#brennan is going to give us hope somehow

[arainywriter]

I love this new season of fantasy high being about how it's fucking hard to do the same thing over and over again, and no matter how much you try to save the world, the world is never going to change. Bad things and bad people will keep coming, and you'll have to stop them, and also homework is due tomorrow.

[treblrebl]

Charting the Course of B&B Part 2 - The Journey

Continuing the rather ridiculous effort to graphically summarize the B&B relationship trajectory, this instalment focuses on the agonizing journey between feelings realization, and relationship initiation, viz. Seasons 5 and 6.

Note: The Y-axis follows a simple 0-100 progression. The categories at each milestone are plotted relative to each other against a range of 0 to 100 points. Entirely subjective.

Season 5: Keyword - 'Devotion'

The season where everything changes. This is where Booth has his blinders forcibly yanked off, and where Brennan can no longer compartmentalize the depth of her feelings. Through all the tenderness, the pining and the utter devastation which the two of them go through this season, one thing remains constant. They are absolutely devoted to each other's happiness over anything else, including their own.

I have changed the parameters for this season's graph to mirror the changes in the B&B dynamic itself. Attraction and trust already reached their peak. Feelings on the other hand have deepened into serious romantic love. With that however, come the opposing forces of hope and fear. And that's what the chart below depicts.

Representation:

Milestones considered:

S5-E1: "He sees the truth of you, and is dazzled by it." - Booth can finally acknowledge to himself that he loves Brennan. There's hope for a new beginning, tempered by the very real fear that the surgery and coma have changed Booth somehow. The 'attagirl' backtracking is frustrating, but at that point, the right thing to do.

S5-E5: "What goes on between us, should just be ours." - Iconic for a reason. This is Booth firmly creating a space which is just for the two of them. This is a possible pivot point - where I believe if either of them had the courage to declare, they would have started a romance much earlier.

S5-E7: "I can't think of anything I wouldn't do to help Booth." Self-explanatory. Nobody notices the little things about Booth the way Brennan does. At this point Booth has patience, and hope. His marksmanship test at the end is another possible pivot point.

S5-E8: "He's big and strong, but he needs someone." - Ah, Hank. Cutting to the heart of the matter. I believe this is the point at which Brennan begins to truly fear the depth of her feelings for Booth, and how far she will go for him.

S5-E12: "I will never forget what you did for him." - Case in point, how far Brennan is willing to go for him. And vice-versa - single-handedly breaking into a lab under Secret Service lockdown isn't something Booth does every day.

S5-E16: "I don't have your kind of open heart!" - Where all our hearts shattered. However, contrary to popular theory, I don't believe this is where Booth gave up.

S5-E19: "Then, in ignorance, I await my own surprise. Although the odds of it involving a commitment to another person are remote." - As much as I hate the trope of using jealousy to make a character recognize her feelings, I think this is where Brennan realizes the fact that the reality of Booth moving on is very different to the concept of it. Even here, I don't think Booth had lost hope. Brennan is more interested in his dates with Catherine than he is.

S5-E21: "Maybe I've lost my advantage because of all the people I'm involved with now." - Ouch. THIS is the beginning of Booth giving up on Brennan. Till now despite the rejection, Booth hasn't once stepped back in his devotion to Brennan. He ignored his heartbreak to give her the prom dance she wanted, he used his witch wishes for her happiness, in whatever form that may take, and he let go of his own trauma to help her get justice. But Brennan is pulling away, she says she can't deal with the deaths and murders any more. Her fear is at it's apex, and she can't see clearly. But to Booth, it looks like an ending.

S5-E22: "No, things have to change." - Yep, that's Booth's hope in a tailspin. Brennan needs a pause, a break, some distance to evaluate her mental state. But she can't communicate it the way she wants to, and Booth is too close to the issue to be able to see things from the right perspective. What she saw as an opportunity for a pause, he sees as her signal telling him he must move on. Crossed signals leads to a year and half of torment.

Season 6: Keyword - 'Inner Demons'

The BIG, notorious, controversial one. You either love this season or despise it. I love it. The character arcs for both of them are spectacular. They both face their worst demons and hit rock bottom, yet manage to climb their way out. Plus, in contrast to their usual dynamic, here Brennan is the one who is a rock to Booth through her own turmoil.

Almost every single episode in this season has a milestone. So much so that I have to use 2 graphs to chart out the course of this season. The first graph uses love, emotional distance and internal torment as parameters, whereas for the second graph we return to hope and fear, with the addition of anger.

It has to be noted that I have plotted each parameter as a composite of Booth's and Brennan's, even though at many points they are at absolute opposite ends of the scale.

Representation (A):

Milestones considered:

S6-E1: The return. Booth is distant, Brennan feels displaced. She's at a much healthier mental space now, but I don't think she had yet found the courage to name what she feels for Booth. But the man in question has moved on. Or so we are led to think.

S6-E2: Enter Hannah. The magnitude of Hannah's decision to CHOOSE him over everything else to someone with Booth's history is a separate post in itself. Suffice to say, Hannah coming to DC changed things drastically. The emotional chasm between B&B widens.

S6-E3: "Booth will give himself to you completely." - Ouch. Brennan speaks from experience. But Hannah is moving in, and there's no space for Brennan.

S6-E5: "So basically, you just saved my life." - They're Booth and Brennan. Distance is slowly being erased. The wall that Booth erected in Afghanistan between him and his feelings for Brennan receives a solid blow thanks to what she did for Hannah.

S6-E7: "But you agree that love is an idiot?" - Oh Brennan. Who are you trying to convince?

S6-E8: "Parker thought I was cool when I did the cannonball into the pool. Do you remember that?" - Bren, you're breaking my heart.

S6-E9: God.

S6-E11: Gravedigger gets shot, all Brennan can think about is Booth. The shell, her smile. Booth's protective wall beginning to disintegrate.

S6-E12: "There's only one person you love the most." - Oh Booth. I don't envy you.

Representation (B):

Milestones considered:

S6-E13: "The evidence says that there's something wrong here." - Booth's anger is frightening, but most of it is directed towards himself. Whatever hope he regained in Afghanistan, he's lost it. He's afraid that love just isn't on the cards for him. Brennan however, is the one holding out hope this time.

S6-E14: " Happy Valentine's Day Massacre, Booth". - The first ray of sunlight from beyond the dark, forbidding clouds.

S6-E15: "I just don't like the idea that my partner thinks that me and Jacob Broadsky are in any way alike." - One step forward, two steps back. Booth's internal struggle with his past and his mentor's turn to the dark side are doing nothing to help dampen his ever present anger. Brennan stands strong in the face of it.

S6-E16: "A time may come when you are no longer angry, and I am strong enough. Maybe then we could try and be together."

S6-E18: "Just because you can explain something doesn't mean its explicable. Like us. We don't make any sense at all."

S6-E20: "I never told you how much it meant that you stayed with me."

S6-E22: Doesn't need any further elaborating except that the fear now is losing each other without having had each other.

S6-E23: "I'm pregnant. You're the father."

[jq37]

The Report Card – Fantasy High Junior Year Ep 8

Enter the Vultureverse

Welcome back to the Report Card where we are having a mini recap because my schedule has been off the wall bonkers! Luckily, this week we can split the episode pretty neatly into two sections: research and fighting. We’ll go more in depth on the research than the fighting because those are the bits that will be more long term plot relevant though I’m sure the fighting will be long term relevant to Gorgug and the therapist I hope he has because yikes gang!

First things first, we resolve stress tokens which the party has to use to nerf themselves and take disadvantage on the skills they choose. They are as follows: 

Fig: Insight and Religion. 

Gorgug: Initiative, Insight, Deception, and Charisma Saves. 

Adaine: Initiative, Intimidation and Persuasion. 

Fabian: Tool Proficiencies, History, Investigation, and Perception. 

Kristen: Initiative, Wisdom Saves, and Medicine

Riz: Perception, Survival, Athletics, and Deception.

When we left, Lydia had dropped off all the info from her old party mates and the Bad Kids were surprised to see that it was all written not in Infernal but in Giant. The whole gang (except Gorgug who’s still at home) circles up in Adaine’s tower to help and she casts Comprehend Languages so she can read the texts. Fig tosses Adaine a bardic to juice her History roll which prompts Brennan to have Siobhan roll on a d100. On a 91, Adaine’s stomach gurgles and a cloud of dust mites fly into her eyes, causing her to knock her head and pass out. 

Kristen rushes to her aid (with a medicine check rather than spells since she’s currently out) to stabilize her. Brennan asks if she rolled less than an 8 and even though she didn’t, her stomach also gurgles and she sees a vision of the food court: a flash of red, a familiar scream (not Cass), and then silence. In Adaine’s eyes, she sees splattered blood reflected. Ominous!

Everyone is freaked and they’re getting major shrimp vibes. Fig declares herself cursed and submits to arcana checks from everyone. With his angel-spy necktie, Riz casts Detect Good and Evil and finds a fiendish aura around her that’s different than her natural one. She is for sure cursed.

While this is going on, Gorgug is at home, watching Frostyfaire stuff get set up. His parents allude to some ~mysterious machines~ under tarps and promise not to embarrass him. That’s not oddly specific at all and it certainly won’t come back to bite him in this very same episode. He gets the text from the group that Adaine passed out and goes to meet up with them but, as he leaves, he sees electricity running through one of his parents many gadgets and has a moment of inspiration about how the pulse of the electricity and the pulse of his blood and heart when he’s raging might have some kind of synchronicity. He makes a note and saves it for later. 

OK! Now let’s round up all the new info the party learns from the notes Lydia provided:

There’s a record of Ruvina (Lucy’s god) giving Cass a wedding gift: a Bridle of Frost that would allow her to command a team of fiery horses. The fact that Cass was married is new info and Riz speculates whether she was being married to a giant/giant god.

Apparently, Cass, Galicaea (her sister), and Sol (her brother) were traveling together in the Mountains of Chaos.

(As an aside, we learn that Cass is more aligned with fae and Galicaea is with the elves–we knew that second part already. We also learn that Helio’s mom was a mortal woman.)

We learn of a law of magic called Obliviati Mori by Clerics and the Law of Theothanatic Silence by wizards. It basically means that even though gods can remember dead gods, they’re not allowed to revive them via worship by speaking their name and reminding mortals of them. Adaine gets the sense that if this is a law then it can be broken somehow and Brennan says yes, but there are likely hefty arcane penalties. 

Fabian wonders if Cass’s, “I thought you were dead” was referring to this dead god who is maybe her ex. Riz wonders if Lucy was possessed by a god and that’s how she was able to write down the name of the dead god–something that should have been impossible since no mortals know their name and no gods are allowed to speak or write it. 

Fig thinks the Ratgrinders are being mighty suspicious in their seeming lack of mourning for Lucy and especially in Ivy’s not shocked reaction to seeing her disguised as Lucy. 

(These next pieces of info we don’t get until after a short interlude but I’m gonna put it here to keep it neat.)

Riz thinks that it’s suspicious that Tracker’s church would suddenly be blowing up right when this dead god is coming back and wonders if there might be some shenanigans going on where their worship is somehow being siphoned off to power this other god (something gods are specifically not supposed to do). 

In one of the books, Kristen sees an illuminated page (illuminated as in illustrated–think Book of Kells) that is unfinished. It has an empty arch wreathed in flames and a design of red 24 point stars with sharp rays that are very similar looking to the shatter stars they encountered in the mall fight.

Fig wonders if a union of Doubt and Rage (Cass and this unknown god) was maybe too powerful so their marriage was sabotaged by another god.

After all the research, it’s almost time to go to Frostyfaire, but before they do, Kristen takes a leap of faith and (1) texts Tracker to see if they can meet up since her god is relevant to the investigation and (2) texts her parents to ask if they want to get coffee. Tracker says she’s busy the next few days but she’s free starting on Monday. Kristen's parents don’t text her back but her brother Bucky does and lets her know that her parents are debating it but it feels like they’re gonna say yes. Sibling loyalty! 

Adaine does a Detect Magic on the token Kristen’s teacher gave her and determines that it’s basically a deity-less Holy Symbol so she’s got something to tide her over while she works on getting Cass back. 

Fig, who you’ll recall is dabbling in paladin classes, decides to pray for the first time and attunes to a moment of doubt that’s sacred to her: when her horns first started growing in and it changed her whole life, ultimately for the better. The shards from Cass in Kristen’s pocket glows indigo and she decides to pray with Fig as well, gaining a 6th level spell slot back in the process. 

On to the fair!

When they arrive, Gorgug’s parents welcome them–incluing Fig’s alter-emo Wanda since she’s in disguise to mess with Ruben/hopefully get some info. Riz and Kristen are thinking that all the crunchy, granola kids here from Aguefort are a substantial voting block but, before they can do anything about that, an old druid shows up and offers them a toke of his pipe. 

Fool the Bad Kids once, shame on you, but they’re NOT getting trapped in a net like Max. They all immediately roll to check if something’s up and Adaine crits, clocking the druid as an illusion. Riz casually says, “No thanks Oisin,” as Adaine casts Dispel Magic, revealing not the Ratgrinder’s wizard but their bard, Ruben who sneers at them and then gets into an argument with Gorgug about whether he (Ruben) shits or not. Very normal teenager conversations. Fig has dipped at this point because she wants to debut as Wanda to Ruben at a strategic moment but she secretly hits him with a Hex to his Int to help guard against any rolls he might make to clock her disguise later. She also notices how mad Gorgug is getting at Ruben’s nonsense and texts Porter a list of things that piss Gorgug off, trying to help him out. 

Ruben’s band, My Clerical Gnomance (of course), of which Fabian is a big fan (sure) head to the stage and start playing their set but then, all of a sudden, thunder rumbles and a surge of electricity makes the stage lights go weird. In a flash, Grix appears, hovering above the crowd! He assesses the crowd and finds it full of rulebreakers and felonies so he decides to do his part in restoring “Perfect Order” by CASTING DISINTEGRATE ON RUBEN. Why is he even here? This is so outside of his jurisdiction! He says the school experience is best optimized by being omnipresent but COME ON man! This can’t be legal, even in Spyre!

Anyway, initiative! 

Like I said, we’re really gonna breeze through this fight because it’s mostly non-plot relevant but there are a few things I want to highlight:

Adaine right away burns a portent roll to save Ruben from the Disintegrate. I wonder if, in Ruben’s mind, that’s worth being a little softer towards the Bad Kids in the future. 

Grix uses a spell or ability to awaken all the nearby machines to fight by his side but…uh…the Thistlesprings were busy during the four months of night and they decided to retrofit some of their random appliances into very elaborate sex toys. Both Zac and Gorgug are mortified. 

Ruben curiously doesn’t just ditch when the going gets rough like you might expect someone who only grinds rats to do. He stays and does what you’d hope a bard would do: plays with this band to distribute bardics to everyone. Of course some of that is probably to impress “Wanda” who he spots in the crowd but you have to wonder how much his personal adventuring philosophy aligns with his party’s. Maybe not everything he’s done is logged on the official record. Also, he seems horrified by the situation so either (1) the RG’s aren’t somehow collaborating with Grix, (2) they are but only certain RG’s are in on it, or (3) he’s a great actor which he could be as a bard but I think that’s least likely. 

We learn that Gorgug in addition to his homunculus, Cloaca, now has a steel defender: a gecko named Clobica (a Battle Smith class feature). It’s kinda like a familiar that can attack.

The fight gets hairy fast with multiple Bad Kids getting stunned and Adaine going down. Kristen uses her one spell slot to cast Mass Cure Wounds but that still leaves Adaine, a squishy wizard, surrounded by enemies and a bunch of party members stunned and failing to snap out of it. 

Grix mentions that he was warned to expect tomfoolery in general but especially from the Bad Kids which of course begs the question, “By who?”

Grix is successfully able to cast Dominate Monster on Riz by appealing to his sense of order and visions of Lord Salazar Edge's College of Lone Adventurers dance in his head. He turns his attention to Adaine next (which makes me wonder if he was just consulting a dossier on the Bad Kids in that moment because Riz and Adaine are for sure the ones you’d target with this pitch). 

Now, this episode might be known as the one where they had to fight a sex toy lawnmower except for what happens next. Because, much like in the first fight this season, there is a vulture on this battle set. And our intrepid heroes noticed it immediately. So, back against the wall, party in dire straits, and out of spell slots, Kristen decides to interact with the vulture as the rest of the table give thumbs up, supporting the bit. 

She prays to Cass, asking for help in connecting with the vulture and then gives a now very familiar, “Heyyyyyy girlie.”

“WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?” the vulture says to the surprise of the full table. Feathers whip around the dome and a graphic appears: YOU ARE ENTERING THE VULTURE DIMENSION. A new set is brought out. Everyone is losing their minds. I didn’t take a hit from Ruben's pipe but I feel high. And that’s where we end our episode!

No extras this week because I’m crunched for time but, don’t worry, I’ll roll that all into next recap since the fight continues in the next ep. Can’t wait to figure out what the hell the vulture dimension is tonight! 

[mercurygray]

'Warmth' and 'lingering' for Marion because I am wheeling after that drabble from Harding's POV! Juno xx

She'd almost forgotten what the air raid alarm sounded like.

They had been almost routine, for a while, when they'd first arrived. Trying to get a jump on us, someone had joked then, but it was hardly a joke, watching the skies to the north light up with red and orange as Norwich burned and crumbled. It had been several months since the last one, and she had to admit that some of the old terror had returned, hearing the siren again and stumbling as quickly as she could out of bed and into her shoes, shrugging her dressing gown on and grabbing her flashlight to head for the brick-lined trench outside the barracks.

Several of the others were already outside, the new girls watching the flashes in fascination, and she shooed them along to the trench, counting heads, trying to make sure everyone was accounted for.

Colonel Harding loomed out of the darkness, looking strange in a burgundy dressing gown and slippers. "Captain Brennan, shouldn't you be at the shelter already?"

"I could say the same for you, sir," she said pointedly, shouting against the sound of the siren. "Just making sure everyone's clear."

"They're clear already, get going! And that's an order!"

He followed close on her heels, like he was afraid, somehow, that she wouldn't obey him. The temperature dropped, down on the duckboards between the brick walls, and she shivered a moment, tucking her hands under her crossed arms to keep warm. A pink quilted dressing gown seemed silly, out here in the dark, but it was fairly warm, even if the satin seemed to reflect more moonlight than it should. She was glad she'd thought to put on her shoes. The satin had been a luxury she'd allowed herself when she'd gotten her post overseas - something pretty she could put on at the end of the day to escape the uniform. You needed things like that, sometimes.

They were bombing close tonight - maybe the target wasn't Norwich at all. There were other airfields north of them, at Hardwick and Tibbenham and Hethel. Perhaps it was one of them. If she stood still enough she could feel the ground was shaking.

"Should have taken a jacket," Harding remarked, and she glanced at him trying to discern whether he meant her or him. He was close now, his tall frame giving off some warmth, and she was glad, in the moment, for the proximity. Another explosion landed, nearer still, and she accidentally stepped into him, her hand on his chest. His arm went automatically around her waist to steady her. "Easy now," he said quietly, as if she were an animal in danger of bolting. "You're too valuable to lose."

His arm was still around her waist, lingering protectively, and she had a sudden thought that there was something of the movie star about him - Ronald Colman, or Fredric March. "It's kind of you to say, sir."

The shaking stopped, and his arm fell away, taking half a step back in the dark. But there was still, for a moment, a warmth around her waist, and she shivered again, hoping for the all clear.

[canchewread]

Editor’s note: The War on Sharing is an informal journal about my life as an anti-capitalist dissident in a burgeoning Pig Empire police state, during a time of normalized fascist reaction. Given the deeply personal nature of this writing, please consider citations to be arbitrary, profanity to be praxis, and slang to be artisanal.

The War on Sharing: No More Murderpigs

I'm not going to lie to you, as someone who has been actively warning about Amerikkka's ongoing descent into overt fascism for well over half a decade now, the past couple of weeks have been difficult to watch. On one hand, I am extremely sympathetic to the plight of labor class liberals who just now may be realizing that if their leaders cannot protect themselves from fascist violence, they have little hope of protecting the marginalized, or for that matter the population at large. On the other hand, that sympathy is absolutely tinged with a sense of outrage at a liberal establishment who ignored these warnings at every turn, and encouraged their supporters to mock those on the left giving them; with a few noted exceptions, of course.

Take for example the twin issues of fighting stochastic terrorism, and resisting a politically empowered fascist movement in America. Even before his election and the subsequent fascist coup attempt on January 6th, 2021, Joe Biden was actively "both-sides-ing" violent fascists and antifascist anarchists, while promising to fund and build out the American police state as a solution to the political violence. In response to that fascist coup attempt, the larger liberal establishment once again resorted to demanding more police powers to combat right wing domestic terrorism in broader society; despite the fact that many of the folks most responsible for the assault on Capital Hill, were actually sitting across from them in the Senate and Congress.

Naturally many on the left, myself included, objected to this idea and pointed out the obvious; a so-called democratic society that tries to fight the rise of fascism, by expanding an empowering a fascist police state, is utterly incapable of stopping a fascist takeover. Indeed, refusing to arrest fascist leaders who have committed crimes even while they go about rigging democracy, while arming up and empowering the fascist murderpigs they will control once they seize power isn't just bad antifascism, it's a recipe for violent fascist suppression against anyone who would resist the fascist order even in the future.

Is it leftist hyperbole to say American policing is riddled with fascists? Hardly, unless you think organizations like the Brennan Center for Justice, or the Federal Bureau of Investigation are pinkos; an absurd position that still somehow has a bit of traction in mainstream reactionary propaganda these days. Furthermore, while reformers and liberals will blather on about training and diversity in policing, the simple truth is that even if individual police officers aren't low-key fascist terrorists themselves, the job ultimately puts them on the side of rich fascists, and against those who oppose those rich fascists, as a matter of course. Given the continued rise of fascism in our society, and the growing body of evidence that many police officers in America aren't just sympathetic to violent fascist vigilantes but actually working with them, I think it's simply fair observation to say that the left's criticisms of "funding the police" to fight right wing extremism, have been born out in real time.

Despite this, the recent act of political violence by a radicalized fascist targeting the US Speaker of the House have once again revived the mainstream calls for expanded police power to fight far right terrorism. This is absurd for many reasons; not the least of which being that extra police or police powers wouldn't have made it any easier to pick David DePape out from numerous "conservative" media influencers; they more or less believe and talk about the same odious things. Furthermore, unless these extra police are going to be stationed outside the homes of American politicians, it's a pretty difficult to understand how they would actually have prevented the attack on Nacy Pelosi's 82 year old husband, Paul; an act of stochastic terrorism that was ended by the intervention of, you guessed it the police, and at their current level of authority.

Of course I can't really say I'm surprised that in a country thoroughly saturated by copaganda, ruled by an establishment who seems to believe more police is a solution to every problem no matter which political party we're talking about, folks respond reflexively to a fascist political violence with calls for more cops. What I can say is that when you're watching police violently assault the journalists covering racial justice protests, usurp constitutional power from the U.S government, and actively work to help rig elections for a now openly fascist political party in Amerikka, there's no reason anyone with a brain has to take that position seriously.

If American liberals have any interest in stopping fascism, they should tell their leaders to arrest rich fascists driving this violence while they still have some control over the American police state. Hiring more reactionary murderpigs while giving them broad sweeping powers to root out anti-government dissent, is more or less just building the Gestapo for what certainly looks like a new Pork Reich in our very near future. I encourage those of you who don't want to die under a fascist boot to resist these public calls to "do something" in the here and now, if that something is throwing power at an already violent, objectively fascist police state. Serious antifascists don't arm and empower a homicidal enemy; and we're all out of time for liberal tomfoolery now.  

nina illingworth

Anarcho-syndicalist writer, critic and analyst.

You can find my work at ninaillingworth.com, Can’t You Read, Media Madness and my Patreon Blog

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“It’s ok Willie; swing heil, swing heil…”

[daily-dose-of-sweets]

Hello!! We have not interacted in while!! But I love you and I check your blog religiously!!<3 can I request some more lance sweets fluff? Or angst/fluff? Honestly whatever you’re willing to write I’ll be giddy to read. Ty! I love you so much!! I hope you’re doing well!!<3<3

@doctorsteeb

Hi!!! Just let me say I absolutely adore you and it makes me so happy to know someone likes my writing this much! I will totally try and write anything you request! I’ve got a few stories in the works for Sweets now, but here is a little late Christmas story for you! 

Christmas Greetings

Lance Sweets X Reader

Summary: After a year of being in a relationship with Sweets, you’re finally getting the chance to meet his family, or the people at the Jeffersonian in other words. Oh, and it’s at a Christmas party, for some holiday cheer this season.

Words: 2573

---

“Are you sure they’ll like me?” You ask nervously, fingers shifting against the porcelain crockpot in your hands.

Sweets slips an arm around your waist and gives your side a gentle squeeze, “Trust me, they’ll love you.”

You take a deep breath and nod. It doesn’t really ease the nerves buzzing in your chest, but at least he is right there beside you. You and Lance had been in a relationship for a full year now, and you had yet to meet his colleagues somehow. It already feels like you know them though, from all the stories he’s told you, especially his partner Booth, and his wife Doctor Brennan. You’ve wanted to meet them for so long (which lead to quite consistent pestering on your part) but now that you’re finally standing here, your stomach is tying itself in a knot.

Christmas dinner is a huge deal, after all, and so are first impressions. What if they don’t like you? You weren’t in the science profession, so what will you even talk about? Sometimes you struggle to even understand some of the things Lance talks about, so how are you going to talk to the country’s foremost anthropologist?!

“Stop worrying, everything will be okay.”

You jump when you feel Sweets press a soft kiss to your forehead. His touch lingers, sending a soothing warmth flooding through you, finally easing the tension in your shoulders. Your eyes flutter closed as you lean into him, head resting against his shoulder for just a moment. When the two of you draw away, you tilt your chin up and let a smile capture your lips.

“Okay, I’m ready!”

Sweets chuckles and raps his knuckles against the door. Moments later, it swings wide open, letting the glow from inside cascade over you.

“Sweets!” You’re greeted by a man that towers over you, making you slightly shy away, but Lance keeps a steady hand pressed against the small of your back. The man gives your partner a side hug, clapping him on the back before turning to you with a wide smile, “And you must be (Y/n)! We’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Oh really?” You glance over at Lance, who’s looking down with a bashful smile. His cheeks are glowing the softest rose color, which sends your heart thrumming. How can he be so cute?

“Is that Sweets and (Y/n)?” A woman comes rushing up behind the man. She offers you a sweet smile, just as vibrant as his.

Their excitement is so infectious, it fills you to the brim with a fresh energy, and now your own smile is wholly genuine. You weren’t expecting such a warm welcome! Why were you so worried about all of it, these people seem so wonderful.

“(Y/n), this is Booth, my partner at the FBI, and Doctor Brennan, the lead anthropologist at the Jeffersonian,” Sweets introduces you.

The woman, Doctor Brennan, is quick to shake your hand and say, “Please, call me Temperance, and come in. We are almost ready to eat, we have ham, and I also made a tofurkey.”

“Really?!” You gasp excitedly, darting in to follow her to the kitchen and leaving Sweets at the door, “I’ve been looking for a good seasonal tofu recipe for years! Could I possibly, maybe get it from you after dinner?”

You plop down your contribution to the meal and fall into an excited conversation with the scientist. You had no clue she was a vegetarian like you, and it’s not every day you get to talk to another! Sweets and Booth watch the two of you from the entrance, both sporting fond glints in their eyes.

“Thanks for inviting us, Booth,” Sweets hums as he shucks off his winter jacket, “(Y/n)’s been eager to meet the team, especially you and Doctor Brennan.”

The older man shrugs, though he has a pleased smile on his face, “Anytime Sweets! Bones will take any chance to make her ‘meat substitutes’. Remember how excited she got when you told her about it?”

Sweets nods, it is always memorable when Doctor Brennan shows such strong emotions, which wasn’t always often around him. He had even gotten the chance to help her plan the dinner, not that you knew about that. It filled him with warmth to watch you excitedly flutter around the kitchen, and to see how your eyes practically sparkled as you helped the anthropologist set up the dishes.

“You really love her, huh?”

A sigh escapes Sweets as he nods again, “I do. She’s amazing…”

Booth can’t help but feel a small swell of pride in his chest. He’d never admit it, but Sweets was like a little brother to him, and seeing the young psychologist so happy just put a cherry on top of the night he was having.

“Lance!” Sweets looks up at you, a wide grin spreading across his face when he sees you aggressively gesturing him over, all the while bouncing on the balls of your feet, “Come here! You have to check this out!!”

You know it must seem childish to some, but you can’t help but get thrilled over a good meal, especially when it’s vegetarian. You can’t wait for the day that you can make Christmas dinner for your family, spending the whole day cooking and then just being able to enjoy a nice night and some Christmas carols. Sweets would be right there beside you, and maybe a kid or two across the table. A boy and a girl…

“What is it?”

You jump, a fierce blush splashing across your cheeks when you whip around and come face to face with Lance. He’s standing so close, your noses are practically brushing. Your breath catches in your chest, and you spin back around, hoping he doesn’t notice just how red you’ve gotten. Stupid daydreaming, you totally forgot you called him over.

“Mrs. Temperance has this amazing recipe fo-” Your voice breaks when Sweets presses in close behind you, arms snaking around your waist. You clear your throat nervously, “-for um, for vegetarian casserole. She says it’s really good, so I was thinking I could, I could try making it sometimes!”

“That sounds wonderful,” Sweets hums, the words vibrating through his chest and against your back.

It feels like your entire face is on fire now, to the point where you feel like you need to call the fire department. There was more you were going to say, but it’s like all your thoughts have been put in a mixer and are now scattered throughout your mind.

“Stop torturing the poor girl, Sweets,” a smooth voice scolds from a few feet away.

You glance up to see a beautiful brunette with tanned skin, and right beside her stands a slightly shorter man with some of the curliest hair you’ve ever seen. You swat at Lance’s hands and twist away from his grip, embarrassment flaring deep in your chest. Nothing you could say would help the situation, so you just wave at them weakly.

“Angela, Hodgins, this is (Y/n),” Sweets says as he pulls you back to his side with a cheeky grin, “(Y/n), this is Angela Montenegro, our forensic artist. And this is Jack Hodgins, our entomologist.”

“And botanist, mineralogist, palynologist, chemist, among other things,” Hodgins continues with a casual shrug.

Angela elbows him in the ribs sharply, not letting her glittering expression fall for even a second. “Excuse my husband, he’s just really passionate about his work,” she chirps, “It’s really a pleasure to meet you. We’ve heard a lot about you from our dear Sweets here.”

“So I’ve heard,” you muse softly with a giggle, “It's nice to meet you too, by the way! Lance tells me you're also a traditional artist?”

You spend the night making conversation with all of Lance’s friends. You meet Cam and her partner, Arastoo, who are so lovely and gentle to you. You ask Arastoo all about his beliefs and how he came to work in forensics, and you even talk to Cam about her daughter. You also get to talk to some of the interns at the Jeffersonian. Each conversation just pulls you in, even if you don’t understand everything they’re saying. You’re literally talking to the leaders of forensic sciences, who wouldn’t take the chance to ask them all the questions and praise them for their work! Even through dinner, you share a quiet conversation with one intern, Finn, about his time before coming to Washington DC. Afterwards, you all take to lounging in the living room to enjoy some eggnog and story telling.

“So how did you and Sweets meet, huh?” Angela asks as she plops down next to you and Sweets on the couch.

The entire team falls quiet, all eyes immediately set intently on you. You shy back into Lance's embrace, which makes him chuckle and hold you tighter. Was your story really that interesting to all these people? Really?

“Do you want me to tell them?” Sweets asks you quietly, fingers brushing against the skin of your shoulder.

“Yeah, your memory’s better anyways.”

“He has to learn all that psychobabble somehow,” Booth jests from across the room, earning a disapproving look from his wife but some amused chuckles from the rest of the guests.

Sweets just rolls his eyes, easily brushing the jab off as he starts your story, “So, we actually met at a christmas party, just like this one. A mutual friend invited us and we started talking, and things just kind of...took off from there.”

You can’t help the snort of laughter that breaks from your lips when Lance trails off. He perks an eyebrow up, peering down at you in confusion, which only serves to send you into a bigger fit of giggles.

“What?” He asks, voice pitching up.

“Nothing, nothing,” you chortle, pressing a hand to your mouth to muffle your laughter, “You just left out a small tidbit. A pretty important tidbit.”

“Oh, did he?”

The room waits for you to calm down, but when you do, you just stare intently at Sweets with a raised eyebrow. Did he actually forget the beginning of the story? And right after you praised him for his memory! You wait for just a moment longer, the words perched on your tongue, waiting to see if he gets there on his own. It’s only when you see his eyes blow wide and his entire face flush red that you let the words tumble from your lips.

“What he failed to mention, is that we didn’t just meet and start talking. No, no.” Now it’s your turn to grin cheekily, “We met under the mistletoe, by chance, and you all know how the tradition goes. We started talking after that and found that we actually had a bit in common. It was about a month later that our mutual friend decided to share with me what actually happened that night.”

It begins to dawn on some people what you’re alluding to. You can hear some giggles ring out behind you from who you’re sure is Angela and the other women. Sweets is getting darker by the second, even his ears are tinged with that appealing rosy glow. This is totally payback for his teasing earlier.

“So, this is how the story actually goes, according to our friend,” you finally continue, “Apparently, I caught Lance’s eye when I got to the party. Back then though, he was a bit shier, and didn’t want to talk to me without a reason, sooo….he and our friend came up with a plan to have us meet under the mistletoe ‘accidentally’.” You break out some air quotes for the last word to stress just how silly the story is.

“Sweets, you dog,” Hodgins laughs.

“I never thought Sweets would come up with such a devious plan,” Temperance states amusedly.

“Alright, alright,” Sweets waves his hands in the air, looking thoroughly flustered much to your pleasure, “In my defense, she looked absolutely beautiful that night. Anyone would have been intimidated.”

Something warm and fuzzy fills your chest as you tuck yourself back into Lance’s side. To think, you almost didn’t go to that party last year. If you hadn’t, you wouldn’t have met the most amazing person in your life.

“I can’t say I mind too much,” you chirp, eyes closing as you rest your head on his chest like a content cat, “I think I’m pretty lucky to be the one who caught his eye.”

“You guys are disgustingly adorable,” Angela giggles next to you.

Maybe you are. You had never felt such a deep sense of affection for anyone, that is, until you met Lance. Now that you know what it feels like, you can’t help but return it full force, with every ounce of your being. He’s just been so good to you and has lifted you up in dark times over the past year. You couldn’t ask for anyone better, because you’re absolutely sure such a person doesn’t exist.

The rest of the night is spent telling stories and sharing sentiments. You stay tucked in Lance’s side the entire time, just enjoying the jovial tone and the sound of his laughter. When midnight rolls around, the party begins to wind down, filled with yawns and mumbled goodbyes as people take their leave. You and Sweets are some of the last to go, with Seeley and Temperance trailing you to the door.

“Thank you so much, again, for inviting us,” you murmur as you give the older woman a tight hug.

“Of course! You are welcome here anytime, and if you ever need anything, do not be afraid to call.”

“Yah, we’re always here to help. Though I’m sure Sweets here would do about anything for you,” Booth chuckles as he pulls away from giving Lance a hug.

Sweets gives his head a little shake and takes up his place next to you, “Thanks you guys, we really appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it.” Booth gives a little wave, “You two have a good night. Oh, and you might want to take a look up,” he chimes right before closing the door.

Your eyes dart straight up at that, landing on a small plant hanging from the doorway. Breathless laughter shakes your chest, pale clouds lifting from your lips in the cold night air. It’s mistletoe.

“Did you do this?” You look at Lance, who has one of the smuggest smiles that you’ve ever seen on him.

He gives you a shrug and draws you closer by a hand on your hip, “Maybe…”

You shake your head at his antics, but you can’t ignore the butterflies that swirl around in your chest. Even after a year, he still makes your heart race.

“Well then, don’t leave me hanging.”

Lance doesn’t hesitate to cup your face, tilting your chin up so he can capture your lips in a sweet kiss. For just a moment, you forget the cold, you forget how late it is and how tired you are. All you can feel is the warmth of his body next to yours, the thrumming of his heart under your palm. Even when the kiss comes to an end, the two of you stay close, foreheads barely touching.

“I love you, (Y/n),” he murmurs oh so softly, for only you to hear.

“I love you too, Lance. Merry Christmas.”

Again, I love you all so much, and I hope your Christmas was absolutely amazing! Send in a request and I’ll be sure to try and write it!

[wefoundloveunderthelight]

Love or Duty by GleefullyCaptainSwan Chapter 2/8

Read on AO3: | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

Or on FF

Stacy's Tortured Crew: @teamhook @kmomof4 @stahlop @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @mariakov81 @qualitycoffeethings @zaharadessert @jrob64 @jonesfandomfanatic @natascha-ronin @tiganasummertree @xarandomdreamx @therooksshiningknight @batana54 @superchocovian @onceratheart18 @ultraluckycatnd @snowbellewells @karlyfr13s @the-darkdragonfly @xsajx @deckerstarblanche

Chapter 2: A Woman’s Place

Emma barely spoke through dinner the previous evening, choosing instead to watch her father’s clear discomfort from interacting with King Brennan’s sons. She could tell her father’s distaste of his previous rival was filtering down to his offspring. Perhaps knowing she was now betrothed to one of them was punishment enough for the decision he had made for her. If only that punishment didn’t apply to her as well.

It wasn’t that Liam was not a handsome man, in fact he was very easy on the eyes. Not in the same way as his brother, the one who had caught the eye of every maiden he had made eye contact with since stepping foot in the castle, but he had a commanding way about him. First born males of royalty always seemed to have that trait. That air of knowing they were made special because their sperm came before their siblings.

It was all tiresome and quite boring once you put it in those terms. How does simply being born first somehow make you more special than someone who came from the same womb? It was the same annoyance that Emma had about her own situation. She was destined to a life of servitude as a royal housewife because she was female while her younger brother, Henry was Heir to be King. Who made up these stupid rules anyway? Why should a woman need to marry a man who would be King in order to be Queen? Why is a woman’s worth only tied to that of her husband?

As Emma dressed for the day, her handmaiden, Ruby yanking the laces of her corset as Emma cursed loudly.

“I’m sorry, I know you hate these wretched things.”

“If I wanted to be tied up, there are much better ways to go about it.” Emma said with a smirk in her maid’s direction.

“Naughty girl, you know not even what you speak.”

“Yes, but that is because my only inspiration comes from your stories.” Emma spun around and giggled. “How did your evening go with Sir Humbert?”

“Not quite as eventful as it went with Lady Gale afterwards.”

Emma gasped. “Ruby, you did not.”

“Why should men have all the fun?” She teased, turning her back around and tugging on the cord behind her. Emma held her stomach and took a deep breath as the material tightened around her, restricting her air flow for a moment.

“Why is it so important for the ladies to be on display simply to garner a man’s attention?” She glanced down at her heaving breasts. “Are my words not interesting enough for more than a minute’s worth of conversation?”

“I sit on a blades edge in anticipation of every word that leaves your mouth, Princess.”

Emma sighed in frustration. “I do not wish to dance tonight; everyone will be anticipating my every reaction to Prince Liam. I have naught even spoken to him alone to understand who he is, much less that I have to share a bed chamber with him once we are wed.”

“But you love dancing. Try not to think of the eyes on you, instead use the distraction of the dance to find out more about your betrothed. Perhaps his guard will be down with all the attention as well. If you need me to, I can find out more about him from his brother.” She winked.

“You just want to bed the Prince.” She rolled her eyes. “Trust me, I do not believe it would be much of a conquest. Men like him tend to trip into a woman’s bed without a single preamble.”

“He would not need to speak a word to have me trembling at his knees.”

“A woman’s place is not on her knees Ruby.” Emma flitted around the room, pulling her dress from the wardrobe, and draping it over her chest as she looked at her image in the mirror. “Men do not make us who we are, you would be wise to remember that Ruby.”

As Emma made her way to the courtyard, she greeted the people who passed her by, stopping to make conversation with the staff who had worked tirelessly to put on a feast with such short notice. It never mattered to her that she was royalty, only that she was gracious that so many served her with such loyalty.

She adjusted the tiara on her head and took a deep breath before entering the courtyard, standing at the top of the staircase looking down at the multitude of impeccably dressed nobles gliding across the stone dance floor. The twinkling of lights hanging from the trees surrounding the courtyard gave the view a feeling as if magical fairies had suddenly lit up the forest around them in celebration.

Taking her time, she walked slowly down each step, her eyes darting around to take in where the major players were placed around the room. Her mother and father were currently arm in arm, spinning around the room to the current Waltz the band was playing. At the edge of the courtyard, she found him standing stoically as he looked around, uninterested in the festivities happening in front of him. Prince Liam appeared to have as much desire to be at the festival as she did to marry him.

Next to him, Prince Killian stood with a ridiculous grin on his face, his gaze directed at one of the Lady’s on the dance floor who was flirting with him despite the Lord currently holding her in his arms. She approached the men who noticed her presence a second later than they could recover and receive her properly.

“Stand down gentlemen, I’m quite certain I know how to enter a room absent a round of fanfare.”

“You look lovely, M’Lady.” Prince Liam complimented and Emma smiled confidently at the Prince before taking in his brother. The man arrogantly smirked in her direction, his eyes slowly grazing down to her chest as his tongue slid across his bottom lip.

She rolled her eyes and turned toward Liam. “Do you dance, or will you be preoccupied with babysitting this one all night?”

She could feel Killian’s eyes drilling into the side of her head as Liam laughed loudly. “I think he can manage on his own for one dance.”

She allowed him to lead her to the dance floor, ignoring the look of indignation on his brother’s face. She may have to marry Prince Liam, but in no way did that mean she was required to put up with his brother’s indecent ogling.

~*~

Killian watched his brother lead the woman onto the dance floor, her golden hair braided and pinned around the crown on her head. She had a body that was worthy of exploring but an attitude that would be unmatched by his brother.

In fact, Emma and Liam were not suited in any possible way that he could imagine. Liam preferred quiet, calm women, a fact he was certain of after watching him sneak away with the cook’s timid daughter for many years. From her demeanor, he determined that this woman was assertive, demanding, and obviously not interested in being guided by a husband.

It was clear from the way the current Waltz was going in front of him, as Liam tried to lead her around the dance floor, the Princess stepping to the right when she should have stepped left, or Liam bowing when he was supposed to twirl. His brother was an amateur, his mother had tried to teach them both to dance when they came of age. Killian of course mastered it quite quickly, while Liam seemed to be born with two left feet. The sight in front of him was almost frightening.

“Bloody Hell.” He whispered under his breath, waiting for the music to stop before he stepped forward, hoping to alleviate the embarrassing glances that the Prince and Princess were surely garnering from observers who has just witnessed the abomination they had delivered on the floor.

He stepped up behind the Princess and bowed to his brother. “Perhaps I shall give you a break, brother. It would be an honor to have a dance with my future sister-in-law.”

Liam seemed almost relieved and left the Princess standing in the middle of the floor with no chance but to accept his offer. “Are you sure you have room left on your dance card?” She said with an abhorrent tone.

“Always room for you, sis.” He remarked candidly, reaching over to grasp a hand on her hip, holding his hook up for her to take. She barely registered his missing appendage as she gripped the silver hook, her eyes rolling when the music began.

“Not your sis.” Her heard her hiss as he began to sway across the dance floor, an ease of which allowed them to float around the room with the other guests. She kept her eyes over his shoulder, staring off into the distance as if she had other places to be.

He spun her around suddenly, catching her as she twirled back into his arms. Her expression registered shock as he bent his knee, spinning her around his body until he stood and pulled her into his arms. “There is one rule to this dance.” His eyes lingered on her lips before rising to meet her eyes. “Pick a partner who knows what he’s doing.”

She glared at him for a moment before spinning away from him, when she returned to his grasp she had a new look of determination. “So, tell me how this works, your brother has the responsibility of the throne while you take dance lessons?”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown. I’ve never seen the need to have aspirations beyond my requirements.”

“Of course.” She said with a nod. “I’m sure it is easier to court a woman when your parents are not concerned about how much power runs through her blood.”

“It is easier to court a woman when your parents are not concerned with you at all. But who said I gave a damn about courting?” He pressed closer to her. “I prefer to skip the formality and go straight to the nudity.”

Killian swore she flinched, he felt her body tense and for a moment the expression on her face turned dark before the sullen smirk returned. “Why does that not surprise me in the slightest.” She leaned closer to him, “Were you not blessed with a broadsword? Is that the reason you overcompensate with women?”

He grabbed his chest and feigned attack. “Ouch, you wound a man, love. It is not kind to joke about the size of a man’s ship or his sword.”

The song ended and Killian stood with Emma in his arms, not wanting to let go yet wanting to get as far away from her as he could.

“Thank you for the dance. Feel free to go back to whatever it is that you do now.”

“Hey, dad wants you and lover boy to join him at the table.” Princess Emma groaned at the young man who approached them. “Not you, the other guy.” He stated when Killian turned toward him. “The one who’s actually going to be King.”

“Killian, this very blunt individual is my brother, Henry.” She introduced.

“I guess it runs in the family.” He said with an indignant bow, stepping away from them to return to the sidelines.

~*~

“That was rude.” Emma chided Henry as she watched Killian stride away from her.

“What? I was just being honest.”

“Doesn’t mean it should leave your mouth.” She reminded her little brother.

“What did I say?” He shrugged.

“I don’t like it when people so graciously point out that you will become King of Misthaven, like I’m just the golden drapes over here.”

“Girls can’t be King, duh!” He groaned.

“You really are an ass.” She groaned and walked toward her father who was standing at the head of the table with Prince Liam.

“Emma, darling, please have a seat. I have an announcement to make.” Emma narrowed her eyes at her father.

“What sort of announcement, father?”

Suddenly the sound of trumpets echoed in her ears, and she was pulled toward her seat by her mother.

“Sit dear and remember to smile.” Emma glared at her mother as her father stood up to speak.

“People of Misthaven, I, King Nolan am truly a blessed man this evening.” He paused for dramatic effect and Emma fought the urge to roll her eyes. “Prince Lima from Jonesboro has asked for Princess Emma’s hand in marriage, and she has accepted.” Emma was sure the room was starting to spin.

“Emma will travel to Jonesboro at first light with Prince Liam.” Emma’s eyes jerked toward her father. He expected her to travel in the morning without speaking to her first? Her father seemed to refuse to make eye contact with her as Emma followed him across the room.

“Don’t make a scene.” She heard his voice as his mouth contorted in an uncomfortable smile. “We can discuss it after the party.”

Emma smiled at the passing guests. “Oh, you bet we will.” She laughed loudly, pretending he had said something she found even mildly entertaining. She turned on her heels and found her husband to be, grabbing him by the hand and dragging him to the dance floor. “Were you aware of our travel plans?”

He bowed to her; a fake smile plastered to his face. “I found out the same as you.”

“I suppose I should find it comforting to know that we are both in the dark when it comes to our future.”

“I find it best not to question the decisions of a King.”

“I hope you will not expect such qualities of your wife, as I find it difficult to hold my tongue.”

He chuckled as he spun her around him, tripping over his shoes. “That does not surprise me at all.” She paused in his arms.

“I am feeling quite tired. I think I will retire if I am expected to rise for travel tomorrow.”

He bowed. “Of course, M’Lady. The carriage will leave at first light.”

“Then I shall take my leave.”

~*~

Killian groaned when the light hit his eyes, the curtains drawn back in dramatic fashion as the sun streamed in through the window.

“Bastard.” He cursed.

“I told you we leave at first light.” His brother complained loudly. “Yet you remain here, asleep in your bed past dawn.”

“Pardon my confusion but are we suddenly racing another carriage home? Does everything have to happen so early in the bloody morning, brother?” Killian peered through slanted eyes, the sunlight bringing about an immediate migraine.

“It’s only early to those of us who didn’t drown themselves in drink the previous evening.”

He groaned as he felt clothing being tossed on top of him.

“We leave urgently, our carriage awaits. It would pain me to have the need to explain to my future bride that we have been delayed due to your irreputable behavior.”

He felt his eyes roll back in annoyance at his brother’s superior attitude. “I would not wish to tarnish your beloved quality of timeliness. I’m most certain that is the top attribute a woman seeks to obtain in a husband.”

His brother sent him one last stern glance before leaving through the open door, the heavy wood slamming shut behind him.

Killian dressed as quickly as he could, tripping down the stairs toward the carriage twenty minutes later. As he approached the carriage, his brother was pacing in front of it. “It seems timeliness isn’t a quality this woman has either.” He grumbled as he peeked into the empty space inside. Killian chuckled under his breath, hiding his smirk as he turned toward his brother.

“Did you lose your bride? Perhaps you did not communicate the urgency of beating the sun to your betrothed.”

There was a rustling sound behind him, and he turned to see a woman approaching them. He recognized her as one of Princess Emma’s handmaids.

Liam greeted the woman as she approached, and she explained that Emma had been delayed and would be out in a moment. She turned toward him and smiled. “Well, I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced. I’m Miss Lucas. I’ll be traveling with Princess Emma.”

Killian bowed his head and placed her hand in his, bringing it to his lips. “The pleasure is all mine, Miss Lucas.” He said with a smirk. His brother stared at him disapprovingly and he dropped her hand, a flirtatious grin aimed at the woman as she stepped into the carriage.

Their attention was drawn toward the castle as Princess Emma, her golden hair shining in the sunlight, suddenly made her way toward them. From the angry frown on her face, he could assume that she was not looking forward to her trip to Jonesboro. She shoved her bag toward his brother the moment they met. “My apologizes for being late, but only a madman would rise before the sun.”

Killian failed to hold back the laugh that left his mouth, clearing his throat and holding out his hand toward Emma, who regarded him curiously. “M’lady, allow me.”

“Do you think I am unable to enter a carriage without assistance? Do I appear ill to you?”

“I would hate to offend. By all means Princess, heave ho.” He gestured toward the carriage before Liam stepped between them.

“Have you lost your mind?” He growled under his breath, turning back toward Emma to assist her into the carriage, despite her protest.

Emma glared at him as he sat down across from her. “Looks like the gangs all here.” He said with a jolly smile. “To Jonesboro.” Emma’s eyes met his and the fire that burned behind her green orbs intrigued him.

In fact, he found that he could barely keep his eyes from her for most of the journey. Despite his attempts to keep them on the dark-haired woman with the large breasts seated next to him, or the woman’s attempts at brushing her hand against his thigh at every bump in the road, his eyes continued to find Emma’s.

Though she barely held his gaze for longer than it took the ocean’s water to kiss the shore and retreat to safety, he did find her glancing in his direction often.

“Once we get to Jonesboro, my father will want to discuss our courtship.” His brother’s voice interrupted his thoughts.

“I do hope it will include a plate of cheese, or perhaps a sandwich.” She returned and Killian didn’t miss the incredulous glare his brother sent toward her. “One cannot be expected to discuss such matters on an empty stomach.”

“Father is going to get a kick out of you.” He said quietly before his brother grunted his disapproval.

“I’m sure a meal can be arranged, but Father generally likes to discuss business before pleasure.”

“At least we are being honest about the arrangement being business.”

“Emma.” The woman beside him seemed to speak her name in warning.

“Hush Ruby, we are not currently in the presence of overbearing parents, I think we can afford to speak openly.” She turned toward Liam and shrugged, “I do not wish to marry any man, much less a Jones man.”

“Trust me, marrying a Nolan wasn’t an option I ever thought would present itself either, sweetheart.”

“Let’s not get hasty and say something that will ruin the wedding night.” Killian chuckled, enjoying the argument in front of him.

“Sod off.” His brother scolded as the two in front of him faced out different sides of the carriage. Well, this was going well, he thought.

The carriage came to a sudden halt, and he looked to his brother quickly, both on alert. “We are too early to have arrived.” His brother commented.

They heard a commotion on the other side of the door, the sound a metal colliding with metal, and Liam pulled his sword from beside him. “Stay here and protect the women.” He commanded, pushing the door open and slamming it shut behind him.

Killian grabbed his sword, moving closer to the door. “Nothing to worry about, I’m sure it’s just…” They heard someone yell from the other side and Killian glanced at Emma. “Whatever happens, stay in the carriage.”

“Do you really think you are just going to leave us in here, unarmed and unguarded?” She complained.

“Would you prefer I send you out there?” He yelled.

“Don’t yell at me!” She returned angrily.

“Would you two stop yelling.” Ruby tried to interject just as the carriage door swung open and a man tried to push his way inside. Killian grabbed his sword and impaled the man before he could reach Emma’s arm. A man appeared behind him, and Killian sprung from the carriage, his sword slamming against the metal of the man’s blade.

The parade of men continued to come as he struck down each one with his sword, turning back toward the carriage when he heard a shrill. Ruby kicked with her feet at a man who had breached the door, the man fell to his knees when the woman punched him square in the face. Killian’s brow rose before he needed to duck from an incoming attack.

“Killian.” He turned back toward the carriage to see Ruby pointing off toward the woods, golden blonde hair escaping into the forest, a man, weapon drawn, chasing after her.

“Bloody hell.”

[glassblossomsthunderstorm]

Mice & Murder Speculations Pt.2

A continuation of my thoughts from this post:

Obviously still spoilers ahead!

So I’ve finally got around to watching the latest episode of Mice and Murder and it just solidified so many of my suspicions! Longfoot being portrayed as this overly jovial, pro-Sylvester kind of character was suspicious to me from the get-go but this episode made it make even more sense!

Honestly, what’s a better disguise for a white rabbit than a black hare? Sometimes the best strategy is to hide in plain sight. He wouldn’t even have to cover up his ears or anything!

Some things I forgot to mention in my last post are how suspicious it was when Brennan described the way Longfoot took the picture in the beginning with Sylvester in the foreground and Squire Badger brooding in the background. What a photograph to put in a newspaper article; perhaps about how Sylvester Cross - allegedly - murdered the Brockhollow familiy. Also, why have the players make perception checks only to notice that, something so seemingly trivial? Longfoot also asked for a picture of Buckster and Sylvester together. Buckster, whose knife was later planted as the murder weapon of Squire Badger. Ominously topping it of by saying, “Don’t worry, we got something planned just for you [, Sylvester]”

And where would this article be published? In ‘The London Grazer’ perhaps? The “dirtiest rag (in this case referring to a low-quality newspaper, for people like me who aren’t native english speakers) in London” according to Brennan’s texts to Sam, in which - what a coincidence! - Squire Badger holds a controlling stake.

I‘ve also been pondering the fine glass Sylvester found in the secret entrance. Could this somehow have something to do with the bulb of the camera or with something else photography related? Maybe with the fact that the kind of box cameras that were used at this time used glass photographic plates to take pictures? I really don’t know, but I sure hope we’ll find out what was up with that...

Another little connection, again in the character art, that may or may not be relevant, is that when I first saw Fletcher’s art I was like ‘ooh those are some sparkly eyes’ and thought it was a funny tongue-in-cheek joke to give the villain cutesy anime eyes, but hey, we saw those eyeshines in another character as well, didn’t we... I‘ve also just now realised, looking at Cottombottom’s art again, that he too has those purple-ish bluegray and red coloured elements in his outfit that I‘ve mentioned before.

I don’t know why the players are so fixated on the shell idea, but at this point I am almost willing to bet that ‘Longfoot’ is the guy to look for (Also, is he possibly Josiah Jackrabbit as well?? Is he just every goddamn bunny character in this fucking story?? I‘m losing my mind!)

On a side note: I‘m really interested to see if Lady Calliope Fawnbrook might be somehow involved in this as well since she was introduced as a ‘Matron of the Arts’ and hoo boy did we learn a thing or two about art smuggeling today.

In conclusion, I am REELING right now and I honestly can’t wait for the grand finale to arrive!

[capnjay21]

The Wind Blows White 1/6

It’s been two years since Killian Jones and Emma Swan managed to escape the clutches of Brooke House, two years of waiting for it all to catch up to them and two years of pretending the cracks in their happy ending don’t show. But when the vision appears to Killian of a young boy unearthing the dagger and the darkness they had long since buried, it’s a race against time to try and stop another innocent from befalling the same fate. If they have the strength to face it.

Sequel to ‘A House is Never Still’.

A/N: Here it is, happy (slightly early) Halloween everyone! :D Confession time, I’ve actually been kinda nervous about posting this for a little while? Fretting over whether this one won’t be as good or scary as the original - but I am officially making a concerted effort not to care about any of that, because this is how the next part of the story goes and I’m excited to tell it! I hope you guys like it <3

***Editing to include the AMAZING art done by the lovely @hollyethecurious​ - I love it so much and I’m so excited by it. And for those that don’t know, she created the art that inspired the original fic so this is EXTRA cool!

Updates will probs be every other week to allow me to stay ahead. If it’s any consolation, they’re usually over 10k words, oof! Enjoy! 

AO3

Rating: T Warnings: Mentions of canonical character death and some certified Spooky Business™.

Taglist: @carpedzem @optomisticgirl @snowbellewells @kmomof4 @lfh1226-linda @phiralovesloki @hollyethecurious @stahlop @peglegsjones @mariakov81 @seasailia @courtorderedcake​ @jonesfandomfanatic @wyntereyez @mrtinski @thisonesatellite @klynn-stormz @teamhook​ 

If anyone would like on, or off, the taglist, just let me know! 

-/-

1.  i won’t die in my sleep.

-/-

It was 2:17am.

The whispers woke her, as the whispers always did.

It took her a few dizzying moments to emerge completely from sleep, the vivid and fraught images of her restless dreaming spilling out into the darkness of the room. As usual, she could not move. Her muscles had seized, curled tightly around her stomach like a clenched fist, trembling with strain while her eyes blinked out into the dark. She could see the forest. The broad, sweeping trunks of old red oaks sprawled from the ground upward, their leaves stained crimson by blood while their bark wept tears the colour of potted ink. Only once observed did she really consider that there was so little in nature truly black, as pus the same shade as crows dribbled and oozed down the spines of every oak she could see.

Slowly, the numbness receded from her aching limbs, the reckless smears of her wakeless mind gave way to the shapes her eyes could make out, could confirm as being there, and like a prayer she whispered aloud every object she could see and smell and know was real.

“Chair,” she croaked, “desk. Lamp. Computer. Window. Gold –”

No. No gold. The basket of spun gold twine was the final little spill, tempting her to return to a nightmare it could kiss back into a dream.

She refused.

It disappeared.

The whispers had woken her, but once she rose she was alone in the dark.

Emma patted the bed beside her, and found the sheets bare and cool. He had been gone for some time already, then. Trying to suppress the growing tide of unease that always came from waking alone, she stood slowly, then stretched out her sore muscles. Sore from being clenched so tightly for what felt like hours. Usually Killian woke her before it reached this point, but clearly he hadn’t even been there for its beginning.

She sighed. Thought about calling him. The clock on her nightstand winked in and out. 2:17am.

There was no point, anyway. She knew where he’d be.

-/-

It was 2:17am.

As usual, it was raining.

Beyond the stretch of porch in front of him, sheets of water fell in a relentless assault on the sodden ground, and Killian mopped at his already sweaty brow. The air was thick and moist, even this early in the morning, the height of an unusually punishing June. He let the downpour carry on for another few moments before ducking out into it, bending to lift the wide bowl he had left sitting on the grass a couple of minutes earlier. Now filled to the brim with rainwater, he brought it back underneath the shelter of the porch and laid it down on the ground.

He'd had that dream again. He couldn’t stop thinking about it.

There was a noise from not too far away, the screech of metal on concrete in the dark and the answering leap of a car horn out into the night air, but he tried to push it from his mind. This would never work if he couldn’t clear his thoughts. Folding his legs underneath him, Killian leant forward until he could see his reflection staring back at him from the bowl.

The surface of the water was inky black, the faint caresses of a breeze brushing ripples across the surface and making his reflection appear distorted, but he tried to see beyond that. Beyond his tired eyes and the hurt and the heat, to something more. Silently, he willed the dark pool to show him something else.

Show me the boy, he asked out into the dark. Show me the boy at the creek with the dagger.

Even just the thought of the dagger, the curling blade they had sent hurling into the ravine, brought forth a rush of unwelcome and jarring memories. The dagger, floating in the middle of their circle, summoning a storm of black lightning and hurt and that nothing, that awful nothing, and Killian could feel something tugging at the centre of his chest, beckoning him forward.

He couldn’t see his reflection anymore. The surface of the water was blank.

Not like this, he thought furiously, wrestling for control.

It wasn’t interested in his control. If he wanted to go deeper, he had to let himself fall. This was the bargain.

But –

He thought of her at home, in their bed, resting fitfully.

This was the bargain.

Emma.

Killian gasped for air, which was when he realised the tightness in his chest was because he hadn’t taken a breath in a long time. He almost fell forward, and his right hand shot out to the deck of the porch to stop his face from crashing into the bowl – which was when he realised it was just a bowl of water again. His reflection stared back at him, breathing heavily, eyes wild and afraid.

If he wanted to go deeper, he had to let himself fall.

In his mind’s eye, he could see it perfectly. The sparkling summer day. The boy, knelt with his right arm in the creek before he pulled it out, and the dagger with it.

Dragging his eyes away from the bowl, he reached into his pocket for his phone. The clock on the display ticked onto 2:17am.

Still? He thought, bewildered.

“You should be used to this sort of shit by now,” he muttered, before emptying the bowl onto the grass.

-/-

It was 2:17am.

Henry only knew this because it had been 2:17am for a really long time already, but every time he checked the clock it was the same.

“Gotta be broken,” he mumbled, letting it drop back onto his nightstand. He told himself to roll over, to go back to sleep, Mom was making pancakes tomorrow and he didn’t want to be too tired to enjoy them, but something kept lingering at the edge of his awareness. Like a movement that was too quick to spot, or a sound too quiet to take shape, or that sensation after someone had taken a deep breath and they were waiting to speak, but wouldn’t utter a word until he looked at them.

Something was different, and it niggled at him like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch.

Somehow, he didn’t feel alone in his bedroom anymore.

He rolled over again, and this time his eyes instantly locked onto the shoebox he had stuffed under his dresser. He didn’t know how he knew, but he just did. Whatever he was feeling – it was coming from there, and the object he had hidden inside.

The dagger he had found at the creek.

It was… whispering to him.

Come, it hissed out into the dark. Listen.

Henry’s hand tightened on the covers. Then he gently pushed them back and sat up.

-/-

It was 2:17am.

Robert should have been home hours ago, and Belle couldn’t sleep for worry.

Her heart stuttered into hopefulness with every shadow that passed in front of the pawn shop window, but each one merely reached the other side with barely a glance back at her. She thought about calling the police, but surely they would dismiss her concerns so early into the morning. It’s normal, ma’am, they would say, and laugh about wives wondering after their wandering husbands. But this was different.

There was something about the way he had looked tonight, something wild and dangerous and careless in his eye, that had made her want to take three steps back every time he opened his mouth to speak. His tongue had lingered over softer sounds, tickled by a secret that only it knew. Like an animal, his sharp eyes had followed her around the shop as they closed, and when he kissed her it had sent a shiver down her spine.

It had frightened her. He had frightened her.

You’ll see, he had said, when she asked where he was going. You’ll see.

Belle didn’t want to see. She just wanted him to come home. Her mind railed against the truth that had already started to creep into the corner of her heart.

Tonight, he had gone to Brooke House.

And Brooke House did not want to give him back.

-/-

Liam Jones didn’t care what fucking time it was.

Aching and exhausted, he kicked open the screen door and stepped out onto the porch. The air was dank and cold, and smelled faintly of mildew, and he wrapped his coat tighter around him. Killian had needed three blankets before he could get to sleep earlier, the act of being inside the house only slightly warmer than the harsh early spring outside, but still sweat pooled at the base of Liam’s neck. His hands felt clammy with a layer of grit that he could never wipe away, and the moisture on his skin froze the moment he walked out into the night.

But under his skin, he burned with cold fury.   

He’d have to pretend to be Brennan and call the school again tomorrow, there was no way he could go in if he needed to be up for the rest of the night. He could send Killian over to Smee’s, that was one problem dealt with. The older man would take him into elementary school; but even that solution summoned the familiar rush of dread that came to Liam whenever he thought of his little brother moving into middle school next year. That would make everything so much more difficult to hide from concerned and nosy neighbours alike. 

How had he let this happen? Again? They had been making so much progress.

Liam rubbed his eyes tiredly. He should just hurry up and drop out. He was good with his hands, he could make a living doing carpentry jobs, move to some quiet town upstate maybe –

I’m just trying to prepare you for life’s big question, Liam.

What kind of man are you going to be?

A quiet town upstate? He was really setting the bar low for pipe dreams these days.

Then there was always the chance Brennan might be himself again by morning; maybe he could call the school. Could drive Killian in. Maybe he’d be up before the sun rose like he used to, whistling a sea shanty and cooking them eggs over easy.

 Now there was a pipe dream.

What time was it? A distracted pat of his jacket let him know his phone was still inside, but he wasn’t quite ready to go back in yet. It had to be late. Or early. Wednesday. The recycling went out on Wednesday. Which mean they were two days closer to Friday, which was the eighteenth. Water bill went out on the eighteenth.

Brennan hadn’t worked in weeks. They’d be short.

No heat and no water. The only things he could rely on in this house were the bricks and the mortar.

Why him? Why did it have to be him?

Liam resisted the urge to scream. At the night, at the cold, at whatever curse had captured his family and refused to let them go.

It was 2:17am.

And Liam wasn’t alone on the porch.

Once alerted to the intruder he stumbled backward, fumbling around for anything he could use as a weapon.

“Liam?”

Liam froze, his fist having clenched around the shard of a shattered flowerpot Brennan had destroyed last week.

The stranger hadn’t moved, stood silhouetted against the porch light.

He blinked. Willed his racing heart to slow.

“Who are you?”

-/-

It was 2:17am.

Except, no, it wasn’t.

Emma frowned and looked at her phone again, and the correct time stared back at her; 10:41am. How had she thought it said anything different?

She shook her head. Shit, she really needed to get more sleep. Her foot resumed tapping its restless beat on the floor of the almost empty corridor.

The entire hall was almost completely deserted, only the low murmur of conversation ricocheting against thin walls and tall ceilings, and everything was beige. Beige walls, beige floors, beige murals; she fucking hated beige, it was such a non-colour. Just pick something a bit more appealing and stick to it. But in her not-all-that-limited experience, most government buildings seemed to default to beige, and it was no different in the Seattle equivalent of the DMV. They had been led up to the customer service desk almost half an hour ago, but nobody seemed to care about how goddamn important this was, and her anxiety was climbing with every unattended second that ticked past.

Somewhere down the corridor a door opened, and Emma immediately whipped around to look at it. A broad, cheerful man offered her a bemused smile at the sudden sharp attention he was being given, before disappearing out through another door.

“You need to calm down,” Killian mused.

A glance at him confirmed his eyes were still closed, head tilted to lean back against the wall with his hands folded over his stomach, but her impatience had to have been obvious even without looking at her. She huffed in a way which she knew made her sound puerile, and the corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement. From the moment they had been seated there he had stayed silent, and it was only fuelling her irritation that she couldn’t settle on whether that was because he was bored, tired or just giving her room to complain and agitate to her heart’s content. She preferred to know exactly what Killian was thinking.

The memory of waking alone the night before still smarted, and she had to keep reminding herself that it wasn’t Killian’s job to always be at her side on the off chance she didn’t sleep through the night. Dark circles rimmed his eyes, and she knew whatever had caught his attention this time had kept him up at least an hour or so after she had summoned the courage to climb back into bed. She had still been awake when he slid back in beside her, but she had pretended to be asleep.

He had probably known she was doing it, which was why he had kissed an apology into her shoulder and held her a little tighter than usual.

It was hard to stay mad at him when he hadn’t technically done anything to make her mad – and he was already sorry about the thing he shouldn’t have to be sorry for.

Which just made her feel even worse.

“I hate beige,” she grumbled.

Killian let out a breath of warm, ticklish laughter, something that growled pleasantly in his throat. Some of her temper ebbed away. “I know,” he said. “I’ll take you somewhere pink after.”

“There’s that big hotel in Hawaii that’s totally pink, right? What do they call that?”

He opened his eyes and arched an eyebrow. “And maybe when our next skip is the Queen of England, we’ll be able to afford to go there.” Even less than thirty seconds of talking to him, properly, she could feel her mood lifting. He reached one of his hands into her lap, seeking hers, and she let him thread their fingers together. “I was actually thinking donuts. The strawberry glazed kind?”

Emma sighed happily. “Make it chocolate and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

He smiled warmly and squeezed her hand. “Whatever you want.”

His mood seemed light, but she wasn’t fooled. The way she would catch his eyes flickering carefully between her and the customer service desk in front of them told her all she really needed to know about the direction of his thoughts – they probably shared the same sinking feeling that had washed over her since they had arrived.

That this almost definitely wasn’t going to go her way.

“Ms. Swan?”

Immediately Emma was on her feet, bolting over to the desk as quickly as polite company would allow, Killian close behind, all traces of mirth evaporated from his expression. The man who had come to meet them wasn’t the same one who had led them up to the desk earlier, and a quick glance at his nametag told Emma they were speaking to a Mr. Heller. He resembled every bureaucrat that had ever taken residence in her imagination, thin in a sickly way and sort-of feeble-looking, but with a snide tug at the corner of his mouth which suggested he was not going to tell her what she wanted to hear, and he was enjoying the prospect immensely.

The sick feeling in her gut deepened.

“Thank you for waiting,” he said, in a bored tone, skimming the file he was holding. Emma tried to lift herself a little taller to take a look at it, but it was angled slightly away from her. “We were able to track down the license plate you requested in your application, but it was recalled eleven years ago. The vehicle it was registered to is no longer in use.”

It was easy to push back the first wave of disappointment – a setback, but not the most important thing. “But you know who it belonged to?”

Heller sighed heavily, and let the folder close. “I’m afraid the Washington State Licensing Department has denied your public records request regarding the owners of the plate.”

It was like a punch to the stomach. She could feel the warmth of Killian’s palm splayed against the small of her back, gently reassuring.

This couldn’t be it. This couldn’t be another dead end.

“On what grounds?” he was asking, and she felt a rush of gratitude for him as she hadn’t quite been able to form her mouth around the words.

“Not enough evidence,” Heller continued, in that same flat tone that was beginning to grate. “We reviewed the article you sent, about the circumstances of the abandoned child at the edge of the road. There isn’t a lot of information available regarding the incident, even at the county level.”

“Well, it happened,” Emma replied hotly. “It’s me. I was the kid.”

Another banner year, right?

What?

We’ve all got ghosts here.

Heller quirked an eyebrow. “Then the department offers their sympathies. But there is no reason to suggest the plate you requested belonged to the vehicle involved.” He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “Maine is a long way from Seattle.”

But she had seen it.

She had experienced the moment that changed the course of her life hundreds, thousands of times at the behest of a malevolent demon, while to the rest of the world she had been missing for five years. Even before that, the very fact of her being abandoned on the side of the road as a baby had cast its shadow over her entire life. Achieving any measure of answers about it had been unobtainable. She had made her peace with that a long time ago.

But then she became trapped in Brooke House.

And Brooke House had given her a few more pieces of the puzzle.

It felt like a dream, now. Like the scatter of smoke, or déjà vu. Something she couldn’t really be sure had happened. She had spent five years of her life suspended in a place that showed only her regrets, her fears, her desperate desires; anything that would make her pray for deliverance. In the two years she had spent free of it all, her ability to conjure up and consult those visions waxed and waned. The images it had shown her sometimes dribbled back like the trickle of a raindrop down glass to her waiting, thirsty mouth, but nothing was ever enough. While that feeling, that sensation of being left again, and again, and again remained seared onto her mind forever, the actual, physical details of the day her parents abandoned her were scarce. The vision was difficult to bring into focus.

Two months ago, a nightmare had caught her so tightly that Killian hadn’t been able to wake her for six minutes. Just when he had been reaching for his phone in a panic to dial 911, she had burst free; gasping, aching – awake and alive. The details had been so vivid. Before her eyes, her parents abandoned her at the side of the freeway; only this time she had spotted and could recall the plate of the car that had left her.

They had packed everything they owned into Killian’s Chevelle and made for Seattle in a matter of days.

This couldn’t be the end of the road. Not after everything she had been through to get here. She deserved answers, damn it.

“That’s the thing about cars,” Emma replied coolly, “they drive. And if you’re abandoning a kid, you’re not likely to do it on your own doorstep, are you?”

Heller looked bored. “You’re welcome to make an appeal against the department’s decision, so long as you do so within four to six weeks.”

“But I saw – we have a witness!”

“A witness?” His tone was disbelieving, and he fixed her with a hard stare. “Why didn’t you say so before?” Emma opened her mouth, but Killian pinched the side of her waist sharply and she hesitated. When she didn’t immediately confirm her declaration, Heller’s eyebrows rose victoriously. “Would they be prepared to come down here and make a statement?”

“We can ask,” Killian replied smoothly, before she could say anything. He whipped a notepad and a pen from his pocket. “Is it the same address we submit the appeal to, or –?”

Emma fumed quietly at his side. She knew why he had cut her off, before she could dig herself into a hole that would ensure state officials labelled her as halfway to crazy town, but it was infuriating. She couldn’t very well say their witness was her and the visions a haunted house halfway across the country had given her – a house which they had no physical evidence even existed, as it had since disappeared.

Silently, she smouldered.

Killian reached absently for her hand. She tugged it out of his grip.

Heller and Killian confirmed the logistics of an appeal process, but before long they were being thanked dully for their time and invited to leave. Emma stayed quiet for their entire walk out of the building, and she could sense Killian intentionally kept some space between them to allow her to adequately process what had happened in there.

Nothing. Nothing was what had happened in there.

Emma could feel the tide of something tight at the top of her stomach, like her insides were cramping. It was how she felt when she woke, uncertain, in the middle of the night.

“We’ll find another way, Emma,” Killian spoke gently as they stepped out into the morning sunlight.

Emma waved a dismissive hand and tried to focus her gaze on the particulars of the street. The chequered red, blue and silver line of cars parked along the sidewalk, the scent of wet asphalt and the hum of traffic whizzing by. They were far from a forest here – but she could feel the quiet whisper of the trees against her skin.

“I know, I know, I just –” She curled her toes in her boots, felt the stiff concrete beneath her feet. “I’m – tired of hitting brick walls.”

“We’ve got a little cash in the bank,” Killian pointed out, “maybe for the appeal we could hire a solicitor, just see if there’s anything else we can do to help our case.”

He was frowning at the note he had scribbled down during their conversation with Heller, his mind already four or five steps further ahead, and Emma felt a rush of affection for him. For his solidness and his patience. His tenacity was well documented, he had spent five years searching for answers about Brooke House and had never once given up on the idea that he would find them, and her along with them – even now he refused to let any speedbumps hamper their progress. It was so easy for her to get struck down by the first sign of resistance, but Killian persisted in a way she could only ever hope of emulating.

Nothing in the street felt tangible beside the resilience and vibrance of Killian Jones. Sometimes it felt like he was the only real thing she had found outside of Brooke House.

Like dust, the cars and the concrete and the chorus of the Seattle summer drifted away.

She reached for his hand and squeezed it tightly, praying for an anchor.

“How are you always so optimistic?”

“Because I know what you’re capable of,” he replied easily, although it felt like he was speaking to her from a great distance. Emma fought to inhabit this moment. “And I’ve yet to see you fail.”

Killian was smiling, which had always done its best to keep monsters at bay.

In a blur the noises returned, like a radio slowly tuning into focus.

“Emma?” he queried softly, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Are you still with me?”

The wet splatters of rain against the yearning canopy receded as it stretched for the sky.

Down the street a car horn blared, and she let it shake her firmly back into the present.

In Seattle, the sun was shining, and Killian was here. Standing so close to his warmth made her feel like a thief, but she couldn’t stop herself from reaching for him.

“Donuts,” she managed, nodding firmly. “I need a whole lot of donuts.”

He brought her hand up to his mouth and kissed it. “You read my mind.”

-/-

Killian railed against the idea of calling Elsa’s home a house.

It was a huge, sprawling behemoth of a structure, with vast corridors that led nowhere and innumerable superfluous rooms that all looked identical, with walls scaled by books and furniture shrouded in neat, ivory sheeting to protect them from dust and age. More than once he had found himself completely and utterly lost while attempting to find the bathroom, which he was convinced changed locations every time he visited it, and that wasn’t even mentioning the size of the grounds which circled the outside of the house.

Embedded deep within the winding roads of West Bellevue, he was grateful for the opportunity to interact with something a little less urban than the busy street he and Emma had rented their flat on, and Elsa had opened up her home to all assortments of waifs and strays long before he had ever come on the scene. Truthfully, it was sheer coincidence that they had even met, crossing paths in downtown Seattle late one night – but then, he didn’t believe in coincidences anymore. He had been searching for something more, and she had been offering something for him to find. The rest was inevitable.

Clear night, isn’t it?

The room in which he spent the most time was the large dining room – the long table that would ordinarily occupy its centre was, as ever, pushed to the side against one wall and loaded with edible treats already half depleted, clearing the way for Elsa’s guests to arrange themselves on the floor in any number of styles depending on what the evening requested of them. The windows always remained open, so the room was immersed in the earthy scent of the outside, of wet moss and woodsmoke and pine, and the rain from the night before somehow made everything so much more pervasive.

Aurora stood in the centre of the room with her eyes closed, her hands held palm up with a pinecone resting atop them, while the rest of Elsa’s guests sat spread out across the room with their palms turned to the ceiling, mimicking the same position.

Killian sat at the edge of the room, notebook resting open in his lap, and observed.

Elsa stood, made her way over to Aurora, and placed her hands over the other woman’s.

“Child of earth, wind, fire and sea,” she spoke clearly out into the silent room. “We welcome you into our lives, into our homes, and into the waiting embrace of this powerful, caring woman. Think fondly on her, and choose her, as we have, to be part of your family.”

As Aurora opened her eyes, Anna stepped forward holding a candle in one hand and a ceramic bowl scattered with herbs in the other.

“Light it,” Elsa encouraged her, and Aurora held the pinecone over the candle until it caught.

The flame grew rapidly, Killian remembered reading somewhere that it had to do with the natural resins so near to the surface in pinecones, and soon Aurora dropped it into the bowl. Once there, the contents of the bowl started to gently smoulder and the scent of sweetgrass and sage began to float out into the air.

Killian took a deep breath. Let it wash over him for a few quiet, tender moments.

He wasn’t sure why, but he always felt closest to Liam here.

Aurora was smiling, and Elsa grinned back.

“Blessed be,” she said warmly. “And good luck!”

The group echoed a fractured but delighted blessed be, in response, before breaking out into a smattering of claps and spirited cheers. A few jumped to their feet to envelope Aurora in a loving, haphazard embrace.

No, house didn’t really cover the breadth of what Elsa’s home had become to this community, or the reality of what Killian had found there.  

This was a covenstead.

It wasn’t the first coven Killian had ever encountered – his first had been in Pennsylvania a number of years ago, but they had been intensely private and suspicious of strangers, and their association had not extended more than a few weeks. Long before now it had become his habit to deliberately seek out suggestions of the world that existed beyond what they could see. It had started because of Brooke House, because of the mistakes they had made when they were seventeen and naïve and frightened; after Emma had disappeared, Killian had searched for answers anywhere he could. He had five years to cross the globe, to pursue every lead and overturn every stone that might hint at something more, with varying levels of success.

Now, Killian had spent so long searching that he wasn’t sure he remembered how to be anything else. Getting Emma back, rather than being the end of his fascination with the otherworldly, had only fuelled it. There were still so many questions he didn’t have answers to, with Liam being chief among them. His brother had been involved in all this, had known about this barely perceivable double life that some among them were living, but Killian still had no idea about the how, or the why.

Emma was his life now. Everything he had ever wanted. For so long, his sole focus had been in making this world as right for her as possible, in giving her the tools with which she could build her new reality and hoping desperately that she still wanted him in it; while privately wrestling with that disquieting sensation that accompanied stepping away from the bizarre and the unexplained for the first time in a long while.

It was difficult, he had realised, to come to terms with the fact that everything you wanted wouldn’t stay everything you needed for the rest of your life.

And Killian needed something.

On their third night in Seattle, he had met Elsa. The very same night he had first had the dream about the boy and the creek and the dagger.

He didn’t believe in coincidences anymore.

Soon after Elsa wrapped up the ceremony, the group began to disperse, some aiming for a few treats to take for the road while others went to collect coats and bags from the hall. For his part, Killian took more care than necessary slipping his notebook back into his already overpacked bag and began shrugging on his jacket. The ending of these meetings always left him feeling oddly bereft, like although every week he walked in with no idea what he would find, somehow his expectations were never met. Or perhaps it was the realisation that always came when he watched the members of the coven at its conclusion, mingling and trading smiles and stories about the week that had just passed.

He wasn’t one of them. They were all kind enough, and they liked him, but he wasn’t part of them. They wondered why he was there as much as he did.

Watching them, his heart throbbed for the one place that had always been home; for that warm, golden light, for Regina’s lasagne and David’s terrible jokes and Mary Margaret’s helpful reminders to enjoy happily ever after. His chest hurt for the wanting of it.

The clerk at the DMV the day before had been right: Maine was a long way from Seattle.

He turned to leave.

“Killian, hi there.” It was Elsa, calling him back, and he fixed on a cheerful smile as he pivoted on the spot to face her. “I hope today wasn’t too women-centric for you.”

Aurora was trying for a baby with her husband; as a result, they had focused the evening on fertility. The lighting of the pinecone was a ritual from Elsa’s book of shadows, and had followed a relaxing evening spent sharing poetry and prayers and best wishes about family.

(At the very least, that probably explained why he was feeling so homesick.)

“Not at all,” he assured her, not least because he didn’t feel fertility was an exclusively female pursuit. There were plenty of men there tonight. “It’s a pleasure to observe. Thank you again for inviting me into your home.”

“Anyone is welcome here, there’s no need to thank me.”

He was reminded, again, of how different Elsa’s coven were to the one in Pennsylvania; Elsa made a point of opening up the covenstead to anyone at any time, not just during their meetings. It was Elsa’s home, but it was also effectively a refuge or meeting place for any of its members whenever they needed it. The grounds in particular were always accessible, and something Killian himself had taken advantage of more than once.

Especially when he wanted to – well. Dip his toe into something Emma would never approve of. The covenstead felt like a safer place to explore those private desires.

If he wanted to go deeper, he had to let himself fall.

“You know,” Elsa was saying “if you would like to participate rather than just observe, we’d be happy to invite you to join us.”

For a moment he could see it; himself, sat on cushions with the rest of the group, palms up and eyes closed and waiting for wonders to begin again.

The image immediately fell apart as visions began to swim of a pentagram penned in black marker, scattered salt and a dagger rising above the swell of a storm.

This was the bargain.

“Oh,” Killian let out uneasily, trying to find the best way to refuse without sounding impolite. “No, that’s alright. Really.” Elsa looked a little disappointed, and he hurried to reassure her. “I’ve… had some experience with the miraculous. It didn’t exactly go well.”

Killian – Killian, don’t –!

A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him.

“I wouldn’t say what we do here is miraculous,” Elsa replied, but he could see she was quietly pleased by the comparison. Awkwardness settled like dust between them, neither considering the conversation finished, but before they could continue a few people cut between them on their way out of the dining room and into the hall. They called out their goodbyes to Elsa as they passed, and she returned them warmly. Killian lingered until they were finished, fiddling with the strap on his bag.

Once they were gone, she took a step towards him.

“Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?”

Killian shrugged. “By all means.”

“Why is it that you come to our meetings?” she clasped her hands in front of her, in a gesture Killian couldn’t help but interpret as deliberately nonthreatening. “And if you say Anna’s fruit loaf I might believe you, but I don’t really think that’s what it is.”

The question felt like it should be impolite, loaded with a query that went beyond their unspoken arrangement; that he could come, and he could watch, and she, like the rest of the group, would leave him be – but he was uninjured by her curiosity. Curiosity was, after all, what had brought him there.

So he surprised himself by being honest.

“For… proof, I guess?” he lifted his shoulders in an uncertain shrug. “That the world is still – strange?” The way Elsa watched him, almost waiting for him to continue, made that answer feel inadequate. He cleared his throat and searched for more to offer. “I actually lost my brother, a long time ago, now – and I still don’t fully understand why. And my partner, she…”

So good of you to finally come and see me.

“She went through something I can’t even begin to comprehend. But she doesn’t like to talk about it.”

Elsa nodded slowly. “Sometimes what we don’t say speaks more for what troubles us.”

“Yeah,” Killian agreed, feeling oddly liberated by the opportunity to confide in someone. All he could think of was Emma in the dead of night, clenched tightly in their bed, her arms and knees curled against her chest as she fought darkness only she could see. “Yeah, it does.”

“Perhaps she’d like to come along to a meeting?” Elsa suggested. “There’s no obligation to partake. She could observe, as you do.”

“Oh, no. No. She hates all this stuff.”

Emma had already made clear her opinion on the covenstead in Bellevue, she was not interested; and he felt compelled to apologise on her behalf, seeing as they were all perfectly good people who had done nothing to offend her.

“It’s just — that something, I mentioned,” he offered. “Thank you, though. I appreciate it.”

“Well,” Elsa spread her hands. It was neither here nor there to her, he was sure. She couldn’t offer help to someone who didn’t want to receive it. “Have a good week, Killian. Will we be seeing you at our Litha celebration?”

Litha, Killian had learnt, was the wicca celebration of Midsummer, which took place on the summer solstice at the end of June. It traditionally heralded the beginning of summer, with its focus on fertility and the championing of light over darkness manifesting in the longest day of the year. The coven had planned an evening full of festivities including a large bonfire, an almost drastic amount of food and a lot of promised general merriment. Elsa had said last year two among their number had decided to spontaneously marry during the festival; in their eyes, the perfect way to celebrate new life and regeneration.

It sounded like a lot of fun. In the bleak, uninspiring, greyscape that Seattle had become to him in the last two months, it was a breath of life and the outdoors that he would be grateful for.

But he wasn’t really sure if he should. Especially with – well. With Emma.

“Sure,” he said, just to be polite. “If I can get away. That would be nice.”

He meant it. Elsa smiled understandingly, as if she knew he had no clear intention of attending but would let him maintain the charade for the sake of pleasant company – she was kind, and she didn’t really know him, but she had still invited him into her home without a single caveat. The coven respected her. Killian would like nothing more than to introduce her to Emma; he was sure whatever she refused to talk to him about she could bring before the other woman without fear of shame or regret, or whatever else she must think would come from Killian that prevented her from being honest.

Not that he was being entirely honest with her, either; she knew he came to the covenstead more often than their weekly meetings, but she didn’t know what he had been trying to do there. She couldn’t know. It was better she focused on the future, on the path ahead, on the fact that she was free, now, from the nightmare behind them.

It was lonely, he had come to realise, being the only one with unfinished business.

Clear night, isn’t it?

“Elsa, wait,” he said, before he could think better of it. A jolt of nervous energy ran through him, his feet squaring imperceptibly on the laminate floor beneath him as if they were ready to run, but he forced himself to stay where he was. “Actually, I’ve… for the last few weeks, I’ve been trying to scry.”

Elsa’s eyebrows shot upwards.

He could understand her surprise, given he had shown no interest in participating in any of the wicca crafts since he had started coming to the Bellevue covenstead. Scrying was something he had only really read about, but never seen performed; it was the practice of, at its core, looking into a suitable medium in the hope of detecting significant messages of visions. While the most notorious method of which remained fortunes told over crystal balls, the history of the craft extended far beyond recent iterations of neopaganism. Cultures as far back as ancient Egyptians and Babylonians had practiced scrying by gazing into stone dishes filled with palm oil.

Killian had never really bought into it – but its existence as a medium through which he might gain some insight had been too tempting not to at least attempt, and the results were, well. Inconclusive.  

He stumbled over himself to continue. “I usually try at night, and mostly with rainwater, as I’ve heard that’s more potent? But I’ve also tried with tap water, and mirrors, too. But I’m finding it difficult to find direction.” He shrugged helplessly; his mouth felt bone dry. “It’s like staring out into silt.”

“Scrying is a challenging craft,” Elsa confirmed. “What is it you’re trying to see?”

He hesitated. Not just because he was reluctant to confirm the details for fear of sounding – well. Halfway to crazy town, as Emma would put it, but it was also this: he didn’t want Elsa to be part of it. Any of it. If he could protect one more person from the demons in his past, he would prefer to do so.

“I’ve… been having this dream,” he answered carefully. “A nightmare, really. It makes me worry someone might be in trouble because of something I didn’t finish.”

Come. Listen.

The quiet truth knocked gently. They had been naïve to assume it was over.

Elsa hummed thoughtfully. “Often, dreams are just manifestations of our anxieties –”

“This is different,” he said firmly. “I can feel it.”

Killian didn’t sleep the way Emma slept, treading that breathless line between the waking world and the rest, fumbling in those in-between spaces, sometimes needing help discerning where the truest threads of herself should lie. They had developed a number of strategies for her, routines to perform while waking to know she was no longer asleep; listing the objects she could see and smell and taste as chief among them. Anything to help her cling to the world above and pull her out.

Killian did not sleep that way. The delineation for him was clear.

Which was how he knew this was more than just a nightmare.

Elsa seemed to take his confidence at his word, and instead turned her attention back to the wider room.

“Tink, would you come over here?”

Tink was not her name, but nobody ever called her anything else, so Tink was what Killian had come to know her by. Her features were sharp, her wit just as cutting, and she had made a point of behaving as indifferently to him as possible in a way he found both frustrating and a little refreshing – somebody else acting like he didn’t belong there helped remind him he was separate, he was apart from all this. Currently, she stood looking exceptionally guilty by the dining table, three small cupcakes placed precariously on top of each other and clearly about to be tucked away in some tupperware for her return journey. Killian didn’t blame her. The lemon cakes were always especially divine.

“Tink is our resident expert on divining arts,” Elsa informed him after spotting his rather put out expression. In a few moments, Tink had joined them. “Killian has been trying to scry but hasn’t had a lot of luck.”

Tink wrinkled her nose. “Nasty business, scrying. Wouldn’t bother.”

“I’ve been having this dream I’m trying to –”

“Oh, boy. It’s amateur hour. Trouble with dreams, go see an oneiromancer. Or a therapist.”

Killian bit back a retort; he was somewhat regretting the decision to come clean already.

“Killian believes this is more than a dream,” Elsa spoke quietly, but firmly, “and it’s not our business to interpret another’s instincts. We were hoping you could provide some insight.”

When Tink turned her shrewd eyes onto him, he merely lifted a shoulder in a helpless gesture. “You said it,” he pointed at himself, “amateur hour.”

Tink looked immensely reluctant, but as her gaze flickered between Elsa’s imploring request and Killian’s discomfort, she finally heaved a defeated sigh.

“Agh, shit.”

She took a bite out of a lemon cake.

Through chews, she carried on.

“Catch me up. What’ve you tried so far?”

-/-

The quiet blip of a notification turned Emma’s attention away from the window and back to her laptop. She smirked triumphantly – finally some good news.

“There you are,” she muttered, “sneaky bastard.”

She and Killian had been tracking down the same skip for a few days – so far none of their usual tactics could draw him out, but his credit card had just been used at a convenience store around the corner from his previous place of employment. The first time she had gone to that office she’d had a feeling everybody was behaving just a little shady. Now she knew she was right to be suspicious and resolved to pay them another visit in the morning, provided Killian was alright with it.

Well, she corrected, only if she decided to give Killian a say. Emma’s gaze skimmed the empty flat. If he wanted to spend the night messing around with delusional, self-proclaimed witches, then she got to make the work decisions by herself.

She gritted her teeth at the thought of the house in Bellevue Killian liked to retreat to these days; why couldn’t he have joined a local rec team or found some obnoxious new drinking buddies like a normal guy? The group at Bellevue were all just a bunch of tree-huggers, even worse than Regina. Emma knew what real magic was. And it wasn’t dancing around a field wearing flower crowns or mumbling limericks over a cauldron.

Emma quickly jotted down the address and the details regarding the skip’s purchase. It usually helped to be able to throw everything in her arsenal at getting past the front desk of any office. Bail bonds was a career she and Killian had fallen into almost accidentally – it suited the nomadic lifestyle they preferred, and blended Emma’s instincts for catching someone in a lie and Killian’s propensity towards investigation quite well. It just worked. And they needed some way to get food on the table.

David had offered them work at the veterinary shelter more times than she could count, but she was sure that had a lot more to do with wanting them to stay back home in Storybrooke than anything else. But Storybrooke couldn’t be for them what it was to him and Mary Margaret, and Regina; not anymore. There were too many splintered memories. Not to mention half the town still thought Killian had kidnapped her and kept her in a cave somewhere for five years. The lines had to be carefully drawn.

The notes for their appeal were sat in a haphazard clump behind the laptop, and the stack looked exactly how Emma felt about it; worn, sad, and a little flustered. It had only been a few days, but something about the disappointment at the DMV left her feeling wrecked and restless all it once. It didn’t feel over, but whenever she thought about burying herself back in the endless bureaucratic process all she wanted to do was hit the pavement and not stop running until she fell off the corner of the map. She wanted to be outside. Balmy air drifted in through the open window, coloured by the frustrated yelps and the gentle roar of cars in the busy evening.

She paused, listening for the familiar growl of Killian’s Chevelle. Nothing.

With a jolt, she realised her pen was still in her hand and had been working idly against the paper. She peered over at the notepad, hoping she hadn’t doodled over her notes about the credit card – and nearly knocked over the laptop as she jerked backwards.

Scribbled over every inch of the page, completely obscuring anything underneath it, she had written her name. Over and over.

In a twisted, medieval cursive she had only ever seen in one other place.

Emma Swan Emma Swan Emma Swan Emma

The dagger swam into focus, and Emma resisted the urge to retch, clutching tightly at the desk in front of her with her left hand. Her right lay motionless across its surface, a foreign object to her now, a traitor which had scrawled out the pall that nestled around her shoulders and given it physical form. It was disquieting enough to see it there, a restless dream broken out, but only more disturbing to not remember having put it there.

She stood abruptly. Tore the page free, scrunched it up with that now untrustworthy hand, and dropped it down onto the floor.

Leaving the laptop open, she stalked out of the bedroom and across the hall to their tiny kitchen, determined to regain some control over the course of the evening, constantly clenching and unclenching her hand into a fist at her side. The kitchen was little more than two counters facing each other atop a strip of gaudy orange tiles with barely enough space for one person to pass by another, but they managed. They had never needed a lot of space, and their budget hadn’t been able to stretch particularly far. If they hadn’t needed a permanent address in order to submit the public records request, she probably would have made a case for sleeping in the Chevelle somewhere once they made it to the city.

Still, Killian had pointed out there was something nice about having a home base that wasn’t just the backseat of a car, and his suggestive glances at the bed when the realtor had taken them round had not gone unnoticed. Or unappreciated.

It was just – right then, especially without him in it, she didn’t want it. The lack of furniture, of personal affects, the rumpled sheets and the cracked plaster walls made it a gaping hole of something desolate and harsh. The jaws of something wanting in the shape of four walls and a door with a barely functional lock. She longed for the Chevelle and the torn leather seats, for something wild and alive.

At night Seattle burnt, and Emma yearned for home.

Not to mention it rained all the fucking time.

The door to the flat opened and closed, and Emma called out a greeting as she poured herself a glass of water. Killian didn’t reply. Assuming he had his headphones on, Emma allowed herself a few moments to breathe. She’d tell him about the credit card alert, let him know she was going by the skip’s office again in the morning and he could come along if he wanted, but she probably wouldn’t need the backup. Cornering a skip somewhere surrounded by friends and colleagues usually made them more amenable to coming quietly. Then she would ask as politely as she could manage about his evening and try not look too sour if he used the word covenstead again, instead of big fucking house.

Emma emerged from the kitchen, but he wasn’t setting his bag down in the sitting room like she was expecting him to be. Frowning, Emma re-entered the bedroom, but he was nowhere to be seen.

Her right hand twitched.

It felt numb, like she had been holding it in cold water for a few minutes. She could barely feel her other hand when she brushed her palms together, just the whisper of a touch instead of skin.

Her phone buzzed with an incoming text from Killian.

Leaving now – should be 30mins. Stopping for snacks. Want anything?

Behind her, the door into the kitchen creaked, and the tap started to run.

Her mind rang with the dull truth slowly, like a bell tolling at dusk.

Someone had turned the tap on.

Killian wasn’t home.

Someone had turned the tap on.

Killian wasn’t home.

Her heart stuttered against her ribcage.

Immediately searching for anything she could use as a weapon, Emma darted back over to her desk to reach for one of the hardback file folders they used for work, but as she leant across to reach for it she froze.

Her laptop had been closed, and on top of it placed a clumsily straightened, crumpled bit of paper.

Her mouth went dry at its familiar script.

Emma Swan Emma Swan Emma Swan Emma Swan Emma

Still through the doorway came the splurge from the rapidly filling kitchen sink, and Emma began to panic. She couldn’t go out there. Not now. Not now she couldn’t know, couldn’t be sure if there was anyone there to find or if she had unknowingly slipped back into sleep and this was just another spill. Her feet were frozen, dug in like anxious roots into earth, while her attention remained fixed on the hallway for every single sound or breath of movement.  

As quietly as she could, Emma closed the door to the bedroom. For good measure, she grabbed the desk chair and hooked it under the handle so it couldn’t turn, the noise masked by the water as it began to sluice over the side of the sink and splatter onto the floor of the kitchen.

Then she waited.

Was she dreaming?

It didn’t feel like a dream – but then, they never did. Her pulse raced, her skin felt cold even though her senses were telling her the flat was warm, hot, but she daren’t start mumbling aloud the objects she could discern as being real just in case it heard her. It. Already something had taken shape in her mind.

It liked to stop by, every now and then, just so she didn’t forget.

It wasn’t long before the noises grew louder. With the steady stream of water came the slap of footsteps through the puddle, of the flat soles of smart shoes pacing restlessly back and forth across her kitchen, the smack of cupboards being flung open and slammed shut again.

Not here, she thought, desperately, not when I’m alone.

Then Killian called her.

The sudden loud buzzing surprised her, and the phone slipped out of her grasp and onto the carpet below. Dropping to her knees and scrambling to reject the call, she split her attention between her frantic efforts and the blocked door, hoping against hope that it hadn’t heard, that it wouldn’t –

The door handle squeaked, stopping short when it was met with resistance from the chair.

When she was seven, there had been a month or so she had avoided being alone in her bedroom as often as possible. Not, she had insisted to Archie, because she was scared, but of course, really she had been terrified. It was a new room, colder, bigger, and the first one she hadn’t shared for as long as she could remember. For so long, all she could imagine was that one day the door would lock with her inside it, and nobody would ever come back for her or care at all that she was alone in there.

After weeks of creative avoidance strategies, Archie had finally wheedled the truth out of her, and had removed the lock the very next day. Then they had spent time drawing maps of the group home together, doodling creative means for her escape from that room until she was convinced that even if the door locked, it would be pretty easy to build a hang glider out of a kite and make a break for it through the window.

Nobody can control this door except you, Emma.

Only these days, she had built the lock herself. She checked a hundred times a day that it was still secure. She buried herself behind it and when the cracks had started to form, she had piled up bricks instead.

The handle creaked again.

A desperate, fearful sound ripped itself from somewhere deep inside her chest and she stumbled backwards, reaching for anything, wanting the maps, the exit strategies, everything she had burnt the day she decided it was more important to keep things out than avoid leaving herself trapped in.

The door to the bedroom rattled against its hinges.

Thump. Again. Thump.

Her fumbling hands fell on the door to the closet, and she hauled it open and ducked inside before she could think twice. She was breathing hard, her chest ached with the force of it. It smelt of black leather and mildew inside, and once she pushed through coats and her back hit the wall, she slid down onto the floor.

Once inside, the noises stopped.

Just, stopped. Like she had stepped out of an airlock, and all she could hear now was the hard, accelerated huff of her own breathing.  

Was it still out there?

Like she was seven again, she pulled her knees up to her chest. She told herself it was just like when she and Killian used to play sardines with the other kids at the group home; exploring dark, gaping crevices until they could melt into its very walls. She had been older, then. Escape was all rationalisation, she didn’t need the maps. Keeping herself hidden meant just shutting her eyes and forcing it all out of her mind until she made herself unreachable.

As long as she couldn’t be seen, she couldn’t be caught.

Something in her twinged, something that ached for wide, open streets and a crumbling clocktower, for long conversations over steaming coffee and the vermillion kiss of the New England fall. Seattle was just unrelenting, torrid heat. Noise and noise and noise and more ceaseless, callous noise. And Killian’s coats smelt like midsummer rain and spluttering exhaust fumes in heavy traffic.  

She couldn’t remember calling David, but she was glad when he answered.

“My new assistant is pteronophobic,” he sighed heavily, by way of greeting.

The words sounded like nonsense to her, but she couldn’t discern if that was because they were, or because she didn’t feel like she could trust her senses anymore.

“Terr— what?”

“Pteronophobic. She’s pteronophobic.”

Emma pressed herself as far back into the wall as she could go, curling tightly away from the door.  

She tried to focus on the call. “So… she’s a dinosaur?”

David snorted. “It’s a phobia of being tickled by feathers. Isn’t that ridiculous?” He clicked his tongue. “Actually, what’s ridiculous is that she knew this about herself, yet she applied for a job at a veterinary shelter.”

“Is this your way of telling me you’re the idiot that hired an assistant who’s scared of birds?”

“Feathers. And their proclivity for tickling.” She could hear him smiling down the phone, and already the pressure in her chest began to lessen. “Anyway, what’s up?”

Emma bit her lip. “Nothing, I just…” With a start, she realised the time and was amazed he had picked up at all. “Isn’t it nearly midnight over there?”

“You don’t call enough,” he reproached, but she could hear the tease in his voice. “This is like positive reinforcement.”

“How’s Ruth?”

There was a pause, a barely audible sigh. Gently, he repeated: “You don’t call enough.”

She could feel herself becoming more aware of herself, of her limbs tangled tightly at the bottom of the closet, of her hair sticking to the back of her neck, in a way that let her know that if she had drifted, she was returning now. It was nearly over.

“She misses you,” David added, “that’s all. So do we.”

“Me too,” Emma frowned, trying to remember the last time she had called anybody from Storybrooke. She had called after they got to Seattle, hadn’t she? How – how long ago was that? “Sorry.”

David made a dismissive noise, and as he always did, he forgave her.

“Everything good with Killian?”

Something in her chest squeezed as she remembered the call she had rejected.

“It’s fine,” she said, and tried to sound convincing, “I’m fine.” He didn’t have to know she was talking to him from the floor of a closet. “I just… wanted to hear your voice.”

For a little while, David said nothing. It was nice to just hear him breathe.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Emma smiled weakly, even though she knew he couldn’t see it. “Yeah.”

“Y’know, if it’s just that you’re afraid you’ll miss Seattle, I could set up the hose at the end of Mom’s porch and you’re welcome to stand under it whenever.”

“Wow, how generous,” she snorted. “It’s really more of a near constant moistness than always rain, though.”

“Or we could buy you a Subaru? You could sit in it and vape a Starbucks, or whatever it is you do there.”

“I honestly don’t know what to say to that.”

For a few moments they just laughed, until they petered back out into quiet. Emma thought about Killian returning home soon, and the fact that she really didn’t want him to find her in the closet.

“Listen, um… I have to go. I’ll call more,” she promised.

David hummed on the other end of the line. “I hope you do.”

She felt calmer now as she disconnected the call, her heartbeat still clear in her ears but a steady pound, almost reassuring, not racing away without her. With fresher eyes, she nudged open the door to the closet and edged her way out slowly. The bedroom door was still closed, the desk chair propped up against it, but the only sound she could hear was the humming of her laptop on standby and the noise drifting up from the street through the open window.

Carefully, she removed the chair and shut the window. Then she sunk down into bed, into the quiet, and buried herself beneath the covers. She felt like she had run a marathon, her muscles ached in the aftermath of pumped adrenaline, and all her body wanted to do was rest.

She didn’t realise until Killian got home, but she had forgotten about the flooded kitchen. She heard him pause in the hallway, then the patter of his boots on the sodden tiles. Once realisation struck, her entire body burned when she wondered what he must be thinking, thinking of her, her skin hot with humiliation. But he didn’t comment on it, at least not that she could hear. Instead she heard him pulling out the mop and bucket and cleaning it up.

She wanted to join him, she just couldn’t muster the willpower.

A passing thought occurred to her then, the meekest of suggestions, now that rational thought had crept back in.

Had she just left the tap on?

After a few minutes she heard Killian enter the bedroom, but he didn’t switch on the light. Instead he slid into bed beside her, still clothed, and curled himself around her as tightly as he could manage. Something in her relaxed, as it always did, a muscle coming unclenched as she sank into the safety of his arms.

This, she knew. This was always real.

He kissed her shoulder, and he didn’t say a single word.

She loved him for it, and she hated him a little for it, too. 

[blurrypetals]

Ghosts of the Shadow Market by Cassandra Clare, Sarah Rees Brennan, Maureen Johnson, Kelly Link, & Robin Wasserman - blurrypetals review

originally posted jul. 25, 2019 - ★★★★★

[re-read for Shadowhunter Summer 2019]

"The only truly unbearable burden is living without love. You taught me that. You and Will."

All my Shadowhunter Summer 2019 reviews may contain untagged spoilers for all the books in The Shadowhunter Chronicles. If you wish to read a non-spoiler review for this book, you may scroll to the review I wrote on November 14, 2018.

I've already pretty extensively reviewed each story except the new ones so I'll just say, this collection is so much fun. It made me somehow even more insanely excited for The Last Hours and The Wicked Powers. The short story collections remain to be some of the best things about The Shadowhunter Chronicles and I hope this isn't the last of them. They just flesh out the world so well, it makes everything to those of us paying attention just that much more rewarding and it's a damn good way to close out Shadowhunter Summer for me.

Without further ado, here are my mini-reviews for The Lost World and Forever Fallen!

The Lost World Mini-Review:

Dang this was cool! I loved finally getting a POV from Livia, and such a unique and different one from anything we've ever seen in the Chronicles before. I also enjoyed the snapshot we got of what the Scholomance is like, and what the Cohort is up to in Idris. Also, welcome to the world, Wilhelmina Yiqiang Ke Carstairs! My heart busted in two when they announced her name. So excited to see where Ty and Livvy at the Scholomance go!

Forever Fallen Mini-Review:

Holy shit, gang. That was maybe the best teaser for The Wicked Powers that could have existed. Everything involving Kit and his new Carstairs family made me cry. Literally all of it, especially the passage about valuable things and Kit and Jem's final conversation. But holy cow, Janus! What an incredible ride this will be with not-Jace as our new big bad, and we get a chilling POV here with him. I love him, because he's Jace, but fully prepared to hate him, because, well...he's not.

The future of The Shadowhunter Chronicles is exciting and bold and this book gives us quite the incredible peek at it all and, needless to say, I'll be waiting with bated breath to see what we get next!

[lettersinscarlet]

Love Her (Colby Brock Imagine)

Hey guys! This was requested a few days ago and I’m getting to it now. Know that if you did leave a request, I am working on it I just post them on different nights. Sorry these posts are coming out so late I’ll work on it!

Request: Y/N being tired of waiting for Colby to tell her how he feels about her so she asks Brennan to fake date her so Colby would get some action going?

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“Oh, and (Y/N)?” Colby said, turning around before he opened the door. You silently hoped that this was it. The moment you’d been waiting for. The moment when he would finally say those words you wanted to hear oh so badly.

“Yea?” you asked in a slightly higher pitched voice.

“Stay safe,” Colby said and walked out the door. You sighed out the air that you didn’t realize you were holding in. You walked off and sat down on your couch. Colby had dropped by your apartment before he left for his Kansas trip and you had hoped he was finally going to tell you that he liked you. You knew that Colby had feelings for you. If he had tried to keep it a secret, he had failed miserably. You had feelings for him, too, but you wanted to wait for him to say it first. You would say it first, but you were always so insecure when it came to relationships and you hated making the first move. It normally didn’t end well for you.

You reached for your phone and sighed as it started dialing. “Brennan,” you said after he picked up. “I need your help. Come over right now, please,” you asked and he said he’d be there shortly.

You had known Brennan ever since middle school. You were the new kid in seventh grade and you were shy and awkward. You were next door neighbors with Brennan and one day he just decided to walk you to school. You guys had been best friends ever since.

“(Y/N) what’s up?” Brennan asks as he barges through the door.

“Alright I need help. I’m so tired of waiting for Colby to tell me how he feels,” you confess to Brennan as he sits down.

“You know?” Brennan asked.

“I’d have to be deaf and blind to not know,” you retort and Brennan laughs.

“Okay, so what are you gonna do about it?” Brennan asked. You look at him and give him an evil smirk.

“I have a plan,” you say and Brennan leans in close to listen. “We are gonna fake date.”

“What?”

“So we are gonna pretend that we are dating. Maybe post some pics on Instagram and things on Twitter to make fans, and most importantly Colby, suspicious. Then when he gets back, we’ll tell him that we are dating. Hopefully, he gets jealous,” you say and look at Brennan expectantly.

“I love it!” he yells and gives you a hug. “Just one thing. What are you gonna do if he doesn’t get jealous?”

You thought it over for a minute before you responded. “If he doesn’t, we will ‘date’ a couple more days and then have a breakup or something.”

“Or we can stick together, mamacita,” Brennan suggests and wiggles his eyebrows. You laugh and playfully shove him and he laughs with you.

“So you in?” you ask, holding out your hand as if to close the deal.

“I’m in,” he says and shakes your hand. You then position him and take a picture you guys’ legs on the couch together. You guys spent a few minutes posing for pictures and not revealing each other’s faces. You then drafted a couple of tweets to post later. You wanted to have stuff for the whole week that Colby would be in Kansas. You guys laughed at your little prank that you were working on and you had a lot of fun with it.

Colby had just texted you that he was landed and at his house and that he was gonna come over and say his hellos after he unpacked. You called Brennan and he came over and you guys got in positions. Colby texts later that he was on his way and you decided to go over the plan again.

“The plan is that he’s gonna come over and we’re gonna be snuggled up and everything,” you confirm, looking at Brennan. He nodded his head and you continued. “I know he’s been seeing our posts all week so he’s gonna know something’s up. Eventually, he’ll ask and we’ll tell him that we are together. Then we can talk about his trip and I’ll get up and go to the bathroom and then you two can talk. If he says what I think he will say and somehow admit he has feelings, I’ll come out from hiding and reveal it’s a prank. If he doesn’t, then I’ll just come back and we can keep pretending.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Brennan said with a wink and put his arm around your shoulder. You listened in close and you thought you heard footsteps in the hall.

“Brennan, stop it,” you squealed and giggled and he laughed, too. He quickly leaned over and left a hickey on your neck just to seal the deal and you gasped. You then heard some knocks on the door and you hopped up to open it.

“Colby!” you greeted him and he stood in the door. You hugged him tightly and he hugged you back even tighter. You welcomed him in and you went back and sat on the couch next to Brennan. He smiled as you sat down and Colby sat in a chair next to the couch.

While you guys made conversation with Colby, he would rub his hand on your thigh or he would play with your hair. You would play with his fingers or trace patters on his arm and hand. You noticed that Colby was watching you guys’ every move but he hadn’t said anything yet.

There was a moment of silence and then Colby finally asked the question. “So what’s going on with you two? I’ve been seeing some of your posts and things since I was gone,” Colby says, looking at you with wide eyes.

“Well,” you chuckle and look over at Brennan. “Brennan and I decided to start dating while you were gone!” you squeal excitedly. Brennan leans over and kisses your shoulder and you both look at Colby.

“What?” he almost yells and he sits up straighter.

“(Y/N) and I just realized that we’ve always been close and decided to give this a shot,” Brennan answered for you, giving your shoulder an extra squeeze.

“Oh, um, I’m happy for you,” he says, glaring at Brennan with a look that says otherwise. You giggle again and you snuggle up closer to Brennan.

“But enough about us,” you say, shifting his attention back to you. “What was your Kansas trip like?”

Colby stutters for a moment and then regains his computer and tells you some interesting stories about his trip. You finally excuse yourself to go to the restroom and then you cut behind the wall and wait.

“How could you?” you hear Colby ask.

“What do you mean, brother?”

“Don’t brother me,” Colby snaps back. “You know how I feel about her.”

“Well, Colby, I couldn’t just wait around forever for you to make your move. I was getting restless and you weren’t doing anything anytime soon-“

“STILL BRENNAN THAT’S NOT RIGHT!” Colby yells and you hear the chair slide back across the floor. “You know that I like her and I’m pretty sure I love her so how could you go and date her?”

“I guess it’s a good thing we aren’t actually dating, isn’t it Brennan?” you ask as you walk out from behind the wall. Colby spins around and stares at you. His face then goes red as he turns and looks away. “That’s right, Brock, I got you! Me and Brennan are not dating! We would NEVER,” you say and walk over to Brennan. You give him a high five and you walk over to Colby. You grab his chin and force him to look at you.

“By the way, lover boy,” you say as you get on your toes. You smash your lips with his and then you pull away and look at his starstruck eyes. “I’m pretty sure I love you, too.”

[jq37]

The Report Card -- Fantasy High Sophomore Year Ep 1

Sophomores and Spring Break 

Note: Hey guys! I decided to try something a little bit different and slightly more structured than my usual recaps for FH: Sophomore Year. I’m hoping this will be a little easier for me and a more useful tool for keeping up to date since there will be a lot more eps to keep track of and they’ll be easier to miss. Lemme know what you think and if you want raw, unfiltered opinions on anything specific, feel free to send me an ask. I’m always down to go off about literally whatever. 

We’re back, baby! It is Sophomore Year at Aguefort and the gang is on Spring Break. A lot is going down so lemme break it down. The Bad Kids, having defeated Kalvaxus last year, are all entitled to a share of his hoard and all the red tape is finally cleared so they all get 20k gold each (which is an insane amount of money converted to USD if you use the WOTC conversion rate of a gold coin being around $145 (circa 2006 when they answered the question)--which would be close to $330 with inflation). Jawbone and Sandra-Lynn are moving in after less than a year into a profoundly haunted house and it’s kind of a Full House situation because Adaine, Fig, Kristen, and Tracker all officially live there (plus it seems that Zayn has also anchored himself to Adaine’s tower--btw, Adaine took the tower that the haunted house obviously has) and you know all the other Bad Kids are gonna be there on the regular. 

More importantly, Aguefort gives the gang their big project for the year--finding the crown of the Nightmare King which was stolen at the end of last season--which is worth 60% of their grade (Adaine does a full Hermione at this information). Each of the gang has info about the NK but the trail has mostly gone cold. Luckily, Fabian just got a hot tip about where Falinel is keeping Aelwyn and she seems like a pretty good lead to start with since she was super tied up in the bad side of all the messiness of last year. Adaine is displeased to say the least. 

Going off to find the crown is super exciting story-wise for two reasons. First of all, it means the gang gets to hire, well, hirelings to help them and temporarily join the party! They ping basically every cool NPC they can think of (except for Tracker for some reason which is BONKERS because (1) she probably would have done it for free and cutting her in would still be keeping the money in the family, (2) she’s dope as hell, (3) she’s a cleric and the party can always use more healers, (4) she’s a werewolf so presumably she has skills that would help in the woods, and (5) they’re t r a c k i n g down a crown and the girl’s name is literally T R A C K E R, but I will not backseat D&D) and eventually end up with Ragh (who has been without an adventuring party all year, poor guy), Sandra-Lynn (swayed by a nat 20 rolled by Fig), Cathilda (!?) ,and, for some reason, Gilear (which Fabian is happy about, mainly for the opportunity to maybe bump him off on the way). Second of all, if you recall, Elmville is a pretty modern town but the rest of the continent is less fantasy high, more high fantasy. Horses and lanterns and all that pseudo-medieval goodness. They are gonna stick out like a sore thumb. I am very here for it. 

Everyone goes home to rest up but, after some ominous dreams, only four of them wake up. Riz and Fig are left asleep and then Brennan mic drops and ends the episode which is a power move and I am extremely upset about it but also, respect. Right for the jugular immediately. I heard Murph and Emily are on tour in the UK next week which probably has something to do with this but, in the moment, I did not know that and I really felt the hammer drop in my heart. It was wild. Cannot wait to see where we go from here. Plus, who doesn’t love watching characters freak out because their friends are in danger?

Random Thoughts

I have no idea what the title of this episode is or if it’ll even have one and not a number but I gave it a placeholder one for now. I also don’t have access to the stream yet so I didn’t get to include some info I wanted to (like a record of nat 20s, and nat 1s so I can track their stats for the school year) and I probably missed some stuff because my brain can only hold so much info guys. I’m not Brennan. 

I mentioned this yesterday during the stream, but there will never be anything better than the pure D&D joy of everyone, in character, talking over each other to clown on each other. They get the friend-group banter that’s a hair breadth’s away from bullying so true to life and it’s so fun to watch. On the flip side, the opening scene with everyone introducing themselves and affirmatively claiming each other as their best friends was also peak D&D. Found family= best trope. 

Fig and Adaine burn spell-slots at basically the same time to try and beat each other to the best room in the (Scooby-Doo ass) house--which is exactly the kind of thing that would happen in this world. It’s such an intuitive setting. I love it so much. (BTW, Fig ends up staying in the false space under the revolving grand piano because, of course).

Fabian and Gorgug went to recruit Ragh, who assumed they were propositioning him for a three-way. In his defense, they did do it in a super proposition-y way and they were in the middle of the LGBTQ student union.

Also, Gorgug gives Ragh an inspiring speech about thinking you’re your own dad which makes him burst into tears. 

Speaking of, Jawbone offhandedly says he’s poly but, like, based on some of the stuff he’s said, I feel like that’s not really a reveal. He also gets along well with Gorthalax and would be down w/ a three-way if Sandra-Lynn wanted to which, again, totally checks out. 

Arthur Aguefort uses Chronomancy to rewind time and catch a snide comment Adaine made under her breath, which is exactly the kind of frivolous use of God-like power I’d expect from him.  

I really love Adaine’s energy coming into this season. She’s in therapy. She’s in a good home environment. She’s comfortable enough with her friend group to do stuff like prank Fig (love that they’re gonna be living together now). And she’s good friends with Zayn now which I want to see more of based on their one interaction in this ep which was very cute. I am already on record as saying I would be down with her getting a ghost boyfriend--I mean, for the aesthetic alone--but I’d be happy with just more friendship. 

Fabian is also hilarious this season because you can tell he’s gone a bit soft from having friends and leaning into that (the friendship necklace with Riz) but also he’s fully aware that it’s happening so he’s, like, ping-ponging back and forth like, “These are my friends,” and, “What am I saying? I used to be cool,” and it’s very funny. Very happy the Aelwyn storyline is happening right out of the gate, both because I think Aelwyn is a very interesting character with a lot of potential for nuance but also because Fabian reacting to her and Adaine reacting to Fabian reacting to her is always gold. 

Prompted by an offhand conversation from Fig about rock and roll, Brennan--earning another feather for his Cap of God Tier DMing--goes on an impromptu five minute long improved diatribe about a bard who played such a good concert that it instantly impregnated everyone in attendance (dudes too) who gave birth to kids with sick rocker hair and denim jackets and ascended to Rock Heaven on their 18th Birthday. You truly have to watch it to believe it. At a certain point I thought he was gonna drop it but that was the moment he doubled down and kept going. Amazing. 

Watching Murph, in real time, make up a girl/boy/whateverfriend in Fantasy Canada was a gift. 

I don’t have access to the stream yet but best quote of the night that I can remember is Kristen choosing her room: This is triggering and I’ll take it. (Her line about her lesbian starter kit and the one about wanting a horse were also bangers). 

The group talks about what they’re going to do for transportation outside of Elmsville since they don’t really use cars out there and they somehow get from “disguise Fig’s tour bus” to “commission Aguefort to create a brand new animal that can hold six people plus hirelings, one of which is Fabian who is also riding his motorbike”.

I love that Sandra-Lynn’s Mom Powers work on Tracker. 

Basrar doesn’t accept the invitation to come with on the quest, but he does give Kristen a bag of infinite ice cream sandwiches, which is basically just as good, IMO. 

Oh Gilear. The man is sleeping in the Seacaster garage, being bullied by skater kids, and now he’s stuck on this quest with his ex and Fabian who actively wants him dead.  

Speaking of, I’m psyched to see more of Sandra-Lynn. She was kind of a sleeper badass at the end of last season. 

Ragh is keeping secrets which I hope the cast doesn’t forget because it could be nothing serious (like the high school drama happening with Skrank and the 7 maidens--maybe he’s just crushing on Gorgug who did full kiss him during Promocalypse) or it could be Serious Business that will blow up if the don’t stay on top of it. We’ll see. 

Oh, almost forgot. Adaine wants an emotional support frog. Every time I think I can’t love her more.   

Detention

Fig for Not Respecting Personal Boundaries

Fig goes full Emily right out the gate and, after finding out that Skrank (nerdy bird dude who apparently can get it) was not only dating Ostentasia (rich, popular dwarf) but also dumped her in pursuit of Danielle Barkstock (one of Ostentasia’s party members, the scandal), disguises herself as him with Danielle to figure out what’s going on. And, wouldn't you know it, when she gives herself away, Danielle immediately is shocked and appalled, as you would be, obviously. We also learn that she’s still catfishing Dr. Asha which is, how you say, for sure a crime. Fig, please, I’m begging you. Cease. 

Honor Roll

Fig, Riz, and Adaine for Researching the Nightmare King

Fig made both lists, look at that. Wasn’t my plan for this to be a three-way tie (also didn’t expect to use the word “three-way” this many times in this writeup) but I think their contributions were pretty much equally valuable. Rainsolo on the Discord wrote up this summary of the lore dump Brennan gave them.

[teamhook]

A Chapter a Day... Savage Heart CS AU

A love story between a pirate and his savior. An innocent, beautiful, selfless woman meets a man with no manners, no formal education and not even a last name. Will Emma fall in love with Killian once she discovers that beneath his tough exterior lies a heart-wild, but a heart of gold? This is a Captain Swan AU

Beta-ed by the awesome @ilovemesomekillianjones​​​​

|AO3| |FFN| previous chapter

|AO3| |FFN| current chapter

Chapter 21: Treacherous

Malcolm Peters decides to take a walk and get familiar with the little port town he now calls home. He wanders to the docks and he notices the beautiful view. During his trek in the distance, he notices the conversational exchange between two youngsters and two older men. The men he can surmise from the luggage are just arriving in town. The men seem to be satisfied with the conclusion of their chat and had departed leaving the boys behind.

The young boys resume their observation of a lone ship docked and are lost in an animated conversation. It is obvious that the ship is special to them. In all honesty, he can see the allure of it. The magnificent vessel stands tall on the water, rocking in a hypnotic motion, attempting to lure the boys and to prove that it warrants their undivided attention. He wonders if they will even acknowledge him if he approaches.

"Excuse me, young men, do you know who the owner is?" he asks as he points at the ship they are mesmerized with.

"That is Captain Killian Jones ship The Jolly Roger, the fastest ship on the sea. It has outrun all the military ships that have attempted to capture her," Felix volunteers the information in awe.

"Captain Jones, is that the same man that recently married?"

"Yes, the same. I wonder if he will get a new crew. Hey, Rufio, do you think he will finally let us join him?"

"No, he thinks we are still too young. That is what he keeps saying." The two share a wistful look.

Malcolm notices the disappointed looks on the youngsters faces.

"I believe you are both ready for a little responsibility. How about your parents? Do they feel the same as the Captain?"

Rufio is the one that answers. "We are both orphans and so is the Captain. He looks out for us as much as he can and lets us help him with the minor repairs on the ship but now that he married that fancy lady, we have no idea if he will have time for us or the Jolly."

Malcolm wonders if he is the same Killian mentioned in the document he read long ago. The name doesn't seem to be all too common. "Well, I was actually offered a very promising job at the Booth's Estate and might consider hiring a few hands. Would you two be interested?"

"Sir, the sea is what calls out to us."

"I'm sorry to hear that. I understand and perhaps you are wrong about the good Captain. I hope you understand he may no longer be able to spend time with you two. I know that the young lady he married comes from a fine family line."

The two young men look sad and lost at the confirmation of their worst thoughts. The lack of attention from the Captain will only lead them to trouble. Kids their age don't have many options and Captain Jones had always tried his best to lead them away from a life like his own.

"If you both would choose to come to work for me I guarantee I will never cast you aside. I don't have a wife or any children; you will never have to worry about my priorities. Think about it and once you decide you can find me at the Booth estate. Just ask for Mr. Peters."

Malcolm wants some allies he can mold in his likeness and there is no way he can miss with two orphans craving attention. He heads back to the estate, hoping Mrs. Booth has already taken care of any issues that may impede him from starting his new job.

Milah is lurking in the shadows of the Booth estate, sulking while everyone sleeps. She is still angry about the day's events. Her love married the only person she despises, actually one of the people she despises. The other is her husband's shrew of a mother. Her mind wonders for a while if Cora will die anytime soon. She has to, the woman is a hag. She cannot live forever, at least she hopes.

Her mind finally decides to resume her prior ponderings. She needs someone to help her with her plans. She is tired of everything working out in Emma's favor. She sees the silhouette of a man standing in the darkness of the office with the doors wide open.

"Hello?"

He turns and sees her. "Hello."

"You are the new steward my mother-in-law hired to replace my cousin's husband, Mr. Peters, is that correct?"

"I am. It is an honor to make your acquaintance, even at this late hour. Shouldn't you have retired for the night?"

"I don't think my husband or mother-in-law would like to know you were in their personal office alone. I won't tell if you will keep my insomnia secret. I hope I'm not disturbing you. If I may be completely honest with you, I have had many restless nights recently." She approaches him in an attempt to use her womanly wiles to gain him as an ally. At this point, she doesn't care who it is or what she has to do.

"What could possibly cause a beautiful young woman to lose sleep?"

"I would love to be completely honest without being judged? My cousin, Emma, married the man I love, to keep us apart. I know I'm married to August but I only married him to save my family. Everyone thinks she is perfect but they don't truly know the darkness in her heart."

"I'm sorry."

"I know I just met you but it is obvious you haven't yet been bewitched by her. She has everyone fooled. If only a miracle would happen and she would somehow be removed from the way. I know Killian still loves me and we could still find a way to be together, if not for her interference. I would be forever grateful if someone could make that a reality."

She is staring at the older man trying to read if he is willing to help her. She leans in towards him to see if she can persuade him. How far is she willing to go? Physically hurting her cousin should not be a consideration but she cannot help see the allure.

"I have an idea that may help. If she disappeared for a few days, it could help prove that the young captain's heart doesn't belong with his bride and that the pair should not be together. I imagine with the influence that the Booths have, anything is possible. I have a feeling my aunt and uncle would do anything to rid her of him."

"No one has to know of our involvement in her disappearance. If this works out I could help make you a very rich man. I would be indebted to you if you keep my relationship with Killian a secret."

Malcolm considers her proposal and he holds no loyalty to anyone, only to himself. "I accept your offer, my lady. However, I may be many things but I am not a killer. If you desire your cousin's death, you will have to do it yourself."

"I just need her out of the way long enough for Killian to realize the error of his ways. I know Killian, and if there is one thing he loves above anything, it's his ship, The Jolly Roger. The ship has been his true home for a very long time and he would never sacrifice it for anyone."

"We could give him a choice of his ship or his wife?"

"That sounds perfect."

"My lady, have you considered that he may pay the ransom."

"If that happens I would request for you to burn the ship to ash."

"If I was to do that I would lose my payment. I do endeavor to aid your quest but I will not lose my profit should things not work in your favor."

"I understand it would not be fair but I know it will not come to that. That union should have never happened and I will make sure it is wiped from existence as if it never was. Please believe me, Mr. Peters; I will have my happy ending at Killian's side."

"I have to confess madam, I enjoy your confidence."

"Thank you, now I will bid you goodnight, it seems our conversation has calmed my nerves and I should fall asleep without a problem. We will need to meet at a discreet time to finalize the plan."

"I will look forward to it."

The next morning Cora is upset, that damn letter has disappeared. She is frustrated and angry. This cannot be happening right now. Her son has returned home with his duplicitous wife. She will never trust Milah but for right now she needs to find that letter and destroy it.

"My dear Cora, what is troubling you?"

"Peters, if you must know, that letter you owe your employment to and like to hold over my head has disappeared."

"Am I to believe someone with your intellect kept the letter after all these years?"

"It would appear so. Apparently, I am not as astute as you imagined. To top it all off, my dear friend Snow saw it. She didn't read it but she was able to get the gist of it."

"What do you plan to do about it?"

"I think I was able to convince her of my version but there will always be the doubt. She recognizes the pirate's resemblance to my late husband. As long as that letter is out there I have to worry."

"How about we give her a scare?"

"What do you propose we do?"

"Her lovely daughter could disappear and during that time of turmoil perhaps her focus will shift and she will realize that her family is all she should concern herself with."

"This would be done only to scare her? I wouldn't want any harm to come to Emma. I'm quite fond of her but I cannot deny it is a good idea. I just wonder if it is possible. The pirate doesn't seem like the kind to let his bride out of sight for a long time."

"Do not worry, I will find a way. I actually have an acquaintance in the town a day from here and he will be of great assistance for the right incentive."

"A day from here, are you referring to the small town Golden Cove?"

"Are you familiar with the town?"

"I believe I passed through there with Brennan a time or two. It is small but quaint. I don't remember it being too prosperous."

"I learned that the hard way, along with many other people. That includes my friend. He was an upcoming doctor that unfortunately lost his medical license due to a feud with a colleague. He had it all and once he lost his practice, his wife Mary followed."

"I'm sorry, but how will a disgraced doctor help in the matter at hand?"

"I'm going to need something to put the young lady to sleep and I cannot go to the local doctor with the request."

"I imagine you will need to travel to obtain the drug required."

"I will take the fastest horse available and return promptly but I do require the monies to convince my old friend Dr. Hyde."

"I don't hold a lot of money within the walls of the house but I have some expensive jewelry that should suffice and get our point across."

"I will leave tomorrow morning then."

"I will give you the jewels tomorrow. Please try to hurry and not be gone long. I shall tell my son that I sent you on an errand to inquire about perhaps purchasing some lands in the neighboring towns."

"I don't plan on being gone that long, perhaps three days tops. One to go and one to return, the extra day will allow me to convince my old friend to obtain the drug. He should come around right away once he sees the jewels. The last I saw of him he was still seeing patients and should still be stocked."

"How can he still have patients? Do you believe there is a chance he will turn down the offer? This could complicate things for us. I just cannot think of an alternative plan. Let me reiterate we don't have time to make another plan. The sooner we set the plan in motion the better."

"Don't worry Cora he will not turn down the offer. Yes, he sees patients but these are people that cannot afford the services of a doctor under normal circumstances. He doesn't enjoy the clientele he once did. I will be making Hyde an offer he cannot walk away from. He needs this as much as we do."

"I hope you are right, I will be preparing the jewelry that you will offer in payment. Good day, Mr. Peters, and thank you for your assistance in the matter."

"I haven't done anything yet, my lady, but I look forward to exploring our newfound alliance."

He sees her walk away. He wonders if he has time to go to the docks and invite the orphaned boys he met before to go on the trip and perhaps convince them to help. Lady Jones seems to be pliant and he thinks she will not be any trouble. He doesn't mind keeping these women's secrets at all. The knowledge provides leverage for him, he would be a fool to turn away.

In his brief time in the house, even from afar he has noticed the coldness between the two; the young new bride and the matriarch of the house. The irony of their similarity is not lost on him. He muses that he would be gaining favor with the two with one simple action; the capture of Emma Jones. He will stand by his words to both, he will not hurt the young woman, only keep her away to appease his new allies. He has no doubt that in the future they can turn on him and then all will be revealed. A tryst before a wedding and a bastard son who will be extremely well respected and wealthy once his lineage is revealed. Somehow it all ends with the young Pirate Captain.

Malcolm Peters is not an honorable man by any means and surely once upon a time he did a good deed or two but now he needs to ensure his future. He will take his leave and obtain the chloroform needed to render the girl unconscious and with that, he will be closer to endearing himself to the ladies. Perhaps even get Cora to consider him as a real partner. He could show her that a union between the two would be rewarding.

Milah wakes from her slumber to find her husband getting dressed for the day. "August, after sleeping I have reconsidered some of my thoughts. I think you are right and my family does love me equally to Emma. I was hoping I could visit with my aunt and uncle since I didn't partake in the reunion."

"I would love to accompany you. I have yet to apologize to your uncle for the change in betrothal and now his daughter is married to a scoundrel."

"August, I thought you saw the good in your old friend? But now that he married Emma he is a scoundrel? I expected comments like that coming from your mother and my aunt, especially my uncle but you were his biggest supporter and now you retract your support."

"I just think there is more to the story. I hate to think he may have taken advantage of Emma in some way."

"Of course this has to be about Emma. It always leads to her somehow."

"Milah, this is not about her. I think you are the one that makes everything about her, you make it into a competition between the two of you."

"I don't want to argue anymore about this and I'm not the one that makes it into a competition between us, it is all of you. My uncle, aunt, your mother and now even you!" She desperately wants to add Killian to the list but has to hold her tongue. The slip would only lead to questions she cannot answer yet. Once Killian is hers again she will not care about consequences.

"Shall we ready ourselves for the visit?"

"Give me about 15 minutes and I will be ready to go." She would rather go alone but it appears that is not in cards for her. "Oh, I need to let Joanna know she finally will be going back home."

"That is fine, I should be ready by the time you are done."

She quickly finishes the final touches. "I will be right back, I'm heading to the servants quarters. Do you mind if Lucy stays behind? I'm sure my aunt would not object, after all, she allowed both of them to accompany us on our honeymoon."

"No, I don't mind, and I'm sure Enith doesn't want to have to take care of all of us. Imagine poor Enith, my mother is enough work for anyone."

She cannot help smile at the remark. Her mother-in-law is quite demanding. "I think you mean she is too much work for all of us."

"Milah!" She is sure he means it in a scolding way but she cannot help notice the silly grin on his face.

Soon Milah, August, and Joanna are in a carriage on their way to Nolan's house. The house is beautiful in its simplicity. Two-floored white stone, large windows in almost all the rooms downstairs and some large oak trees to provide shade. A part of her had missed her home; she had not enjoyed it growing up as much as Emma but it still was the closest thing to home to her. Her mother Jacqueline was never able to give her that.

August knocks on the door with Milah and Joanna flanking him.

David answers the door with a big grin on his face at the sight before him. He quickly grabs Milah into a hug and mutters some words to her about missing her and so on.

"Snow, it is Milah and August. Oh, and Joanna is here too."

"I will be there in a second."

"Uncle David, what is Aunt Snow doing up there?"

"She is removing blankets from the covered furniture and airing out the rooms."

Joanna looks at the group from the corner she is currently occupying waiting for her orders. Milah then turns to her and gives her instructions. "Joanna, be a dear and go with me to help my aunt. That will also allow the men to talk."

"Yes, Mrs. Booth." She curtsies and leads the way up the stairs. Milah follows right behind and then she disappears up the stairs.

"Mr. Nolan, I had asked Milah to give us a minute or two to converse. I fear it is my fault that Emma married Killian."

That comment makes David curious. "What do you mean?"

"I believe that once I called our engagement off and pursued Milah, she may have been too broken-hearted to deter advances from a man like Killian. I mean an experienced man with women. In her innocence, Emma may have misunderstood his attention for her."

"August, if I may be frank. I was never happy with the betrothal between you and Emma. I always wanted her husband to be her choice. I'm not happy with the current situation but I believe my daughter when she tells me that she is happy. That is all I wanted for her. Jones seems sincere in his feelings for my Emma. He and I had a similar talk and although I will keep an eye on him as I stated to him, I stand by my assessment. He seems sincere and only time will tell. Now about Milah, I will have to advise you the same I did to Jones, I will keep an eye on you; I hope I don't need to clarify any more than that."

August is dumbfounded at the threat made to his person. It makes sense for him to say that to Killian but to say them to him, an honorable man. He doesn't understand the need for the warning.

Meanwhile, upstairs Joanna drifts away to the other rooms to give the ladies time to talk.

"Aunt Snow, I can see how happy you are. You are practically glowing."

"I am very happy. David is back and I was able to mend some fences with Emma."

"Oh good, did you ever find out her new address?"

"Yes, Cora gave it to me but I may have stumbled onto something."

"What do you mean?"

"I think Killian is Brennan's son."

Milah looks confused as she hears the news. "What do you mean?"

"He looks so much like him, at first I didn't notice because I was so upset that Emma wanted to marry him, but the resemblance is striking. He looks more like Brennan than August does."

"Do you think Emma knows of this?"

"I'm not saying for sure but it is a high possibility that he is his son due to Cora's reaction to my comment. I sincerely doubt Emma knows about this, she has never mentioned it to me."

"The possibility is there Aunt Snow. My mother-in-law loves her and she may have shared the information with her. Do you think that is why she was so eager to marry him? If he is, in fact, a Booth that could still be beneficial to her."

"Milah, Emma has never cared for any of that."

"She never cared because it was supposed to be hers to begin with, but then August fell in love with me and that all changed."

"My daughter was about to become a nun and take vows of poverty. I know her well enough to say that she had no idea and Cora would never share that kind of information with her. Milah, it is only speculation on my part. I have no proof to support my theory. There is no need to repeat my words to anyone."

Milah looks at her aunt intently and nods in agreement. "I agree aunt, this is only a theory. I will not share it with anyone."

"Thank you, sweetheart, so how was the honeymoon?"

"It was a nice trip. We got to see so much of the country."

"Milah, I know you prefer big cities and I'm sorry I dragged you both back."

"We are family and you needed us at the time. It truly is no problem." Milah knows she would have been blindsided on her return if her aunt had kept quiet about the wedding.

"Here is the address for Emma. I wanted to send an invitation to her and her husband."

"I could deliver the message for you tomorrow. I also came across some clothes Emma could use along with her little chest, the one she loved in her earlier years."

"Oh Milah, that would be amazing! I know Emma didn't think she would have a use for it at the convent. I would greatly appreciate the assistance."

"It will be my pleasure." A thought occurs to her that this is her chance to plant the photo and have a talk with Killian. She will find a way to have a private chat with him. Milah's knuckles turn white as she clenches her fist at the mere thought of Killian's new title. She wonders if he suspected about the possibility he could be August's brother or if her own husband knew. No, he cannot know, seeing as he deems Killian unworthy of Emma. She can use the information she has gathered.

Snow and Milah continue with their tasks and eventually find their way downstairs to join the men. The men seem in an awkward silence throughout the rest of the day. Soon Milah and August say their good nights to finally go home. She is armed with a small trunk and information she can use.

The following day Milah wakes replenished and tells August she wants to go have a private talk with Emma and deliver her trunk and invitation.

"I wish you would allow me to come with you."

"I haven't had anyone on one time with my cousin since our return and besides I doubt that her husband will be home. What are you going to do while we talk?"

"I know you are right but I do want to apologize to Killian for my words. I upset him with my questions."

"I could extend an invitation of our own for them to join us for lunch."

"That sounds lovely, I will have the carriage ready for you."

The Jones home had found a routine the newlyweds loved. They would enjoy their mornings with some enjoyable activities and sometimes it went a little long. They would have to forgo breakfast and Killian would get ready to go to his office.

Today was not one of those days. The roles had reversed seeing as Emma was the one to leave early to obtain some things from the market. Food and other basic necessities were on her list.

The knock comes as a surprise to Killian. It cannot be his wife because she has her keys. Smee and Thomas know he will be in the office by midday. They know better than to interrupt him at home. He values his time with his wife and if his men value their life they will stay away from his home.

He opens the door. "You better have a damn good reason to be at my doorstep."

"Is that any way to treat family?"

"Milah, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, I have a delivery for the lovely Mrs. Jones. Is she here?"

Killian scratches behind his ear, a habit of his. "She stepped out, I will fetch her things from the carriage and you can be on your way."

"You are falling short on your hospitality." Milah waves to the coachmen to bring the chest and luggage. "My aunt sends these things for Emma. She also wanted me to extend an invitation for lunch for the two of you."

Killian lifts an eyebrow in disbelief that this is the only reason for her visit.

"Killian, before I go I would like to ask you one question."

"If that is all it takes to get you to leave, ask away." He places Emma's things on a small table by the door.

"Before I forget, did Emma tell you that she married you because she thinks you are a Booth also?"

"Milah, what are you talking about?"

"It seems you share an uncanny resemblance to Brennan Booth."

"I knew him when I was a young boy and I don't see the resemb-" He remembers Thomas mentioned he reminded him of someone he once knew and surely he would have met Brennan Jones. There was no way he was his son. It could not be possible. Emma couldn't know or even suspect such a thing and not share it with him. This was a con from Milah.

"Oh my God Killian, you actually believe she fell in love with a dirty pirate? She has to know or at the very least suspect it and that is why she took a chance with you. You do know that Cora thinks very highly of Emma and she may have mentioned it to her. I just want you to realize I'm the one that truly loves you."

"You are lying, my Emma truly loves me. We love each other deeply. I admit part of the reason we bonded was that of the affair between you and I, and the impending revelation of it due to gossip may have started it, but the feelings are real. Nothing you say will ever make me doubt her or our marriage."

"Don't say I didn't try to warn you of my dear cousin's duplicity. See you soon; you will come back begging me to forgive you."

Milah looks at him one more time and walks out of the house. She hopes that the plan she has created with Peters will be set into motion soon.

Killian closes the door after Milah leaves and in his frustration knocks the little table over. The little chest tips open and then he sees an old photo. He kneels to pick it up; perhaps it is a photo of his love in her childhood. He stops once he notices the face looking back at him is not that of his wife but of a younger August Booth, he slowly picks it up and cannot take his eyes off it and he flips it around to read "My Only One True Love." Why would she still have this photo? He starts pacing and he can feel the anger rise within.

The door opens to an unsuspecting smiling Emma. The smile quickly fades as she takes his demeanor in. "You look like a caged animal."

"Do you care to explain this to me?" he asks as he flips the photo in her direction.

She picks it up and once she realizes what it is, she understands. "How did you get this photo?"

"That is not an answer Emma."

"I know and I will answer once I find out how you got it."

"Milah stopped by with all those things from your mother's house." He pointed in the direction of some things she recognizes from her old home.

"Milah dropped these things by? That was not enough to make you wonder about her motives?"

"Emma." He looks angry, clenched jaw and his eyes seem darker somehow.

"Sorry, that is an old photo. Cora used to give me photos of August during my engagement. Look at the photo, it is clearly old. I must have left it behind when I first left for the convent. I never went back to my old house. That is why I never got rid of it. How could I?"

"That is the only reason?"

"Killian, I love you and only you. I have to admit that I truly never loved August. I didn't know him. I still don't know him."

"Is August my brother?"

"What do you mean?"

"She also said that you know that I'm also Brennan Booth's son. She claimed that is the only reason you wanted to marry me."

"How would I know if you are his son? Killian, that makes no sense."

"Maybe Cora shared that information with you, I have no clue."

"If this is true, Cora would never share it with me or anyone else. Killian, I love you because you are a good man. You treat me like no other. You don't see me as weak because I'm a woman. You respect me and I know I will never love another man because you are truly a pirate and you stole my heart."

"I'm sorry my love, the photo really upset me."

"I know. Do me a favor and throw it away or burn it for all I care."

He laughs at her request. "Are you sure that is what you want?"

"Hand it over." She waits for him to give her the photo.

"I, Emma Jones, love and honor my husband Killian Jones above any other." She rips the photo into small pieces as she recites her vows to her husband. "I know at the time we exchanged vows we were not honest with each other but I hope now you accept them as true."

He rushes to her and hugs her tightly. He whispers his vows in her ear. She giggles and melts into his embrace. Milah's words are long forgotten.

Milah eventually has a moment for a quick word with Malcolm. He tells her he will leave to obtain an object for their venture. She quickly understands his meaning and wishes him good luck. Finally, Malcolm finds his way in the direction of Golden Cove.

@hookedonapirate

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[bookofsummer]

Arctic Recovery 2 - Chapter 1

Taglist:  @isanyonetoknow

In the year 2035, there was an explosion over the North Pole. Some blamed it on climate change, others on government testing, and the kids all simply believed it was Santa, testing a new sleigh. 

And while the government was not the cause of the explosion, they did do a bang up job of getting involved with it as fast as they possibly could. What they found up there was unlike anything anyone had ever seen before, though there are definitely those who would claim otherwise.

What they found up there was a ship. Crashed and burning, with two creatures who are very similar to humans, and yet definitely, absolutely not human. 

In the year 2035, an alien ship crash landed on earth. Two subjects were recovered, both severely injured, one only barely clinging to life, and they were brought to the fabled Area 51 to recover, and to be observed.

What was left of the ship was brought to a bright, well seasoned mechanic named Brennan Saddler, an early grad at the top of his class, a well known name among those who need work done on vehicles of all genres. Brennan’s touched on all makes of cars, and planes, even handled a rocket ship or two, and when the remains of an alien vessel were discovered he was the first choice to bring in to try and piece it back together. 

Only issue with that plan is that, after three days of combing through the pieces, and placing them in their spots like a jigsaw puzzle, Brennan realized he had no idea what fueled the thing, or even what exactly it was made out of. Obviously alien, which was very cool, Brennan has quite a few sessions of just laughing as he marveled the pieces, however it meant that he wasn’t sure how to put it back together.

Welding didn’t seem to work, glue would fizz and burn off of the stuff, there were two pieces that, when pressed together, simply seemed to stick that way, but no other pieces did the same. 

After another few weeks, he put in a request with the man who would check on him every day to see, and maybe try and speak, to the aliens who landed with the ship, maybe they would be able to give him more insight.

He was told that they would see what they could do, and for a month he waited, toying with the pieces, eventually he even found a box among the wreckage that was actually fully intact. A box about the size of a shoebox, with a blank screen on the front, with alien characters carved into it. He figured it must be some sort of black box, and he puts it in his office.

A month after he asks to see the aliens, they come back to him, tell him that one of them has died from their injuries, but they did get him a chance to meet with the other.

They stress to him that they’re not sure how intelligent, exactly, the alien is, he doesn’t communicate in any significant way, that they’ve found, at least, and it lowers Brennan’s hopes of finding anything out, but he needs to try.

It’s another three weeks after he’s given the news he’ll be allowed to see the alien before they actually go to any significant efforts to schedule a day for it, working at the speed of government, his mother would say. Finally they settle on a date.

After another month where he will have to wait.

So Brennan tries to focus on the ship. He can’t find any sort of obvious power source, he can’t figure out how the pieces go back together- well, he knows how they go together, just doesn’t have any way of making it stay- and all he’s got is that silver box with the screen.

He drops it onto his desk, in the back corner of the workshop one day, and he looks it over, finger grazing along the… metal? For some sort of seam or seal where the thing opens, but it is, astonishingly, seamless. The screen is the only thing on there that signifies that the thing is anything more than a hunk of… well metal.

So he breaks out the tools. Hammer first, but no matter how hard he hits it it doesn’t leave a dent, not even on the screen. Next he goes at it with a drill and a sizeable bit, but it only scratches the surface, never penetrates, and Brennan throws the box at a wall. He’s hoping that maybe, hidden inside that shoe-box sized piece of shit, is the blueprints or something to the damn ship, or something he can work with. He even calls up his friend who works construction and puts it under a jackhammer, but it still doesn’t budge. 

He’s about to throw it at another wall when the office door opens, and a woman in a pressed pantsuit is staring at him with wide eyes. He lowers the box, dropping it back to the desk, “Can I help ya?” He asks, rubbing a thumb at one of the scuffs on the box, only for it to wipe right off. He rolls his eyes at it, and turns to the woman, who seems to have been waiting until she had his full attention. 

“Hi, Brennan, right? Brennan Saddler?”

“Yeah, Yeah, that’s me.” He nods, wiping his hands on his jeans and offering her one for a shake, “You are?”

She looks at his hand with a look he could only describe as wary, and then steels herself before grabbing his hand and shaking it, “Doctor Jenna White, I’ll be acting as your monitor while you’re meeting with AR2, tomorrow.”

Brennan stares at her for a moment, then turns to look at the swimsuit calendar that’s tacked to the wall, “Shit, that is tomorrow innit?” He mumbles and sighs, “Finally, feel like I’ve been sitting here with my thumbs up my ass for months.” Dr. White doesn’t seem all that impressed by his metaphor, and her face twists a little at the idea of it. 

“Well, it is, in fact, tomorrow. I’ll be there to keep an eye on you and ensure that no… Confidential information makes its way to the public.” Jenna watches him, one finely plucked eyebrow raised as if she’s expecting an answer. Brennan just stares back for a long moment, before he ‘oh’s in realization she’s expecting a response.

“Yeah, no, definitely, the whole alien thing ain’t public, and I will hundred percent respect that. I ain’t planning on telling everybody I meet about the alien thing.”

Jenna nods, “Good. Now, as for today, I am here to introduce myself, and lay out for you the ground rules for your visit with AR2-”

“Wait, real quick, what in god’s name does AR2 stand for?”

“Arctic recovery two,” she explains, crossing the room to sit in one of the chairs in front of Brennan’s desk, “As it was recovered in the arctic, and it was the second one we registered, it is AR2.” She nods, and she folds her hands on her lap, “Now, the rules?” She gestures to the chair across from her, and Brennan heaves a sigh. Getting told what to do in his own damn office. He still does it, though.

The rules that Dr. White lays out for him basically sum up to three basic concepts, don’t go into the chamber, if he somehow manages to get into the chamber, don’t fucking touch the alien, and if he somehow manages to get into the chamber, and touch the alien, he will very likely face some serious consequences. Dr. White stresses that part.

So Brennan’s only choice is to speak to the alien through a pane of glass, and his chances of being able to swing that are extremely slim. However, he’s not stupid, he has a plan. Sure, they might not speak the same language, but that’s what visual aids are for.

After Dr. White takes her leave, Brennan digs his phone out and wanders around the ship, taking picture after picture. He snaps pictures well into the night to make sure he has every angle he could possibly get to try and communicate with the alien.

He finds himself wondering what it looks like, after midnight, when the exhaustion is starting to seep in but he isn’t ready to stop taking pictures yet. He digs through the debris to find what he believes was the seat the aliens used, and it’s… Fairly normal looking, at least to him. It looks like a plain ass chair, like in a car. It’s almost disappointing when he looks it over, and mocks up how the belt system was set up, and he figures out that the aliens had to have been humanoid for the set up it has.

Not that there’s anything wrong with them being humanoid, but he had been lowkey hoping for something much more interesting.

That night when he sleeps he dreams of cooler aliens.

His meeting is set for early afternoon, but he’s got himself ready to go, with a plan on how to try and communicate with pictures, by around eleven, a few hours early. When Dr. White shows up she seems legitimately surprised by his eagerness, but Brennan points out that he is, in fact, meeting an alien for the first time ever, and she seems to relax after that. She leads him outside to a sleek black car with dark windows, and a driver who holds the back door open for both of them. Brennan gives the guy a nod, and he nods in return.

“You know where to take us, Anthony,” Dr. White says toward the front seat as the driver, Anthony apparently, gets in. She gets a grunt for an answer, but it seems to be enough for her as she settles into her seat, gathering a clipboard from the pocket on the back of the seat to examine the papers.

Brennan doesn’t really have anything to distract him aside from his phone, but he somehow feels that would be inappropriate right now, so he just settles on taking in his surroundings. The car is dark inside as well, in fact Brennan can barely see out the windows aside from the front and the driver’s windows.

He looks over Dr. White, as well as he can without being creepy. She’s wearing another suit, except this time it’s with a sharp pencil skirt, just as prim as she had looked yesterday, though today it’s with legs out, which Brennan can respect, especially since she has some killer legs from what he can see. Her black hair is pinned up in a flawless bun and he finds himself wondering how she manages that as he runs a hand through his own mess of shoulder length hair. Dr. White, even as she’s reading and rubbing absently at her chin, gives off a solid air of poise.

It makes Brennan feel like one hell of a slouch, in a grease-stained t-shirt and jeans that are equally, if not more, grease-stained. Honestly, he’s a mess, but he’s basically a mess twenty-four-seven.

He finally takes his eyes off of her, and looks to the driver, Anthony. The man’s pretty built, though his face doesn’t give it away. He’s got a scruffy red beard that hides what could be a sharp jaw, or a soft jaw, Brennan can’t tell from here. Anthony is a bit tall, the top of his head almost brushing the roof of the car, his hair is gelled down, otherwise Brennan is sure it would make up the difference. His face is partially obscured by dark shades, so Brennan can’t pin down an eye color on the guy, but the red hair, and the freckles that Brennan can see peeking out from the man’s collar leads him to assume green. Perhaps brown? Who knows.

Brennan doesn’t get too much longer to think on it, because Anthony catches him staring in the mirror, and clears his throat to get his attention. Brennan jerks a bit, and his eyes dart to the dark window. His eyebrows drop and he glares at his reflection for a moment before rolling his eyes and turning to Dr. White again. “How far is this place, anyways? I thought I was on site here?”

“You are. It’s a big campus, Mr. Saddler.” Dr. White replies without looking up from her papers, at least not at first. She finally looks up at him, “Area 51 spans over twenty-thousand acres of land, over thirty square miles. You can be on-site, and still be a five minute drive, Mr. Saddler.” She gets this smirk on her face that makes Brennan smirk in return, and she hugs the clipboard to her chest. “We’ll be there in just a few moments. In all reality, you could have walked here, but that wouldn’t be very hospitable of us, would it?” She smiles at him, and the car comes to a stop. She waits as Anthony gets out, comes around and opens her door for her.

She steps out, her kitten heels clicking on the pavement of the parking lot as she steps away from the car, and turns back to Brennan, waiting for him.

He takes a moment to swallow, and he finally follows her out of the car. Once she seems to be sure he’s following, she turns, and heads toward the building at the end of the lot. She scans a badge at the door and holds it open for him, she leads him to a desk where they both sign in, and she makes small talk with the woman behind it as Brennan scribbles down his information. He sets down the pen, smiles at the woman behind the desk, her nametag says Rebecca, and he turns to follow Dr. White.

Dr. White scans her badge at another set of doors, and Brennan follows her through the halls. It looks like a standard lab, full of beakers and test tubes with unrecognizable substances in them. She leads him down a hall, and then another, and then another and another until they finally reach an elevator. She scans her badge again, they step inside, and they go down. Down so far that Brennan starts to wonder if this isn’t all an elaborate ruse to throw him into a volcano or something because he’s asked for too much from them. 

The doors open, and there’s no volcano, however there is another hallway, which makes Brennan heave a sigh. Dr. White leads the way, and thankfully enough they go into the third door on the left, because Brennan was sure that if she had taken him down another hallway he may have actually screamed. 

Thankfully, they’ve reached their destination, and Dr. White explains to him that the only thing standing between him, and his attempt to get answers, is the door on the other side of the room.

He thanks her, and he starts to head for the door, but he pauses before he even lifts his hand to touch the handle, because he realizes, this is it. He’s about to see an alien.

On the other side of this door is a creature from a world that’s so far away Brennan can barely process it, and he’s about to walk in there, and try to use pictures on his phone to try and figure out how the thing’s ship works. He’s about to try to talk to an actual alien. 

He is so not prepared for this. Oh god what if he fucks it up? What if it doesn’t like him? What if it spits acid on him or something? Oh god, worse, what if it likes him, a lot, and busts through the glass just to plant it’s alien eggs in his stomach?

“Mr. Saddler?” Brennan flinches a bit, turning to look at Dr. White, eyebrows raised in question, “Are you alright? You seem nervous. You know you aren’t in there alone, right? I will be there, as well as the lead researcher, and you aren’t in any danger. It is perfectly safe.” She steps up to his side, and rests a hand on his shoulder, “Come on, you don’t wanna waste what might be your only opportunity to see a real life alien, right?” She winks at him, and she pats his arm, opening the door for him, and guiding him into the room where he finally sees it. He finally sees his first alien.

And wow. It’s… Pretty.

[onechicago-onefamily]

Buy it ~ part 3

“He sells them on profile.” Brennan had worked her magic and she had found a family, the Millers. When they had heard about the murders, they had felt ashamed of their actions. With Brennan’s help, they were willing to talk.  “According to Mrs. Miller, he asks the families for a description of the kind of child they want. Haircolor potentials, the figure they will possibly get in the future. Later, he comes around with a book with pictures of the children.”  Jay grabbed the paper Ruzek had been reading the information from.  “He can even ask them if they mind about possible inheritable diseases? There is no way he can know all of that by just grabbing a random pregnant lady from the street. He has to get his information from somewhere.” “We looked into the first victims their OB’s,” Hailey said. “They don’t have the same one.”  “But they both have their ob’s at MED,” Jay replied. “What if we’re not looking for an OB-GYN here murdering his patients, but what if we’re looking for someone who just has acces to their files?”  Hank went to his office. “I’ll call Goodwin.”  Jay grabbed his cell as well.  “Who are you calling?”  “Luckily for me I have the gossip queen from MED under speed dial.” 

He could not just sit there and do nothing. Natalie had been gone for a day and a half now. Will didn’t have the power to bring Owen to Ellen today, but the little boy was starting to ask questions. It were questions Will didn’t know how to answer. “Staring at your phone won’t help anyone.”  They had spend their time cleaning the house while Owen was playing in his room. Maggie surely knew how to keep his mind of things.  “I know… It’s just…”  “I know.”  That same moment, it was Maggie her phone that rang.  “Jay?”  Will his face said everything.  “ Uhm… Not sure. No, I’ve known most of them for years. Anyone new? Let me see… Not that I know off, besides the usual… Yeah, they switch on rotation sometimes, it happens.”  She didn’t show him anything. Dammit.  “If there is someone… Well, there is one fellow giving most of the nurses the shivers. Monique caught him once in the NICU, mesmerizing about how much human trafficers would pay for babies… His name is Liam Robinson.”  The person at the other side of the line hung up the phone. With Will staring point blank at her, Maggie knew she owned the redhead an explanation. “That was Jay. They found out the missing women are based on the patient files of every woman who has an OB at MED. They are going through everyone as we speak.”  “You mean… The…”  He was unable of forming the words, but Maggie knew what he was asking. She nodded softly.  “Yeah. This monster… He works at MED.” 

This wasn’t good timing. Her water had broken. This was definitely the worst timing in the world. “Your fate has been sealed,” the girl in the neighbouring cage said. Another contraction hit her. “May the lord have mercy on your soul.”  A cold sweat took master of Natalie her body. The same moment, an alarm sounded through the entire cage block. The door opened.

No one from the intelligence unit was surprised Liam Robinson had somehow not showed up to work that exact same morning. After figuring out Robinson lived in his since 2 months death mother’s house in Lake Shore Drive, a mansion with according to the blue prints an enormous basement, Jay knew they were having their eyes on the price. They were just on their way out when Trudy came upstairs, followed by a very anxiously looking Will.  “There was no stopping-”  “Jay! You have to take me with you. I know you’re going out. You have to take me with you, you’ll need a doctor on scene there.”  There was no hair on Jay his head thinking about taking Will with him on this bust. He still remembered the Burke affair from a few years back. It hadn’t done Will any good. Next to that, Voight was barely letting Jay join in on this bust. “Jay, go to the van with Antonio and Upton. Ruzek, call ahead to MED. I want the girls from 61 on standby with Choi. He’ll know how to handle himself in a situation like this.”  Ruzek started to call ahead. Voight grabbed Will by his shoulder.  “Kid, look at me. You’re absolutely right that we might need someone with medical expertise on site, but there is no chance that’s gonna be you. I’m pretty sure I don’t need to explain myself about that. Your girl and you are one of us, kid. We’re bringing her home. Whatever it takes.”  Knowing how Voight acted when one of his own were hurt, Will was a little more reassured. But only a little. 

“CPD!” Kicking down the door was the easy part. No one was to be seen on the ground floor.  “Ground floor clear!”  “Ground floor clear!”  “Ground floor clear!”  “All right, I want the medical team here now!” Voight yelled. “Burgess, Attwater, get me the entrance to the basement. We have no time to lose.”  Robinson had definitely thought about his plans. The entrance of the basement could be found behind a book shelf.  “Let’s go! Halstead, Upton, cover our medics.”  Jay and Hailey closed the back of their group and he had to say it, it was a long way down the stairs they were following. When they reached the end of the stairs, they found a door. The door wasn’t even locked.  “CPD!”  What they found behind the door made Jay shocked to his core. The hallway was filled with cages. It were 12 cages at least, but only three of them were filled with women. Pregnant women. No sign of Natalie.  “We’re chicago police department, we’re here to help you out!” Voight yelled. “Upton, Attwater, assist the medics with whatever they need.”  “Boss, there is still another door!” Ruzek yelled.  “I’ll cover you,” Antonio answered.  They went in, but words Antonio yelled immediately after made Jay his heart froze.  “CHOI! WE NEED YOU HERE!”  Jay followed Ethan immediately, entering a perfectly rebuild OR, where there was more blood then the young detective had seen in most of his life.  “No no no no no… Nat, it’s me, Ethan. You’re going to be okay. You’re going to be just fine. Guys, I need room to work. Call ahead to MED, when I stabilized her, we need to get her out of here.”  Ruzek and Antonio checked the rest of the room. Jay, remembering the promise he had made to his brother, ran to Natalie her bedside.  “Nat? Nat! Stay with me, come-on. I know that you’re loosing a lot of blood, but you have to stay with me. Tell me what happend, what did he do to you?”  “Jay-”  “Ethan, I’m not moving.”  Natalie was opening and closing her eyes, slipping in and out of consciousness. “Nat, stay with me, come-on.”  “He… He… Jay?” “Jay, keep her flat on her back. She had a natural delivery but I can’t see where all the blood is coming from. BRETT, I NEED AN EXTRA PAIR OF HANDS!”  “Yeah, it’s me. Nat, it’s me, I’m taking you back to Will. Hey Nat, stay with me- Nat- Nat!”  This time, Natalie slipped back into unconsciousness and started to seize. Sylvie ran into the room, assisting Choi. “Voight, I need Jay out of here until I stabilized Nat.”  Against heavy protesting, Voight pulled Jay out of the room. By looking at the young detective his face, Voight knew Jay was done for this bust.  “Halstead, you’re going upstairs.”  “But sarge-”  “Jay, don’t complain for this once please.”  Hank dragged Jay upstairs, where it was now crawling with the forensic investigators from the CPD. He put him on a bench outside and forced Jay to look at him. “Jay, I’m only going to say this once, so I need to be sure that you’re hearing me, understood?” He got a nod as an answer.  “Your brother’s girl is in though shape. They’re both going to need you. We cleared the entire house, there are no children to be found anywhere. The last thing anyone needs is for you to pull such a stunt as back in the day with your father his death, do you understand what I’m saying here?”  Jay heard the translation in Hank his words. “Don’t go run off on your own behind those kids, your niece, and don’t get yourself killed. I will have your head if you do so.”  “Understood Sarge.”  “You’re done for tonight Halstead, right now there is only one thing I need you to do. You’re gonna give your brother a call that he has to get his ass to MED as soon as possible and when doctor Choi has stabilized her, you’re riding along with them to MED. You’re going to interrogate her when she’s up for it, all right?”  When Natalie and his brother got married, Jay had made them a promise that he would always be there for them and he would always protect them. A voice inside his mind was yelling at him right now, telling him he should ignore his boss and run straight for the hills, looking for his niece, but something else in him told him Voight was right.  He perfectly remembered the lecture Will had given him after he got shot by their father’s murderer.  “All right. Let me give Will a call.” 

Wow wow wow. This story is getting longer by the minute. I had originally planned two parts, but now part 4 is even on its way. Just… Wow. I hope you guys like it. What do you think is going to happen next? 

[claireclaymore]

Good Man vs Nice Guy Trope

Here we go for modest meta about Lotor and Lance from VLD and why Lotor have more elements to belong to the good man trope than the reformed bad guy trope. We will analyze their backgrounds, the way they treat women and how they behave with their love interest Allura. 

Lets start with Lotor

Lotor and women

Different of his previous incarnations, Lotor views women as equals and demonstrate a professional behavior with them. What is an indication that even in society build up by the violence Lotor found out a way to avoid succumb to the toxic masculinity of the galra culture. By the way, we can assume that Lotor spent his life trying to connect with his "female side", since he didn't have a mom to show him this aspect of himself. This is an interesting interpretation that somehow have parallel with DOTU Lotor, who kinda wanted to connect with his female side (his anima) through Allura. The loss of Lotor mom in DOTU is significant to his development as a typical evil emperor embodying the bad parenthood of Zarkon and distorted ideia of affection that prevent him of gain any kind of affection Allura. But VLD Lotor seems doesnt have such problems since he always rejected galras methods and pick an imaginary idea of his dead mom as a model of leadership. What cost a lot to him as we see.

Lotor and Allura dynamic 

Lotor's approach to Allura is based in political issues. They both want to stop the war, they both know they need each other knowledges to achieve their objective. Of course Lotor could had use other weapons to conquer Allura sympathy since he is a good looking guy with classy modes. But he interesting in Allura is profissional. What means they just talk about business after she agree to cooperate with him. As long the season 5 run they both start to make moves to turn this alliance more personal. 

-Lotor trust in Allura potencial as alchemist and encourage her to stop with her insecurities and believe more in herself. In a context where her subordinates (like Lance) are continuously question her decisions and a serie of events shot her down to prove she is wrong, follow instincts become a great change to her. And thanks Lotor, for good or for bad, she unblocked a lot of abilities that help her to salve her friends (like bring Shiro and Lance back) and in ending to the series salve the whole universe.

- After a time Allura begin to trust Lotor and be kind with him. Recognize his efforts to keep the altean culture alive and she say she is happy to have him by her side in this journey. That is a big complement to him, not just because she the altean princess but because Lotor get credits for achievements, and this probably is the first time someone acknowledged him.

-Their dreams about the future match and they view each as partners.

Meanwhile Lance...

Well, we have to admit the way he try to get Allura attention is not nice. She is busy with important stuff while Lance is playing his role as "adorable flirty idiot". And the thing is, he keep doing this even when she make pretty clear she doesnt like this behavior. Worse, he use this approach with other girls, what seems to me that even he wasnt take this crush seriously until Lotor arrive.

People usually excuse Lance behavior saying he is just being childish, and like a small child Lance have difficult to put himself other people shoes. Allura came from a extinct planet and apparently she and Coran are the last of their kind, is it an emphatic atitude make fun of her culture and habits? She already have a lot of pressure in her, is it okay question her leader decision since she have more war acknowledges than you? What is your excuse to be angry and prevent other guys to be nice with her (aka Matt and Lotor) just because she doesn't value your compliments?

And when you daydream about a future with your crush is it a good picture?

Funny thing, cause Lotor killed Zarkon, his own freaking father and no one give him glory for this. And even after that it take a time to him win Allura heart, not because he killed but because he was a good man who treat her right! Why the hell HE, Lotor, had to be portrayed as an evil guy when all he did in their time together was improve Allura as caracter and vice versa?

Why it never across in Lance s mind that maybe, just maybe, Allura liked Lotor because he feels like home to her. Why Lance bring Allura to a date with his whole family when the right atitute would be help her with that altean and give her hope that maybe she could be with her people again? Why didn't Lance encourage Allura to be more brave? Why keep this "I would do anything for you" instead to "Allura, you can do anything. You will get it!"

Why? Why? Why? Because Lance is unable to take her place, to truly understand how she feel. Being hated by your own people after years? Guess who would understand this... 

Good man narrative is centric in supportive relationship where both caracter bring the best of each other.

Like Casca and Gutts

Ichigo and Rukia (okay it is a platonic pairing, but the shoe fit)

Booth and Brennan

And lastly Lotor and Allura