#but here's the belated day 4 prompt fill

[robthegoodfellow]

Chapters: 4/? Fandom: Stranger Things (TV 2016) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Eddie Munson Characters: Billy Hargrove, Eddie Munson Additional Tags: Looney Tunes References, Billy Hargrove Lives, Eddie Munson Lives, Well Depending on Your Definition of "Lives", Certainly They Are Walking Talking Fighting Crime, In the Upside-Down Tho, On Account of Their Bods Being Toast, Might Find a Way to Reverse That, For Now I Just Want Them to Rig Vecna w/ Dynamite and Smash Him w/ Anvils from the Sky, Eddie Munson in the Upside Down, Billy Hargrove in the Upside Down Summary:

Eddie wakes up in the Upside-Down and is promptly ushered into Billy Hargrove's manhole.

@mungroveweek (day 4)

[shachaai]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers!

I was tagged by @zipegs. Thank you, Hunter! These were interesting questions to think about.

Tagging: @needcake and @dr-fumbles-mcstupid! No pressure on either of you, but have at if you'd like.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

198! Hetalia really upped the work count out of all my fandoms, but I also crossposted a lot of my better Yu-Gi-Oh fics from my days back on FF.net. I've still got a huge amount to crosspost from LJ, DW and tumblr though.

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

998,583. It's taken me 14 years on AO3 but my next fic update is going to finally take me over a million words and I'm so excited!

3. What fandoms do you write for?

My main fandom right now is Hannibal (and the associated HEU), but I'm also working on some uber long Hetalia works in the background. (The latter won't see the light of day until they've got a substantial amount done for them.) I started out posting fic online with Yu-Gi-Oh, then Death Note and Yuri on Ice. I've also worked on a lot of fics for CLAMP's works, primarily Tsubasa, Cardcaptor Sakura and XxXHolic.

4. Top five fics by kudos?

Due to the kudos requirement, this is obviously only from my stuff on AO3 (because I actually think an anon work I wrote on a kinkmeme back in the day would also feature here otherwise). 1. Commencer Par La Faim (Hannibal) - 1,470 2. The Lindworm's Lullaby (Hannibal) - 503 3. if(touched by love's own secret)we (Yuri on Ice) - 382 4. Apples (Tsubasa: Reservoir Chronicles) - 379 5. Heartbox (Hetalia) - 299 The last one completely mystifies me.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I really try to. I've got much better about responding to comments in the past few years, I think, but I'm still more likely to remember to respond to comments on WIP longfics than on oneshots. (Sorry!!!) Lately, I've fallen into the habit of replying to comments on the most current chapter of a multichaptered fic as I'm doing the final edits on the next chapter, because they often prompt me not to forget things. ;;; (So, if you receive a belated reply to your comment on a WIP, I'm likely going to update it soon.) I really do appreciate every comment though, and they've been such a source of inspiration and good feeling over the years. I'm still going back and trying to say thank you to comments left on my works years ago... It's late, but I do want to express my thanks.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Bold of you to assume I ever finish anything. I don't tend to write works that have endings that fall primarily into the angst territory (I don't think!). Bittersweetness, usually. A lot of my hetalia stuff is technically angsty because it's open-ended and based on real history and history sucks. Obviously it's not posted yet, but the ending to Commencer Par La Faim is probably going to get people coming after me with torches and pitchforks. For posted works, I guess I'll go with my first ever completed multichaptered work from my YGO days: Both Sides of the Border. The whole fic is an exploration of love, remembrance and death (as best as I could write it as a purple prose-obsessed 15 year-old).

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Bold of you to assume I ever finish anything x2. Many of my hetalia oneshots fill me with the warm n' fuzzies due to their endings. Yes, this answer is a cop-out.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

None currently, but I have done on multiple separate occasions in the past.

9. Do you write smut?

I do, but it doesn't come to me easily at all. I wish I was a better smut writer and I'm really working on it, but I still don't think my current stuff is up to where I want it be. People seem to enjoy it though, so I must be doing something right? At least a little?

10. Craziest crossover?

...Sorry, I'm blanking. I wrote YGO/Harry Potter back in the day, and I've Daemon AUs all over the place (His Dark Materials). CLAMP fanworks are all, technically, huge crossovers.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Once, a YGO piece I'd rather not mention now. My concepts have gotten ripped off a bunch over the years though - which I wouldn't even mind, I'm delighted to share my ideas freely (and, hell, not have to write the fics I want to see myself!), but if you're going to use my exact phrasing (and hours of research!) in your work could you at least give me a mention? It's a little hurtful sometimes, but I try not to let it bother me unless it's super overt.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

I gave full permission for someone on a private Chinese fanpage to translate any of my engport works into Mandarin, and I know they translated a lot of the oneshots! (Obviously, I can't link you.) athousandnights translated the prancing and pawing of each little hoof into Mandarin. VanessaLocke translated Splinters & Mosaics into Vietnamese. @dr-fumbles-mcstupid/Dr_Fumbles_McStupid is also currently poddficcing my WIP fic, Poems - translating to audio.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! In every kind of way. It's wonderful to do with a friend/someone you have a good rapport with, and it's a good way to develop a friendship, I think. I still find the thought of co-writing with a stranger assigned to work with me nerve-wracking though, and those situations have never worked out terribly well for me in the past. @-@ I'm currently doing a lot of 'alpha reader' work for a few friends. It's the writing part of writing a fic that isn't really putting down the words. (Plotting, pacing, research, editing.) I'm too busy with my own solo work to do any more right now.

14. All time favourite ship?

Haven't got one. I've got my darlings across every fandom I've looked at and written for.

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

>> << Honestly, if it's something I want to finish I refuse to doubt that I will finish it. There's always hope.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Writing about food and scents. I've been told I'm pretty good with conveying the senses associated with them pretty well, and I've been scolded frequently by readers for making them hungry with my food scenes! (This is a fantastic source of glee to me now that I'm writing in a fandom where the food is, often, people. Accidentally converting people to cannibalism one fic at a time.) I also think I'm pretty good at writing about clothes - how they look, how they're put on and taken off, the sensation and movement of fabric - and capturing the voices of characters. Also, mostly because of a lot of the above, establishing a setting by sneaking in lore.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Long and extremely complicated sentences. I'm trying to get better at this, but commas, hyphens, colons and semi-colons are my comfort blanket. (Periods? Never heard of her.) The utter inability to shut up. Every fic is longfic these days. ...How incredibly slowly I write.

18. Thoughts on dialogue in another language?

It can be incredibly interesting, scintillating and useful, adding a lot to a fic - in moderation. Dropping huge paragraphs in the middle of your work in a language that isn't the main one you're writing in is just confusing and offputting, in my opinion, but sprinkles here and there offer insight into your worldbuilding and your characters' backgrounds/voices. I do occasionally write characters speaking other languages in my work, but I've usually got to have a good reason for it. I don't always provide translations either - but when I don't, it's also for a reason. XD;;; It's usually either that I'm keeping secrets from the reader, I think the speech is evident given the context, or I want the reader to have the delight of discovering what what I've written means (this usually means it's a funny pun).

19. First fandom you wrote in?

Cardcaptor Sakura - or Cardcaptors, as the dub was called in the UK. I was 8 and got hooked, and got my two closest friends hooked, and I got so upset that it finished I wrote fanfic for it to tie up loose emotional ends in the plot. XD;;; The first fanfic I ever wrote and posted online was for Yu-Gi-Oh, on FF.net. I was 11. The first chapter was up for a week before I read more works and realised how bad a writer I was, and I took it down immediately. My first months in proper fandom were a sharp learning curve!

20. Favourite fic you've written?

I'm gonna be a sappy loser here and say 'everything I've written (even the unposted stuff) for the Gods AU' and Commencer Par La Faim. I'm so glad I worked up the courage all those years ago to approach Eden (@edencomplex) and Hoof (@hoofae) and ask if I could write something for this cool AU they were chattering about and drawing stuff for. I found two wonderful friends and a wider home in a little corner of fandom, and the AU itself really expanded my ability to research things and develop different writing styles. I'm working on more things for the AU now because I really do want to finish it as my, Hoof's and Eden's legacy - and, of course, in Eden's memory. Commencer Par La Faim is a WIP, but I think it's rapidly become a favourite for me because it's the culmination of so many different things. It's brought me friends in the Hannibal fandom. It's a crowning - and bloody good, imo - example of my developed and mature voice as a writer. And it's so fun to work on. I also think it's a fantastic little bite of the a/b/o trope. I've done a lot with a/b/o across fandoms and over the years, and CPLF has really drawn all my scattered thoughts together and, I think, made something really unique amongst all the different presentations of it online. I'm still working on the fic, of course, but I'm proud of what I have achieved with it so far and I believe it will continue to be beloved to me.

[faejilly]

writing patterns

Rules: List the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

tagged by @junemermaid, no-pressure tagging anyone who would like, because I have no idea who's seen and either done or passed on this one lately. PLEASE PLEASE DO IT AND BLAME ME IF YOU HAVE EVEN THE SLIGHTEST INCLINATION, I love seeing these things, I'm just brain-dead re: tagging today. 💙

1. Vakarian makes Shepard feel old.

Chicory, Mass Effect, Weaver Shepard, not on AO3 yet because I'm trying to turn it into a series of first/early impressions of the ME1 crew from Shepard's perspective. But then I've done Kaidan's first impression of Shepard already, so I can't decide if I should do her version of that or figure out another one. But also should I add Joker? I should always add Joker. But then in what order? (You can see the overthinking process here, can't you?) SOMEDAY I WILL WRITE WEAVER & TALI AND IT WILL BE DELIGHTFUL. She adores Tali. But also wishes to keep her safely in engineering 99% of the time. BUT ALSO...

anyway. back to sentences. ->

2. Emmett had known that he would see her.

Almond Blossoms, 7kpp, Emmett/Sheltered Princess & a lot of chaperone POV's. Also I posted that in September last year so this is clearly going to be a little depressing in terms of my ongoing 'am I a writer anymore?' existential crisis

3. “Don’t move.”

Never Again, Shadowhunters, Malec, sort of omegaverse, sort of weird magic bonds, a very belated prompt fill from the @knotinmyname anti-ai-scraping event.

4. The Matchmaker may have announced them, they may consider themselves engaged, this might be exactly what they should be doing as these connections are exactly what the Summit claims to be for… but Nathalie’s a 'known’ seductress and suspected murderer, but Clarmont’s only 'allowed’ here for the Royal Family to keep an eye on him, to make sure he knows how generous they are being with their mercy.

Relief, 7kpp, Clarmont/Ambitious Widow (Revaire feels!). Yes, that is just one sentence. Yes, I did that on purpose. No, I probably shouldn't have, but idc. 😅

5. Alec hasn’t even been Marked, still technically a fledgling rather than a Shadowhunter, when he learns that most nephilim can’t hear their weapons sing.

untitled eldritch angel powers prequel, Shadowhunters, Alec Lightwood & Politics is my jam, even when he's like 10 or something. As is weird magic and angel lore that I get to make up! Not on ao3 because I think it's going to be in a bigger thing, but I haven't actually done it yet, but I also get really tired of trying to rearrange my AO3 stuff because then I lose links and comments and brain power that should have been used for maybe writing something again some day.

6. All the dealers know Magnus’ name.

Fluff for @foodsies4me! Malec Auctioneer AU on the floor because it made me smile. (I used to be an auction block clerk.)

7. A familiar flare lit up his apothecary, and Magnus reached out to catch the fire message.

working title is 'wtf the clave is competent' and this is another playing-with-lore Shadowhunters prequel (that will eventually be Malec) started off via a Tangential Tuesdays prompt (which is a thing I would like to properly do again, but I keep not writing which makes it tricky)

8. An Omega heir to two old bloodlines in line for a Headship was something the Nephilim hadn’t seen in almost a century, and ought to have been prestigious enough for Alec to have chosen any path or mate he wanted. [x]

9. That was Magnus. [x]

These are both omegaverse prompts for the aforementioned anti-ai event and actually posted on time last June. Both Shadowhunters and Malec and just little bits and pieces of almost things. And fun on their own, imo, but. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

10. Cullen thought he’d gotten used to seeing this new Hawke in Haven.

Gladiolus, Cullen/Hawke, Dragon Age: Inquisition (Hawke as Inquisitor). Another prompt fill, a ficlet for a collection I have on AO3; its continuing existence is almost entirely @jadesabre301's fault.

Well, picking chapters and scenes posted on tumblr rather than my ao3 was probably good for my sanity, since my ao3 is a bit of a mess.

I seem to start with very declarative sentences this past year or so: we are here and this is what we're dealing with. Which is not... how I have previously concluded this meme, but I'm not sure that it's really any different than usual, just more obvious. It's a habit developed, I think, in writing relatively short-fic and also playing with lore or setting, because I very much need to set up my framework if I want anyone else to follow it.

I definitely should try and play some ME and/or watch some Shadowhunters and clean up some of the bits that I would really really like to have as finished stories though. This has successfully reminded me that I do, in fact, usually like writing and still think like a writer, so that's probably good!

/thank you june 🥰

[the-black-birb]

Pins and Needles [Tanaka Ryuunosuke x Reader]

Prompt: From @thedeepestdaydream 's prompt "Hey I'm your soulmate which means I can feel your pain and I also really hate needles but you keep getting tattos so could you please maybe stop?"

Summary: In which Tanaka finds his soulmate, and they are not happy with him.

Pairing: Tanaka Ryuunosukd x Reader

A/N: happy belated birthday to Tanaka!! Season 4 really made him so pretty!! This is the second time I'm trying to post this so tumblr plz dont eat it

**enjoy**

You swore when you found your soulmate, you'd tell them off for all they put you through.

Most people were happy enough just to have a soulmate. It wasn't a guarantee, and most people went their whole life without finding them.

But you were positively furious.

You'd always lived close to your soulmate. For as long as you could remember, you'd get ghost pains at random times. Usually never too bad, so you didn't mind.

Come middle school, it got much worse. There'd always be pain in your forearms and on your palms. When the pain continued every day after school and well into highschool, you realized they must've played a sport. And they were awfully serious about it, too.

The pains were unbearable in highschool. Your soulmate worked hard, you were sure, but sometimes the exhaustion was just too much. Occasionally they got slapped and you'd simply laugh. They probably deserved it.

Come college, the familiar pain in your palm dissapeared. Sometimes you missed it, wondering if your soulmate gave up something they loved. You could understand, you dropped plenty of hobbies once you got to college. But you hoped they were happy.

That is, until the new pain started.

You'd never been particularly squeamish. You could handle ghost stories or bugs. You weren't scared. But needles made your skin crawl. The sensation of the pin point prick against your skin put all your hair on edge.

The first time your soulmate got a tattoo, you almost passed out.

Fortunately, you were simply in your dorm with your roommate. You mentally forgave your soulmate, understanding that everyone goes a little off the rails once they hit college. You had been through your fair share of poor decisions. And then, they continued.

It had been months since the first tattoo. You swore they got a new one every week. But never at the same time, no, you couldn't prepare yourself.

Finally, you had it. You were taking your final exam for a class when pain burned through you wrist. Some of their tattoos were small and quick, so you thought perhaps you could sit and bear it. How wrong you were.

The pain only got worse. You thought you reached sweet relief when the outline finished, only to feel the needle start to fill in with color.

Soulmate or not, all you saw was red.

You got up from your seat, essentially voiding your exam. You could care less. Mumbling a quick explanation to your professor and hoping you could make it up, you sprinted away from the building.

Careful with your tender skin, you traced the outline of the tattoo as best you remembered. When you were finished, your forearm a large crow wrapped around your forearm.

It was a beautiful tattoo, you thought, although your skin continued to burn from the needle on your skin. Your chest tightened, and your breathing became ragged but you managed to deal with the sensation. This wasn't their first tattoo, after all.

As the pinprick of the needle faded, you prepared to find your soulmate. It's said the closer you are to your soulmate, the easier it is for you to feel their pain. You were sure you'd lived in the same town as your soulmate your whole life, since there wasn't a time you couldn't remember ghost pains.

So you'd found all the tattoo parlors in Miyagi. There weren't many, and the pain in your forearm meant you could likely narrow it down to the ones closest to you. And now, you were ready to track down your soulmate.

You thought you'd seen all corners of Miyagi, but you weren't all too familiar with this area. The streets seemed a bit colder, and the shops more empty. The pace of your steps picked up.

Relief flooded your chest as you realized you were just a block away from the tattoo parlor you were headed towards. You rounded the corner, wondering if you were truly about to meet your soulmate. Where you ready? Your head dropped to look at the ground. Maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe you weren't ready. They were your soulmate, so you were bound to meet them eventually. You didn't need to rush it, right?

"Hey cutie, what's a pretty lady like you doing here?"

You stopped in your tracks, still staring at your feet. If someone could sound greasy, he did. You stared at the shoes of your approacher. He was in sweats, wearing beat up sneakers. You snickered. He's probably bald and ugly.

"Minding my own business," you retorted, walking past him. "You should do the same."

You brushed past him quickly, trying not to cause a scene. The tattoo parlor was just a few steps away. Surely, someone in there could help you.

"Hey!" He grabbed your wrist, pulling at you. "C'mon what's with the sour face? Why dontcha smile?"

His grip on your wrist was unwavering.

You swallowed hard. A bell chimed behind you, signalling a door opening. A silent prayer left your lips, hoping whoever entered would be generous enough to intervene.

You pulled your wrist away, but his hand was like a vice. "Let go of me!"

He pulled you closer. "C'mon that's no f-"

And then there was a fist in his face, and a burning in your knuckles.

You didn't really process what happened, but suddenly there was a man in a beanie staring down at your assaulter.

"She doesn't want to be bothered," he demanded. As if possessed, the man who grabbed you walked away, wearing a mix of shame and disdain on his face. If you'd been more aware of yourself, you would've spit on his dumb shoes.

But your attention was taken by you savior, instead, and the tattoo sticking out his jacket arm.

"Can I see your forearm?" You asked. He looked at you surprised, but started to take his jacket off nonetheless.

"Uh, sure? You okay?"

You nodded. You were here for a reason, afterall.

"It's a little tender, still. You see I just got a tattoo and..." he trailed off as his eyes traced up your arm and the crow you outlined on it.

You looked at his crow, shining and beautiful, as well as the tattoos adorning other parts of his arms, and had no doubt in your mind. You remembered those sensations, too.

"Hi I'm [S/N] [Y/N] and I'm deathly afraid of needles. Of all your tattoos, that one really hurt like a bitch."

He laughed at you, and put out his hand to shake.

"Tanaka Ryuunoske, but you can call me Ryu. Would you want to get coffee sometime?"

You took his hand in a firm shake. His hand was larger than yours, and worn, too. Callous painted the tips of his fingers, no doubt from years of practice. But his hands felt safe, like home.

"That sounds nice."

bonus:

You walked into the cafe Ryu told you about, looking for a familiar face. You found it behind a black cup of coffee and an black sweatshirt. And no hoodie.

You laughed.

"Got a problem?" He teased.

"I didn't know bald men could look handsome."

It would be a long date.

[irisbleufic]

Happy 2020! Can I tag you to do that 2019 Fic Year in Review thing?

Happy New Year to you, too!  Sure thing.  I can’t remember the last time I did one of these; since 2019 is the end of a decade, it feels fitting.  Here goes…

14 February 2019: After spending 14 of my 15 years (2020 marks the start of my 16th year) in Good Omens fandom working on it, I finally finished and posted the 75th and final installment of Crown of Thorns [The Walls, the Wainscot, and the Mouse] ’Verse.  LiveJournal was still the fandom’s primary posting hub when I posted the first-ever installment, A Better Place, on 1 October 2005.  The series didn’t get its second installment (The Walls, the Wainscot, and the Mouse) until 2010, but work on the series from that point forward was pretty much constant.  2012 saw a higher number of CoT updates than any year previous; that was also the year I transferred it to AO3.

25 February 2019: I finished and posted the last chapter of my third Good Omens collaborative fic ’verse with @procrastinatingbookworm, Turn In Your Arms.  We couldn’t believe there was no Good Omens fusion with Tam Lin, so we went for it.  Given our first collaboration in 2018 was a Good Omens fusion with Groundhog Day (Game Over, Insert Coin), that wasn’t a stretch.

27 February 2019: @aspiringjedi and I posted the first of our two Good Omens meta-essays, Making An Effort: Queer (Trans) Masculinity in the Ethereal & Occult Beings of Good Omens.  Yes, it’s 1,990 words due to the novel’s publication year.  When you’re just under 2,000 words anyway, why not?

28 February 2019: @procrastinatingbookworm and I followed up Turn In Your Arms with a brief sequel, Burn After Reading.  All of our collaborations to date have ended up as multi-story mini ’verses.

25 March - 20 April 2019: I went about as livid over Gotham’s Season 5 as I did over Season 3 and wrote Darkroom to address how dirty the show did Bruce and Jeremiah.  I had a stand-alone Season 4 fix-it story (focusing on Oswald and Edward, like most of my other Gotham work) called Triage from 2018 that had never quite felt like it was meant to be a stand-alone.  Triage and Darkroom became the first two installments of a series called Playing for Keeps, to which I added another 6 stories by April 20th.  Darkroom somehow got more traffic than any of my other Gotham pieces since When You Find It, Run over in DDO ’Verse (although those two stories are keystone pieces in much larger series, they can both be read as stand-alones).

4 April 2019: In the midst of working on the aforementioned, @aspiringjedi posted our second Good Omens meta-essay, Southern Pansies: Subversive (Trans) Masculinity in the Ethereal & Occult Beings of Good Omens.

8 May 2019: Brief blip back into Pacific Rim fic!  I posted a missing Anthology correspondence/inset ficlet called L’amour, c’est comme la guerre.  For anyone who ever wanted more of the email correspondence in Anthology’s final chapter, this fills in some gaps you didn’t know were there.

16 May 2019: Thanks to some behind-the-scenes persuasion from several really tenacious Gotham readers who didn’t want me to abandon it / shut down DDO ’Verse, I completed The Knights’ Tour after almost a year on hiatus from it.  This turned out to light a fresh fuse on DDO, because TTK didn’t end up being the final story in the series like I had once planned.

18 May 2019: The only His Dark Materials fic I’ve ever written, also a Gotham fusion, got a belated new final chapter.  Gold Dust is sort of an alternate take on DDO ’Verse, one in which Dust and daemons are present.

23 May 2019: I posted what I thought would be a stand-alone Gotham story called The Meaning of This City.  It manages to be a marginally less dark and complicated take on the Bruce-and-Jeremiah situation (than Darkroom over in PfK ’Verse, that is) without sacrificing some of the most difficult features of what they need to overcome.  More on why this didn’t remain a stand-alone in a bit.

6 June 2019: Good Omens requests came around, one of which led me to follow the Imagine Hastur Ficlets (which themselves exist thanks to the accidental prompts at @imaginehastur) interlude in CoT with The Imagine Hastur Epilogue.  This was a sort of neat in-narrative way to deal with having gradually come out about my biological (inter)sex and (nonbinary) gender identity over the 14 years I worked on CoT. 

15 June - 1 July 2019: I posted another Good Omens collaboration-set with @procrastinatingbookworm called Have Faith at the series-title level.  The two stories in it, You Bloody Snake and Enough of a Bastard, focus almost entirely on Hastur and Ligur.  Seeing Aziraphale and Crowley through different (and less favorable) eyes was a weird pleasure; seeing people indignantly realize they were enjoying fic about Hastur and Ligur was even more of one!

15 August 2019: @verumx persuaded me to watch Jamie Marks Is Dead with her and @one-eyed-bossman, and then implored me to fix it.  Using Our Words is the stand-alone that resulted, which is no shock given I can’t resist ghost stories.  It’s unique among this year’s stories in that it may be the only genuine stand-alone aside from the Gotham piece called Gold Dust.

17 August 2019: After an experimental in-character snail mail letter-writing exchange that lasted about 6 weeks, @verumx and I transcribed the letters and framed them in a piece of collaborative Gotham fic, We Were All Forgiven.  Since about late April, I had been getting progressively sicker and sicker (didn’t know yet that I had cancer).  Keeping busy as things got worse helped at least in the psychological sense, but by mid-August my exhaustion and difficulty eating were hitting their peak.  I was hiding it from everyone except my partner.

1 September 2019: Returning to two stories I’d written for Batman: Europa, I created a series umbrella called Once Is Not Enough and explicitly placed London (Letting Go) and Five Love Affairs under it as companion pieces.  Between Thursday Friday of this particular week, I experienced an increasingly more frightening set of symptoms that landed me in the ER and got a sequence of diagnostic tests finally rolling.

22 October 2019: After receiving a diagnosis of colon cancer on 10/1/19 and starting medical leave Monday of Halloween Week, I decided to complete the sequel to The Meaning of This City, which was a Gotham piece I’d left hanging mid-progress for weeks.  The Maze of Your Ingenuity was hard for me to complete due to constant blood tests, CT scans, and outpatient procedures in the lead-up to my Thanksgiving Week major inpatient surgery, but I did it.

23 September - 11 December 2019: My longest Gotham fic ’verse (Delicate, Dangerous, Obsessed, a.k.a. DDO), having refused to die even once The Knights’ Tour was complete, got an entirely new ending stretch of stories focusing on, of all people, Jerome Valeska and Five (514A).  They were the only two characters from canon who I had mentioned and/or shown briefly in passing earlier in DDO, but whose arcs from canon (and onward into my fic) I had done nothing to wrap up.  Challengers, Thicker Than Blood, Take This Waltz (It’s Yours Now), Finally Fair (In Love and War), and What We’re For (And What We Want) may, collectively, be the best writing I did during the entirety of 2019 (unless you count what I wrote in February to finish CoT).  The experience of terrifying, unexplained illness and harrowing treatment was entirely too timely to one of my two protagonists in this set of stories.  They were worth their weight not just in distraction, but also in catharsis.  Five survived, and so did I.

[keeroo92]

True North Pt 4

For @clevermentalitybeliever, thank you again for the delicious prompt! The requested spice will be in part five. Warning for a scene of abuse, Caleb’s an asshole.

Word count - 3,527

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

Enjoy!

__________________

---V---

He didn’t expect to get an answer. It was Thanksgiving, and you were probably busy with family and friends. He went back to work and did his best to focus, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what Nero told him.

Do I? Do I want more than friendship?

He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t like he would say no, but it seemed risky to admit to anything. Even to himself. How would it even work, if he did pursue you? As Nero said, would he have to find another job? What a hassle, especially after having worked so hard to improve here.

He sighed and reached for another item, a well-made sequin dress reminiscent of the 1920’s. Was it an original or a cheap replica? That was important to tell its value. He wasn’t as comfortable appraising clothing and took his time, inspecting the inner seams to determine if it had been made with a modern style of stitching. Inconclusive.

Were the sequins sewed on or glued? Ah, glued. Modern, then. Any glue from the actual era would have degraded by now. He scrawled a ten on the tag and hung it on the nearby rack. On to the next item, a tea set. Easy.

His thoughts returned to you as he autopiloted through the next group of items. It might not even matter what his own feelings were, considering your recent behavior. To sort out his own thoughts would only get him so far. There would be no easy resolution, regardless.

By the time he needed to head home or risk working overtime, he’d made little progress on his musings. The store itself showed more promise, the shelves stuffed to bursting with new items. He’d done well; most of the stock he’d assigned himself was complete. Enough for one day.

He locked the door and headed home, the rumble of his car a backdrop to his still troubled mind. Home held little appeal. To sit in silent loneliness until tumultuous rest claimed him as it did every night… Where else could he go? Everything was closed and the only person he knew in town was you.

To drive past couldn’t hurt…

He turned left, toward your home. A quick pass, then he’d leave. He wouldn’t linger.

But as he closed the last few yards, he slowed. A figure was sitting on the curb, hunched over as if in pain. His headlights illuminated your face and he hit the brakes. The startled look in your eyes was outshone by the darkness surrounding your left eye, and in a flash everything became crystal clear.

To see you in pain was unacceptable. He wanted you. He needed you. Friendship was not enough, not now. You were everything, and without you he was lost.

He parked and slammed the door as he strode to your side.

“Y/N? What are you doing out here? What happened?” V asked. You kept your face hidden in the hood of your sweatshirt, turned away in a belated attempt to hide. The growing darkness aided your efforts, the last few rays of sunlight vanishing as he waited for an answer. A light breeze rustled the trees lining the street. Orange and brown leaves skittered against the pavement, blown away in the cold night wind.

“I wanted some fresh air, I’m fine. You should go.”

A lie. It was too cold for sitting outside; if all you’d wanted was fresh air, an open window would’ve sufficed. Something more was going on. He sat on the curb, crossing his tattooed arms. A foot of open space separated you but it felt like miles.

“Fresh air sounds lovely, I’ll keep you company.”

You didn’t respond. Even as his fury called him to action, V stayed silent. This was too important to get right to let his emotions take the reins. Besides, he’d only seen the mark for an instant. Maybe he was mistaken.

He hoped he was.

You sighed heavily. “What are you doing here, V?”

He grunted, trying to think of an answer that wasn’t crossing the line. There was so much he wanted to say, but none of it felt appropriate. He needed some excuse that made sense, given the circumstances. Anything to maintain the already strained bond between you.

But there was nothing. No clever way out, no witty rejoinder that would explain his presence. Only the truth, and the truth was a risk.

The truth that Nero was right, and he did want more than friendship from you. How else could he explain the pure rage that filled him at the mere idea of you being hurt? The desire to sweep you into his arms and hold you close until it didn’t matter anymore? The urge to take you away from here and keep you safe? The need that ached in his heart to kiss you?

And I’m tired of hiding from it.

Pretending he didn’t have feelings for you had gotten him nowhere. If anything, it may have pushed you further away. It was time to try something different. Time to take a risk. He took a deep breath, preparing to be rejected. “I wanted to see you.”

You were silent. Still facing away, refusing to look at him as if it would burn you. The quiet stretched on, becoming uncomfortable. His heart was pounding, a combination of anger and excitement. If that bruise was from Caleb, he would not restrain himself again.

“Why?” you finally replied.

“Look at me and I’ll tell you everything.”

Your shoulders tensed and time seemed to stop. Ever so slowly, your face turned toward him. You held the side of your sweater close, hiding the left side of your face but even in shadow it was obvious. Swollen and purple flesh greeted V’s eyes and he gasped. He hadn’t been mistaken. If anything, it was worse than he thought.

“Caleb?”

Your face crumpled and you nodded, sniffling as the first tears spilled free. Hs rage was an inferno, swirling inside his chest and demanding satisfaction. But you needed him now. Caleb’s punishment could wait.

He reached out to you, biting his cheek to keep the storm at bay as he pulled you into his arms. You were shaking, sobbing as he rubbed your back and planned a myriad of ways to destroy your brother.

“I- it’s not his fault! He’s going through a rough time, h- he didn’t mean it!”

How could you justify this? Why on earth did you even try? He didn’t understand, Caleb was hurting you and you were defending him?

But that could wait, too.

“Come. You’re shivering. Is he still inside?”

You nodded.

“Then you can stay with me tonight, for as long as you need. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

You didn’t fight him as he rose, pulling you gently to the passenger seat of his car. He buckled you in and climbed into the driver’s seat, cranking the heat up as he pulled onto the main road and took you home.

---Reader---

Your face ached almost as much as your heart. How could Caleb have done this? The night started out so nicely, he’d seemed like his old self. Cracking jokes and smiling as he carved the small turkey. Just like old times. The two of you, together and happy.

Until your phone buzzed.

His smile had vanished like a switch had been flipped. The first stirrings of fear coiled in your belly as he glared at you, demanding to know who would dare interrupt the festivities. Why hadn’t you turned off the damn thing? What a stupid mistake.

“Who is it?” his cold voice asked.

“It doesn’t matter, does it? I’ll turn it off.”

You fidgeted. Whoever had texted could wait.

“Show me.”

Fuck. Please be spam, please be spam…

A single notification lit the screen and you gulped as you handed it over. There was no going back now, all you could do was endure what came next. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad, he seemed so happy a moment ago.

“V. I miss you. That’s that guy from a few months ago, isn’t it?”

You nodded, keeping your eyes locked on your full plate.

“What’s he miss? You been fucking him?! You gonna run off with that loser and leave me all alone!?”

Caleb was angry. You knew the signs. The tone of his voice, the way his shoulders spread, the tilt of his lips… He was beyond reason.

But you still tried.

“No, he’s just a friend! He works for me. I haven’t done anything! I’d never leave you behind, you know that!”

The first punch left you breathless and knocked you to the floor. You gasped as you felt something crack and curled inward to protect your core. Hopefully it would be over soon, all you had to do was not make him any angrier. You said nothing, only a quiet gasp or flinch marking your agony as he kept hitting you.

“You’re gonna fire him tomorrow, got it?”

Another hit, this time on your left cheek. He never hit your face, not once. You’d never seen Caleb so angry and you nodded, doing whatever it took to end the torment. The details could wait, for now all you wanted was for his hands to stop their assault.

Another punch, another crack. Tears rolled down your cheeks as the pain overwhelmed you. It was too much, you couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak.

Until at last, the hits stopped. Footsteps retreated and you heard Caleb’s bedroom door slam. He was gone. Still, you didn’t move until you were sure. Even then, it took three times as much effort to reach the curb and sit down, the aches screaming across your skin.

And then there he was. Concern and anger engraved in his features as he sat beside you, waiting for an answer you weren’t ready to give. It broke you, to see V and remember all the things you’d done to push him away. Yet here he was, a friend when you felt so very alone.

The dam shattered; the truth came out at last. His arms were so warm, so comforting and safe. It didn’t matter where he was taking you, all that mattered was it was him that made you feel like everything would be okay. Once it was Caleb, but no longer. Even thinking your brother’s name sent rivulets of terror across your skin.

How could I have been so blind?

Caleb had changed. He wasn’t the sweet little boy you grew up with anymore. Hoping for him to snap out of it was a fool’s errand. Whatever changed him wasn’t going away and it was time to let go, to admit your brother was gone. You closed your eyes and sighed, surrendering to the truth at last.

V pulled into a small parking lot. An apartment complex, by the look of it. You tried not to breathe too deeply as he parked the car and came to help you out. Every step sent a pulse of pain through you as he led you to a second story unit and unlocked the door.

“Apologies for the mess. Are you hungry?”

You shook your head. The thought of food held no appeal, all you wanted was sleep.

Inside, the apartment was cramped but welcoming. A grey couch in the living area, a dinette in the corner. A few pieces of tasteful art adorning the walls. And bookshelves, so many bookshelves…

“I’ll get you some ice. Make yourself at home,” V said.

You sat on the couch with a relieved sigh. It was comfortable, extremely soft and the cushions hugged your sore body like a lover. Within seconds you were struggling to stay awake.

“Here you are. Will this be enough?”

You opened your eyes to see his lean form bent over before you, arm outstretched with a trio of bags full of ice and a worried look in his eyes. It warmed your heart to see how much he cared, and you managed a small smile as you took the bags. Two went to your ribs, the third on your face.

“I’ll get some fresh sheets on the bed for you,” he said, but you grabbed his wrist to stop him.

“I’m too tired to care. Can I just sleep?”

“Of course.”

He led you to his bed and helped you get settled, averting his eyes as you took off your pants and bra. The sheets were soft on your skin and you hummed as you positioned yourself. He handed you the ice.

“I’ll be on the couch if you need anything. Sleep well.”

And then you were alone.

---V---

Sleep eluded him for hours. The couch was comfortable, the darkness complete. No noises kept him from rest.

Only his rage.

Anger was not new to him. In fact, quite the opposite. It had been a constant companion throughout his life, toward Mundus and Dante and Urizen and countless others. The boiling wrath was as familiar as his own face.

But this time was different.

Before, his fury had been only on his own behalf. He could manage it, keep it restrained and focus on whatever needed to be done. Push it from his thoughts and keep moving forward, or make the choice to embrace it and channel the energy into his enemies. To be angry on behalf of another was completely different.

He couldn’t ignore it, couldn’t subdue it or set it aside to deal with later. It demanded his attention and his focus despite how much he needed to remain calm. He refused to allow it to control him, not when you might need him. So he imagined how he would punish Caleb, picturing his vengeance to soothe the beast within.

It no longer mattered that Caleb could shatter his skull with a single punch. It didn’t matter that the man outweighed him by at least twenty stone. It was irrelevant that he didn’t have his familiars. All that mattered was making the man pay.

“V?”

Your hesitant voice interrupted his indulgences. You were standing in the doorway, a blanket wrapped around your waist as your conflicted eyes met his.

“What is it? Do you need something?”

You shuffled your feet and stared at the floor. “I need… I need to not feel alone. Can you join me?”

His eyes widened. “In bed?”

You nodded. He was surprised to find no arousal at the idea, too aware of the fragile state you were in to imagine anything inappropriate. You needed comfort, and he could provide it. He stood and followed you, keeping his distance as you settled into his bed once more. He lied beside you, careful not to touch you. It wasn’t easy, considering the size of his bed.

“Is this all right?” he asked.

You didn’t answer verbally, instead reaching out to take his hand in yours. It was the first time you’d initiated contact since the hug after watching Lord of the Rings, and it made his heart thrum happily. Even if this was all you ever wanted from him, it was enough for now to know you saw him as a source of comfort. The minutes passed in silence, and he wondered if you’d fallen asleep when you spoke.

“He told me to fire you.”

He froze.

“Why did you send that message? The one saying you missed me.”

How could he even begin to answer? It didn’t seem like the right time to admit his feelings. You needed time to heal. How could he justify adding another source of stress to your plate now?

Why is this all so complicated?

“It’s the truth. I do miss you.”

You turned to face him, grimacing and rearranging the ice as you moved. It was obvious it wasn’t just your face that was hurt.

I’m going to murder him.

“I miss you too,” you murmured. “I only pushed you away to keep Caleb’s secret.”

I’m going to destroy him.

“And now that the secret’s out?”

You sighed. Maybe it was too soon to ask such a weighted question, and guilt flooded his mind as you frowned.

“I don’t know yet.”

 ____________________________

He escorted you home early the next morning, after Caleb was already gone. You’d accepted his offer to stay for a while and together, the two of you packed the necessities. He couldn’t imagine how you must feel and cracked a few jokes to alleviate the tension. When he offered to help clean out your panty drawer, you had outright blushed. The entire process took only two hours, and by the time you locked the door to leave, your mood was almost normal.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. The shop was packed and it took all his focus to keep things running smoothly. You stayed in the back, overly aware of the barely concealed bruise on your face. It was best if you kept hidden until it was more healed. He checked on you as often as he could, reporting on sales and cracking a joke.

As the last few customers left, wide smiles on their features, he dismissed the last few staff members and started closing up. He was counting the last till when Caleb showed up.

He hadn’t yet locked the doors, so the man came right in. His thick frame cast a shadow over the counter and V turned to face him with his rage already swirling.

“Where’s Y/N, you little shit?” he growled.

V dropped his hands to his sides, surreptitiously grasping the handle of a metal bat. His hands broke out in sweat.

“She doesn’t want to see you. Ever.”

Caleb sneered and leaned forward, the threat clear. “What are you gonna do to stop me?”

He almost snapped his fingers to summon Nightmare, instinctively reaching for the strongest weapon in his arsenal despite knowing it was gone. He paused and raised the bat, making his own intentions known to the dwarven fool before him. He would not back down.

“I’ll match her every bruise tenfold. How dare you, she’s your family!”

The irony wasn’t lost on him. The things he’d done to his own kin made Caleb’s crimes look like child’s play.

I am not that man anymore.

Caleb snorted and started walking toward the back, where V knew you were waiting. He marched out from behind the counter and swung with all his strength, landing a blow to the loathsome swine’s ribcage with a satisfying crack. He crumpled to the floor, holding his side.

“Fuck you! It’s none of your damn business!”

V clenched his jaw and snarled, wrangling his self-control. If he didn’t get his anger in hand, he would beat the man to death. He held the bat out as if in preparation to strike again, holding his wrath back with every ounce of his will. Caleb flinched and he grinned darkly. The man was clearly unused to being on the receiving end.

“Get out. Never bother her again or I will kill you. That’s a promise.”

To his utter shock, Caleb’s expression fell into one of sorrow. He sat up and stared at the floor, still holding his injured side.

“She’s all I’ve got,” he said.

“Then you should’ve treated her with greater care. Leave.”

With a subdued sniffle, the man rose and did as he was told. Not until he heard a car pull out of the parking lot did V relax his hold and stow the bat under the counter once more. He locked the front door and went to check on you, his nerves still calming from the confrontation.

You were waiting for him in your small office, an indecipherable look on your face. Had you heard what happened? Had you seen? V’s heart was pounding erratically as he stepped closer.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

You jumped as if he’d startled you. “Yeah, yeah! Are you ready to go?”

V nodded, still unsure if he needed to be worried but following your lead. It was a struggle to hold his tongue, but he maintained his silence throughout the drive home. After a simple dinner he started preparing the couch for him to sleep, imagining your need for comfort to be a one-time thing until you stated otherwise. It didn’t take long.

“Can you stay with me again tonight?” your shy voice called out from the bathroom.

“Of course.”

That night it was much more difficult to keep his distance. He could smell you, feel the heat radiating off your skin beside him and it drove him mad. At one point, you moaned and snuggled his pillow and the sound alone send blood rushing to his groin. He bit his lip and solved math problems until his arousal faded.

It became the norm over the next few weeks, to the point he didn’t even bother setting up the couch. Every night, he lied awake and struggled to keep his hands to himself, reminding himself you were healing and that you were his boss. The bruises faded and he had to find other reasons, and every night he came a little bit closer to breaking down.

Part 5

[winterbaby89]

As Destiny Has Its Eyes On You Chapter 1/?

Summary: Princess Emma Swan of Misthaven has been prophesied as the Savior since before her birth. Now with the help of a Lieutenant from her past she is going to take her destiny into her own hands, to defeat the Evil Queen.

A/N: This is a MC I have been working on, for the better part of a year. It is inspired by 'Destiny has it's eyes on you' by the lovely EmilyBea on FF.net (@seriouslyhooked on Tumblr). 

With the overwhelming support and love from Emily and Allison  (@ilovemesomekillianjones On AO3, FF.net, and Tumblr) I have finally decided to publish it. I hope you enjoy, and if you haven't read the works from these lovely ladies, I highly recommend you do so. Allison has also graciously agreed to be my beta for this entire project. 

This story will eventually cross over into ‘M’ territory. 

Chapters 1-4 are based on chapters 1&2 of ‘Destiny Has It’s Eyes on You’

**Also a special shout out, and thank you to @hollyethecurious for making this lovely collage for my (now belated) birthday week reblogs.** 

**This chapter is a collaboration between EmilyBea and I.**

Line breaks indicate change in POV or Scene

Can also be found on: AO3, FF.net, and my fic page

Prologue

Time never passes for the three sisters as it does for the rest of the world. For them, it is far more fluid, pulling each corner of their sacred trifecta into a different segment of its currents. They deal with the past, the present and the future, and in the intersections of those states, they find their purpose. To keep the records of what had been, what is, and what would come to pass. Mostly their curse was to watch the world unfold in ways they could never influence, but this strand of the world's story was different, for the fate of an entire people rests on the shoulders of a young woman, a woman they'd been watching for some time. Her future was bright, her past nothing if not charmed, but the struggle to come was profound. Still, this girl with the golden hair and bright green eyes would overcome, that was written in the stars.

"She will undo a past of suffering for her people, and for her family. She is formed of that past, the product of true love that survived a storm of whirling chaos in the darkness." The first sister, guardian of the past said as they watched the image filled swirling pool of water before them.

"She will find her own love and with it, she will finally harness the power that's been trapped inside. Only with this can she make the future bright and hopeful once more." The sister of future confirmed, looking just the same. But several moments passed and soon the two sisters who had spoken turned to the third, distressed by her quiet. Preemptively the guardian of the present spoke.

"Almost there, just a few moments more … there. Now she is ready, she faces the journey ahead with courage and bravery. Now Emma Swan embraces her destiny."

"So it has been, so it is, and so it shall be." All three sisters echoed the chant together, sealing the bit of power they could to this story's heroine, but the guardian of the present added one last thing.

"Follow your heart, Emma Swan, for it will always be your light in the darkness."

Chapter 1

"No one should look so sad on their birthday, Emma."

Emma doesn't look at her mother directly, for she doesn't want her seeing the depth of the emotions she’s grappling with. If her mother saw them, it would mean there would be talking, and Emma just didn't think she could stomach a pep talk today.

First, there’s the sadness that her mother sees, sadness that she has been alive twenty-one years, is by all accounts an adult, and she knows relatively nothing of life beyond the small bubble of being a princess. To her parents, and to the people, she’s a breakable, fragile flower, a symbol of hope for a better future. But she is never allowed to prove herself, to taste what life outside is really like.

Next her sadness blends into anger and resentment for the way that she's been raised and the reason things are this way. The Evil Queen is relentless, never letting down the threat of devastation on Emma's family, and waging a decades long war that has ravaged their kingdoms and their people. Everyone is terrified of the Queen's magic, but not Emma. She believes in a simple truth that her fairy tutor Tinkerbelle always says, “When faced with true light, there is no way for darkness to win.” Emma has been training since she was a little girl to be that light, to make her magic strong enough to free this realm of the Queen's evil once and for all. Maybe then she can have her own life.

That thought brings to a head the third emotion swirling around inside Emma, guilt. She feels guilty for wanting more in a land where so many are struggling. Sure, she’s confined, she hasn't left the walls of the palace in four years thanks to her parents' fear that something would happen, but she’s safe, and loved and protected. She has food, shelter, and a palace to call home for heaven's sake, but she still wants more. Even though she mostly wants to save her kingdom, there is a part of her need to leave that is personal, and for that, Emma feels ashamed.

"I know you're not comfortable with the idea of a ball, Emma, but it's for the good of the kingdom. We've invited everyone, and it's a chance for them to see you and learn what we're fighting for."

Emma looks at her mother then, trying to see if she truly believes that.

"Doesn't it eat away at you? People dying every day, families torn apart just to try and protect us? It's not right! It's too much!"

"I would lay my life down to protect these people, Emma."

This is one of those moments where having Snow White as a mother is infuriating. She’s always so calm, so certain in her beliefs, and it rattles at the tensions building up in Emma, prompting her to strike back with truth. "Yet you won't let me do the same! I can help, Mother, I'm of more use to this kingdom outside these walls. I have no knack for diplomacy, I hate balls and affairs of that sort. I want to fight like you did, and this time we can win."

Her mother shakes her head, resolute as she always is that Emma's entrance into the fray of fighting isn't the answer. "It's too risky, Emma."

Emma knew she could continue to argue her point but it wouldn’t get her anywhere. There is no use in trying to make her see reason, Emma thought. Now all that is left to do is implement the plan she'd made many months ago. Tonight is the night that everything will change, and this too plays a part in the sadness that is set in Emma's features. Tonight I say goodbye to my family and fulfill the vow I made to myself.

She is going to be the Savior that is prophesied, and she is going to do it now.

"I should see Tink about today's lessons. I'll see you later." Emma moves past her mother and heads down the long corridor of the palace's East Wing and out a side entrance into the gardens where she spends most of her time. The rose blooms that mark her path are beautiful, but they hold little meaning for her today. I have to find Tink!

"Emma, over here."

From the side of the garden near a grove of trees, Emma sees her friend waving at her and she smiles. Try as she might, Tink is never discrete. Her voice is too loud, a tidbit too high, her motions are always drawing attention, but Emma loves her all the same. Tinkerbelle might be her teacher, but she’s also Emma's best friend and one true confidant within the palace walls. She can trust Tink with anything, and she’s trusted her with her plan to leave. "You know there's no need to hide. I can enact a barrier to guard what we're saying from the attendants on the lawn."

Tink shakes her head, looking a little preoccupied. "There's been a change in plan, Emma. I cannot leave with you. Fauna has been called to see Blue. She left earlier this afternoon. Without her, we have no one to create the diversion, so it has to be me."

Emma looks at her friend curiously, for her words simply don't compute. The plan had always been for Emma and Tink to go together, to find the young Lieutenant of the navy that she'd known as a girl, and ask for his help in undermining some of the hold Regina has over this whole realm. To go it alone is something Emma has never considered, it is the first time she second guesses her plan. "But I need you for so much of what we have to do."

Tink takes Emma's hand in hers and interrupts any other doubts that may arise. "Emma, you are more than ready for this. I haven't said it before, but there's something you should know. The world is not as fluid as we like to think, some things are simply meant to be. Just as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, so will you defeat Regina. It's the only destiny there is, and it's yours. You will save your kingdom. You will save all the people of Misthaven and the Enchanted Forest."

Emma nods, believing that Tink would never steer her wrong. "And what if Killian can't help me?"

Only now did Tink smile.

"Killian is it? I thought he was just Lieutenant Jones?"

Emma blushes, but she ignores the question about the man she'd met when she was just seventeen. Even if Tink knew Emma had always liked him, there is no time or room to harp on about it.

"Do I turn around with my tail between my legs if he says no? Everything depends on him, but what if he can't help? Or worse, what if he doesn't remember me?" That would be the worst torture indeed, she fretted. In all her days she's never met another man like him. He means so much to her, even though they'd only been in each others presence a few days’ time.

"Oh, he'll remember you. A boy like that doesn't forget a princess as striking as you."

Emma's heart pounds in her chest. Just the thought that she is going to see him again has her feeling more hope than she's long believed in. What will he be like now? Has he changed as much as I have, or is he the same humble sailor with the lovely heart and the lopsided smile that she remembers?

"We have very little time left, Emma. Sneaking you out will be a test of everything we've practiced, but it’s only the beginning." Tink pulls out her fairy wand and draws a lazy circle around Emma's person, while Emma just looks on, somewhat confused. "This spell will keep you untraceable from the likes of magic, even from Regina’s."

"What about you?"

Tink sighs, a bit of regret hanging in the sound. "It will shield you from all magical seers, Emma. Even me."

That thought makes her heart hurt. What will I do without Tink? Keep going. I have to keep going, even if I'm scared. The thought cements Emma's resolve to push forward. She can do this. She has to do this.

Tink has her hands poised on her hips in that bossy fashion that Emma considers Tink's signature move as she asks Emma if she is ready.

"Yes. I am ready." Emma reaffirms her resolve, as she responds to Tink’s inquiry.

As she looks into the mirror in her room, the one she's stared into at the start and end of each day, Emma barely recognizes herself. In a green satin dress, with a crown in her pinned up hair, she looks every bit the princess, but she also looks untouchable. She is no longer Emma, but an object, a token for the people and her parents to look at and dream of better days. Only Emma is done dreaming. She’s ready to fight for the life that she wants, and the life that all of the people of this realm deserve.

Earlier in the day, Emma had packed the bag she’d be taking with her, the one she and Tink had embellished with magic over these past few months. It was covered in protections and able to fit far more than it looked capable of within its depths. Inside the bag were essential tools she'd need and enough money to get her through her journey.

Now she has two more things to put inside, a map and a miniature portrait. With the map and the one thing she has of Killian’s, (a silver chain with a Swan pendant that he'd entrusted her to keep when they'd parted years ago), she'd found out where he was using a locator spell. The spell said he was in her kingdom's port, which was shocking. What were the odds, really? But it will make finding him far easier, she mused. The pendant meanwhile hangs around her neck, returned to its constant resting place once more. The miniature portrait is her parents and her little brother, she had painted it herself. In it they are happy, smiling and just as she most loves to picture them. It’s going to be nearly impossible to say goodbye to her parents tonight, to know that she may never return if things go wrong, but saying goodbye to Leo, her junior by ten years might be the hardest thing she has ever had to do. She loves her little brother more than anything, but this is just as much for him as it is for her. Leo has few memories of life before the walls went up and the gates were shuttered, and she hopes that if she succeeds, he can one day see the world for all it can be.

"You look beautiful, Emma."

Shifting her eyes from her dress to the place behind her in the mirror, Emma sees her father's smiling face and feels a sudden sense of calm. He always seems to find her when she’s hurting the most, and he’s nearly perfect at remedying any problems that come her way. "Thank you." She turns from the mirror to look at him straight on. She notices worry lines have set in through the course of his life, and the streaks of gray that are starting to touch his temples. Her father has lived a life of fighting, even if he’s also lived one of love, and time has taken its toll, perhaps faster than it might have in other circumstances. He is still very handsome, but he looks tired.

"I've been thinking of what to get you as a gift. I went through the ordinary ideas, a new horse, some more dresses, a new tiara …"

Emma hates all of those ideas, except maybe the horse, but her father's eyes tell her he's decided on something different.

At that moment he pulls a sword from behind his back and hands it to her. The handle is plated in gold, with distinctive markings, just like those on his own sword, but the sheath is different, designed specially for her with what looks like swans adorning it. "Then I remembered that my daughter is one of the best swordsmen in the kingdom, and I decided on this."

"It's stunning. And it's just like yours. Thank you!" Emma pulls the blade free of its sheath and marvels at the way it catches the firelight in her room. It’s light enough to wield with ease, and feels to be the exact proportions she favors. It is easily the most magnificent sword she has ever seen.

"Your mother and I have worked very hard to keep you and your brother out of all of this, but a day will likely come when that hold on the outside world breaks. When it does, I want you to remember one thing; we all fight for something, and that something is hope."

Emma nods, having heard years of similar professions about the power of believing. Still, tonight, it brings tears to her eyes. She will hold her father's words close, and hopefully they will be enough. "I'll remember."

He smiles and extends his arm to her. "Good, now let's go see about that ball."

Massive thank you to @artistic-writer for making this stunning piece, and thank you to @kmomof4 for commissioning it as my Christmas present.

Chapter Two

Tagging some lovelies that may enjoy:

@ilovemesomekillianjones, @seriouslyhooked, @xhookswenchx, @jennjenn615, @flslp87, @laschatzi, @icecubelotr44, @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious