx

"I'm pretty sure she was undressing your father with her eyes, Bae," began Lily as Neal frantically placed his hands over his ears.

"No, I don't want to hear this, be quiet," shouted Neal, most of the students studying in the library giving them annoyed looks.

Emma elbowed him to calm down and Neal hunched over their table. "It's bad enough I have to deal with my love sick, goofy face old man, please don't add to my suffering."

"Well you complained about him being annoying when he was loving from afar," argued August. "You can't have it all, Neal."

"Besides, I heard he's more lenient with grades this week than he has been for his entire tenure in campus," said Emma. "That works in our advantage."

Neal was about to argue when Grace Hatterson appeared and sat down. "You'll never guess who my father has his eyes on now." She shook her head, "He's matched, Coach Robin with Dean Mills, and of course doctors French and Gold...but even I think this one is going to be bad."

"Now I'm curious," began Lily.

"Ms. Ghorm and Dr. Avalon," replied Grace.

"What?!" Her friends all chorused in a whisper.

"Well you know how Ms Ghorm has that policy about displays of affection?" she began. "Well dad thinks that maybe she'll lighten up if she gets her own boyfriend within the staff."

"Doubt that," snorted Lily and they all chuckled silently...well at least they thought they were being silent.

"Guys, please don't make me kick you out of the library," said a voice and they all turned to see Dr. Belle French giving them an amused look. "I'm pretty sure you don't have to whisper at the many study halls in the campus."

"Yeah but none of them having working air conditioners," came a voice from behind her and Neal groaned as his father stepped beside his girlfriend. "Aren't you supposed to be heading home and working on dinner, Baelfire?"

Neal cringed at his given name. His father rarely used it in full, it was either, son or the fond nickname, Bae. Using of the full first name meant serious business.

'I thought we could order in," said Neal with a shrug.

"Out of your allowance?" asked Gold with a raised eyebrow.

Neal winced but nodded. His father was going to kill him if he admitted that he forgot he was supposed to cook dinner.

Gold sighed and fished out his wallet. "Why don't you all finish your research at home and order in? My treat."

Neal's eyes widened as his mouth dropped. Did he hear right? Did his father just offer to buy them dinner?

"Um, ok," began Neal as he stood and took the offered cash. "I'll order your usual then?"

"We have an admin and staff meeting," replied Gold. "I'll be a little late."

"Super late," added Belle. "Blue has this whole lecture on decorum and etiquette."

"But what-"

"Oh god, Neal take the hint," said Emma, grabbing her boyfriend's arm. "We'll make sure he doesn't burn the house down, Dr. Gold. Have fun!"

Neal's face fell as he realized what his girlfriend was talking about and he gaped at them then at his friends.

Gold chuckled and turned to Belle. "Told you it was hereditary. I'm glad Emma's a smart lass."

"Yes, we should probably swap tips on how to make the obvious more obvious because the Gold me are idiots most of the time," said Belle as she headed over to her office. "Come on, before Blue turns our tally into a hundred."

"That sounds like a challenge," replied Gold and the glint in Belle's eye pretty much told him everything.

"Dr. Gold there is roughly two hours before the general assembly," began Belle with a wink. "I presume you will be using your time wisely."

Gold smirked as she retreated to her office. Well they would be in her office, not necessarily public display of affection...

xXx

"Do we really have to listen to this?" whispered Gold as he shifted in his seat. "She's been going on and on for 45 minutes. I have a date."

Regina rolled her eyes. She sat beside Gold, Robin on her other side. "Here I thought my life would be quieter if you two finally hooked up."

"This is your fault you know," replied David from Gold's right.

"Like you won't be doing half the things Mother Superior over there is preaching a big no if Mary Margaret was teaching at a university level instead of primary school," fired back Gold.

"I wasn't talking about you," hissed David as his gaze landed on Jefferson who was on Robin's other side. "If you hadn't forced them then for sure Cal here would be all hiding his relationship and being subtle."

"Yeah but we'd still their constant argument for show," replied Jefferson a little louder which made Blue turn to them.

"Anything you'd like to share Dr. Hatterson?" asked Blue, giving the Art Department Head her famous not impressed look.

"Nothing ma'am," replied Jefferson and Blue continued on with her lecture.

Gold kept looking at Belle who sat in front with the English Faculty. They agreed not to fuel the fire by sitting next to each other, especially since when they had arrived at the auditorium, Blue had given them a glare that actually had Gold flinching.

He got his phone and fired a quick message.

I doubt we'd still be able to cook dinner. Order in?

Cheeseburgers and Iced Tea were already ordered when the lecture passed it's half hour mark. ;)

Gold smile and he knew Belle was resisting the urge to turn and give him a satisfied smirk. God, she was the most wonderful woman he had ever crossed paths with.

Quit staring or else Blue will use as an example.

Let her try.

Be thankful she didn't announce the tally.

Who was it that said earlier when we were in the library that the tally was some sort of badge of honor?

She replied with a zipper-mouth face emoji which had Gold chuckling slightly.

"Dr. Gold, please put your phone away," came the reprimand.

"Forgive me if I'm checking if I still have a house," replied Gold loudly so everyone could hear. "You do know how my son and his pyrotechnic tendencies."

Blue narrowed her eyes but returned to her lecture, which lasted another half hour, much to everyone's dismay.

As soon as the assembly was over, Gold met Blue at the doors to the auditorium. "Well that was worthwhile."

"I could think of other ways to use our valued time," replied Belle with a smile as she leaned in to-

"Dr. French! Didn't I just-"

Gold groaned and rubbed a tired hand over his face. No way in hell was this woman interrupting their night. "Ms. Ghorm, I heard you specifically say to act as professionals in front of the students."

"Yes, I-"

"Are you blind then?" asked Gold as he waved his hand. "No student in sight. Not even anyone under the age of 28 is present in our midst. Therefore, displays of actions are not hindering us to be the esteemed professional educators that we are."

And to emphasize his points he wrapped an arm around Belle and kissed her, passionately that they were both a little out of breathe when they broke apart.

"You Dr. Gold are extremely sexy when you're making your point,"said Belle as she all but pushed him against his car and kissed him senseless.

"Then," replied Gold in between kisses. "You must...have found me...sexy in every...argument...we had."

Belle smirked and pulled away. "Why do you think I come up with the most bizarre topics to get you all riled up?"

Gold was about to reply when someone clear their throat behind them. They both turned to see Regina with an amused smile.

"Nice loophole," replied Regina as Gold turned and flashed a smug grin.

"Happy to be of service," replied Gold as he looked around. "Where's Mother Superior?"

"Oh she scrammed a second or two into your kiss." replied Regina. "But as dean, I think I speak for everyone when I say that you should probably move this," she motioned towards the two of them. "Somewhere more private."

"Oh we'd be glad to," replied Belle as he took Gold's hand and pretty much skipped towards the parking lot.

[swanqueeneverafter]

33. It’s Not Easy Being Green, Pt.2

The Enchanted Forest. Past. Dark Palace. (Zelena is transported to Regina’s chambers. She looks around the room and opens a wardrobe. Finally, she walks to the dressing table and decides to try the magical task Rumpelstiltskin has given Regina. Smoothly, Zelena succeeds. She is unaware that Rumplestiltskin is watching.) Rumplestiltskin: “Well, this is a day of surprises. I thought it would take you at least until— (He stops in mid-sentence; noticing that the woman is not Regina:) You’re not Regina.” Zelena: “No. I’m Cora’s other daughter.” Rumplestiltskin: “That’s not possible.” Zelena: “I’m Zelena. Her first-born.” Rumplestiltskin: “We’ll see about that. (Rumplestiltskin tears out a hair from Zelena's head and applies it to a potion, which becomes strongly green. Amazed, he looks at the result:) Oh, hello, dearie. A day of surprises indeed.” Storybrooke. Present Day. In The Woods. (Wielding his sword, David swings and cuts a mark into a tree. Puzzled, he turns around facing his opponent. Taking David by surprise his opponent is able to knock David to the ground.) Zelena's Farmhouse. (Hook and Emma carefully approach the house looking through the windows. In the kitchen there’s a teakettle standing on the table.) Emma: (Whispering:) “There’s definitely someone living here. Looks empty right now, though.“ Hook: (Whispering:) “Why are we whispering?” Emma: (Whispering:) “Because good hideouts always look empty. Trust me. I’ve spent a lot of time tracking down people who don’t want to be found. I know about hiding out. (Sneaking around the house, Emma sees a bicycle standing there. She also notices a storm cellar located in the garden:) A storm cellar.” (Hook and Emma approach the cellar. The door is locked. Emma draws her pistol, but Hook stops her.) Hook: “Whoa, wait. Wait. It’s one thing walking around a deserted farmhouse, it’s quite another descending into a one-way cellar with no way out.” Emma: “Scared?” Hook: (Sighs:) “There’s a difference between fear and strategy. We know she’s got flying monstrosities. Who knows what’s down there? If this witch is as powerful as we think, we could use some magical backup. Unless, you’ve been practicing in New York City.” Emma: “Okay, I’ll call Regina. Have her drop Henry at Granny’s. I’d like to see those flying monstrosities trying to get past her crossbow.” Hook: “And her lunch special.” (Emma discovers she received a message from David.)

The Woods. (The hooded figure approaches David who lies on the ground. Sensing someone standing over him, David grabs his sword and gets to his feet. Then, David turns around stabbing his opponent. Unimpressed, the hooded figure lifts David up, strangling him in the process. Pulling back the figure’s hood, David Nolan faces himself.) David: (With a strained voice:) “What are you?” Night Root David: “I’m you. (Chuckling, Night Root David pushes David back to the ground. David picks up his sword:) You can’t defeat me. I smell your fear. It’s like a stench. The stench of a scared shepherd boy who strayed too far from his farm.” David: “I’m not scared of anything.” (He attacks Night Root David. Smoothly, Night Root David parries his strokes.) Night Root David: (Laughing:) “If that were true, I wouldn’t be here. (David attacks his opponent once again. This time his sword tilts and Night Root David forces David down to his knees. With a single powerful stroke, Night Root David cuts David’s sword in half:) Don’t you see? Your fear makes you weak.” David: “No, I’m not afraid.” Night Root David: “Saying that doesn’t make it so.” David: “I’ll die to protect my family.” Night Root David: “That doesn’t make you fearless. Even as the point is proven. (Night Root strangles David:) Give in. It’s easier.” (David gets a glimpse of Emma’s car approaching.) David: “I am afraid. I am afraid I won’t be a good father. But I won’t let that stop me. Not now.”

(Using his broken sword’s hilt, David stabs Night Root David. It crumbles to dust. Panting, David notices that the hilt lies beside him. However, before he can lift it off ground the hilt vanishes in a cloud of green smoke. Emma, Regina and Hook approach him.) Emma: “David, you okay?” (David nods.) Regina: “Well, where is she?” David: “It wasn’t her.” Hook: “Then, who was it? You look whiter than a fresh sail.” David: “Myself.” Hook: “Come again?” Regina: “It’s the witch. She’s toying with us.” David: “Did you guys find where she might be hiding?” Hook: “A farmhouse. We think it’s hers.” David: “Then let’s end this. Let’s send that witch back to Oz.” The Enchanted Forest. Past. (Zelena and Rumpelstiltskin walk together in the woods.) Zelena: “Cora never mentioned me?” Rumplestiltskin: “A first born daughter? I think that’s something I would remember. Now, there’s a spell, a curse I’ve been working on for a very very long time. I foresaw that that curse can only be cast by Cora’s daughter.” Zelena: “That’s why you’ve been training Regina. You thought she was going to cast the curse.” Rumplestiltskin: “Until today. Shall we see what you can do? Magic isn’t about what you see, dearie, it’s about what you feel inside. (Using a black cloth he blindfolds Zelena:) You’ll have to dig deep if you wanna pass tonight’s test.” Zelena: “What am I meant to do?” Rumplestiltskin: “Simple. Find me. (Using magic, he teleports himself. Now, Rumplestiltskin is standing behind Zelena:) Over here, dearie. (Surprised, Zelena turns around. Leaning on a tree Rumplestiltskin appears in front of Zelena, only a few yards away from her. Again, she’s unable to catch him:) Close, but not close enough. Magic comes from emotion. Simply think of a moment that makes you boil with anger.” Zelena: “And use it to feel the magic. Yes, I’ve learned that a long time ago. It’s hard to pick one. Finding out that my mother abandoned me. That my father never wanted me.” Rumplestiltskin: “Getting warmer.” Zelena: (In a high-pitched voice:) “That my sister got everything I’ve ever desired. That she didn’t even have to prove something. It all just happened. And she doesn’t even know what she has.” (Successfully, Zelena grabs Rumpelstiltskin by the arm.) Rumplestiltskin: “Ding Dong. There it is. I can feel it in your nails.” Zelena: “Sorry, I lost control.” Rumplestiltskin: “And now, you need to think of a moment of happiness rein in some of that anger.” Zelena: “What do you think about?” Rumplestiltskin: “I’m the teacher. I ask the questions.” Zelena: “But, if you don’t tell me that how will I learn?” Rumplestiltskin: “Well, like you, I was abandoned as a child. Some spinsters took us in. We didn’t have much. But we got by. Whenever we finished a job they used to bake meat pies. The entire hovel would fill with the most wonderful smell. And after they had cooled they always let me take the first bite. And as the food warmed my body that was the only time I forgot who I really was. A boy who wasn’t wanted by his papa.” Zelena: “Mhm. (Smiles:) Then, I know my moment.” Rumplestiltskin: “What’s that, dearie?” Zelena: “The moment I stopped feeling like someone who wasn’t wanted. The moment you agreed to train me.”

Storybrooke. Present Day. In The Woods. Hook: “Any particular reason she would send a demon who looks like you?” David: “No idea. It was just there wearing my face, harping on my deepest fears.” Regina: “It knew your deepest fears?” David: “Yeah, things I never told anyone, even Mary Margaret. It wasn’t until I’d admitted them that I was able to defeat it by stabbing it with the hilt of my sword.” Regina: “Where is it? Your sword?” David: “Well, that’s the strange part. After I killed it, the hilt… it disappeared.” Hook: “What’s that mean, then?” Regina: “When we face our deepest fears, our true courage comes out. When you used the hilt of your sword to vanquish your fears, your courage transferred into it.” David: “And why did it disappear?” Regina: “It didn’t disappear. She took it.” Emma: “Hang on. The Wicked Witch stole his courage?” Regina: “Well, a symbol of it, at least. And symbols can be powerful totems.” Blanchard Apartment. (Preparing to leave, Zelena opens her handbag. The sword hilt is stored inside.) Mary Margaret: “I’m so glad you came by.” Zelena: “Of course. I so loved getting to know you. And please, thank David again, for meeting with me. You know, I’d heard so many stories about your courageous prince, I just… I just feel so lucky to have met you both.” Mary Margaret: “Oh, we’re the lucky ones. With this curse I had no time to prepare for the baby, and suddenly I feel like I can stop panicking.” Zelena: “Of course, you can. There’s no reason to be scared. That’s what I’m here for.” (Mary Margaret hugs Zelena.) Zelena's Farmhouse. (David, Hook, Regina and Emma approach the storm cellar. Emma notices that the lock is now broken.) Emma: “That lock. It wasn’t busted before. (Emma reaches for her gun and Hook draws his cutlass:) Ready?” (David opens the cellar’s door.) Hook: “So far, so good.” Emma: “Everyone, stay alert. Come on.” (Carefully, Emma walks down the stairs. David, Regina and Hook enter the cellar, too.)

Regina: “There’s definitely dark magic here. (To Emma:) Can you feel it?” Emma: “I don’t know. Maybe. Whatever I feel, it’s not good. (Notices a cage standing in the room. The lock is broken, too:) What would the Wicked Witch keep in a cage? Monkeys?” David: “No, not monkeys. (David turns on the lights. A spinning wheel is standing inside the cage. David crouches down picking up straw from the ground:) How many people do we know who can spin straw into gold?” Emma: “Rumplestiltskin.” The Enchanted Forest. Past. The Dark Castle. (Zelena arranges a meat pie on the table. Rumpelstiltskin enters the room.) Rumplestiltskin: “I don’t remember giving permission for guests.” Zelena: “That’s for you. Meat pie. Just like the spinsters used to make when you were a boy.” Rumplestiltskin: “Can’t stay. Have a lesson to teach.” Zelena: “But, we just finished a lesson.” Rumplestiltskin: “Not with you, dearie. With Regina.” Zelena: “You’re still training her?” Rumplestiltskin: “Did you think I was gonna stop?” Zelena: “Wait. You don’t need Regina. I’m going to cast your curse. (In a high-pitched voice:) She’s not nearly as powerful as me. She doesn’t deserve to have you teaching her.” Rumplestiltskin: (Interrupting her:) “Careful, Zelena. What was it your father used to always tell you?” Zelena: “No matter, what you feel on the inside you always have to put on a good face.” Rumplestiltskin: “You might wanna take his advice. Your inside is starting to show. (Shocked Zelena crosses the room so that she can look into a mirror. She discovers a green spot at her neck:) You’re turning green, dearie. Envy will do that to you. And don’t wait up. This could take a while.” (Zelena turns from the mirror to see that Rumplestiltskin has vanished.)

Storybrooke. Present Day. (Emma Swan enters Granny's Diner. Granny opens the door.) Granny: “If you want privacy, talk fast. We open in twenty and no one gets between Leroy and his bacon.” Hook: “Is there any sign of our quarry?” Emma: “I went all over that farm house and the land around it. Nothing.” David: “Well, now that the sun’s up, we should hit every place Gold might go. His house, shop, his cabin.” Emma: “'Cause dead men love vacation homes. Can someone explain to me how this is even possible? We all saw Gold, he…” Mary Margaret: “Disappeared into nothingness, I know.” Hook: “I might have an inkling. When we went back to the Enchanted Forest, Neal was talking about the possibility of getting his father back.” David: “What? How?” Hook: “He didn’t know how. He just… He missed his family. He was desperate to find a way to return to this world. He believed that bringing his father back was the key.” Emma: “Well, if that was his plan, then obviously something went wrong. Because, while Gold might be alive and kicking, Neal is… He is… We don’t know what he is. We don’t even know if he made it back to Storybrooke. No one’s seen him since this new curse.” David: “He’s out there somewhere.” Regina: “With all due respect, we have bigger issues right now, than who brought Gold back. The fact that he was in the Wicked Witch’s basement for one. I wanna know what the hell she was cooking up with him.” Mary Margaret: “Well, the best way to find that out would be to ask Gold, right?” David: “He could tell us who the witch is, maybe how to track her down.” Regina: “I’m gonna head back to that farmhouse. It’s possible this witch left behind some trace of potion or special ingredient.” Emma: “Have at it. Just be careful.” Regina: (Smiles at Emma’s concern:) “Well, she’s the one who needs to be careful. She invaded my space. When I return the favor, I’m not pulling any punches.”

Storybrooke. Present Day. (Holding the Dark One’s Dagger in one hand Zelena stands in the woods.) Zelena: “I summon thee Dark One. (Nothing happens. Frowning, Zelena tries again:) Rumplestiltskin! (Sighs:) It’s not working. The Dark One’s broken free and he knows far too much. (A flying monkey approaches Zelena:) Find him, beautiful one. Find him, now.” (Shrieking, the monkey takes wing. Meanwhile, Mr. Gold can be seen running through the woods.) Mr. Gold Pawnbroker & Antiquities Dealer. Belle: “So… So, Rumple is alive? I mean, how is that even possible?” Emma: “We were hoping you might be able to tell us that. You know him and the shop better than anyone. If he’s in Storybrooke, there has to be a clue in here about how he got back and how we can find him, now that he is.” Belle: “Yeah, I’ll… I’ll start looking right away.” David: “Keep your eyes out for him, too. If he comes into town…” Belle: “He’ll come to me. Yeah, I know.” (Emma gives Hook a look.) Hook: (Reluctantly:) “I will stay here with you. I’m surprisingly good at research.” Belle: (Faces Hook:) “You will stay with me?” Emma: “He’ll protect you, if the witch comes.” Belle: “You do know he’d tried to kill me?” Hook: “Well, there were extenuating circumstances.” Belle: “Twice.” Hook: (Flatly:) “Sorry.” Emma: “You really know how to charm a girl, don’t you?” Hook: “This will be my way of making it up to you. Hmm?” Belle: “Fine.” Emma: “All right, we should really get out into the woods.” David: “Hey, maybe you should stay home?” Mary Margaret: “Me? I’m the best tracker here.” David: “I know, but we’ll manage. Remember what Zelena said, you need your rest.” Emma (Approaches Belle:) “Belle, thank you for your help. Don’t worry, we’re gonna find him.” Belle: “Okay. Thank you.”

[angryhausfrau-writes]

You Can’t Cross the Same River Twice - Chapter 13

"Hey, Trapper, you want to add anything to this Christmas card to BJ?" Hawkeye asks.

They've written joint Christmas cards to Radar and Klinger and Father Mulcahy and some of the nurses - Trapper's currently sitting across from Hawkeye at the dining room table, finishing his part of their letter to Ginger. They've sent a joint present to Hawkeye's dad and bought joint gifts for the girls. They're a unit - HawkeyeandTrapper.

But it had been HawkeyeandBJ for a while - if not quite in the same way.

"I don't know that he'd even want to hear from me. I don't mean anything to him other than being your roommate." And Trapper is also someone BJ had gotten jealous over a couple times. "Better just be from you, Hawk."

"All right." Hawkeye sounds tired.

Trapper reaches across the table and takes his hand. "You wanna talk about it?"

"I don't know if I even know what's bothering me." Hawkeye sighs. "This isn't my first go at this kind of relationship - although it's probably the most.. settled version. I know that I can't go yelling about how much I love you from the rooftops, can't even write about it in a goddamn Christmas card to my friends. I'm grateful for how many people know the truth, I really am, I'm glad we don't have to hide our relationship from Margaret or my dad or Sidney. But sending out all these letters really shows just how many people - people I love and care about - I have to hide it from. Because even if they didn't turn us in, they wouldn't understand."

"You ever think. You ever wish you found a girl to settle down with? Someone you could tell everyone about." Trapper takes a breath. "I wouldn't. I wouldn't blame you if you wished for that. If you wanted to go looking for it."

"Nah." Hawkeye seems to be trying for casual, but he ain't quite hitting the mark. "I think about all the girls I've been with - and I've had a lot of fun with some of them, don't get me wrong. But in the back of my mind, it was always. There was always this part of me saying I had to do it. It kept me safe, more than anything - more than being about the sex or romance, it was about being safe. And that colored things, took a lot of the romance - the potential for a future - right out of the relationship. I spent a lot of time chasing women who had absolutely no interest in me because it was an easy way to keep up appearances without having to actually do anything."

Hawkeye pauses.

"I don't want to go back to that, Trap. It was.. empty. Not like the connection, the understanding we have with each other. And maybe someday I will meet another Kyung Soon - another women I could have something lasting with - but it seems stupid to give up what I've got now - something good, something permanent, something meaningful - just on the off chance. I just wish..." Hawkeye trails off.

"Wish the world was a whole hell of a lot less shitty?" Trapper asks, sardonic.

Hawkeye laughs. "Yeah, that. I guess I got so used to the.. freedom of the 4077 - we were all just a bunch of weirdos stuck together in an impossible situation, desperately trying to stay sane, you know? - that I forgot what the real world was like a little bit. People didn't bat an eye at the jokes I made or the closeness I shared with you and BJ - it was just how I was, one weirdo out of a whole camp of weirdos. I forgot that other people - people in the real world - cared about that kind of thing so much. Especially after Frank left and I wasn't getting called a degenerate every day."

"And now you're back here in the real world and it's not what you remembered, not what you dreamed of to get you through Korea," Trapper says.

Hawkeye nods, defeated.

And Trapper knows how that feels. Trapper had felt the same thing when it had hit him that he was home. This was it. There was nothing else waiting for him. No magical, perfect world - dreamed of through rose tinted memory all through the Korean nights - nothing special hidden away behind the brutal reality of America and Boston and home.

"I guess I'm feeling kind of betrayed," Hawkeye says. "All that fighting for "democracy." All that blood and death. And I come back here - back home - and I ask myself if it was worth it. If this is really what we're trying to protect - to spread to other people. Conformity and bigotry and hate. And I feel like a fool for ever thinking - ever hoping - there was a reason for what we did. Something good behind the blood and shit and death." Hawkeye takes a breath. "There's a lot of good in my life, don't get me wrong. There are a lot of things that make me happy - you, the kids, the clinic, this strange little family we've cobbled together from the dregs of two different wars. But it's. A lot of the best parts of my life have to stay hidden. It's a secret happiness. And the fact that I can't tell BJ - the guy who was my best friend through some of the worst times in my life - about you, about how important you are to me. That really drives it all home."

Trapper squeezes Hawkeye's hand tight. There's not really anything to say to that - no words are adequate.

"At least we'll get to see Margaret and Sidney at New Years. People who know - who we can be open around." Hawkeye sighs and then straightens from his defeated slump. "I'm not - I'm not about to go stick my head in an oven or try and storm the White House or anything. I'm ok, Trap. Everything kind of just hit me all at once, but I'm ok."

"Wanna go out tonight? Be around other people - other guys like us?" Trapper asks. It might help Hawkeye feel less alone - less lost. It had sure helped Trapper when he first got back.

"Yeah," Hawkeye says, "that sounds nice." And he leaves the letter to BJ there on the table.

The bar is an oasis of warmth and light after the snowy streets of Boston. Full of laughter and chatter and dancing. Proof that Hawkeye isn't alone.

He dances with a dozen different men. Feels the warm solidity of their bodies, the strength of their arms. Knows with a certainty that this is real. He is real.

Trapper watches it all from the bar, face open and warm. And at the end of the night, he takes Hawkeye into his arms for a final spin around the dancefloor. Takes Hawkeye home and tucks him into bed under the warm covers in the cozy home they've made for themselves here.

And the next morning, Hawkeye sees that Trapper has written a short note at the end of Hawkeye's letter to BJ. And he smiles as he seals the envelope.

--

Trapper comes home from work to find a mysterious package sitting on the dining room table. Hawkeye's starring at it as intently as if it were a bomb. But unless Frank somehow got their address, it's probably not immediately dangerous - so Trapper takes the time to hang up his coat and hat and leaves his shoes to dry on the mat before approaching.

"Whatcha got there, Hawk? You're staring at that box like you can will yourself into x-ray vision."

"It's from Charles. And there's no note so I wanted to wait until you showed up just in case it's a lethal prank." Hawkeye brandishes a pair of scissors and cuts the package open. "The moment of truth!" he exclaims as he throws back the wrappings.

It's a fruitcake.

"Well, you weren't kidding about it being potentially lethal," Trapper says. "I'm pretty sure you could light it on fire from three feet away, it's got so much booze in it."

"What the hell are we supposed to do with it?" Hawkeye asks. "Use it for a doorstop? One slice and I'd be drunk for a week."

"Don't look at me," Trapper says. "I prefer to drink my booze and eat my dessert separate. Maybe you could bring it into the clinic, see if the other staff want any."

"Yeah, unless he also gave Letta the same gift. I can't compete with her powers of persuasion - I'd end up taking them both home. Ah. There's a little card stuck in it. Says Merry Christmas blah blah token of my friendship to all those in our card club blah Winchester family tradition blah blah Charles."

"Boy, if that's a Winchester family tradition they must all be absolutely plastered for the entire month of December," Trapper says.

"Must be what gets them through all those high-society holiday festivities." Then Hawkeye sighs. "Well, if bringing it to the clinic and pawning it off on Dr. Wilson is out, what do we do?"

"Uh," Trapper says, thinking. "We could put it on the stoop next door, kind of a mystery Christmas present for the neighbors."

"Good thinking - make it someone else's problem." Hawkeye re-wraps the cake and writes Merry Christmas in big letters on the box. "Think it'll be ok outside overnight?"

"Well, it ain't snowing and the cake's practically pickled - it'll probably be fine," Trapper says. And then after a peek through the front curtains, "Quick, let's put it outside now when no one's around to see us."

When Hawkeye leaves for work the next morning, the cake is gone. But when Trapper comes home off a late shift, he reports that the cake has been re-wrapped and placed on another doorstep a few houses down. Apparently the O'Gradys hadn't thought much of it either.

They make a sort of game of it, betting pocket change on who will get it next and admiring their neighbors' taste in holiday wrapping paper. Until finally, a week after it had arrived, the cake disappears permanently.

"Think it actually got eaten?" Trapper asks.

"Maybe they did the sensible thing and chucked it unopened," Hawkeye says. "I'm just glad that scourge of the neighborhood is finally gone."

But they can genuinely tell Charles they got a lot of enjoyment out of his gift when he asks about it at poker night.

--

Hawkeye's an agnostic and Trapper's been excommunicated but it's still nice to have Christmas with his family. Ok, it's not exactly Christmas - he and Hawkeye both have to work on the actual holiday - but he gets the kids the weekend after and they've got a tree and presents and Hawkeye's dad shipped a whole box of Pierce family decorations down.

They eat dinner together and then sit around the glowing tree and drink hot chocolate. It feels like home. Like family. Trapper maybe tears up a little. He'd missed that feeling last year, what with things between him and Louise so strained.

The girls are just thrilled to get to go through the festivities twice.

Hawkeye is absolutely giddy with excitement. There's something about watching people you love open the gifts you got just for them. Seeing Becky's blinding smile at the stack of Nancy Drew books gets a matching grin from him. And Cathy goes wild for the ice skates they'd gotten for her - especially when she manages to extract a promise to go to the ice rink on her next visit.

Hawkeye is even more overwhelmed when Cathy gives him the scarf he'd gotten her started knitting all those months ago. It's a little lumpy and misshapen but it's warm and soft and obviously made with love. And it's a nice cheerful pink, just the thing to chase away the winter blues. Hawkeye gives her a big hug and vows to wear it every day.

Later, after the kids are in bed, he and Trapper exchange gifts. And when Trapper opens Hawkeye's gift for him - the sweater, started almost the moment he got home - he's on the edge of his seat. Hawkeye's made a lot of people knitwear as gifts, but this is a bigger project than most. And for someone who's opinion means an awful lot.

"Hawkeye." Trapper sounds awed. "I love it, thank you." He cradles the sweater to his chest like it's something precious.

"Well, try it on," Hawkeye urges. "I want to see how I did on the sizing."

Trapper complies. And it looks good. Trapper's got a cute body regardless but the fit is flattering and Hawkeye was right about the color bringing out the green in Trapper's eyes. Hawkeye lets out a low whistle in appreciation.

"It meet your standards?" Trapper asks as he does a slow turn to show off all the angles. "It sure is comfy. I don't know that I'll wanna take it off till August."

"I've outdone myself with this one, Trap, it has to be said." Hawkeye lets himself sound a little smug. And then more seriously he says, "I'm glad you like it."

And then Hawkeye makes impatient grabby hands. "C'mon Trap, enough with the catwalk. What did you get me?"

Trapper hands over the package. And he's been nervous about this. He's not as well read - not as cultured - as Hawkeye is. But he'd liked the author from English class and knows Hawkeye's referenced at least one of his poems. And the book has a lot about war and living in the aftermath. It felt appropriate. Though Trapper's still not sure if Hawkeye will appreciate the book or understand what Trapper's trying to say with it.

But Hawkeye looks happy with the gift - and then he opens the book to the marked page and reads:

Let it go on; let the love of this hour be poured out till all the answers are made, the last dollar spent and the last blood gone.

 Time runs with an axe and a hammer, time slides down the hallways with a pass-key and a master-key, and time gets by, time wins.

 Let the love of this hour go on; let all the oaths and children and people of this love be clean as a washed stone under a waterfall in the sun.

 Time is a young man with ballplayer legs, time runs a winning race against life and the clocks, time tickles with rust and spots.

Let love go on; the heartbeats are measured out with a measuring glass, so many apiece to gamble with, to use and spend and reckon; let love go on.

Hawkeye's a little misty-eyed when he looks back up.

"Thank you, Trapper." And then Hawkeye's hugging him, the book squeezed awkwardly between them.

It looks like he does understand after all.