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You will recognise the quality of a Lost Mary Tappo vaping device as soon as you take it out of the box. From the iconic “hip flask” design to the heft of the high-quality materials used in the construction of the device, everything about a Lost Mary device says “quality”. This does not feel like the disposable vaping devices you might be used to; there is a solidity to the device that suggests permanence – you know that you’ll be using your Lost Mary Tappo pod kit for a long time to come.
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Witchy Woman (2/10)
0.5 | 1 | AO3 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10
art by @cocohook38
Summary: When Emma came into her position as Storybrooke Coven Leader, she ended things with the powerful Vampire Overlord, Killian Jones. She’s spent over a decade working alongside him and ignoring the growing tension between them.
During his best mate’s wedding, Killian decides he is done waiting. He is ready to have his mate back in his arms (and bed) again. Emma is not an easy woman to woo, but Killian has never backed down from a challenge.
When Emma’s jilted ex-boyfriend returns to town and Emma goes missing, Killian will stop at nothing to get her back and ensure that nothing can ever separate them again.
Rating: E
CW: Mention of domestic abuse, blood and blood drinking (vampires), threatening situations, minor violence, death, mention of parental death
Entry for Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2023 (@cssns)
Tagging: @anmylica, @elfiola , @jrob64, @kmomof4 , @stahlop, @teamhook, @tiganasummertree, @undercaffinatednightmare, @xarandomdreamx, @zaharadessert
Author Note: This chapter has over 2400 words. It had about that many commas until the lovely, patient, and enduring @ultraluckycatnd worked her magic. Any remaining commas that are misplaced are late adds for which she is not responsible. This is coming to you early because it has BEEN A WEEK and it is only Tuesday. Here is a treat for us all because we deserve it.
“Coffee?”
Emma shot her sister an annoyed glare; she was far too chipper for the early hour. Ruby just grinned back at her, pulling out two coffee mugs and filling them. She added a sugar cube to one before sliding it over to Emma. Eying the mug with some suspicion, Emma accepted the warm cup, cradling it in her hands as if it held the most precious thing she’d ever encountered. She breathed in the strong nutty and flowery aroma of the steam rising from the mug. She could feel the drowsiness starting to retreat before she took her first sip.
No sooner had the mug reached her lips when Ruby cleared her throat. Emma glanced up to find Ruby looking at her expectantly. She took a sip to steady herself before dealing with, well, with whatever it was that had Ruby all excitable this morning.
“Soo..?” Ruby prompted.
Emma looked at the mug in her hands with a mixture of betrayal and sorrow. “You’re just a bribe,” she muttered somewhat mournfully.
“What did Killian say to you last night?”
“I ran into Neal on my way home after the wedding,” Emma answered suddenly.
“What is he doing back?” Ruby demanded. Her playfulness dropped completely, anger flashing behind her eyes.
“Gods only know,” Emma said.
“Emma, this can only be bad. I am getting Elsa, Anna, and Mary Margaret over here, right now,” Ruby was already reaching for her phone. The phone jumped from its position on the counter, grazing her fingers. Ruby scowled at Emma. “Seriously?”
“We don’t know that he is staying or why he was even here.”
“We don’t need to know anything more than he was here.” She cursed under her breath as her phone was pulled from her grasp once again. “Emma!”
“I am only telling you because I need you to find out if he is staying,” Emma admitted, letting Ruby get the phone this time. “We don’t need to get anyone else involved until we know there is something to worry about.”
“You only told me because you thought I’d forget about whatever happened between Killian and you last night,” Ruby said, pointedly.
“I want to know before anyone else bumps into him. Please, Ruby?”
“Fine, I’ll help,” Ruby agreed. “But, the second I get back…” Ruby was already walking toward the door, her wolf-half eager to track down prey.
“I know, I know,” Emma murmured to the empty room.
§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§
Ruby returned before lunch without much success. She had lost his trail at the town line; magic tended to be a bit unpredictable at the extents of the town for reasons that had yet to be discovered. Her intuition told her that he hadn’t left town, but she hadn’t been able to pick up his scent again.
Emma frowned as she tried to puzzle out what Neal was doing back in Storybrooke. Her own magic whispered warnings that filled her with a nervous energy she hadn’t felt in decades. The minutes she’d spent in his presence had taken her right back to that dreadful place she’d been when they’d separated all those years ago. She may have been a powerful witch, the most powerful witch in Storybrooke, but just seeing Neal had ripped away her self-confidence and left her feeling small, powerless - the way he’d made her feel as a teen.
“We have to tell them.”
“I know.”
“Today?”
Emma nodded. “Key lime or pecan?”
Ruby wrinkled her nose. “Apple.”
“Mary Margaret hates apples.”
“Blueberry, then.”
“Blueberry it is,” Emma agreed, jumping off the bar stool and crossing to the pantry to start baking. She couldn’t remember who had started the tradition but whenever a family meeting was called, the hostess provided a sweet treat. Emma had settled on perfecting pies, Ruby typically brought ice cream, Anna and Elsa always brought an elaborate chocolate creation, and Mary Margaret surprised them with something that likely came from that baking competition programme she adored.
As she started on the pie, her mind quieted as her thoughts turned to the task at hand. The physical task centred her in the present after the unrest of the last day or so - which is likely why they’d continued this tradition.
It felt like moments later when Elsa walked through the door, her greeting was interrupted when her twin rushed in after. “We’re the first ones here.” The triumphant look Anna threw Elsa had Emma fighting to suppress a smile. Elsa felt that being five minutes early somewhere was late. But Anna’s conduit abilities meant she was often distracted by the fluctuations of the ambient magic, losing track of time and days at times when the magical field was particularly dynamic. It was a common exchange between the two, and Emma felt oddly comforted by the familiarity of the disagreement.
Elsa looked toward the ceiling, pleading with the gods for patience, before turning her attention back to Emma. “Is there tea?”
Emma gestured toward the empty kettle, still firmly suppressing her smile, but her eyes danced mischievously. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here already.”
“Oh, don’t you start,” Elsa warned.
“Ruby lives here and she isn’t even here,” Emma waved her hand to indicate the kitchen and living space around them. She couldn’t hide her smug smile when Elsa slammed the lid on the kettle harder than necessary before placing it on the flame.
“You and Killian were awfully cosy last night,” Anna’s voice was all innocent interest.
“You promised me,” Ruby added, her timing as impeccable as always. Between her wolf hearing and her telepathic magic, she rarely missed the moment a conversation became particularly interesting.
“This can’t be the most pressing thing we need to discuss.”
“Well, Mary Margaret isn’t here to discuss more serious matters,” Ruby reasoned.
When all three pairs of eyes looked at her expectantly, Emma sighed. “Fine.” She took a moment to prepare herself. “He just said something ridiculous like ‘It’s time,’ or whatever. I think he wants us to try dating again.” Even though she’d tried to sound unaffected as she spoke, her cheeks burned as she recalled how exactly how he said Time’s up and the thick tension that had been in the air between them.
As expected, they all spoke at once.
“About damn time.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Get it!”
Emma answered Elsa since she was the only one to actually ask a question. “I think,” she sighed, “I don’t know.”
“Well, what do you want?” Anna asked.
“Killian’s main mast,” Ruby answered with a wolfish grin.
Mary Margaret tapped on the door before entering, saving Emma from addressing that particular innuendo. A crease formed between Mary Margaret’s brow as she read the energy and auroras in the room. “Oooh, what have I interrupted?”
“Emma was just telling us what she is going to do about Killian,” Anna relayed.
Emma caught Elsa’s eyes before they went wide and unfocused, indicating that a vision had taken her from the present into a possible future. No one else seemed to have notice, because they were catching Mary Margaret up on the short conversation she missed.
“So, the question remains,” Mary Margaret said, “are you going to give him the chance?”
Eyes cleared and voice dreamy, Elsa responded, “Oh, Emma, you just have to.”
Emma studied Elsa, trying to determine what her sister had seen in that vision. Elsa shook her head; she apparently wasn’t going to get any of the answers she was desperate to know.
“Well, that settles it,” Anna said, as though an actual decision had been reached. Elsa turned back to pouring tea for everyone. Anna jumped up to divide the pie for everyone, sliding plates in front of them and chatting away excitedly about blueberries and pies and a thousand other things. Emma stood a bit dumbfounded at how quickly the topic had been dropped, but her magic thrummed through her as though it agreed with her sisters. She may refuse to believe Elsa without the details of her vision, but going against her magic would be foolish on a level that Emma most decidedly wasn’t.
“Now, for the other situation?” Ruby prompted between bites of pie.
Emma slipped into business mode, her voice matter-of-fact as she relayed the exchange with Neal and Ruby’s tracking efforts from that morning. When she’d finished Mary Margaret frowned, that crease between her eyebrows returning. “Do you think he is back to challenge Killian for his position as vampire overlord?”
“It’s likely,” admitted Emma. It had been her first thought, once she’d been able to rationally think about him materialising beside her last night. Before anyone could suggest it, Emma added, “I don’t want to bring Killian into this until we know that Neal is staying.”
“Emma, you should tell him now,” said Anna. Mary Margaret nodded her agreement.
“He’ll lose his mind,” Emma countered. She had decided, with the not-so-subtle urging of their magic, to welcome Killian back into her heart. She wasn’t sure she was ready to bring Neal up in the same conversation. She deserved that conversation to be a happy one; they both did.
“With good reason,” Ruby said, her eyes heavy with meaning. “He remembers what happened last time.”
“And I’ve forgotten?” Emma snapped back. Her rising temper was suddenly dampened, Mary Margaret’s magic pulsing out to calm the rising emotions in the room. Emma cut her eyes at Mary Margaret, she wanted to be angry. Needed it, right now. Otherwise, she worried she’d give into the fear at the heart of the anger.
“That isn’t what Ruby meant,” Mary Margaret smoothed.
“Well, it happened to me. I haven’t forgotten. I am stronger, now. Much stronger,” Emma spit out, holding on tightly to whatever anger she could with the happy spell still pulsing in the air around them.
“We just want you to be safe. Having the vampires in town watching your back isn’t a bad idea,” Elsa added.
“I will tell him,” Emma said. As soon as I know Neal is still in town.
“Good,” Anna nodded. As chatter turned toward Mary Margaret’s upcoming honeymoon, Emma’s thoughts churned with memories better buried. The fear she felt the night Neal had tried to bite her as she fought him off, her telekinesis too weak at seventeen to throw him, rising to the surface. She couldn’t recall the words he’d threatened her with, but she remembered the whine in his voice as she resisted, scratching and clawing anywhere her hands made purchase. He’d wanted to drain her of her power, to absorb it as he fed from her unwillingly, so that he could overthrow the weakening vampire overlord.
Fortunately, Ruby returned home early. Her wolf form, even at thirteen, was strong enough to damage a weak vampire. She’d torn him off Emma before returning to tend to Emma’s injuries. Not knowing what to do, Ruby rushed to August’s to see if he could help with the pain radiating from Emma's wrist and forearm. August had become a quasi-guardian of the sisters when their parents died the year before.
That was the night Killian entered her life - it would be another seven or eight years before he’d become more than a friend of August; two more still before he’d become her Killian. He was at August’s, catching up with his old friend after sailing the world for a few years. When he saw the injuries peppering Emma’s body, he recognised she had fractured her wrist. Without hesitation, he’d extracted his toxin and mixed it into a tonic to help her heal. All the while, he complimented her on her strength and gently teased her to keep her from being swallowed by the helpless fear she’d experienced at the hands of someone who’d said he loved her.
§§§§ §§§§ §§§§ §§§§
Killian had been many things in his long life; chimney sweep, thief, naval officer, pirate, gentleman, barkeep. While pirate was his most memorable, given that is when he gained the hook in place of a hand on his left side, his most enjoyable was definitely the position he currently held as Storybrooke’s Vampire Overlord. As Emma stormed into his office, sidestepping a flustered Tink’s attempts to block her entrance, he smiled to himself. This was absolutely his favourite occupation.
“Good morning, Swan.” He flashed a brilliant smile, rising from behind his desk. When she did not take the proffered seat, he leaned against the desk and frowned with concern. His gaze swept over her, a habitual scan for any injuries she may have. He felt a bit of tension release when he found none. Her heart was fluttering wildly; he'd say she was nervous if she were any other woman. But Emma was always steady and collected. He cleared his throat and met her gaze, “How can I be of assistance, Love?”
As head of the Storybrooke Coven, Emma typically received updates on supernatural occurrences before he did - officially. However, Killian prided himself on the effectiveness of his own intelligence gathering. He was rarely uninformed when Emma approached him to help with a particularly tricky situation. As she stormed into his office this morning, he felt a moment of annoyance flash through him when he realised he had no idea what had brought her in this morning. He assumed she’d know about Neal by now. But she’d always been clear that he was not allowed to handle that prick properly, so he doubted that was what brought her before him.
“Fine, okay,” Emma said in a huff. When Killian’s eyes filled with confusion, she added, “I agree. We should, I mean, I am ready to…”
Killian’s eyes lit up as he began to understand what the distractingly beautiful witch standing in front of him was attempting to say. “Swan, would you allow me the honour of taking you for an evening out tomorrow?”
“How about dinner around eight?” Emma replied with a smile.
“I am counting down the minutes, Love.” If he didn’t know her better, he may not have caught the light flush in her cheeks or the nervous way she pushed her hair out of her face. If he didn’t know her better, he would not have seen the excitement flash in her eyes before she turned and walked out of his office. If he didn’t know her better, he wouldn’t have fully appreciated what it had taken and what it meant that she had come to his office, to him, this morning. His heart beat wildly in his chest and a broad, silly smile took over his features because he did know her. And she was letting him back into her heart - after a journey far too long, he was being welcomed back home.
#cssns23#cs au fanfic#witch!Emma#vampire!Killian#cs au ff#fic by Jas#cs fanfic#captain swan#emma swan#killian jones#killian x emma#cs ff#writes by Jas#Witchy Woman#Loosely based on Stay a Spell Series#art by cocohook38#cocohook38
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Exploring the Latest Trends in Vaping: A Review of Top E-Cigarette Products
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Dictator Daddy
Pairing: Tavo Barros (The Last Ship) / f!reader (It’s Maurice Compte people, it always is)
Word Count: 2400
Preamble: I hate this show. I don't love this character. Yet here we are. He's just so bangable in everything he does. And this one got weird guys. I hesitated to even share it. Maybe it's a certain time of the month that's got my brain like scrambled eggs. Who knows.
Warning: um, smut? I still gotta say it. Just. Um, just. Don’t look at me after this one.
@nicke0115 Put Tavo back on my dash, so I’ve decided to release this. I’m tagging some people who I think love Tavo, but if you don’t let me know and I’ll leave you the hell alone in the future. @1zashreena1 @xxidontwikeitxx @heresathreebee @kid-from-new-zealand @chensingmachinee @artemiseamoon @fleurfatale89 @paniclana @justrunamok @demoncatstone @lettherebrelight @xxsteph-enrixx
gif assist @nicke0115
You arrive at his gigantic home, waiting in line with the other beggars and well wishers.
Your dress is mud stained as are the flimsy sandals you are wearing. Your palms are scraped and your face scratched.
He stands very straight and seemingly towering on the porch. His erect posture accentuates his intimidating frame and muscular arms. His strong facial features are framed by his greying facial hair and prominent brows. His voice drifts your way, commanding but kind as he bows himself to talk to an excited child.
You approach the stairs and you bow your head and avert your eyes as you reach the front of the line.
You feel his intense gaze before you can see it. You tremble in his presence, from both the exhaustion of your journey and the intimidation of this legendary leader.
You are fumbling with your hands as he raises your chin with his crooked forefinger to force your gaze to his. Your body is shaking and tears are pooling in the troughs of your eyes from all that you'd been through to get here.
As he opens his mouth to speak, your knees give way. He grabs you by the shoulders to steady you.
"What has happened to you sweetheart?" He asks with concern in his voice.
"I… I'm…" you fumble.
"Take her inside." He barks to one of his men. "See that she's cleaned up and fed."
He guides you over to the man he was speaking to and in turn that man takes you inside. You are led to a small bed in a small room where you are allowed to collapse under the weight of your ordeal.
When you wake, you take in your surroundings, disoriented. You're amidst simpler furnishings than you'd expected in such a magnificent home. There's a gentle creek at the door and an older woman brings in a tray with tea and plain rice.
"So as not to upset your stomach." She offers.
You tuck in and feel some of your strength return.
When you finish, she cleans your wounds and you flinch at the sting of the alcohol. She ends by offering you a robe and asks for your dirty dress to be cleaned. You change and sit down on the bed once more. You can hear the coming and going of many men outside your door and are too afraid to interrupt. You lay back down and thank God that you were greeted with more mercy and kindness than you could have hoped for.
You become dimly aware of your surroundings once more, having dozed off. You can tell the sun has started to set and you're not sure what to do now that evening is upon you.
The same woman as before raps on the door. "Tavo would like to see you, personally." She states emphasizing the last word.
She accompanies you to the bathroom and you are relieved at the opportunity to relieve yourself and take a brief shower. When you return to your room, she presents you with a new dress. It's floor length and olive green velvet with a scoop neck and thin straps. You touch it in awe, you've never seen such a splendid garment. It probably cost more than all of the clothing in your village combined.
You dress yourself delicately, being careful with the precious gift and the woman helps you brush and dry your hair.
She accompanies you once more, this time to the massive dining room. You approach with your heart in your throat, ashamed of how weak you appeared in front of Tavo as a first impression.
The woman excuses herself and Tavo stands before you, taking in the way the dress clings to all of the right spots.
He pulls out a chair across from his and motions for you to sit down. He pushes it in as you seat yourself and you feel like an honoured guest at a royal feast. He takes his seat across from you and you are overwhelmed, swelling with more emotions than you could parse.
"I hope you're feeling better." He says gently.
"Yes Tavo, you've been far too kind. I don't deserve such luxury, I'm just a simple…"
He raises his hand to cut you off. "It's never a burden to help a loyal follower, and such a beautiful one at that."
You blush at the compliment and without meaning to, bite your bottom lip ever so slightly. He clocks your reaction and this already confident man looks at you like he's sprung a trap, and caught a small delicate creature for himself.
Dinner is served across a few courses and you maintain a polite kindness to everyone who serves you. You're so used to being the one doing the serving that you don't quite know how to act. Tavo takes in the simplicity and innocence of your actions with warmth and soft smiles.
He questions you about your journey and your motives. Your village and your life. You explain how poor your village is and how hard you had to work to feed yourself.
How your mother had died recently of a serious illness and there was no one to take care of you. How you had to leave quickly trying to avoid anyone's notice. How you had measly supplies and it took several days to get here. How the journey was perilous and you had barely survived.
He listens intently and finally asks, "But why come here? Why come to me?"
You talk about how you had heard his voice over the radio and been drawn to him immediately. How his inspiring words and the intense passion behind them gave you solace in your darkest hour. How his vision and strength would save your country and how seeing him, just once, would be enough to fill you with hope and fuel you forward.
Your kind words hit him deeply and fill him with pride, and he thanks you for your candor. The idea of this great man thanking you is almost too much and you are humbled by his words.
After dessert, the likes of which you'd never tasted disappears, he stands and guides you with a hand on the small of your back to another room. You feel electrified by his touch.
You find yourselves in a large luxurious bedroom and he closes the door behind you. Your heart is nearly beating out of your chest.
He crosses the room and puts on a record, fiddling with the turntable until he is satisfied. He opens his posture and holds out his hands. "Dance with me."
You shake slightly as you find your way into his arms. He holds you gently but firmly as you sway to the music. As you relax into the quiet intimacy of the room, you lean your head against his shoulder, facing the crook of his neck. You're floating in a tiny bubble of heaven and as the music fades out you feel a loss as he pulls away from you.
He sits on the edge of the bed and pats the space beside him so that you sit down next to him.
"Why have you come to me?" He asks gently.
"As I said, I had to leave my village. It wasn't safe there for me. We are so poor and without hope." You're rambling slightly.
"But why have you come to me." He asks a little more insistently. "A beautiful young woman such as yourself doesn't arrive at my door everyday. I wonder what I've done to deserve such a blessing."
"I heard of your greatness, your generosity to the people. I had to see you, just to be near you is a great honour." The passion in your voice bubbles to the surface.
He smiles softly and brushes your exposed shoulder.
"Had you been promised to someone in your village?" He asks, shifting the tone of the conversation.
You look down at your scraped up hands, ashamed. "It's why I had to leave, the men in my village, they tried to…" you trail off, tears pricking you at the memory.
"Shhh." He soothes you. "You are safe here." He runs his hand over your hair and you take in his scent as he holds you closer to him.
"I too have suffered." He says looking deep into your eyes. "I lost my wife and son to disease last year."
"I'm so sorry." you whisper.
"But you are here now, and that eases my suffering."
You smile widely and he brushes your cheek.
"So beautiful." he mutters to himself.
"I must ask you a great favour, no, a great sacrifice." He says, correcting himself.
"For a great man such as yourself, anything." You offer eagerly.
He smiles at the way you look at him with reverence and a willingness to comply with his every demand.
"My legacy is at stake, and I need your help continuing it."
Your eyebrows knit slightly in confusion.
He clasps his hands over yours.
"I need an heir. A son. To carry on my life's work."
You gasp and he holds your hand tighter now.
"You have been sent to me as a gift. A strong, resilient, beautiful woman to be the mother of my son. I could ask for no better."
You have worshiped this man from afar. His commanding voice crackling through your radio. And now he sits at your side, asking you to father his child. You feel like the Virgin Mary, tasked to carry the son of God.
You hesitate, carefully forming your words. "It would be my life's honour to carry your child. To bear you a son, strong and smart like you. To have the father of a nation be the father of my child."
He moistens his lips and leans in slightly.
"Then give yourself to me, and I will give you my seed in return." He says, the look in his eyes emphasizing his intentions
"Gladly Tavo." You say breathily.
He leans in further and kisses you softly. You feel an electric tingle throughout your body as you connect with him. He trails kisses up your cheek and you feel his facial hair brush against your lips and your skin. As he reaches your ear he whispers "Take off your clothes."
You stand and do so, pulling the straps down your arms, letting the dress pool at your feet. You carefully remove your underwear as he watches with rapt attention.
He leads you by the hands onto his lap so that you're straddling him. He rests his strong hands on your back, just above your hips. He gazes into your eyes and as you look back at him, you take in the fiery passion that burns in those deep brown pools. The way they are hard with intent, but also soft at the edges with affection for you.
You brush your hand along his cheek and as he blinks up at you you notice how the long lashes and strong brows that frame his eyes reflect the contrast of his delicate touch and the irresistible power he wields over you.
He leans in and kisses your breasts, working his way inwards on each one to lap at your nipples. Each lick sends a shiver through you and he tightens his hold to still you to him.
His growing erection strains against his pants beneath you, and you lower yourself with just enough force to awaken it further. He inhales sharply and his eyes blaze stronger.
He rolls you gently, laying you down on the bed. He stands to remove his clothes and as he gets to his fly he smiles at the wet spot you left there from your increasing slickness.
You are trembling with anticipation as he leans down and positions himself over you. "You're so beautiful." He whispers in your ear and nibbles lightly on your lobe.
He finds his way between your legs and you spread them to accommodate his strong hips. His fingers rub between your wet folds, making sure you are ready to take his thick cock.
As he enters you slowly, you feel each raw inch stretch you, filling you with his firm warmth. You're panting now and as he presses himself against you, you feel the sweat of your bodies mingling in the Colombian heat.
His thrusts are gaining momentum and settling into a steady rhythm, insistent but not too hard. Your breathing breaks and you choke back a scream, your chest heaving beneath him.
You look at him and try to take in every part of him, trying to commit this rapture to memory so that you may savour it later.
You reluctantly close your eyes and throw your head back as he rocks an orgasm from you. "Tavo!" You cry out as his thrusts increase and your body shakes under his weight.
You see him raise his head and tense his jaw. His entire face and neck tense shortly after and he grunts as he fills you with warm ropes of his cum. His expression quickly relaxes and you feel his hot, heavy breath against your neck as he falls into you.
You feel him pull away and lay down next to you. You savour the knowledge that his essence is inside of you, unencumbered, and that you may soon be bound together by a shared life.
A tear escapes from the corner of your eye from the overwhelming intensity of being chosen by this man. He wipes it away with his thumb and kisses your cheek.
He rests a hand on your stomach and smiles. You know he is thinking of you swelling with his child and that you both share in the same hope.
"You're safe now, and you are forever mine." He says possessively. He has planted his flag and claimed you as he would any other territory. You welcome him openly to the continent of your body and feel him migrating towards your heart.
You rest your head on his firm shoulder and feel blessed that you are protected. You have been rescued from a life impoverished of both necessities and affection. You belong to him now and wish nothing more than to make him happy.
As you drift off you hear him mumble "You will be mine and only mine forever." And you relish this thought without fear.
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The Grape Incident (1/2)
I know, I should be writing some of my WIPs, but, although I had this idea in mind for some time, only yesterday I had enough inspiration to write it.
This is a gift for @saraswans , as a symbol of my gratitude for her continued support, for encouraging me and for pushing me to continue writing. I know that she deserves something better, at least that the story was complete, given the significant date, but I thought that, especially today, she would like to receive my humble gift. Sara, I'm going to finish it, I promise, but at least you already know what will happen in the second part, don’t you? Thank you for always being here when I need you.
(Note: I’ve written this in just a short time and it’s unbeta'd, so I apologize in advance for the many mistakes and nonsense.)
Summary: Emma and Killian are best friends and together with the rest of their friends and family decide to welcome the new year in a special way, traveling to Madrid. On New Year's Eve, Emma has a revelation, although maybe she learns it in an unexpected and a little terrifying form.
Word Count: ~ 2400
Ao3 / FFnet
The Grape Incident
"I can't believe we're flying over the ocean right now."
Emma was aware that she was behaving like a petulant girl since they had boarded the plane — even before if she was honest with herself — but that didn't stop her from continuing her little tantrum. "I still don't know why we had to choose Spain as a destination to celebrate New Year. Couldn't we have gone to... I don't know, to Maine?"
Killian chuckled at her side, but his expression immediately changed the moment she threw him a glare, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he scratched behind his ear.
"We all decided to do something special to welcome to the new year." Mary Margaret reminded her across the aisle, waving her hand encompassing the rows of seats around. The fact that she used the same tone as when she addressed her six-year-old son, far from reassuring Emma did nothing but increase her irritation. "You were there when we chose Madrid because we thought it would be fun." She added in a calm voice and in a tone perhaps too condescending for her liking.
Emma huffed in response as she leaned her head back against her seat, wishing the sleep would soon overtake her.
Killian took advantage of that moment to leaning close to her and whisper in her ear, "Admit it, Swan, all those complaints are nothing but your poor attempt to hide that you are terrified by the flight. You can pretend with others, but not with me, love."
She didn't need to look at him to know that a stupid grin would be adorning his lips. He was right, of course, because after all, he was her best friend and he knew her better than anyone, better than herself, sometimes.
This wasn't the first time she traveled by plane, but it was the first one she did it over such a wide surface of water like a damn ocean. For some reason, that had activated all her alerts, causing nerves to grip her stomach while her mind imagined a thousand possible scenarios, each one more terrifying. She'd like to be in the place of her ten-year-old son Henry, who had had no problem falling asleep shortly after taking off and he was now sleeping placidly in his seat next to the window, his head resting on Killian's shoulder.
"You should try to sleep, I still have a free shoulder." To emphasize his words, Killian pulled her into him and surrounded her shoulders with his free arm. "Or I can try to distract you, you know," he suggested while waving his eyebrows in a naughty manner.
Emma rolled her eyes and, before accepting his suggestion, she looked around. Across the aisle, her sister-in-law Mary Margaret had finally succumbed to sleep after their brief talk, as had her nephew Leo and her brother David. Then she turned her head a little more, catching the image of Elsa, Killian's sister-in-law and Ruby, the other single member of the group, along with the two of them, also slept peacefully. Finally, she peeked through the gap between the seats to check that Liam, Killian's brother, and the twins were also asleep. So there was only she and Killian left.
She let out a sigh of resignation as she settled herself beside Killian, letting his arm encircle her again as she snuggled against him looking for his warmth. "Okay, do your magic and make me sleep." She mumbled against his chest, trusting in Killian's power to get her calmed enough. Maybe it was the rhythmic beat of his heart beating against her ear, or maybe his melodious voice that continued whispering nonsenses, or the way his fingers tangled in her hair, the fact was her eyelids began to become heavy, her muscles relaxed and the incipient sleep finally invaded her. Her last thought before succumbing was how lucky she was to have such a fantastic best friend.
"Emma... Emma darling, we've arrived." A few hours later Killian's voice came to her in a muffled whisper. Still navigating between consciousness and sleep, Emma snuggled closer against him, reluctant to leave his arms, at least until she heard the shriek coming from her son.
"Mom! Wake up! We finally arrived!" Henry's excited voice made the last vestiges of her sleep leave her, though she couldn't keep a groan from escaping her lips. The adventure in Madrid, for better or for worse, had just begun.
//
The rental house in which they would stay, was huge and far enough from the center of the city so that their rest would not be disturbed. The four boys shared a bedroom, each couple also had their own bedroom assigned. That left two more bedrooms to be shared by the three singles of the group, so Emma ended up sleeping in the same room as Ruby, Killian being the privileged not to share his bedroom.
Although Emma had been named by common accord — even by Killian and Henry, the traitors —The Grinch of the group, at least as regards this vacation, she had to acknowledge that she was having a good time.
At least if she ignored the continuous noise, the crowd in the streets, the cold and the endless lines. They had to wait for hours, HOURS, to get a table at the most famous chocolate cafeteria in the city, but, according to Mary Margaret, who had previously studied all the traditions and typical activities of the city, they couldn't go through Madrid without trying the chocolate with churros from San Gines. — And she was right, the wait was totally worth it.
But Emma did appreciate walking through the streets of the city, discovering its corners, its historical places, the Christmas decorations and even enjoying with the children the Christmas show that a famous department store offered every year.
There was something she wasn't willing to do, though, and it was to attend an event called pre-grapes or something like that, that basically consisted of a pre-New Year's Eve rehearsal. The event would take place at the Puerta del Sol and if it was always already crowded the times they had passed through, she didn't even want to imagine how it would be during that rehearsal. But the children were quite excited, so they decided it would be better if they split into two groups, the men would take the children to the Pre-Grapes thing, while the girls enjoyed an evening for themselves.
They decided to go out for a drink at one of the many bars in the city. They hadn't been there for ten minutes, when the interrogation began. "So, when are you going to make it official?" Ruby asked arching an eyebrow at her, before taking the bottle of beer to her lips.
"Make official what exactly?"
"That you and Killian are together, of course." Mary Margaret added, as if it was obvious what they were talking about.
Emma ignored her friends after rolling her eyes. She had grown bored that they always asked the same question at the slightest opportunity. The answer was always the same — there's nothing official to announce, we're just friends. This time, she didn't even bother trying.
"Come on, Emma, maybe we were used to seeing you together back home, but here the thing between you has acquired a special dimension." Elsa also decided to contribute, to her dismay.
She suppressed the groan that threatened to escape her lips. Instead, she shrugged nonchalantly. "I don't see any difference." She simply added, suddenly very interested in the plate of chips on the table.
"Who is taking care of your son right now?" Mary Margaret insisted.
"Do I have to remind you that Henry is also with his uncle?"
"With his uncles." Elsa hurried to point. "Henry considers Liam as his uncle, and Declan and Connor as his cousins."
"Okay, but I still don't get the point. Henry is a lucky kid who has a lot of family that loves him and cares about him. I don't know what that has to do with Kilian."
"Who would you trust your son with his life?" Emma didn't bother answering Mary Margaret's question. "Killian is Henry's father to all intents and purposes, except in blood and in the name."
They were right. Killian had been present in her son's life since he was born. Emma's life had been far from simple. She had suffered different traumas, rejections and abandonment that had left her with her heart broken beyond repair. But just when she was in her lowest moments, pregnant, in jail, after suffering the betrayal of Neal, Henry's father, her biological brother came to her rescue, getting hope to become part of Emma's life again.
Their parents had died when Emma was three years old and David was eight. They stayed together for the first three years, but an error or a misunderstanding caused them to be separated, sending each one to a different part of the country. It took David years to find his little sister again, but when he did, they never separated again.
It turned out that reuniting with her lost brother also meant adding more people to her small circle, people she would end up trusting completely. Liam was David's best friend, so it was inevitable that he and his brother would become part of that circle. Ruby and Mary Margaret were friends since childhood. Elsa was the last to join the group when she started dating Liam one year after Henry's birth.
Emma would always be in debt to Liam, who became his lawyer without even knowing her, getting her out of prison before Henry was born, and thus causing her baby to come into the world in a quiet environment, surrounded by people who loved him even before he was born.
For some reason, the bond between Killian and Henry was created almost from the beginning, probably in tune with the growing friendship that blossomed among them once her first moments of reticence were over. Emma had been able to see behind Killian's mask of cockiness and what she had seen had satisfied her enough to trust him even with the care of her son when he was barely a baby.
Killian had ended up moving to the same building as Emma and Henry, to help her with the upbringing. The bond created between them had only consolidated over the years and Henry adored Killian. Emma could not be more grateful that her son had Killian as a stable father figure, as someone constant in his life.
"I think we all agree that Killian is the closest thing to a father that Henry will never have, but I don't see what that has to do with Killian and me being together."
"It has everything to do, Emma. He is a father to your son, he is your best friend, the person you trust the most."
Mary Margaret wasn't wrong. Killian was everything to her. He offered her security, and stability. He was the last person she talked to every day, the person she first addressed when she had something interesting to tell. And in addition to being a decent guy, he was terribly handsome, causing the butterflies in her stomach to flutter every time he was in her presence.
"We're fine like that, we don't need anything else." She replied weakly, being aware that her voice was not convincing at all. But it was true, the relationship they had was almost perfect, in no way did she want to risk something failing and end up ruining everything they had built over the last ten years.
"You already behave like a couple, but without enjoying the more pleasurable part." The smirk drawn on Ruby's face and the salacious arch of her brow left no doubt about what would be the that pleasurable part for her.
Maybe it was the effect of the alcohol going through her system, or the fact that her imagination betrayed her, bringing to her mind images of her and Killian involved in such pleasurable activities. Whatever it was caused Emma to feel a blush crawling from her neck to her cheeks, her blood running hot in her veins.
"I don't know what you two are waiting for, honestly." Elsa added, giving her a soft smile.
"Enough, girls, we haven't crossed the ocean to keep the same conversation as always. We're in Madrid, where there is a bar on every corner. We have the night free of responsibilities, so stop talking and drink more." To emphasize her words, she took the glass in front of her and drank the shot in one gulp, wanting her friends to drop the subject and join her.
For a few seconds, the only thing she heard was the music of the bar and the sound of people talking and singing around her in a language she didn't understand, while her friends looked at each other first and then gave her sidelong glances. Just as she began to find herself uncomfortable at the scrutiny, Mary Margaret's lips lifted slightly, while Elsa nodded subtly and Ruby rolled her eyes as she dropped her hands in her lap in defeat.
Emma wasn't able to suppress the sigh of relief that escaped her mouth and was about to ask for another shot, when Mary Margaret addressed her again.
"Well, you win for this time, but just let me tell you one last thing. I bet the next round of drinks that I know who will be the only man waiting for our return home safe and sound."
Emma didn't need to bet, since she was also sure of the answer. Indeed, when they arrived home a few hours later, laughing and humming, the alcohol running through their veins making its effect, the first thing they found after opening the front door, was someone asleep on the couch, with the tv remote control in one hand and snoring softly. A warm sensation spread to her heart as her stomach fluttered and her gaze was unable to move away from the image of Killian falling asleep while waiting for her to return.
Thanks for reading and Happy New Year everyone!
#cs ff#cs au#mayquita writes#my cs writings#the grape incident#i know it's a silly thing#but that's how my muse is working lately#captain swan#captain swan ff
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Hi Pear! How do you write a short (under 3k words) story? And do you have any suggestions of other short stories of that length to read?
Writing a short story is the same as writing a longer story, except that it has fewer plot points. That sounds tongue-and-cheek, but I mean it.
In a novel, the author builds a narrative that has many events, conflicts, and complications. There’s usually several main characters, a whole handful of secondary characters, and a few extra subplots thrown in. They focus on more.
Short stories are on a smaller scale. They have one or two interwoven plots; the characters are pursuing one or two physical goals; there’s a smaller cast; there are fewer complications. This doesn’t mean lower stakes, necessarily. Short stories can certainly handle world-ending stakes, but usually they’re hyper-focused on one specific character.
When building a story you intend from the outset to be short like this, you must be able to whittle down the idea to its four basic components: the main character, the entry point into the story, the climax, and the exit point.
The cast: Short stories thrive on being keyed in to either a single individual or a pair trying to achieve a goal or coming to a decision. Yes, there will be other characters that they talk to or who help them or who hinder them, but ultimately, this is the story of how [this person] did [this thing.] And that’s it. You can hint to this event being part of a larger world and you can hint at other things going on, but for right now, they are entirely unimportant. Your story is about this person, right now, doing this thing or making this decision. Knowing whose story this is will be crucial.
Keep the cast small, and don’t try to develop them on-screen too much. Context clues and weaving in details that give your audience the impression that there’s more to them than just what they’re getting to see right now is important, but make sure you’re not taking time away from your main character’s story to try to explain the world or another character. Short stories are about implying at the larger world while keeping the “camera” on this one, single story at-hand.
The beginning: You need to start a short story with some semblance of the events already in your mind because you have to be able to get in and get out fast. Part of that is figuring out how close to the event you’re trying to tell you can start your story. You don’t have a heck of a lot of time for lead-up. In a 3k story, you’re looking at 1-1.3k or so for the exposition, initial character development, and starting them toward their goal.
The climax: Most stories have some kind of series of complications prior to the climax. In short stories, you either get one or two in the same scene, or they’re wrapped into the climax scene itself. You must know what you’re building to. What event or decision is this all about?
The ending: Resolution is just as important to short stories as they are to longer narratives, so think about how to wind down from the climax. I think the urge to end a short story right at the decision or action of the climax is strong--pushing the doomsday button, deciding not to do the mandated Thing, letting something go. Fading to black right then is so appealing because movies do it all the time, but with a short story, make sure you think about how to close out your story.
Economy of language: You’ve only got so many words, so obviously picking which ones you use is going to be important. They need to be the right words, and you must be concise with them. A short story often doesn’t spring into being on the first draft any more than a novel does, so be willing to spend more time with it in the editing and rewriting stage than you might think at first glance. Spend time with each sentence, scene, and arc to make sure you’re telling it in the best way. This means not only using the best language in the most succinct way, but also paying attention to how you build world and character.
What does a particular scene add to the story? Is it an attempt to build another theme or drive home a point that you’ve already made? You might be able to take it out. Yes, it’ll hurt--everything you remove or change in a short story will hurt--because it may have been a really great, dynamic scene, but when you’re working in such a short space, you have to be picky. Be willing to remove, change, and rearrange.
Resources:
Determining LengthThree Points To Pay Attention ToQuick Plotting, Problem Plotting, and Character PlottingWorld Building Through Description: Using Context Clues
Reading:
The Log Goblin by Brian Staveley (~1300 words)The Old Women Who Were Skinned by Carmen Maria Machado (~1400 words)Sirensong (~2,000 words)Daughter of Necessity by Bryn Neuenschwander (~2400 words)Lullaby for a Lost World by Aliette de BodardA Place Without Portals by Adam-Troy Castro (~2100 words)Bridge of Snow by Marie Rutkoski (~3000 words)Al-Kahf by Beesan Odeh (~3000 words)Our Side of the Door by Kodiak Julian (~3200 words)Please Forgive Me (~3200 words)You Do Nothing But Freefall by Cassandra Khaw & A. Maus (~3300 words)A Fist of Permutations in Lightning and Wildflowers by Alyssa Wong (~3400 words)The Rain is a Lie by Gennifer Albin (~3700 words)The Dogs of Athens by Kendare Blake (~3700 words)
Lightspeed Magazine || Tor.com || Uncanny Magazine
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THE FUGS
“This band of pranksters and musicians were kings of New York protest music during the 1960s. Like proto-punk Yippies with a less destructive bent than the MC5, the Fugs (their name taken from certain obscene euphemism in the censored version of Norman Mailer’s book The Naked and the Dead) can be seen as forerunners to the early-1970s pre-punk performers like Patti Smith who mixed the personal and the political. At least one writer later noted a lyrical similarity between the Fugs and the Dead Kennedys. Founded in 1965, the Fugs went on several lengthy hiatuses and re-formed sporadically for benefits and protest concerts.”
- Brian Cogan, The Encyclopedia of Punk, (2006)
Tuli Kupferberg (vocals)
1001 Ways to Beat the Draft (1966)
#1-100, Excerpt
1. Grope J. Edgar Hoover in the silent halls of Congress. 2. Get thee to a nunnery. 3. Fly to the moon and refuse to come home. 4. Die. 5. Become Secretary of Defense. 6. Become Secretary of State. 7. Become Secretary of Health, Education, and Welfare. 8. Show a li'l tit. 9. Castrate yourself. 10. Invent a time machine and go back to the 19th century. 11. Start to menstruate. (Better red than dead.) 12. Attempt to overthrow the Government of the United States by force and violence. 13. Advocate sexual freedom for children. 14. Shoot up for a day. 15. Refuse to speak to them at all. 16. Enroll at the Jefferson School of Social Science. 17. Replace your feet with wheels. 18. Rent a motel room with a ewe. 19. Rent a motel room with a ram. 20. Say you're crazy. 21. Say they're crazy. 22. Get muscular dystrophy when you're a kid. 23. Marry J. Edgar Hoover. 24. Take up residence in Albania. 25. Stretch yourself on a rack so that you become over 6 1/2 feet tall. 26. Marry your mother. 27. Marry your father. 28. Blow up the Statue of Liberty. 29. Marry your sister. 30. Marry your brother. 31. Marry your daughter. 32. Join the Abraham Lincoln Brigade. 33. Marry your son. 34. Marry Lassie. 35. Marry President Johnson. 36. Marry Mao Tse-tung. 37. Proclaim that Mao Tse-tung is the Living God. 38. Proclaim that you are the Living God. 39. Stamp your foot in the earth like Rumplestiltskin and refuse to eat until our boys return from Viet Nam. 40. Get elected Pope. 41. Get elected to the Supreme Soviet. 42. Get lost. 43. Shoot A for one month. 44. Grow seven toes on your head. 45. Commit an unnatural act with Walter Jenkins. 46. Make the world go away. 47. Wear pants made of Jello. 48. Say you are a wounded veteran of the lutte des classes. 49. Solder your eyes shut. 50. Ride naked through the streets on a white horse. 51. Declare war on Germany. 52. Tell the draft board that you will send your mother to fight in Viet Nam in your place. 53. Study Selective Service reports on malingering and military medicine, and/or military psychiatry texts or journal articles on the same subject, and use the clever methods they describe. 54. Organize your own army and advance on Washington. 55. Tell the psychiatrist that if he doesn't let you into the Army you'll kill him. 56. Turn yellow. 57. Infiltrate your local board. 58. Don't agree to anything. 59. Contract Addison's disease. 60. Contract Parkinson's disease. 61. Contract Bright's disease. 62. Contract Hodgkin's disease. 63. Contract Cushing's disease. 64. Contract Fröhlich's syndrome. 65. Announce that you have become the bridegroom of the Virgin Mary. 66. Announce that you have become the bridegroom of Jesus Christ. 67. Get your friends to crucify you. 68. Counterfeit money and omit the motto In God We Trust. 69. Become a publisher of smut and filth. 70. Become the publisher of the Little Mao Tse-tung Library. 71. Prove the Brezhnev is a Trotskyite wrecker. 72. Burn down the building located at 39 Whitehall Street. 73. . . . 450 Golden Gate Ave. 74. . . . 536 South Clark Street. 75. . . . 55 Tremont Street. 76. . . . 916 G Street NW. 77. Burn down the Pentagon. 78. Burn baby burn. 79. Write a best-selling novel which portrays the CIA as incompetent. 80. Catch St. Anthony's fire. 81. Say you'd be happy to serve because it'll be easier to kill the fucken Americans who are interfering with the freedom of Viet Nam. 82. Recite the Pledge of Allegiance 2400 times a day. 83. Cut off your ears. In ancient times no animal was sacrificed unless it was a perfect specimen. 84. Cut off your left ear and send it to the draft board. 85. Grow a tail. 86. Learn to talk with your anus. 87. Become a graduate student in a subject vital to the national security, such as the epistemology of phenomenological methodology. Achieve your degree only after fifteen years of 2-S. 88. Grow old fast, or 89. When you reach the age of 17 don't get any older. 90. Drink an elixir that will cause you to shrink to a height of 2 feet 3 inches. 91. Buy a slave and send him in your place. 92. Take your girlfriend with you when you get called and insist that you will not serve unless you can sleep with her at night. 93. Take your boyfriend with you when you get called and insist that you will not serve unless you can sleep with him at night. 94. Take your mother with you when you get called and insist that you will not serve unless you can sleep with her at night. 95. Take your chihuahua with you when you get called and insist that you will not serve unless you can sleep with it at night. 96. Wet your bed. 97. When the doctor tells you to spread your cheeks, let him see the firecracker you planted there beforehand. 98. Handcuff yourself to Lenin's tomb. 99. Handcuff yourself to Nicholas Katzenbach and shout: "We shall not be moved!" 100. Travel to Havana.
(cont’d)
#thefugs#protopunk#pranksters#musicians#newyork#protest#music#1960s#yippies#themc5#normanmailer#thenakedandthedead#pattismith#prepunk#personal#political#deadkennedys#benefits#concerts#tulikupferberg#1001ways#beat#draft#briancogan#encyclopedia#quote#2006
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