#I. might write a fic of this. we’ll see

[via-the-cryptid]

tgcf au where hc’s true form is Wu Ming. it’s what he looked like right after he died, and even if he reinvents himself, even if he’s gained more strength and power from the Kiln, he still can’t grow or change but so much without involving shapeshifting. his canon form is the one he built for himself, the one he created with the intention of becoming an entirely new being (not weak or helpless, like he used to be before he sculpted a new identity), but it isn’t his true form. his true form is still that bony little waif of a soldier, the one that tried to so hard to help his god but couldn’t truly fix anything in the end.

and now, imagine just how much xl is going to lose his mind when hc inevitably shows him this true form (after much hesitation, but hc really can’t deny his beloved god anything and he would never want to, even if he’s practically ready to dissipate from the shamefulness of that awful body). think of hc changing into the half-starved ghost of Wu Ming, not expecting xl to even remember the ghost — let alone recognize him — and then think of just how hard xl is going to cry when he realises that Wu Ming is still here and still following him after all.

[cosette141]

You, Me, and Who You Used to Be | CS Fic (CSSS 2024 Gift for BelovedCreation)

Merry Christmas!!

I'm your Santa this year!! :) 🎄🎄

Using your prompts of pining, Enchanted Forest, and angst with a happy ending, I give you:

Summary: (CS movie divergence) After getting her parents back on track, Emma’s magic returns. But before she can conjure a portal home, Killian is abducted. Alone in a world she knows nothing about and with no idea how to find Killian, Emma enlists the only person—or rather, pirate—who would be as motivated to save Killian as she is. However… Killian’s past may just be what destroys the future. CS

AO3

Words (so far): 5k+

NOTE: This is currently only the first chapter of this fic - long story short, the fic I spent weeks on just was not coming together, so I last minute changed to this one. It was an idea I had written the beginning of years ago that I remembered when I was trying to find something to align with the prompts you gave me :D so I knew it would be perfect to write for your gift!! I spent the past week working super hard on this trying to get it finished for you in time, but it was getting so rushed and you do not deserve a rushed gift!! So I decided to give you the first 5k words now, and I'll be updating it with the rest over the coming weeks! :)

Chapter One (under the cut!)

A/N: Story context: This is a canon divergence of the CS movie, which begins right after Emma gets the wand from Rumplestiltskin. (He does not send him to his vault of do-not-touch things in this version tho. We’ll pretend Elsa gets to Storybrooke some other way lol. I’ll also be ignoring Marian, which, the show pretty much did when it just ended up being Zelena anyway lol. 

Emma smiled at the faintly glowing wand in her fingers, feeling the warmth of the return of her magic, lighting a glow in the vast dining room of Rumplestiltskin’s castle. 

Everything was back on track.

Including herself.

Perhaps she had been trying to take the easy way out, blocking her magic from returning so she could go back to New York with no ties left behind. 

But more than anything, it was Killian’s smile now that made the warmth inside her grow even more, and if it wasn’t her imagination, made the wand spark a little brighter.

“It works,” whispered Emma, staring at the wand in awe, eyes snapping to Killian. “My magic is back!”

“I knew you could do it, love.” said Killian softly, a relief in his eyes, like it was for both the possibility of getting back home, and for the fact that he still blamed himself for her powers being taken in the first place. 

“Ah, the Savior, of course,” murmured Rumplestiltskin from his perch on the edge of his dining table. “I should have known you would have magic of your own.”

Emma suddenly realized just how much Rumplestiltskin knew. “Is it a problem that you know…?”

“It would be,” he agreed, but lifted his hand, where a potion bottle materialized. “However, I have spent the past few hours mixing myself a Forgetting Potion.”

Emma smiled. “Good. Well, let’s do this, then.” She then lifted the wand, about to attempt to bring forth the time portal.

“Wait, wait, wait,” said Rumplestiltskin, jumping down and pushing her hand with the wand down. “Not in here. You might bring any number of my possessions with you.”

Emma winced, eyes finding the myriad of scary-looking things in the castle, wondering just how catastrophic that could be. 

She looked from Killian’s raised eyebrow to Rumplestiltskin. “So where do we—“

But not a second later, Rumplestiltskin’s castle was gone, and suddenly they were outside. Trees, greenery and blue sky replaced the walls of the Dark One’s abode. They weren’t too far from the town below, and not far off was the sea. But they were in an empty enough area of the forest that no one should see anything, and nothing should come with them.

 “Well,” said Killian, giving her another smile, “ready, there, Swan?”

Emma nodded. She lifted the wand again, concentrating on her magic, on the emotion in her chest, bright and raw. The tiny flicker of a portal, like a zipper drawn in the very fabric of the air, appeared before them. 

Killian grinned. “That’s it, lo—” 

He was cut off with a grunt, and Emma’s eyes snapped to him, her concentration broken and the tiny beginnings of the portal fizzled back out of existence. 

Emma’s heart stopped. 

They were no longer alone. 

A burly, muscled man had his arm around Killian’s neck in a chokehold, his other arm pinning Killian’s left arm to his side. Killian let out an angry, surprised snarl, jerking hard against the grip. 

“Hook!” cried Emma, jamming the wand in her back pocket to hide it and running toward him, only skidding to a stop when three other thugs suddenly flanked the first.

“Sw—“ began Killian, his right hand scrabbling at the hold around his neck, but his airway was quickly cut off. Red rushed to his face, and Emma’s heart froze.

“Sorry, darlin’,” said the man’s raspy voice. “We got direct orders to bring Captain Hook in. He stole from us last night, and now he gon’ pay. Pretty stupid to show yer face in the open like this, without yer crew, no less.” A dark chuckle. “Shoulda sailed away when he had the chance.” To someone behind him, he shouted, “Lucky catch, men!”

Killian struggled against them, something angry and feral, landing a blow to the man's gut. The man growled and stumbled, and Killian reared back to hit him again until the man snapped, “Stop fightin’ or the wench dies!” That made Killian freeze, staring at her with icy horror. 

For a moment, Emma and Killian stared at each other, and it felt like time stood still.

Panic rushed through Emma's chest.

Magic.

Magic.

But she had no idea how to use her magic.

And if she took even a step forward, she'd get a sword through her in seconds.

Killian grunted as a second thug grabbed him on his other side, ripping Killian's sword from his sheath.

Panic rose even sharper in Emma's chest.

Killian swallowed, eyes locked onto her. “Go—home,” Killian managed, his eyes pleading and broken, with something in them that looked like goodbye, only making Emma’s eyes burn. 

“Hook—!” breathed Emma, running for him, but froze when three swords pointed in her direction, so close to her it made her stumble back, falling to the ground.

And by the time she made it back to her feet, they were gone.

-.-.-.

Dark had fallen.

The air had chilled. 

But none of it gave her the cold dread inside her chest. 

She’d searched for hours.

But those men obviously knew this forest better than she did, and it was easy to get lost in it. 

Too easy.

She let them take him.

Emma kicked herself.

She should have done something.

She should have done something.

She should have been spending all the time back in Storybrooke learning magic instead of shoving it away.

Because now Killian was gone, and it was all her fault.

She got them stuck in the past.

She was the reason Killian stopped trying to free himself from those bastards.

She was the reason that they may never see each other again.

Emma couldn’t stop seeing his eyes. 

The resignation.

The defeat. 

The horrible, utter sadness.

She was now alone, and she’d never felt this alone in her entire life. 

It was one thing to grow up being alone. 

And it was another thing entirely to find people, to fall for people, and to have them ripped from you.

It was an entirely different thing to know what it felt like to not be alone.

And ever since meeting Killian, more or less after he decided to become a part of something , he’d been practically glued to her side. He’d voluntarily gone back to the land he hated more than anywhere, he’d given up his revenge, he’d found her in freaking New York City —an endeavor Emma still didn’t know how he managed to do—and how he managed to find her in a world he knew hardly anything about?

Emma stopped on the path, feeling the chill of the air. 

Even the air felt different in the Enchanted Forest. It felt… unearthly, which, wasn’t exactly off point. The magic in the land seemed to crackle like a charged atmosphere. The animal sounds, the nightly coos and caws were different, and all this different was unsettling and…

She really, really didn’t want to admit she was scared. 

But Emma didn’t have Mary Margaret with her this time. She didn’t have a princess squad to help her through. And, she didn’t have Hook.

Killian, who was god knew where. 

He might even already be—

No , said a firm voice in her head, trying to quell the hair that raised on the back of her neck at the thought. They wouldn’t have kidnapped him if they were going to be quick about it. 

The idea of him suffering at all…

Emma swallowed, hard, trying to shove down the rush of panic that shook her fingers.

How the hell was she supposed to find him?

She was a complete outsider. 

She not only wasn’t from this town, she wasn’t from this world , and she wasn’t from this time, not by a long shot. 

She was trapped thirty years in the past, and Killian could be anywhere. 

“Go home.”

Emma shut her eyes at Killian’s echo.

Go home.

He wanted her to go home.

He wanted her to leave him here, conjure the portal, and go home.

The very fact that he thought she would made her chest hurt, because how could he think she’d leave him here?

But…

“You really thought I’d let you drown?”

“Given our history, can you blame me for being uncertain? ”

Here she was thinking how he could possibly think she didn’t care about him, when…

“Do you even care about them? Or anyone in this town?”

He said anyone.

He meant me.

And replaying it all, how could she think he’d know she did?

All she’s done since he saved her in New York, was walk away from him.

But she did care.

She more than cared.

And now, she may never —

No.

Emma opened her eyes, ignoring the burn in them.

Determination set into her face, Emma made up her mind without hesitation. 

There was no way she was leaving here without Killian.

The thought of returning to life without him, living without him…

It felt wrong. 

Something about him in her life just made sense. Even now, she felt like something was missing, and suddenly she was wondering how she ever considered leaving her family, leaving him, to go back to New York. 

“Go home.”

She couldn’t go home when he already became her home.

But… 

How on earth—or, how in the Enchanted Forest—was she supposed to find him?

And before they did something terrible and irreversible to him?

“He stole from us last night. Now he’s gon' pay.”

Emma blinked. 

Killian didn’t steal anything from anyone; she knew he hadn’t. He’d been too concerned with messing up the time continuum.

He hadn’t stolen.

But Emma had a pretty good feeling who had.

And Killian was currently paying for his crime. 

Emma smiled grimly, a plan unfolding in her head. 

She started walking, faster this time.

She just hoped the Jolly Roger was still in port. 

-.-.-.

Emma clung to the shadows when she entered the town. 

Thanks to Rumplestiltskin returning her clothes, she was no longer wearing the ragged dress and cloak that they had stolen, and was back in her jeans and leather jacket. Something that, Killian’s voice reminded her, hasn’t come into vogue, ever. So… she had to be careful. They just fixed the timeline; they cannot ruin it all over again.

But Killian was worth that risk.

As she clung to the dark areas of town, Emma was reminded of a younger her, living on the streets, dodging shadowy corners to pitch black alleyways. It was evening, the sky blackening with an array of stars, but the town still bustled with life, mostly around the taverns. 

Emma passed the tavern she and Killian had found his past-self in, and Emma risked a look inside, but he wasn’t there. 

Her heart quickening, Emma suddenly worried he wasn’t even in town.

She picked up her pace, following the path past-Hook had led her down when he’d been her inebriated guide. 

Emma emerged from the cover of an alley, looking up to see the sea, and ships of all sizes moored at the docks. And among them—

Emma felt relief flood her. 

The Jolly Roger. 

She smiled despite herself, picking up her pace. As she got closer, she could see the crew retracting the anchor—

They were leaving. 

Her heart pounding, Emma began to sprint. 

With grunts of heaving, two members of the Jolly’s crew were lifting the gangplank.

It was halfway up when Emma got to it, flinging herself off the dock and onto it, barely making the jump. She slid down the wood, landing in a heap on the deck. 

“What in the blazes—?!”

The two men nearly dropped the gangplank, but managed to finish shutting it, faster, as if worrying that someone else was going to attempt Emma’s jump. 

Her entire body throbbing from the mistreatment, Emma slowly picked herself up from the deck. She quickly noticed at least a dozen pirates were staring at her in shock. 

But a voice broke through the din, and Emma would recognize it anywhere. 

“Well, you don’t bloody see something like that every day.”

-.-.-.

Despite her protests, Emma had been manhandled by two of the crew members and dragged into the Captain’s Quarters a moment after she’d seen him. He’d witnessed her reckless jump onto his ship, but hadn’t said a word to her yet. 

She was currently in the chair opposite his desk, two burly hands on her shoulders keeping her pinned down, and Hook was in his chair behind the desk, staring at her in silence. 

“What are you doing aboard my ship?” he said finally. 

Emma flicked her eyes to the pirate holding her down, then back to Hook. “I’ll tell you, but only you.”

Hook sighed, then flicked his eyes to the man behind her, giving a minute nod and a slight roll of his eyes. Then, when the door clicked shut, he gave her a pointed look.

Emma let out a breath, her heart beating in a frenzy. This Hook was not half as drunk as he was when they last met. His gaze on her was cold and measured and there was no trace of the softness Killian had now. It unnerved her, this air of danger he held, sitting before her. Waiting. 

But Emma swallowed, trying to remember, this is still Killian. Just… buried under two hundred years of pain and resentment. 

It didn’t make her feel better. 

“I need your help.” said Emma at last, holding his gaze. 

His brow lifted, like that was the last thing he’d expected her to say. “My help?” he echoed, lips twisting a little in amusement. “I’m a pirate captain, lass. You’ve mistaken me for someone who gives. Pirates take.”

Emma resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the irony that all he’s done the past two years was give. 

Worry fluttered in her stomach, suddenly wondering if her Killian was all right.

And when did he start being ‘her’ Killian?

Emma let out another breath. “Yeah, that’s actually what brings me here. All I need to know,” said Emma slowly, “is who you stole from last night.” 

She’d thought it through; if she could just get the name or the place of the person who he’d stolen from, she could go find Killian without Hook ever needing to know she was from the future. 

Hook paused. 

Suspicion suddenly gleamed in his eyes. 

He stood, and rounded his desk until he was standing before her. 

The suspicion only deepened in his eyes.

Emma could feel the danger radiate off him like a cologne. 

She was trying not to shrink under his intense gaze when he leaned even closer, his face inches from hers. He searched her eyes.

“You,” he whispered. “I remember you.”

Emma’s heart skipped. “You do?” she breathed. 

She should have known it was irrational to think he meant he remembered knowing her. 

Because his eyes narrowed, coldness in the blue. “You owe me a nightcap, love.”

Emma froze. “Oh,” she said, biting her lip. “Didn’t blame the rum, huh?”

He leaned back slightly, but looked no less predatory. “I’m guessing this is from you as well,” he said, brushing the metal of his hook to his cheek where Killian had hit him. 

Emma winced. “Not exactly—“

He was suddenly in her face again, eyes narrowed, colder than ice. “You were trying to get me drunk. To get on my ship,” he muttered. “Why?”

Oops.

Emma tried to think fast. 

She did not like a version of Killian that scared her, and this one did exactly that. 

As if to prove the point, he raised his hook, tracing her jaw until the tip was underneath her chin, forcing her head up. Emma gasped reflexively, suddenly realizing how bad of an idea this had been. “Tell me,” he hissed, “or this will be rather unpleasant.”

Emma swallowed, trying to stem the rush of fear. To hell with the timeline. “I’m from the future.”

His brow rose sharply, surprise and a little confusion slipping into that cold expression. Clearly time travel was not one of the things he’d expected her to say. 

It was the second time she’d surprised him, and Emma knew he wasn’t an easily surprised man.

Before he could interrupt, she went on, wincing as the sharp tip of his hook stung. “I’m telling you the truth,” she said quickly, fear sending a shiver down her spine. “I’m from… about thirty years in the future. I think. It’s really hard to keep track with all the curses," she finished, which even to her ears sounded like she was crazy.

“Time travel is unheard of.” said Hook, dismissing her whole story.

"You spend two hundred years on an island where time doesn't even exist and this is too crazy for you to imagine?" snapped Emma exasperatedly.

He ignored her. “Now, what are you really doing on my ship? Clearly if you’d gotten what you wanted, you wouldn’t have been daft enough to return.” His eyes looked her up and down, his brow lifting when his eyes reached hers, and Emma glared at him. “And if I had gotten what I wanted, that night would not have ended with you injuring me.” A cold smile. “Well, not in the traditional way, anyway.”

Emma huffed out a breath, almost forgetting just how innuendo-clad he once was. “Look, I’m telling the truth . I need your help to—“ She gasped, the tip of his hook digging slightly deeper. 

“You will tell me what I want to know,” said Hook quietly. He removed his namesake, and Emma winced. “I’ll give you the night to think it over. Lie to me again," his voice lowering, dipping into the personification of danger as his gaze bored into hers, and she tried not to shrink under it, "you’ll be walking the plank in the morning.” He moved away from her, and Emma realized she'd forgotten how to breathe.

“Hook—“ began Emma, but Hook simply barked, “Jenkins!”

The door opened, and one of the men who had dragged her down here walked inside. 

“Take her to the brig.”

Emma’s heart pounded. “No— Hook,” she said quickly as he sat nonchalantly back at his desk. “I need—“

Emma was grabbed from behind and forced out. 

He didn’t look up as they took her. 

But when he thought she was out of sight, she saw him briefly touch his fingers to his lips, something unreadable stirring in his eyes.

-.-.-.-.

Emma waited until she was left alone, and the ship had quieted down enough to suggest the crew was asleep.

They’d bound her hands in front of her, which was their first mistake. 

Feeling a sense of deja vu, Emma felt along the ground until she found something useful. Finding something sharp and thin enough to work, she quickly got to work on the lock to the cage. 

The trouble was opening the door without it creaking, which took her plenty of precious minutes. 

Once free, she left the brig, and quietly made her way to the armory.

It was good that she was familiar with the ship after Neverland. Plenty of hours on the water had her nervous energy getting the better of herself and she’d done some extensive exploring. She’d paced the ship enough to know where its creaky boards were, so she was inside the armory in silence quickly. 

Emma grabbed the first blade she could find—a knife—and freed her hands, then took the gag from her mouth. 

Gripping the knife in her shaking hands, Emma left the armory, walking down the hallway to the door at the very end. 

The Captain’s Quarters. 

Feeling plenty of uncertainty, but needing to know where Killian was, Emma slowly reached for the door handle, glad the ridiculously loud chorus of snoring from the crew covered much of the noise she made. 

Slowly and without breathing, she opened his door. 

Emma shut it just as quietly, and the noise of the snoring was muted. 

Emma turned. 

The cabin was dark. 

And there, lying on his bed, was Hook. Asleep.

She could see him breathe beneath the blanket. 

Carefully, and avoiding every creak in the floor she knew of, Emma crept up to his bed. 

Then, she held the knife an inch from his throat, opening her mouth to wake him.

“Do I need to explain what a nightcap is to you?”

Emma jumped a mile in her skin.

Hook’s eyes were open, and he looked from the knife at his throat to Emma. A raised brow, he deadpanned, “You escaped.”

“You underestimated me.” she countered. He lifted his brow as Emma continued firmly, “I need you to help me.”

“Help me?” he echoed. His eyes flicked from the knife to her eyes. “You’re taking your life in your hands threatening me, lass.” he said dangerously.

“I’m trying to save your life!” snapped Emma.

His brow hitched higher, again flicking his eyes pointedly to the blade, then back at her. 

Emma sighed, removing the knife from his throat. 

He still didn’t move, eyeing her still suspiciously. “How is it you think you’re saving me?” he asked. 

Emma sighed shortly. “Look. I told you I was from the future. I am. I’m from your future. And I didn’t get sent to the past alone.” She took a breath, hoping telling him wouldn’t implode the timeline. But she was scared, she was alone, and without his information, she would never be able to find Killian. She could only hope that after she saved Killian, he’d still exist when they returned to their time. 

Emma sighed. “When I got sent here, you came with me.” she said finally.

Confusion kneaded his brows with honest puzzlement, and for the first time he looked almost like her Killian. “I… what?” he managed.

Emma sighed shortly. “You— future you,” clarified Emma. “You’re here, in the past, too.”

Hook looked lost in thought for a second. Then— “That was bloody real?”

“What was?” asked Emma.

He sat up, regarding her with both suspicion and shock. “The dream I thought I had of you, up until you foolishly returned.” Emma glared at him flatly as he went on, “I saw…”

“Yourself,” finished Emma impatiently. “Yeah. You punched yourself.” At his very perplexed expression, she went on, “I told him—you—it was a bad idea. So, blame yourself.” He blinked in utter confusion. But, at least, he seemed to believe her story. “Look,” said Emma, “we were on our way back to the future when some huge guys kidnapped him because they said he stole something and he needed to ‘pay for it’.” she finished in a bad facsimile of Killian’s abductor’s voice. Her eyes burning into Hook’s, she said, “What did you steal? Who are they and where did they take him?”

“You’re telling me,” said Hook slowly, “that there is a future version of me out here?”

“Yes,” said Emma through gritted teeth. “Now what did you—“

“Tell me, love,” said Hook casually enough, though the coldness in his words was back. “What is my future?”

“I can’t tell you that,” she said exasperatedly. “Already I need to get you a Forgetting Potion to make sure you get to that future.”

He stared at her for a long moment, a million things happening behind guarded eyes. But finally, his brow lifted a fraction. “And I’m just supposed to believe this?" 

Emma groaned. “What proof do you want?” she said impatiently. “Your father abandoned you and Liam; you used to be in the Royal Navy; you became a pirate after what happened to Liam in Neverland; you’re currently on a suicidal mission to kill Rumplestiltskin for taking your hand and Mila—“

“Stop!” 

Emma froze, having been angrily ticking off the trivia on her fingers, to see Hook’s eyes with more emotion than she’s seen from this version of him yet. 

“How do you know all that?” he breathed. For once, his voice lost Hook’s edge, and he sounded like Killian. The danger evaporated from him in seconds, replaced with something almost... lost. “It’s—it's been centuries since—"

“You told me.” said Emma simply. 

“I… told you,” repeated Hook flatly, words rolling off his tongue like something foreign. The edge in his voice swiftly returned as he demanded angrily, “And why the bloody hell would I do that?” 

“How should I know?” snapped Emma, her anxiety getting to her and sharpening her own tone.

He rose to his feet, and Emma did not like the feeling that he was attempting to use his height over hers to intimidate her. He leveled a look at her, with something different in his eyes, something dangerous in a new way. “Tell me one thing, lass," he began, voice casual-sounding, but underlined with something that sent a shiver down her spine, "and maybe I help you.”

“Why wouldn’t you help me?” exclaimed Emma, standing her ground. “You’d be helping you!”

“That remains to be seen.” He stepped toward her, and damn it he didn’t even need the hook to be imposing. “Tell me, lass.” Another step, and Emma felt her back hit the wall, not even realizing she’d been retreating. His gaze bored into hers. “Do I get my revenge?”

Emma swallowed, suddenly feeling a familiar sense of dread as to when the past version of Rumplestiltskin had asked about whether or not he found Neal.

When the silence spread a little too long, she whispered, “Hook—”

“Do I, or not?” he demanded, voice clipped. Cold.

Dangerous.

Emma felt paralyzed.

The Hook—the Killian —standing before her was completely hellbent on getting his revenge. He’s been at it for centuries, and the anger and pain in his eyes overpowered the blue in them, so much so it was hard to remember that Killian and Hook were the same person.

And here, Hook was his vengeance right now.

There was hardly a spark of him.

If she told him the truth, that he not only doesn’t kill his crocodile, but chooses to live peacefully in the same town as the monster? Gives up not only his quest for vengeance, but turns into a hero?

And worse yet, that he lets go of Milah?

For her?

From the amount of anger she’s eliciting from him right now, she doubted he’d be happy to know that information in particular.

So, she decided to tell him the truth.

Or…

Part of it.

“No,” she said finally, watching his brow shift dangerously. “Not yet.”

He searched her eyes, his face like stone. “Not yet?” he repeated, voice low, almost threatening.

Emma swallowed the fear slipping down her spine, hoping she was still as good of a liar as she once was. “Not yet,” she confirmed, which, still, wasn’t a complete lie. She took a breath, holding his gaze, preparing herself. 

And she lied.

“I’m helping you get your revenge in the future,” she said smoothly. “The Dark One is currently living in a realm without magic. He’s vulnerable. I’m helping you get there.” She swallowed, her entire body rigid. Hook was pin-silent as Emma finished, “We accidentally got sent to the past on our way there. That’s why I need you to help me. If you don’t, you will never get your revenge.”

Emma fell quiet, holding her head high, clinging onto confidence she didn’t feel in the slightest.

Killian could read her like an open book.

If this version of him was as perceptive as he comes to be…

If he found her lying to him…

Again …

Emma tried to ignore the fear prickling in her veins.

He held her gaze, pinning her to the spot with his eyes alone. Watching her eyes carefully, his narrowed. 

Finally, he said, “Why are you helping me?”

Emma tried not to flinch at the obvious distaste in his voice. She thought fast, and found something that held nothing but truth. “Because,” she said, “you did me a favor. I’m repaying a debt.”

His brow lifted. “Quite the debt.”

Emma felt something stir in her chest, thinking of all that Killian has done for her. “It was quite the favor,” she said quietly.

His brows kneaded with question, like he wasn’t sure why he would bother to do her a favor.

Emma was quickly becoming irritated with this version of Hook.

“How are you helping me?” he asked then, gaze boring into hers, almost as if he was trying to poke holes into her story to see if it would leak. “Why do I need you?”

It was spoken so carelessly.

And it hurt.

Emma was surprised at the sudden burn behind her eyes.

She’d brushed off Killian’s affections, his obvious devotion to her, more times than she could count. 

And here he was, looking at her like he couldn’t have cared about her less.

How could she have wasted all the time she had with him?

Getting him back now was the longest of long shots, for—and it made sharp fear race down her spine— he could already be dead.

Blinking away the emotion, Emma huffed out a breath, trying not to appear as hurt by his words as she was. “I’ve got Light Magic,” she snapped, making surprise lift his brow. “You’re trying to kill the Dark One. Do the math.”

He stared at her for a long moment, eyes narrowed, danger rolling off him in waves.

Finally, he spoke.

“I help you, and, him,” he muttered, uneasily over what to call his future self, “get back to your time,” he said slowly, “and then I will get what I want most?”

Emma felt the ghost of a smile touch her lips, for she didn’t have to lie for this one. “Yes.” 

He most definitely will. 

-.-.-.-. TBC

@belovedcreation-kitr-headcanon @cssecretsanta2020 @belovedcreation

[flaccid-rats]

pre ANH au where Din and Luke meet on Tatooine, have their summer romance and all that, and when Din inevitably has to leave Luke gives him a japor snippet (“It’s a good luck charm,” Luke says with a smile. “I’ve seen how reckless you get on your bounties.”) and Din thinks it’s a little silly, but he lets Luke put it around his neck anyway.

It is only a few days later that Din hears about the Lars family, about the fire, about how they never found a third body.

And then Din just…never takes that japor snippet off.

For years he wears it, the sound of the japor clinking against the beskar of his mythosaur pendant becoming so familiar to him that he panics when it falls silent. He reaches for his neck when he cannot hear that ringing sound, reaches for the japor, desperate to make sure it’s still there, that he did not lose what he has left of the man he would never really stop loving. Even when Din is dying, when he takes off his mythosaur pendant to give to Cara, when he begs her to take it, to bring this child he knows nothing of to safety, he keeps the japor close to his slowing heart.

And somehow, Din lives.

(“It’s a good luck charm,” Luke says with a smile.)

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 27 - Voiceless, “I have no mouth and I must scream”

I feel like I’ve been mean to Wind a lot heh, I feel bad for the little guy. It’s better than the three arrows I put in his chest in that other fic! ...Maybe, anyway.

Warnings: redeads

Ao3 link

————————————————————

Wind was not happy.

He struggled and kicked, tried to squirm out of the bruising hold on his arms, went limp and tried to just give the two soldiers dragging him along some underground passageway as worse of a time as possible. They’d already taken his weapons and only held him tighter as he struggled, but Wind kept it up anyway.

One of the Yiga grumbled in annoyance as Wind kicked at his legs, and he felt a glint of satisfaction.

“Rotten kid, that attitude will die plenty quick where you’re going,” the other Yiga snapped, ignoring Wind’s attempts to bite him. “This cell was for the hero, but what better way to lure him there than to dump his little brother in it first?”

“You built a cell underneath the outskirts of a village? Wow, that’s normal well-adjusted behavior,” Wind huffed, and one Yiga sneered.

“We merely adapted it for our purposes. And you’re the perfect person to test it out.”

Wind finally managed to clamp his jaws down on one of the soldier’s hands, and he yelled, gloves not thick enough to really protect him. The other one snatched at Wind and put a dagger to his throat before he could press his attack, and Wind reluctantly released the hand, getting the message.

“Link’ll never fall for your stupid trap anyway,” Wind said with a glare, and the Yiga both chuckled.

“Oh yes he will. Have fun, kid.”

A door was opened, and Wind was tossed through without any sort of fanfare, stumbling as he landed. He whirled back around to the door, but it was already closed and firmly locked.

Wind scowled at it, then turned to look around his prison, mind already turning towards thoughts of escape. Who did these Yiga guys think they were, kidnapping him off the street? He was the Hero of Winds! How had they even gotten the drop on him?

Wind scowled again and kicked at the floor of the cell. At least he’d been walking around with Four and Wild. Surely one of them would notice he was missing soon. And if not, well, Wind was pretty good at getting out of tight spots if he did say so himself.

No problem.

Wind put his hands on his hips, looking around the dark cell. There was a single tiny torch hung up on the wall, too high for Wind to reach that lit up the skinny space. A stone wall stood at the far end of the cell, but the two sides were open bars, darkness yawning beyond them.

It... kinda made his skin crawl.

Wind crossed his arms, feeling cold all of a sudden, but he shrugged it off with a huff. He needed to figure out how to get out of here, creepy darkness or not. The deep shadows beyond the bars suggested a bigger area, so if he could just find a loose one, he’d be set. Maybe he could even climb up and grab the torch.

Wind walked over to a side, starting at one end and giving each bar a solid shake. They seemed pretty firmly in the ground, but Wind worked his way across anyway, hoping for a loose one. He got all the way through without a single loose bar, and sighed, crossing to the other side to try there instead.

He’d gotten about halfway when he heard something, creaky and quiet.

Wind froze, listening, and the hair on the back of his neck went up as he heard it again. That noise was familiar. He couldn’t place it, but he knew it was familiar.

And that it was bad news.

A low moan came from somewhere in the darkness, and Wind slowly began to back away, nerves all alight. If he could just see he wouldn’t be nearly as nervous. Maybe the darkness was just freaking him out, and he was imagining noises because of that?

A bloodcurdling scream rang out, and Wind’s eyes went huge as a familiar sensation wracked through him, deathly cold and terrifying.

Oh no, he thought in a panic, his feet frozen to the floor, body unable to turn away from the shambling footsteps he could hear. Oh no oh no oh—

A face appeared in the flickering light of the torch, decaying and horrible, eyes glowing. A rotten hand stretched forward and wrapped around the bars, and Wind stared at the Redead, trapped in its unnatural terror.

It didn’t look like his version of them, taller, with a few ragged clothes on its lanky body, but the feeling it left him with was the same, sheer, unnatural terror.

I’ve got to get away, maybe by the door I’ll be far enough it won’t be able to—

A different scream rang out, sending another jolt through Wind’s chest, and he watched in horror as another redead grasped at the bars, reaching out to him, trying to pull him close. Beady eyes stared at him, glowing and malicious with hunger, and Wind might have whimpered if he could move his mouth.

He fought the paralysis as much as he could, but the moment it started to wear off, one of them screamed again, leaving Wind with no escape. More screams joined the first two, and Wind choked on his breath as a whole group of redeads shambled out of the darkness. Screams came near constantly from their lips as they grabbed at the bars and reached through, trying to get at him.

They can’t get through, they can’t get through they can’t hurt you, it’s just to scare you, Wind thought frantically, heart drumming in his chest. They don’t want you to escape that’s why they put them there you’re okay you’re okay you’re okay.

The screams just kept coming, endless and piercing and shooting Wind’s heart through with inescapable terror. He couldn’t even move to cover his ears, and he felt a terrified scream build in his own throat.

But it wouldn’t come out. Wind could only keep standing there, immobilized, tears trailing silently down his cheeks.

It felt like his heart was being encased in ice, frost shooting through his veins with every scream and grazing touch. More screams joined the agonizing chorus from behind him, and the terror felt like it would crush him, repeatedly crashing over him like a freezing wave.

Hands grabbed at him, nails grazing his skin. Wind couldn’t move, the torrential screams hammering at him, cracking him, filling him up with so much terror his mind couldn’t focus on anything else.

His world narrowed down to screams and beady eyes, Wind drowning in terror, eyes darting around wildly, mind screaming every time a hand grazed him.

If he could move he’d be curled up on the ground, but all he could do was stand here and sob in his mind as a deathly cold hand finally closed around his wrist.

Then a different noise rang out over the screams.

It was garbled in Wind’s ears, some sort of talking he couldn’t make out over the redeads’ shrieks. But suddenly music poured into the cell, cheery and bright, and the screaming stopped.

All of it.

Wind’s ears still rang with them, and the terror still pressed over him like a wet blanket, but there was finally silence, and the hand trying to drag Wind closer to the bars had stopped in its efforts, the redead’s mouth stuck open with its teeth bared.

Wind would’ve sobbed if he could move, and he heard footsteps and talking, his ears still ringing too much to make out. Strong arms pulled the hand off his wrist and cradled him to a chest, shouted something at the other sets of footsteps. The song trilled again, bright and warm, and though Wind still couldn’t do much as twitch his pinky, some of his panic eased as he felt a steady heartbeat against where his ear rested.

The others were here.

There must have been a trip out, but Wind missed most of it, still trapped in the lingering screams he could hear in his mind. Tears trickled steadily down his cheeks, and past the unnaturally sharp fear was a flicker of annoyance at crying so much.

But the terror mostly blotted it out.

Sunshine finally fell onto his face, warm and soft, and whoever was holding Wind lowered themselves to a knee. A face looked down at him, and Wind saw Twilight, eyes fearful.

“Hey Wind, you alright?” he asked, and Wind could only stare at him, heart pounding, terror still clenching like a talon around him. “Wind?”

“Is he okay?” someone else asked, and Twilight leaned back, Time and Wild’s faces both coming into view next.

“He’s not responding,” Twilight replied, and Time leaned in, studying Wind’s face with a worried look.

“Wind, can you hear me?” Time asked, setting a hand on his chest.

I can hear you fine, I just can’t move! Wind wanted to scream, but his mouth was still frozen shut. The only thing that he was still able to do was cry, apparently.

Time gently wiped his tears away, and if Wind wasn’t still so terrified, he was sure he’d be embarrassed. “Do we know how long he was down there?”

“An hour, hour and a half? No more than two based on when we started looking,” a voice Wind placed as Wild added anxiously. Oh good, he avoided the trap. “Is that bad?”

“It’s a long time to be around an attacking redead, no less dozens of them like he was,” Time replied, gently tilting Wind’s head around as he looked at it. “Usually the song fixes things, I have no idea why he’s still frozen like this.”

“Prolonged exposure I’d guess,” Four’s voice added, and Twilight’s hand combed gently through his hair. “It might just take him longer to break out of it. He’s so cold...”

“I still can’t believe we lost sight of him like that,” Wild said quietly, and a different hand touched his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Wind.”

Oh Wild, it’s not your fault, Wind thought, trying to look the champion in the eye and convey the sentiment. I’d tell you so if I could.

Some more footsteps pounded against the grass suddenly, and the amount of voices around Wind doubled, more faces leaning over to look at him, worried questions floating over his head. The other Links had obviously joined the group, and Wind struggled even harder against the paralysis making him nothing but deadweight. But he remained as frozen as ever, a scream still stuck in his throat, ice around his heart.

“Give him space, I’m pretty sure he’s aware of what’s going on and you all are crowding him,” Warriors’ voice chided, and the majority of heads pulled back from his view. The captain’s face appeared in his line of sight, full of worry. “Wind? Can you move anything? Even just something small?”

Wind started at his feet and worked his way upward this time, trying to move anything he could. Fear still thrummed through him, his body on high alert, tears tracking down his cheeks, but he finally managed to twitch his eyelids a little.

“Hey, there we go,” Warriors said with relief in his eyes. “Can you do it again?”

Wind focused, managing another twitch, and almost did a full blink when he tried again. Warriors’ face was still worried, but he looked encouraged by even the tiny movement.

“Here, let me see if this helps some more,” Time said then, and Twilight shifted Wind around in his arms so his head was a little more upright.

Time pulled out his ocarina, purplish blue in the sunshine, and he played the trilling song again, the one Wind finally recognized as the song of passing. Time played it through a couple times, magic falling over Wind like a beam of sunlight. He was surprised the time of day itself didn’t change, but maybe Time was stopping it from doing that somehow.

Suddenly the magic loosened something inside him, the icy terror cracking, thawing a little. Some feeling swept back into his body, and the scream that had been stuck in Wind’s throat this whole time suddenly burst out, loud and terrified.

Time immediately stopped playing, and Wind began to tremble as feeling slowly spread to the rest of him, his scream ending in a hiccup. It felt amazing to finally give voice to the horrible coldness in him, and Wind barely noticed when a thumb brushed along his cheek.

“Wind?” Time asked quietly, and Wind breathed in a shaking breath, firmly blinking tears out of his eyes.

“Th-thank, tha-ank y-you,” he managed get out in a miserable-sounding whimper.

Sighs of relief went up around him, and Time gave Wind a smile, even with the way Wind was shaking and still unable to stop the tears from escaping his eyes.

“You’re welcome Sailor,” Time replied, and brushed a few more of his tears away.

Wind managed a shaky smile back, then relaxed into Twilight’s arms, more and more of the ice in his chest melting away into bright sunshine.

[princesscallyie]

Okay, here’s the outcome of my blackout yesterday. Unfortunately, I couldn’t do the poll or ask for any input cause when I started designing I was already coming up with all sorts of ideas and scenarios that I was already attached with lol. So here’s the plot synopsis and character descriptions from what I have so far.

Alpha Delta Protocol, is about the Alpha Delta Psi fraternity, which has a strong emphasis on tradition and discipline. The frat is known for its strict hazing practices, which are led by President Damon “Diesel” Hale and House Manager Quin Lancaster. The story follows the dynamic between Damon and Quin as they manage the frat, by carrying out hazing, exerting dominance, and other punishments to the willing pledges. The story is has mature themes but it also has comedic tones.

Damon “Diesel” Hale, is Alpha Delta Psi’s President. He is known for his physical strength, charisma, and traditionalist views.He is nicknamed “Diesel” because of his relentless energy and strength to overcome any obstacle, just like a diesel engine. His favorite saying as he introduces himself is, “Like the fuel, I’m pumped up and ready to go, baby! Nowhere’s the limit!” While running the frat, he prefers to use his hands when carrying out the hazing rituals, as he believes the hand-to-skin keeps the bond between brothers more personal and connected. He also will take use of the House’s heirloom paddle. Overall, he has a friendly but assertive leadership style, with more of a focus on the brotherhood and camaraderie of the frat and making sure traditions are upheld. Though there are moments where he can get more intense and can really show who’s in charge, even being more scary than Quin. Speaking of Quin, he harbors an unrequited crush on the House Manager, being physically attracted to the shorter male and in awe of his disciplinary skills. He sometimes feels a pang of jealousy, sometimes of the way Quin commands control, and sometimes of the pledges on the receiving end of Quin’s discipline.

Quin Lancaster, is the House Manager of ADP. Though Damon might be President, it is Quin who is running the show, having the House running smoothly and in tip-top shape. Affectionately nicknamed “Manager” by the brothers as a sign of endearment and a show of respect. But if you value your life, don’t you dare call him a secretary, as that level of disrespect won’t be tolerated by him or Damon. He is known for his efficiency, organizational skills, and commanding demeanor despite his more feminine and smaller stature. He has a natural cold and dominant aura about him, and pledges immediately fall in line when he enters a room. He is not the one to play with, as his main focus is discipline and making sure the pledges stay in line. You can mostly see him walking around the House, taking notes with his tablet and stylus, recording frat activities, schedules and punishments of the pledges. While Damon was stuck with tradition, it was his idea to start the use of other implements such as crops, belts, and canes. He has a box of other freaky “tools” that he keeps stowed away for any special circumstances. This kinda freaks Damon out but also entices him, as he figures that the Manager has some kind of secretive life outside the frat. Quin is somewhat aware of Damon’s pinning as he does try to flirt with him but he turns down his advances every time. Though he does respect him and thinks highly of the President overall, even though he doesn’t explicitly show it.

The duo works surprisingly well together. With Damon’s more laid back friendly approach and the upholding of brotherhood and tradition, and Quin’s more strict and cold sense of discipline and bringing in new ideas, sometimes their ideas might cause some conflict. But they always manage to work through things to make sure the pledges are always on their toes and everything is running smoothly.

[allmyhomieshatelawns]

AND SOME MORE FOR THE HYPNO POP AU BECAUSE IT WON’T LEAVE ME ALONE EVEN THOUGH MY HANDS ARE SCREAMING IN PAIN BECAUSE THE WEATHER KEEPS SHIFTING LIKE A DICK.

anyway anyway, please enjoy another lil somethin i wrote for @djmurphy ‘s Hypno Pop AU!

“Because I’m happy, clap along if you feel like a room without a roof!” My throat stung with the words, volume rising higher with the lyrics of the song. “Dance along if you feel like that’s what you wanna do!”

Cruel irony that. I certainly didn’t want to, but that isn’t what mattered. The village needed to be happy, we were celebrating nearly twenty years of freedom from the bergens. This was a happy time!!

I continued dancing on the main stage, singing with the rasp that had developed in my voice some years ago. King Peppy said it made me sound more mature and that I should like it. And I do! I love how it sounds nothing like the angelic voice that got—

Don’t falter! I snapped back to attention just in time for the knee slide, grinning despite the harsh impact.

The entire village went wild, several in the crowd fainting, and even more screaming for an encore.

I felt tired, like my bones were crumbling away inside of me, but my smile didn’t falter.

“You guys want more? Alright! This one I’ve been working on for a while now!” My lips and throat moved on their own; I wouldn’t be getting any rest anytime soon. Might as well retreat.

Everything was on autopilot, but thankfully the screaming fans didn’t seem to notice or care. They just wanted more. They always want more. It was so wonderful that they loved my music. I loved making them all so happy!!

“Wow, Branch! I can’t believe you did three encores! Where do you get the energy? I would’ve had to stop after the first one!” Princess Poppy was at my side, practically dragging me off the stage.

I was allowed to sag into her side for a moment, it was close enough to Hug Time, it was fine. But all too soon my strings pulled me away, smiling.

“I can’t say no to my adoring fans!” I grinned, the right side of my mouth gave a violent twitch, cramping from the nonstop use. I turned away so hopefully Princess Poppy wouldn’t notice. She can’t think I’m weird, I’m normal, I’m supposed to be normal!

“Branch?” Princess Poppy’s voice was laced with concern, her hand grabbing my shoulder and spinning me around.

I tried to maintain my grin, feeling the corners twitch uncomfortably against the frames of my glasses. I tugged on my blue puffy vest, nerves trying to rise from my belly but thankfully, as always, halted in their tracks.

“What’s up, Princess Poppy?” I asked, my hands now hanging limp at my side since they weren’t allowed to do anything else.

She made a face at her title like she always did, but her hand tightened on my shoulder. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything is perfect! Why wouldn’t it be?” My mouth said, the words a little too chirpy. “The fans love me, and your celebration is going even better than projected!” That should throw her off, get her talking about the party. Everyone is happy.

It worked like a charm. Princess Poppy beamed at me like I had given her, her favorite dessert.

“Thank you, Branch! This party wouldn’t have been half as successful without you here though! You make every party more fun.” She then began prattling on about the different streamer and glitter bombs she had used this time as opposed to last year. She was so dedicated to keeping the village happy! We were so lucky to have her and King Peppy!

I relaxed, as much as I could, and smiled along. Thankfully it didn’t have to be a big smile, I could soften things for the princess.

Soon enough we were in the area considered backstage, and I expected her to peel off and go back to her friends, but instead, she pulled me into a more private dressing room area. My skin prickled at the privacy. That meant bad things. That meant I wasn’t happy enough.

“Branch, I need you to be real with me here. You’ve been acting kind of… off lately. Are you sure you’re okay?” Princess Poppy looked apologetic as she said it, but I felt the immediate effect.

A scream of pop music resounded in my ears, so loud I thought they would start bleeding. The pounding in my head got worse, like a bergen bashing my head against a tree. Even my muscles started to scream, wanting to cramp and twitch as they were forcibly pulled. I wanted to scream and cry and curl up under the bed in my pod, but I stood there beaming.

“Princess Poppy, I assure you, I’m perfectly fine. Just a little tired from the party tonight. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be just fine.” The words were straight from the string and they hurt, like they were being ripped from me. My voice even went raspier, like there was another voice speaking under mine, but I wasn’t sure if that was from the singing or not. It had been a long time since I had to have the string speak through me. I’m supposed to be better than this. Get it together, Branch. You’re perfectly happy!

Princess Poppy took a step back, a frown pulling down her lips.

No! No! I can fix this please—

“Is everything alright, Poppy? I saw you follow Branch back here.” King Peppy’s voice sent shivers across my body, locking up my joints. King Peppy is here! Oh good he’ll make everything better, like always!!

“Oh! Hey Dad, I was just congratulating Branch on his performance!” Princess Poppy lied to the king! Her face didn’t show any hint of dishonesty though, and I didn’t feel compelled to correct her, that would be rude, so I just nodded along, my smile back to the tight beam that had been on display for everyone tonight. I had worked super hard on it to make it perfect.

He looked between the two of us like he wasn’t sure it was the truth, but merely motioned me forward. I went without hesitation of course, my body still rigid and stiff despite the bounce in my step. I stopped in front of King Peppy, smiling up at him.

“Run along now, my darling. I wanted to talk with Branch about something, you know, guy talk.” King Peppy winked over my head at the princess, causing her to gag and laugh.

“Ew Dad, okay. Alright, Branch, it was awesome talking to you!” She hesitated a moment before giving me a hug, squeezing tighter than normal, like she was afraid of something.

I watched her walk away, my pink-tinted vision clouding her shape the further she got. Like I was drowning alone in suffocating pink mist.

King Peppy’s hand landed on my shoulder heavily, and he sighed like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. “I worry about her. I only hope that when it’s her time, she will continue to make the right choices, as I have. Now, come along, Branch. I’ll top you off.”

“Thank you, King Peppy!” I chirped, melting as the string was plucked, and I could just dive back into the haze of my mind. We were having to do this more frequently. It used to be, I could go for a week without having the string played for me, but that time was shortening. I didn’t want to think about what would happen to me should the string stop working altogether. That wasn’t a happy thought, and only happy thoughts were allowed!

[vex-glitch]

shout out to my little sister who said ‘tom and pete sound like an old married couple who goes to the park to feed pigeons every saturday’ after i told her what maverick and iceman’s names are.

[buddiesmutslut]

I have this vision of Eddie, half asleep by Bobby’s bedside, reassuring an equally half asleep Buck who maybe wakes up from a nightmare or something.

Their chairs are side by side, heads tilted together, nearly resting on each other. “Shh, Buck. Go back to sleep baby, ‘s okay. It’s gonna be okay.” Sleepily stroking his hair, and Buck turns into the warmth & comfort, resting his head on Eddie’s shoulder and they fall back to sleep.

They don’t realize it, they barely remember it, with the haze of exhaustion & covered by a dream-like film, neither one of them are even actually sure it happened.

Eddie is now canonically a “baby” user, I want them to be so stupidly soft with each other, after everything going on.

[rawbin-hsr]

Working on something for Ratio <3

[steddie-island]

Six Sentence Sunday✍🏻✍🏻✍🏻

rules: post 6 sentences of an unfinished work and tag 6 people

Thank you @hitlikehammers

This is from “a leg to stand on”, with sex worker Steve and Virgin Eddie (which was supposed to be a standalone PWP thing but this might end up being for something on sub Eddie week we’ll see.)

No pressure tags for @pearynice @wynnyfryd @wormdebut @griefabyss69 @morningberriesao3 @puppy-steve

NSFW below the cut and also more than six sentences because I can. 😌

A light slap to his hip brought him back to the moment, got him out of his head and to where Steve’s fingers were stroking over his cock. 

“Beautiful?” Eddie didn’t mean for it to sound like a question, it was just hard to focus when there was so much happening to his body all at once.

Another light slap, this time to his ass. It was barely enough to sting, just to help ground him before — fuck— those two thick fingers were pushing back into his body. 

“What are you?” Steve asked again. His fingers curled towards Eddie’s prostate at the same time that big hand slid down his cock like it was trying to wring something out of him (Eddie had the briefest thought of duh, that’s exactly what he’s trying to do, dumbass) but he couldn’t ponder on it when Steve’s teeth were on his neck, adding another mouth shaped bruise to his skin.

“I’m— I’m beautiful.” Eddie was shaking, felt like he was going to shake apart if Steve didn’t stop. Or if he did. 

Maybe he would just shake apart into nothing anyway if no one else ever touched him the way Steve was touching him. 

If Steve never touched him this way again. 

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

OK PEOPLE IT’S HAPPENING ‼️‼️‼️‼️ suguru’s phanpara banner drops sometime . tmrw . i have my final uni exam in the morning and then i’m heading straight home to check 🫡🫡 PLS wish me luck (gacha luck not the uni thing idc abt that rn) i’m gonna need it!!!

[cels-not-so-secret-love-affair]

falling to the music pt. 4 (jily)

a/n: we’re back again with jily because i am infested by brainworms. read on for marlene’s introduction, some little glimpses into what’s going on with remus and sirius (they’ll work it out, promise) and jily first kiss(es). p.s: the song the marauders cover is one of the boys by mott the hoople, and it’s a banger.

previous | next

Over the next good few days, the two of them text quite a bit. The habit just slips in, alongside her morning coffee and her nighttime skincare routine. James seems to be completely swamped with uni work, but still makes time for her, messaging her on his lunch breaks and phoning her up from the fruit and veg aisle in his beloved big Tesco’s to ask for her professional opinion on what he should prep for lunches that week. He sends her pictures of him brushing his teeth in his pyjamas at five o’clock in the morning, because he’s insane and likes to get up early, and she sends back photos of the sky in the evenings and her second (or third, or twelfth) latte that day. There’s a lot to learn about James. And, unusually in Lily’s experience, he seems to be equally as curious about her. He wants to know her favourite everything - colour, season, tv show, flower, music decade, sport. Then he wants to know why they’re her favourites, which prompts even more questions. It’s never an interrogation, though. He just wants to know.

Four weeks on from that first blinding meeting at the concert, then, and Lily is tucked up soundly in bed watching Criminal Minds on her laptop when a now-familiar notification lights up her bedside table. It’s James again - she can tell by the text tone. It’s different to her usual one. Instead of the normal chirpy sounding ping it’s a guitar riff, because she’s got a fucking crush.

James: hey lils?

Lily: Hi, James.

James: hello!

James: so i was thinking

James: we’re doing another gig soon, right?

James: and it’s a proper nice venue, i’m really excited about it

James: and i was wondering

James: if maybe you’d sort of almost kind of want to come?

James: you’d get all the friend of the band privileges and stuff, so you could turn up early (if you wanted) for soundcheck

James: and we could get you backstage too

James: oh and you could bring some friends if they’d want to come too

James: and everything would be free of course

James: drinks as well

James: idk, i just thought it would be nice to see each other so

James: is that like something you’d be up for?

Lily: Jamie, sweetheart.

Lily: I’ve been trying to send the word ‘yes’ since about six messages ago.

James: oh!

James: okay well yay!!

James: i’ll go grab the details and send them over then?

Lily: That’d be great :)

James: oh my god

Lily: What?

James: you just used a smiley face

Lily: Yeah? What’s wrong?

James: nothings wrong it’s just like

James: lily evans of proper punctuation and capital letters fame just used a smiley face

James: you would not believe how hard i am punching the air rn

James: i’m rubbing off on you ;)

Lily: Maybe so ;)

Lily: You two need to stage an intervention for me.

Marlene: hi lilsss

Marlene: bit extreme

Marlene: what are we supposed to be putting a stop to exactly?

Lily: Heterosexuality.

Marlene: oh okay in which case yes you’re correct and i am totally game

Mary: are we talking about james again x

Mary: lily sweetheart, you’re down bad 💗

Lily: I know, it’s awful.

Lily: However, would the two of you like to go out Friday night?

Marlene: fuck yes

Marlene: life is kicking my arse i need to get DRUNK

Marlene: tell me a time and place and i’m there

Mary: i’m free! x

Lily: Perfect!

Mary: where are we going? x

Lily: Right.

Lily: Promise you won’t take the piss.

Marlene: physically impossible, that

Marlene: but carry on

Lily: I may have just invited you to James’ next gig.

Mary: oh babes x

Mary: well at least it’s another chance for me to get a proper look at him

Mary: make sure he’s good enough for you 💋 

Marlene: tbf if there’s music and alcohol i’m happy

Marlene: and sure i’m curious about this guy and his band

Marlene: no piss taken on my end

Marlene: this time, we’ll see what i have to say once i’ve actually seen the bloke

Lily: I don’t deserve your kindness.

Friday whips around like a bullet, and before she’s even registered it Lily’s waiting anxiously outside of the venue in the cold, all dolled up and feeling vaguely nauseous. It’s not that she’s worried - Lily Evans is a confident woman, always has been and always will. A man is not about to muck that up for her. But he hasn’t responded to her text saying she’s there yet, and her friends are about to meet him, and it’s only her second fucking time seeing him in person which doesn't feel correct at all but that’s how it is apparently and blimey why is it so cold? But then she can hear a voice she’s most used to hearing over the phone, and suddenly things just seem to quiet.

‘Lily!’, comes James’ delighted cry as he jogs towards her from around the corner. His hair is messy as ever, and his eyes are creased up in that big beaming grin he wears so easily. Stopping in front of her rather breathlessly, he suddenly becomes awkward, hands fidgeting.

‘Sorry, I- I’m just realising we haven’t really, uh, done this… Could I give you a hug? Is that okay?’ Lily laughs, somewhat reassured by his obvious nervousness.

‘Sure, James. I’d like that.’ He pulls her into his arms then, and God she could just melt. He’s got the same cologne on from when they first met which of course means he smells practically edible, and his arms are strong and warm and comforting, and yeah, she could get used to this. But then he’s pulling away, and the cold that she had temporarily forgotten about begins to seep back into her bones with his absence.

‘Will you introduce me to your friends?’

‘Oh, yeah, sorry. Uh, James, this is Mary, Mary, James.’ James offers his hand to Mary, who shakes it and smiles appraisingly. ‘And then this is Marlene.’

‘Nice to meet you, Potter. I’ve heard a lot about you.’

‘Nothing too bad, I hope?’, James laughs, leaning across to greet Marlene too.

‘Well, we’ll see,’ she replies, returning the handshake with a strong grip.

James takes them in through the side door - ‘Alright, Sean? Yeah, these girls are with me, thanks man’ - and through to where the rest of the band are hanging out. Sirius is laying with his head in Remus’ lap (whose long legs are dangling off the edge of the stage), staring idly at the ceiling and speaking softly so that Remus has to lean down to listen to him. They make a complimentary pair, and seem very at ease with each other. Peter meanwhile is sat behind his drum kit texting furiously, but he looks up when he hears them arrive.

‘Hiya James, hiya Lily! Hiya Lily’s friends!’

‘Dezzie still breathing, Wormy?’ Peter looks slightly shy, but nods anyways.

‘Yeah, she’s doing good.’

‘Glad to hear it! Come say hello, won’t you?’

‘Two ticks!’

‘Sorry guys, bloody impolite this lot.’ James smiles ruefully at the girls. ‘Oi Pads, Moons! Get off your arses and talk to our guests!’ At this, Sirius and Remus look up from where they’re sat together in the corner, pulled forcibly out of their conversation and back into the room.

‘Hey, it’s Magdalene!’, Sirius grins, scrambling up quickly and bounding over to them. He winks at Mary as he says hello to her, then turns to Marlene, but is interrupted just as he begins to speak.

‘Lesbian, mate. Don’t try it.’

‘Ah. Duly noted. Nice hair! Now, Mary, darling…’ Remus, looking slightly hurt after having been abandoned, hauls himself up to his feet and comes to greet them too. He introduces himself to Lily and Marlene (since Mary is in the middle of being distracted) and Lily realises with some surprise that it’s the first time she’s hearing him speak. He’s quite quiet, with a singsong sort of accent and nice clear vowels. She shakes his hand warmly and is reminded of her impression of him when he was playing his solo. Then Peter finds it within himself to put his phone away and also joins them in conversation. He’s somewhat awkward, looking to James whenever his voice falters, but Marlene asks him a few questions about the band and he begins to chat quite earnestly. James beams delightedly and leans in to speak in a low voice into Lily’s ear.

‘Your friends are nice.’

‘Yours aren’t half bad.’

‘It’s good to see you, you know. You look lovely.’

‘Thank you, Jamie. It’s good to see you too.’

The venue starts to fill up with the rest of the crowd about a half an hour later, and the girls are front row. It’s really exciting, actually. There’s that sort of pre-concert buzz in the air, the low thrum of anticipation that underscores the chatter and the indie rock music playing faintly in the background whilst people buy drinks. A few girls just behind Lily are scrolling through The Marauders’ Instagram page, the glow of their phones lighting up bright, curious faces in the dimmed room. It’s clear that they don’t really know the band, but as they look through their posts a sort of running commentary starts up. One girl likes Sirius, which of course she does, and speculates rather loudly and inappropriately about the possibility of fucking him. Another protests at this, declaring that James is clearly the hotter of the two - ‘Look at that man in this photo and tell me he isn’t fit as anything!’, she says, passing her phone over and wiggling her eyebrows. Lily smirks quietly to herself. Yes, he’s fit, she thinks. And he wants me. The feeling brings a slight heat up to her cheeks.

Her thoughts are soon interrupted by a round of applause as the boys take their places on stage, Sirius leading them on. There’s a short moment of fidgeting with leads and adjusting guitar straps, before Peter raises his drumsticks in the air and looks to Sirius for his approval. All is quiet. Sirius nods, almost imperceptibly. The sound of the sticks rings out into the hush of the room for four clear counts. Then, all hell breaks loose.

The concert is insane, to put it lightly. By the time it’s over, Lily reckons she’s sweated off about six litres of water, her mascara is slightly smudged underneath her eyes and her feet are killing her. There’s a dull ache in the back of her head that won’t go away and she’s painfully aware of the fact that she’s scheduled a nine am study session with Alice for tomorrow. She wouldn’t change a thing. When the worst of the crowd has dispersed, their excited conversation and loud peals of laughter drifting out of the room, she checks in with Mary and Marlene before beginning to head round to the side door. Both report that they thoroughly enjoyed themselves, with Mary gushing enthusiastically about The Marauders’ cover of ‘One of the Boys’ and Marlene conceding that yes, they were quite good actually. Lily smiles giddily at having earnt her seal of approval, mentally congratulating James for passing the test. It’s cold when they get outside. The night is sweeping and gorgeous as they step out into the street, all bright lights and rushing cars, and there’s a sort of breathless exhilaration in being at the centre of it.

Lily’s just about to knock when the door is pulled quickly open from the other side. The sudden absence of it surprises her, and she loses her balance somewhat, which sends her stumbling forwards a few paces. Stumbling straight into James, as it happens.

‘Hey, steady on, mate- oh. It’s you!’ Lily rights herself quickly, startled, and blinks rapidly at him, the tops of her ears tinged ever so slightly pink. James looks down at her rather fondly and cracks a broad, easy grin.

‘Sorry Lily. I didn’t mean to give you a fright! I thought you’d be, y’know. Further away.’

‘Don’t worry, just a bit… unexpected, is all. You were amazing tonight.’

‘Thank you! I tried to look in your direction as much as I could, but I think I lost track of you towards the end a bit. Did you have a good time?’ He directs the last part to the group, peering over Lily’s head at Mary and Marlene and raising a hand to wave at them good-naturedly. This seems to suddenly make Lily aware of their proximity, as she moves back a bit to join ranks with her friends.

‘Yes, thanks,’ nods Marlene, in response to his question. ‘You guys aren’t half bad.’

‘Cheers, that means a lot.’

‘Will Sirius be coming out?’, Mary inquires. Lily shoots her a look, but she simply shrugs her shoulders and waits unabashedly for a response. James becomes awkward.

‘No, sorry, I don’t think so. He’s a bit, uh… occupied.’

‘He’s snogging Remus,’ yells a disembodied voice from beyond the doorway. It soon reveals itself to be Peter, who claps a hand on James’ shoulder and acknowledges the girls with a quick smile. ‘Quite thoroughly, actually’, he adds, matter-of-factly.

‘Oh. I didn’t know those two were an item,’ says Mary, looking a bit put out. James sighs, and rubs a hand across his forehead.

‘They’re not together, technically, it’s- it’s complicated. Did you really have to rat them out like that, Wormtail?’

‘It’s in the name, Prongsie-boy, it’s in the name.’

‘Yeah, well, anyways. Forget that. How are you ladies getting home? D’you need a lift?’

‘No, thank you, Jamie,’ Lily replies. ‘We can make our own way home just fine.’

‘You sure? I really wouldn’t mind, it would be my pleasure.’

‘The bloke’s offering, Lils. May as well take him up on it - especially if it’s a pleasure,’ presses Marlene, arching an eyebrow and smirking at her in a way that few would consider subtle. Lily pokes her tongue out back, but relents.

‘I mean, it would be useful, so long as you’re absolutely sure it’s no trouble.’

James’ car is nice; the kind of nice where you’re scared of getting in with mud on your shoes and it appears whoever designed it had an intense phobia of colours and non-curved objects. Heated-seats-nice. That bit’s pretty bloody lovely, to be fair. James, however, doesn’t seem to notice that it’s nice, and flops into the driver’s seat without a care in the world, slamming the car door and swivelling round in his seat to grin at the girls.

‘Chauffeur James, at your service. Where are we going?’

They drop off Mary first, since her house is pretty much on the way to Marlene and Lily’s. She thanks James for the ride, says her goodbyes to both her friends and disappears through the front door with a flurry of shouts about meeting up again soon as she blows giggling kisses over her shoulder. James’ eyes crease up amusedly as he watches her go. Then Lily taps her and Marlene’s address into the sat nav, and off they go again, cruising steadily past streetlights and takeaway places. Inside the car is pleasantly warm and the world outside seems to dissolve into a dreamy blur of softened shapes and colours. It’s nicer than public transport, Lily is forced to admit to herself. She watches James’ relaxed manner as he drives, smiles sleepily to herself and enjoys the soft, safe feeling that has begun to cradle her chest. Home comes far too quickly.

‘Here we are,’ James announces rather uselessly to the inhabitants of the house he’s just pulled up in front of. ‘Give me a minute, I’ll come round and open the door for you guys.’ He does as much, and Lily and Marlene get out, forced to sacrifice the warmth of the car for the brisk chill of the night outside it. Lily is distantly aware that this is her cue to say goodbye and go inside. This understanding hasn’t seemed to translate to her limbs just yet though, because she’s making no effort to actually walk towards the door. Marlene looks at her friend, then at James - who’s practically her mirror image opposite her - then sighs in a way that suggests she’s tired of being stuck in the middle of them.

‘I’ll be in my room if you need me, Lils. Have fun… standing.’ Lily blinks, then nods slowly.

‘Sure. I won’t be long.’

‘Yeah, okay. Thank you, James, for the lift and the night out. I have a feeling I’ll be seeing you again so, until then.’ Marlene waves at him, and departs.

‘So. This is your house. This is where we… part ways for the night, yeah?’ James says once she’s gone. He’s looking at Lily with big eyes like a rather mournful puppy, which is a fairly accurate representation of how she feels about having to say goodbye too.

‘I guess. We can chat for a bit though, can’t we? I know I’ve been watching you on stage all night, but I feel like I haven’t really seen you.’

‘Sure, yes, perfect, love that. Chatting. Hi!’ Lily covers a laugh with her hand and looks down at her feet.

‘Hello, Jamie,’ she replies, composing herself just enough to look him in the eyes again. Her cheeks ache from smiling.

‘You know you’re one of three people in my life to call me that?’

‘Am I really?’

‘Mhmm. It used to be just Sirius and my mum, but now it’s Sirius, my mum and… you. It’s weird.’

‘Should I stop?’

‘No, no, absolutely not. I like it. I like being Jamie to you.’ James’ voice is soft and shy.

‘Okay.’ Lily stares at him again awkwardly, lost for what to say to prolong the conversation but still not wanting to leave just yet. They’re both just smiling at each other quietly like giddy children.

‘Oh, you know what? To hell with it!’, Lily says suddenly. Then, with a business like tone and all in one breath: ‘James Potter, I have had a very nice evening and I think I should like to be kissed goodnight to round it off. Do you feel the same?’ James’ eyes widen a fraction as he processes, then flick to her lips. He takes a step closer, closing the gap that Marlene’s departure created, and brings a gentle hand up to cup her face.

‘Yes. Yes, I think I do,’ he says, before tilting his head and leaning in to kiss her sweetly. It’s a short kiss, tentative and caring, but when they pull apart he’s breathless from nerves. Lily grins at him.

‘Alright there?’

‘Yeah, uh… yeah. Glasses.’

‘What about them?’, asks Lily teasingly.

‘Not very conducive to kissing you properly.’

‘Well, we can’t have that. Kissing me properly is very important. Want me to take them off for you?’

‘Yeah. Yes, please. God, my brain’s gone to mush.’

‘I sometimes have that effect.’ Laughing, she removes James’ glasses, taking care not to poke him, and folds them shut. ‘That better?’

‘Much,’ James affirms, wrapping his free arm around her waist and pulling her into another kiss, this time deeper and more confident. Lily hums with approval, and reaches up to tangle her hands in his hair. Making out with James exceeds expectations, she finds, and a dizzying euphoria takes over her as he walks her backwards so that she’s up against the car. The two of them get lost in each other for a while. They fit easily together, exploring and enjoying each other with pleasant curiosity. James treats her tenderly, going slow and generally following her lead. Lily, for her part, has been thinking about this ever since James first got up on that damned stage, and very much intends to make the most of it. But then he’s hesitating, and breaking away from her, which is bloody unfair because they were just getting started, and he’d better have a good reason for this because all she really wants to do right now is to continue snogging him senseless. She leans back against the cool metal of the car with her arms crossed and peers at him inquiringly.

‘Lils… don’t get me wrong, this is like the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I am absolutely on cloud nine right now… but it’s, uh, it’s late. You told Marlene you wouldn’t be long, and I don’t want her to worry or anything. I’m sorry.’ Lily stares up at him and his sweet, sincere little face and finds herself simultaneously irked and endeared by him. Ugh. Curse him and his gentlemanly ways.

‘Yeah, that is true. God, you’re too nice for your own good. If you didn’t remind me about that we could have fucked in your car.’ James’ mouth falls open with a flustered expression. Lily snorts. ‘It’s fine, you can just dream of me for the time being. Save the sex for another day.’

‘Wow. Um, okay. You know Lily, you don’t make it easy for respectable blokes like me.’

‘That’s ‘cause it’s more fun,’ she giggles cheekily, tapping him on the nose. ‘Right. I’ll be off then. Thank you for my goodnight kiss - or kisses, actually - and text me when you’re home, okay Jamie?’

‘Of course. Goodnight, Lily Evans.’

‘Goodnight.’

[demigod-shenanigans]

Writing is really funny because I just wrote a bunch of this stuff to be background info in the planning doc and planned to do like a flashback or two, then instead wrote five chapters of it, and it’s only now biting me in the ass because chapter six absolutely worked much better content-wise when it was just a flashback/brief mention instead of a whole chapter

[m3llowm1sh]

mish’s relationships with the rd cast

[midnight-ninja-llama-undercover]

Also, another idea I had. With the new 2v8 coming out, it's very likely Anna will be in a trial with someone else who will kill Meg. How do you think she'd react/feel?

Imagine her and Hillbilly and she watches him club Meg in the head.

I’ve actually been thinking about this a lot since they announced the 2v8 mode!

There’s probably a bit of an internal battle of whether to keep up appearances for the other killers (for fear of the consequences), or break the rules and protect Meg. I’d love to see her being super protective with another killer around. Especially someone ruthless who wouldn’t have sympathy.

This really sets up some great angst for future fics!

~~~

Imagine her shock when Anna is loaded into a trial — like any other trial at first — but she comes across a bear trap. She’s clever enough to see it easily, but she starts hearing traps clamp shut in the distance, the screams of nameless survivors. She knows somethings not right.

Then she hears a familiar scream that makes her chest tighten, pulsing ice through her veins. Immediately she’s off to find her.

The Trapper is chasing Meg through the shack, forcing her to leave by placing another trap. Meg is already limping, bleeding from her calf. He’s about to swing his weapon when a hatchet sinks into his shoulder.

Anna almost doesn’t realize it happens. It’s out of her hand before she can think better of it. But then she sees Meg, unshed tears in her eyes from the pain.

Meg changes direction, running as fast as she can toward another zone to hide.

Trapper doesn’t follow, huffing angrily from across Anna.

She gulps. “I missed.” She pulls another hatchet out and throws it across the map where she can hear a generator. They both hear the satisfying squelch of a clean hit. “Sorry.”

She’s not sure if he believes her, or how long it will take for him and other killers to start doubting her loyalties. But for now, he stalks off with a grunt.

[a-canceled-stamp]

Whumptober 2023 - dialogue

Day 1. Safety Net | Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?”

Characters; pairings: Tim, Jason; Tim & Jason

Setting: the manor. In my mind it’s a “Tim is adopted early” AU but can be read differently.

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“Hey, hold up!”

“Leave me alone, Jason.”

“What the hell? You can’t just walk away from this!”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big—you passed out!”

“��only a little.”

“Are you kidding? You were out. Like, fully. Lights out, nobody’s home, the whole shebang. I swear, you even stopped breathing at one point.”

“Okay, that’s an exaggeration. You’re being dramatic.”

“Dude, I had to catch you. If anyone’s being dramatic, it’s you. Literally swooning into my arms.”

“Jason—“

“Listen, I’m just stating the facts. And the facts are, you gotta start taking more care of yourself.”

“I do!”

“Oh really? When was the last time you ate?”

“…you know what, I don’t have to answer any do you questions if I don’t want to.”

“Aha! See? Wait, come on, stop trying to walk away from this, man.”

“Come on, why can’t you just—“

“No. We need to get some nutrients in you, stat. Maybe some gatorade just to get your blood sugar up. Or maybe water first?”

“Jason, I don’t—”

“No, don’t you get it? I’ve had enough of this, alright? Now stand there and don’t move. If you try to run I swear to god I will burn your Tony Hawk poster.”

“…”

“Yeah, I ain’t fucking around. Now, Alfred’s gotta have some bars or shakes around here somewhere. If not I’ll make you a goddamn omelet if I have to. Seriously, Tim, this is ridiculous.”

“Uh, Jason? I think I—“

“Shut your yap. ‘It’s not a big deal’ my ass. News flash: passing out while walking up the stairs is not normal.”

“Jason, I, I think I might—“

“God, what the hell is Bruce even doing. World’s greatest detective and can’t even notice that his own kid is—hey what are you—oh shit.”

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