#IT JUST FEELS CONSTRICTIVE. THAT ISNT ALL THAT I AM. theres so much more i cant put words to...

[sunriseovergotham]

my orientation is so weird. it justfucking changes. all the time. i can never get a good read on it. DO I EVEN LIKE WOMEN???????? romantically i mean. whatever. usually i just consider my sexuality queer or faggot because theyre vague and open but gay is also accurate sometimes?? just not always . Fuck if i know

[let-it-raines]

I was reading this "ex prompt list" and while I want you to write all of them, I really liked this one: "You talk about me in your new song and I get mad over it, so I’m standing outside your apartment door to argue, only to see you open the door half naked." Thank you, darling! You're a gift!

She’s on her way home from work when she hears it. Listening to the radio isn’t something she does, not anymore, but her car can’t connect to her phone’s Bluetooth and she forgot the aux cord, so it was either the radio or silence.

She probably should have stayed in silence.

Because for the first time in three months, for the first time since she was in Target and heard one of his songs over the speakers, she hears his voice.

And she hates it.

But she apparently hates herself a little bit more because she doesn’t change the station or turn the radio off. She doesn’t recognize the opening chords to this song. She recognizes the chords to every song. She knows all of the lyrics, all of the rifts and pauses. She knows everything.

But she doesn’t know this one.

It’s quiet, sullen, the usually prominent instruments muted in the background so that his voice comes through as clearly as possible. It takes her thirty seconds and two references of a swan flying away – really subtle there, Jones – for her to realize that the song is about her. She has to pull over to the side of the road, making several different cars blare their horns at her, but she can’t…she can’t listen to this while driving. She can’t hear him sing a song that’s clearly about their break up. She has to listen, but she can’t do anything else.

She can barely breathe.

He sounds broken. But she knows that’s on purpose. He records those songs a million times over, until he gets them exactly how he wants them to be, so she knows that he’s manufactured it this way. She’s watched him record enough songs to know how things work.

How dare he do this.

How dare he put their private life out there for anyone with ears to hear.

Hot tears sting behind her eyes, and she has to bury her face in her hands while her throat constricts, emotion lodging itself there and making her feel as if she has to vomit. Or as if she can’t breathe. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know anything.

All she knows is that she misses him. She misses Killian.

But right now she hates him for making her relive their breakup, for making her relive the agony that was the weeks and months of separation that inevitably led them to walking away from each other.

Or maybe it was her.

She’s not sure. If anything, it’s all a blur of tears and alcohol, sobs wracking her body while she was unable to feel anything but pain. She’d waited so long to find someone who understood her, who wanted to be with her with no reservations, who wouldn’t leave. But then he had left. It had been for work. She knows this. She understands this. Despite everything, she wants nothing more than for him to be happy and to follow his dreams. She just wishes it didn’t come at the expense of them.

She just wishes she’d been strong enough to handle the months of separation and the way that their schedules never matched up, the way that they were constantly missing each other when they tried to call.

The song ends and immediately something happy, upbeat plays through her speakers. She’s having some kind of meltdown on the side of the road, and the world keeps going by. Cars continue to drive by, shaking her bug with their momentum, and the song that’s about one of the worst periods of her life is quickly forgotten and replaced by something about…dancing in a club. It’s literally just about dancing.

She lets out a watery chuckle, the emotion that was lodged in her throat clearing the slightest bit so that she can breathe. Was she not breathing? She might not have been breathing.

Now that she can breathe again, she inhales, sucking her chest in before letting out a gush of air in an attempt to calm herself. In her review mirror she can see that her face is red and splotchy, that her eyes are still watery, and she has to wipe away the snot that’s formed at her nose.

It’s as she’s rubbing her eyes, trying to clear her vision, that all of the sadness starts to twist, transforming into something else entirely. She’s pissed. Absolutely pissed. And she can’t help but think of her earlier thoughts when the song first started playing.

How dare he do this to her.

How dare he write that song and put it on the radio.

Before she knows it, she’s putting her car in drive, looking over her shoulder to make sure the road is clear, before she’s pulling off of the dirt and onto the pavement, speeding down the road in the direction of Killian’s apartment instead of toward hers, driving in the direction of the place where she lived for so long. She knows he’s home, that he’s in town. And she only knows this because David still talks to him, still talks about him, and she overheard David talking to Mary Margaret about Killian being home for the next few weeks and how they’re going to go out for a pint to catch up.

She knows the path to his apartment better than she knows the path to her own, a right here followed by another until it’s a straight shot to the parking garage underneath his building. She still has her sticker, the one that lets her inside. She never could get the damn thing off.

But now it’s useful as she pulls into an empty guest space, hastily getting out of the car and slamming the door shut as she makes her way over to the elevator, hoping that the code hasn’t changed and she can still get inside. It’s only two minutes before she’s standing in front of his door, the momentum and adrenaline propelling her hand forward until she’s banging on the wood so roughly that her hand might actually hurt.

She hurts.

Every bit of anger, of malice, of disappointment that she has is on the tip of her tongue, posed to be spit at him as soon as she sees him, but then the door is swung open and she sees him for the first time in…shit. It’s been five months. It’s been three months since she heard his voice in Target, but it’s been five months since she’s seen him.

And he’s now standing in front of her with his hair damply falling across his forehead, water trailing down the hair of his chest, and the words of his tattoo peeking up over the white towel he has slung across his hip.

Fuck.

She doesn’t have any other words, especially as his fists clench and the muscles in his arms strain while his jaw ticks. He’d look surprised when she first showed up, his lips parting before closing, almost as if he had something he wanted to say. But now he looks angry, a storm raging behind his eyes, and all she can think about is the time that they went to Bermuda for their anniversary and spent the entire week either in bathing suits, a towel, or nothing at all.

“What are you doing here, Swan?”

There’s no anger in his voice though. It’s calm, even, and it’s that fact that gets her back on track. He sounded broken in the song. He’s obviously not broken like she is.

“How dare you write that song,” she spits, trying to keep her voice just as steady, knowing that she’s failing. “You just put our life, my life, out there for everyone to hear.”

“No one knows it’s about you.”

“I do! I know! Our friends know! Everybody goddamn knows! I’m driving down the road on my way home from work, trying to live my life, trying to move on, and I just have everything that I’m trying to forget thrown back in my face like that.”

“Love – ”

“Don’t call me that,” she cries, hating how her voice cracks. She shouldn’t have done this. She shouldn’t have come. She should have never let her emotions drive her, but that’s always what’s she’s done. She’s never been one to be able to hold back when she really feels. “I am not your love. You’ve made that very clear.”“Swan,” he grits, crossing his arms over his heaving chest, “if you want to yell at me, come inside. I have neighbors, and I don’t think we want them witnessing this.”

She huffs, disbelief that he’s actually inviting her inside so that she can continue this emotional breakdown, but her feet still carry her inside, her eyes glancing over the apartment the moment she gets inside. It all looks exactly the same.

She hates that it all looks the same.

Something should have changed.

All of her stuff is gone.

She’s gone.

Something should have changed.

She turns around to look back at Killian, who’s locking the door behind him before running his hands through his damp hair, pushing it back on his forehead, before he’s rubbing his fingers over his scruff. She hates how good he looks almost as much as she hates that that’s what she’s focusing on.

“Why are you here?” he sighs, the indignation he had replaced with acceptance. “The song? You’re mad about the song?”

“Of course I’m mad about the song. How could I not be? Have you heard it?”

“I wrote it. And in case you’ve forgotten, I have dozens of other songs about you, nearly every one of them on a record somewhere. You never seemed pissed about those then.”

“We weren’t broken up then.”“Well whose bloody fault is that? Because it’s not mine. I didn’t want to break up.”

“You think I wanted to break up?” she screams, not caring about staying calm while her entire body heats, her skin feeling overly warm and her head throbbing while her heart pounds. “You think I wanted to be having breakdowns on the side of the road because I can’t handle reliving parts of our relationship. You think I wanted to be the girl who sat at home and cried every time you didn’t pick up the phone? Every time you had to go one minute into our conversation? Every time I went out with my friends and heard your voice on the speakers at a bar when I hadn’t actually heard your voice in days? You think I wanted that?”

She can’t…she can’t breathe again, her heart beating far too quickly in her chest. This isn’t healthy. This isn’t good. She needs…she needs to sit down. So she does, collapsing to the ground and resting her back against his hallway wall while she wraps her arms around her knees and lets herself have another breakdown.

Who the hell needs dignity?

“Emma,” Killian sighs, and that only makes things worse. He never calls her Emma, not unless something is important, and she hates herself for this entire situation. She hates that he is able to still have this power over her, that she still loves him so much that she can’t fathom the fact that she’s not with him.

“Emma,” he repeats, kneeling down next to her, his towel opening as he squats, which really doesn’t help the situation at all. “Are you okay?”

“Do you think I’m okay?”

“No.” His thumb reaches up and wipes away the tears on her cheek. That’s the first time she’s felt his touch in five months too. And it’s also what makes her look up to see that he’s got a tear falling onto his cheek too. “I’m sorry, lo – Swan. I’m sorry that you heard the song and that it hurt you.”

“Why’d you write it then? You had to know that I’d hear it eventually.”

“Because I hurt too. Music is how I deal with things. You know this. You’ve always known this. And how the hell else am I supposed to deal with my heartbreak?”

“By writing the damn song and then not putting it on the radio.”

“I had to fulfill my contract. I had to release a new single.”

“Don’t you have another one? One that’s not about us?”

“No.”

She sighs, leaning her head back against the wall and tightly closing her eyes all while she physically aches. She aches for them to be back to normal, aches for this to not be happening anymore. She should have never come here.

“How long are you home?”

“What?” he stutters, his voice visibly shaken.

She opens her eyes and looks back at him, attempting to even her breaths. “How long are you home this time? How long until you have to leave again?”

“A few weeks. I’ve got to go back and meet with the guys for a couple of days at the end of September.”

She doesn’t know why she does what she does next, but before she can stop herself, before she can think straight, she leans forward and slides her lips over his in a harsh, demanding kiss. Her hands are in his hair in an instant, using the soft strands to tug him closer, and his hands find her face, the warmth and roughness of the pads of his fingers holding her to him as well. It’s like being connected, like being right, after so many months of not feeling like herself, of feeling like something in her life is off kilter.

Like something is wrong.

She doesn’t care that they shouldn’t be doing this. She doesn’t care that she shouldn’t be pushing Killian against the floor, the hardwood uncomfortable under her knees, and she doesn’t care that she’s losing her mind over the way that Killian’s groaning into her mouth and thrusting his hips up against hers, the towel doing nothing to hide his arousal.

And she really doesn’t care when they stumble away from the entrance of his apartment and fall back into his bedroom, quickly and surely moving against each other in the way that they always have. He feels good, fantastic, and she knows she should never be thinking about she and Killian together when they’re very obviously having a relapse, a collapse back into the them they used to be.

So she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t let herself not enjoy this, but she can’t speak, she can’t return Killian’s words of ecstasy and affection while he moves inside of her and above her. She simply falls into how good, how right, this feels, and figures that she’ll…she’ll figure it all out later.

It turns out when later comes that she’s still not ready to figure it out. She still doesn’t know what to do. Instead of getting up and leaving when they were finished, she didn’t. She stayed. She’s not sure that she had the strength to leave, that she even wanted to, so now she’s wrapped up in one of Killian’s sweaters while her legs are stuck in between his and his hands are trailing through her hair. She feels his heartbeat under her palm, the slow rise and fall of his chest a rhythm that she knows better than any other.

A rhythm that she knows better than any song he’s ever written.

“Sex doesn’t solve our problems, Swan. You know that, right?”

“I know,” she confesses, snuggling closer to him despite everything. “I don’t…we shouldn’t have. I shouldn’t even still be here. I’m not sure what came over me, over us.”“A hell of a lot of emotions.” She feels his lips against her forehead, the sweat that’s gathered there being pushed away. “We’ve got…there’s a lot left between us, love. There was never anything wrong between us, I don’t think. I just wasn’t there.”

“That’s kind of what went wrong. You can’t be in a relationship without being there.”

“But it’s not us. It was the distance, my job.”

“Which is your dream.”

“Aye, it was my dream,” he confirms softly, running his fingers through her hair and down her back. “It is my dream. But I should have never let it come between us. You’ve been my life for half a decade. You have been there for absolutely everything, and I should have tried harder, should have done more.”

“I don’t think there was anything either of us could have done.”

“I could have made more time to call. I could have scheduled breaks between cities. I could have booked a flight for me, for you. I could have done so much to save us, to make you feel less alone.”

“Killian, this isn’t all on you.”

“No, no, it’s not, but I’ve had five months of living alone, even when I wasn’t here, to think about all of the things I could have changed.”

“Me too,” she sighs, lifting her head from his chest and untangling her legs before she moves to the other side of the bed, putting distance between them all the while Killian rubs his hand up and down his face trying to work out the stress lines. “I don’t…I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t either. Do you even want to try again? Or are we chalking this up to a one-time thing? To a fallback?”

For the first time since she’s shown up here, he sounds as broken as he did during the song. He sounds like she feels, like there’s something missing, something just out of reach. He sounds…he doesn’t sound like Killian. Not the one that she knew. Not the one who woke her up in the mornings with a smile on his face and laughter in his eyes. Not the one who sang while he cooked, often burning the food because he would start writing down the beginnings of a song.

He doesn’t sound like the man who loved her.

The man who she loves.

“I don’t want it to be that,” she answers honestly, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees. “But I can’t go back to how we were…what do you want?”

“You.”

A shiver runs down her spine, gooseflesh popping up on her skin.

“That’s all. You just want me?”

“Always, Emma,” he promises, his lips ticking up on the right and the lines around his eyes crinkling while his tongue clicks. “But you’re right. We can’t…I can’t leave like that. I can’t do things just for me without considering you. And you can’t let me just do it and say that things are okay.”

“I kind of figured you knew things weren’t okay.”

“You’ve never lied to me, so I didn’t expect it then. I always believed the words that you said.”

“So what are we doing, Killian? What do we do?”

He shrugs, sitting up against the headboard. “We try again. We make compromises. We do better. For ourselves. For each other. And maybe I don’t put a song out without letting you know.”She smiles, the first genuine smile without heartbreak hidden behind it, for the first time today. Maybe for the first time in months.

“I’d like that.”

It takes more than one day for things to get back to normal. It takes weeks, months really. Killian was a constant part of her life for five years, but after nearly half a year apart, things don’t simply snap back. Trust has to be rebuilt, routines have to become routine again, and she has to learn that things are never going to be perfect and that compromise is a hell of a lot harder than simply saying the word. You actually have to break and bend, give and give up, but it’s worth it if you want to make things work.

She wants to make things work.

Killian does too.

And the next time she hears a song on the radio that’s about her, Killian’s voice isn’t broken. And neither is her heart.

[tumblunni]

Today's thought for a Dr Maddiman fic that i probably wont ever have the skill to write, lol

Au where his wife is still alive in present day, she's just elderly and in hospital for [insert name of whatever illness]. So maddiman's redemption and re-meeting his son manages to happen in time for him to see her again.

Im thinking something like he was planning to just keep his distance cos he's scared she hates him and he could never apologise enough for everything and AAA he hasnt even successfully conquered a small continent let alone the world!!! ("Just let it go already, old man") But then she takes a turn for the worse and when she's in critical condition the head surgeon isnt there and so MADDIMAN BUSTS IN TO SAVE THE DAY! "We need a doctor!!" "I'M A DOCTOR" screams some sort of sobbing cyclops ghost, busting down the wall on the back of a giant frankenmonster...!!

So he ends up doing the impossible surgery noone could ever do, and saving her life with his yokai powers. And then he's just stuck there frozen like "oh god i should leave before she wakes up" vs "i missed her so much i want to stay forever". And he's flailing around looking to protagonist and co for help but theyre too busy running around sticking Wazzat on everybody to cover up the whole, yknow, crazy man punched thru the wall while also being a walking corpse thing.

So she ends up waking up and he's like AIYEEEEE and turns into human form cos he doesnt want to freak her out but DOUBLE AIYEEEE that would probably freak her out even more!! Cue a scene of him falling all over the place trying to put on some terrible disguise while she's got her back turned. "OH..YES...UMM..I AM DOCTOR...FRANK..?" *terrible deep voice attempt*

So we have this super awkward adorable conversation where he's like 'oh no i cant control my love!' Cos it was my headcanon that a side effect of maddiman's powers is that he's like..forced to be more emotionally honest, like he wished he could have been as a human. But its totally involuntary! Like your classic werewolf instinct to howl at the moon and eat people but instead "oh no..must...tell people i care...!!" So i mean his Maddiman personality really WAS always his true personality, but back when he was alive he hid himself away behind a thousand emotional walls of fake stoicism that only got more constrictive over the years. Yokai goofball vs human goofball who's just wearing a terrible 'i am serious man' disguise. That ruined his marriage and literally killed him! Yup! So getting superpowers based on hearts was kind of a lifesaver in his second life. God i have so many feelings for this poor guy!!!

But yeah anyway the gist is that he struggles not to blurt it out whenever he feels affection towards people now. THE CUTEST CURSE! Also itd be funny if his human form kept cracking up aka "oh no my heart is so full of love it wont stop jumping out my chest!"

So anyway we have some brief comic relief of him failing absolutely utterly at pretending to not be himself/not bursting out crying/trying to hold back his own arms from running over and hugging her/losing his heart when he gets hit with the love so hard it launches right out the window...

And at the same time its kinda melancholy cos OF COURSE his wife would actually want to see him and OF COURSE she wouldnt care that he's a monster, she'd just be happy he's back. And maybe she doesnt notice all the clearly suspicious things about this strangely dressed man (and the draft from the missing wall...) because she's just caught up in those melancholy memories. Becuse of course after a close brush with death you'd get depressed that all of your family is dead and nobody would be visitibg you at hospital EXCEPT THEY ARE AND THEYRE RIGHT HERE AND THEYRE BEING DUMBASSES (cue dr nocturne walking in in the background, seeing her, freaking out and putting on an equally terrible disguise..)

So maybe the moment that makes maddiman lose his cool is when he sees she still kept the wedding ring. POOF! Giant explosion and suddenly full yokai form right in front of everyone! "N-n-n-now dont be alarmed t-this is..I..THERES A PERFECTLY LOGICAL EXPLANATION..! OVER THERE!" *tries to jump back out the maddiman shaped hole in the wall* But of course Because Love, she manages to recognise him even as a yokai and they have a heartwarming reunion! Hoorah!

So yeah happy ending au. Coulda just said that and saved all the words, but whatever XD