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sophiehadder-blog · 6 years ago

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In Which Sophie Talks To Hats || (Sophink)

[plans gone wrong, familiar faces, owning up, and knowing what you can do]

This makes no sense! Part 1: In which Sophie leaves Swynlake in several directions at once Part 2: In which Tink goes to a meeting in disguise

[Recommended listening: I Go Crazy, Running up that Hill/Time after Time]

[tws: mentions of death, lil bit of violence, nm tbh]

@tink-bell

Grandma hadn’t done much sleeping the night before.

Whereas Sophie would’ve at least curled up around Tink, watched her breathe, Grandma contented herself to the chair in the far corner of the room, too all-consumed by her worry for the day to come.

(Sophie’s thoughts had snuck their way into her brain too) (far too long she had spent tucked away) (far weaker she had grown) (she couldn’t take control like she used to) (and now Sophie worried aloud) (reverberating along the insides of her own skull)

(what if the Witch caught on?) (what if this was an unnecessary risk they were taking?) (what if she recognized where Tink was from?) (what if she was sending Tink to her unfortunate demise?)

And the worst part about these awful thoughts, was that they weren’t unfounded. This was stupid, what they were doing--but if they could play this game quickly, they could be out of the city before the sun set again. It was a measured risk, you see, and one that Tink was willing to make for Sophie’s sake.

Grandma didn’t know what the girl had done to deserve someone like her. It was amazing, truly.

When the sun rose over the rooftops of Ingary, Grandma pretending that she had gotten up from bed early, busying herself in the bathroom. She made herself up, chose her finest dress, and skirted out of the way when Tink went in to get ready as well. Time seemed to pass by so quickly, their last couple moments together fleeting. Suddenly Grandma was seeing Tink off with a kiss on the cheek.

There was lingering dread in her stomach as she watched the other girl walk down the street until swallowed up by the buildings.

She tried not to think about it.

(she did anyway) (in that terrible selfish way)

One by one, she collected their articles from around the room, packing them up in their minimal luggage. She’d go down and check out at quarter past eleven, making sure to make it obvious that she wasn’t in a rush, and then the plan was to drop off the luggage at a lock box at the train station and wait for Tink at their designated spot.

If all went well, Tink would meet her there, they’d run to the station, and buy tickets for the next train out of town. It didn’t matter where it went--the goal was to lay low for a bit. Not get right back to Swynlake. Maybe, finally, they could vacation. Maybe knowing that things were going to get better would let Sophie relax.

Only time could tell.

Just as she collected the key from the mantel, the bags rose from the floor and floated lazily towards the door, bumping into it and floating a couple inches back in waiting. Her lips pressed into a thin smile. Right. Time to go.

Mrs. Bell! Good morning! Read the letters at the bottom of the stairs. Out of curtesy, Grandma ducked underneath them as she made her way over to the counter and a smiling Winthrop.

Good morning, yes, of course. She thought.

And it was a good morning--far too lovely out for the feeling she carried in her chest, but that wasn’t up to her. Winthrop smiled all the way through their brief conversation, and then she was left to carry her bags out. See that, now, was up to her.

It was a fairly short walk to the train station, where she paid two euro for a box, stashing both their cases, and then made her way out.

The rendez-vous point was in the main square. There were already decorations out in preparation for the fall festival, and so among the tourists milling about and the locals trying to go about their Tuesdays, Grandma was just another face in the crowd.

She couldn’t remember the last time she hadn’t just wanted to be a face in the crowd, let alone the last time she had gone somewhere and willingly announced herself. Maude would--Maude had grand entrances like that. She’d burst in with a grin and a plan, and Sophie had just never ever inherited any of that. It had to be a trait of her mother’s. She couldn’t really remember those, and her father was too quiet of a man for it to be from him. It was easy to see, but painful to think about. Especially when she was this close to the shop.

It’d be easy to slip away from the little cafe where she sat and go visit. Pretend she wasn’t anyone. Maybe wordlessly buy a hat.

But she had to wait in case Tink came back.

When the wait got long, she bought herself a second tea.

When the lunch crowd rolled in, she was grateful for her older appearance, giving her something of the clueless look.

“Everything alright?” Asked the waiter.

Grandma barely raised her eyebrows, nodding. “Though--could I get another tea, please, thank you.”

And that was that.

(meanwhile Sophie ran rampant inside her brain) (this was too long) (there was no reason Tink should be gone this long) (something had to have happened) (the Witch was cunning) (she should’ve never let her go alone) (Howl had told them to stick together and she was too fucking stupid to listen) (Tink was going to get hurt, and it was all her fault) (this curse would never be broken) (and she’d lose the person she cared most about in the process) (she wouldn’t even be able to show her face in Swynlake again after this) (people would wonder) (Sophie would have to lay low) (she could never be herself again) (Grandma would be a permanent fixture) (goodbye Sophie Hadder) (and goodnight)

As the afternoon ticked forwards, and the lunch crowd petered out, Grandma became acutely aware of the looks she was getting from the staff. An old lady spending her mornings in a little cafe wasn’t unheard of, but four hours was a long time, wasn’t it? And she hadn’t even thought to bring a book. Was she ill? Lost? Confused? It wasn’t the kind of impression Grandma wanted to be leaving, considering the plan had be to leave no impression at all.

Leave--was the obvious answer. It built in obviousness like the sweat on her brow. Leave, Sophie said. Something’s wrong, can’t you feel that something’s wrong?

She could. It felt like a stiff wind blowing through the door of the cafe as someone entered. Grandma looked back over her shoulder, prepared for the worst, ready to run if the Witch came in, hunting her down, but it was just--Maude.

Maude, looking older than she ever had, looking wiser, too, a single streak of grey running down the front of her hair. Just like dad. It was still short, short like it always had been, and she looked--god, so tired.

Grandma’s heart ached, at how close she was. How easy it’d be to reach out, to say hello, and how all at once, impossible it was.

They were so close to the ending that she could see the finish line standing right in front of her, waiting in line to order a coffee, and yet there was still so much in her way.

She was gonna go find Tink.

Her chair creaked backwards, and she finally stood, barely noticing the sitting aches as she nodded her thanks to the waitress and made her way out the door without so much as a second look back at Maude. Her confidence could not waiver. Not right now.

By the time she found herself in front of the Witch’s shop, the sun had started to descend as if a counterpoint to Grandma’s own rising anxieties. It was a terrible balancing game, is what it was. The longer she waited, the worst it would get.

Her shoe made a hollow sound on the first step, and the door swung open.

(this was a bad idea) (her stupidity had gotten her in this mess) (if she had just listened) (if she had just been brave enough to go herself the first time) (if she hadn’t been so willing to put Tink in harm’s way) (stupid) (stupid) (stupid) (stupid)

Even from the sidewalk, Grandma could see that the interior of the townhouse extended far beyond the physical restraints of the building it was supposed to encompass. A sorcerer’s trick--like Howl’s. It meant even if she tried to get out once she was in, there’d be no saying where that door would spit her back out.

(stupid) (stupid) (stupid) (stupid) (stupid)

Grandma walked up, and, as expected, the moment she stepped past the threshold, the door closed behind her. Not loudly with a bang, but rather a slow, mocking creak.

“Tink?” She called out, hovering in the doorway just a moment before pressing on. The hall was dark, light only by the sun filtering through the curtains. Dust hung in the air, speckling the way forwards. The house was quiet save for Grandma’s own footsteps and a--ringing somewhere off in the distance.

Seeing as she had apparently thrown subtlety out the window, it was as good of a place as any to start.

Continuing down the hall, rooms opened up along the side with every door she passed. A library as tall as the sky was high, a dining room with tables set for forty, a grand atrium, with windows letting in all the afternoon light, all of them empty and covered in the same layer of dust as everything else.

Looked like the Witch hadn’t entertained company in a long time. No surprise with her manners, Grandma thought. Though she made sure not to think it too loud. Witches, you know?

As Grandma approached the last set of doors at the end of the hallway, it was clear it was the only place the ringing could be coming from.

Stopping, she peered as best as she could through the crack in the door.

It swung open as soon as she got her nose near it. Should’ve seen that one coming.

(stupid) (stupid) (stupid) (stupid) (stupid)

“Sophie, dear. Why don’t you come have a drink?” Said the Witch, though Grandma couldn’t make her out amongst the chairs. A full bar had opened up in front of her, great hearths on either end, decorated in dark woods and brass embellishments. Any darker and she would’ve sworn she was in the Deer.

She stepped in, the door closed behind her, this time with a mighty bam.

“I’ve no interest in a drink.” Grandma replied, cautious as ever.

“Well that’s rude, what are you doing in a bar, then?”

“I’ve come to--to collect my fairy.”

“Your fairy?” Cackled the Witch, Grandma whipped her head around in an attempt to make out where the sound was coming from. “She seems to be quite enjoying herself here, I dare to say you don’t have any authority.”

The Witch stood, creaking the chair she had been sitting on and drawing Grandma’s attention to one of the hearth’s on the far side of the room. The ringing seemed to be coming from there as well, but she couldn’t make out what it was.

“Good god. Look at you. I really--wow, I really did a good job there, didn’t I? You don’t look a day over a hundred.” Said the Witch as she paced towards Grandma. Instead of skirting around chairs, the chairs made room for her, clearing a straight path right to Grandma, who didn’t budge. “No wonder you went to Howl to clear this up, not that it worked, did it?”

“You know what happened--”

“Yes! Oh yes! I do! It was wonderful, truly, I had a good laugh afterwards.” She brought a hand to her chest, as if mimicking sincerity. “Going to Howl to break a curse, I love it. It’s novel really. I was nearly certain you’d never come back, actually. Why are you here?”

In a flash, the Witch held up a finger.

“Another rhetorical. I know why. You were counting on this, weren’t you?”

Grandma didn’t even need to look at the form in her hand to know that the amulet was there.

“I was, and I will be needing it back.” Grandma replied.

The Witch’s face twisted in confusion, if only for a brief moment.

“You’re no fun. But, see, I have something to fix that.” The Witch said.

Grandma shivered, though the room was unbearably hot, and by the time she had begun to realize what was going on, the Witch smiled.

“Now that’s much better! She giveth and she taketh away--now, girl, why don’t you tell me what you want with that lovely stutter of yours, and we’ll see how easy it is to go around demanding things.”

Sophie clutched at her skirt, hands curling into the fabric on instinct to stop her from looking so visibly shaken. It was a little tactic--in fact the only one she had left now that their plan had been blown wide open.

“I-I-I- u-um… Y-You-- you-- you-- you-- y-you’re g-going t-to g-give m-me the-- the-- the-- the--”

The Witch grimaced.

“I give you the amulet and then what? You take it back to your little Howl, and he breaks the curse, and you live happily ever after? Move back in with your sisters?” She scoffed. “You think everything’s well and good now? That if you were to stay I’d just leave you alone?”

(stupid) (she was stupid) (she had been thinking exactly that) (cause she was an optimistic fool) (if she tricked the Witch there’d be a bounty on her head) (as if there hadn’t already been one there) (all she was doing was putting her family in more danger) (wasn’t she?)

The Witch could see these thoughts writhing around in Sophie’s head, they peeked out of ears like a black fog, dampened the brightness of the room, all the while thrilling the Witch where she stood. Self-doubt was a beautiful thing, you see, and powerful no less.

Sophie watched as she swung the amulet in her hand lazily, flaunting her comfort, her control.

It stopped--all of a sudden, and when Sophie looked away from it, the Witch’s eyes were piercing right into her, staring her down with the fury of a centuries old grudge. It was nearly enough to make her turn around right then and there, but she found that she couldn’t move.

“Do you even know why I cursed you in the first place?” Crowed the Witch.

That was another way to undo a curse. Not any curse, mind you, curses of passion couldn’t be undone this way, especially if the motives were obvious, but it was good insight all the same. Insight that Sophie did not have.

She thought back to that dreadful night. She tried to piece together something, anything the Witch had been saying, but it had been buried too far down for her to know.

(she had waited too long) (she hadn’t written anything down) (she had a plan for this) (but she hadn’t taken into account the last two years) (what she might’ve lost in that time)

Sophie didn’t know, and by the look in her eyes, the Witch could tell. She closed her hand around the amulet, scowling.

“Of course you don’t.”

“I-It d-doesn’t m-matter if-- if-- if-- if-- what’s d-done is d-do--”

“It doesn’t matter?” Barked the Witch. “I wish it didn’t matter. I wish what was done is done--but it’s not. And it does. Which is why I can’t let you leave with this.” She opened her hand once more, the amulet glinting in the light. She took a step forwards then, turning her head slightly as if to peer at Sophie from another angle, taking her all in. “I have a job to do. And clearly you don’t understand that for as long as you’re here, I am not doing my job.”

She paused then, shaking her head.

“Do you know why your mother died?”

Sophie didn’t move.

(childbirth) (she had gotten sick) (and died because of childbirth) (hadn’t she?) (Maude had taken a toll on her body) (she was sick) (she had just gotten sick) (right?)

“Magic is a… Sensitive thing, here in Ingary, girl, and this town does a fine job of hiding it, but maintaining a balance is a difficult thing. No one family can be too powerful. No one person can have too much control. The Hadders had been a blip on our radar for a long time--and with the birth of your sister, that blip suddenly grew tenfold. Your mother wasn’t meant to die, that’s never the goal, she was just standing in the way of balance. ”

Now imagine a mother, a sorceress by trade with two beautiful girls. Two daughters is a dangerous thing in itself, but grant them the abilities of their family line, and suddenly they’re not just a family. For a town like Ingary, power like that is a danger. It can lead to unfortunate thins, and in the end, sometimes it’s just better to nip things at the bud before they can devolve.

On the third day of Maude’s little life, the Witch of the Waste paid a visit to Angele Hadder in the hospital.

“Your child.” She’d said. “The council sent me about your child.”

“No.” Angele replied. “You won’t take her from me--I won’t let you.”

“Not her.” The Witch had corrected. “I don’t want her. Just her magic.”

“Take mine instead.”

Whether the outcome was planned or not, balanced had been achieved. With Maude and Sophie left, the Hadder blip had been brought back down to size.

“Y-You k-killed h-her.” Sophie bit out.

“I took her magic.” The Witch replied. “If she had listened, she’d still be here.”

(Angele was like Maude) (they both had a bite) (a ferociousness) (they could take the Witch) (why was Sophie the one standing here) (attempting this of all things)

“S-so-- so-- so-- w-why c-come after me?”

“It was never my plan.” The Witch continued, taking another step forwards. “That sister of yours was always too big for her britches. She was fine for a while, but now more so than ever, she’s progressing at an alarming rate. I needed to knock her down a peg before your family became dangerous. As it happened--the magic was shared. A Hadder’s a Hadder. If I can’t take hers, there’s always yours. And that’s just what I plan to do once i rid myself of this amulet, do you understand that, girl? Or must I repeat myself? I’m not looking for a fight, but if you are, know that you won’t win.”

(she wouldn’t) (it was true) (Sophie was weak) (and she wa pathetic) (and most of all, she was scared) (scared of what the Witch would do to finish her job) (scared of what this would mean for her) (for her sister)

(at the end of the day) (Sophie could never do much) (it was why she made hats) (it was why she had run away)

(it was why she was always destined to fail)

The Witch would do as she pleased no matter what Sophie tried.

The Witch is set in her ways, dear, said Grandma, deep down in the recesses of her mind. Then again--maybe it was just Sophie. That’s not a bad thing.

Sophie blinked.

“You-- you-- you d-don’t want t-to destroy t-that amulet.” She said.

“And why not?” Replied the Witch, raising one perfectly manicured eyebrow.

“B-Because it’s-- it’s-- it’s--d-dangerous. Volatile. It’ll--it’ll-- h-hurt you.”

The Witch rolled her eyes, turning away from Sophie completely then, and moving towards the bar. One of the ashtrays slid from the far end towards her.

“It’s-- it’s-- it’s-- t-terribly powerful!” Continued Sophie. “It’ll turn you-- you-- you-- you-- straight to d-dust if you l-let all of that p-power o-out.”

“Shut up, girl.” Said the Witch, setting the amulet down on the bar and reaching for the ashtray.

“D-Dangerous.” Sophie repeated. “Powerful. Volatile. Explosive. Dangerous. Powerful. Volatile. Explosive.”

The Witch brought the ashtray down on the amulet and it shattered, sending out a shockwave of energy.

Thrown backwards, Sophie hit the wall with a heavy thud--and she lay pinned there for one, two, three, four moments until the last of the blast had passed.

At first, she couldn’t see. Her eyes at first closed, and then obscured with such heavy watering that the room was blurry into a mist-like cloud. All she could see was the light coming in through the now-open window.

I’ve died, she thought, this is it.

And then she sucked in a ragged breath, both of her lungs screaming, aching for air. It was mostly dust, at first, but it cleared after dragging a sleeve over her face. Some parts were raw with cuts, but she was most certainly, most definitely alive.

And if her eyes were still any good at all--the Witch was not.

The whole room was covered in greyish, brownish dust, from the bartop, to the chairs, to the crumpled pile of clothes on the floor.

The room was deadly quiet now as Sophie rose to her feet, the blast having stopped all of the clocks on the walls, and seemingly stunned any noise coming from outside. It was quiet in her head, too. No elderly cheering to be found. Not a single syllable of congratulations. It was still, save for Sophie’s own breathing, and that… Ringing from before. It was clear that it was coming from where the Witch had once sat.

In front of the fireplace was a nook meant for conversations-- a couple chairs, a table in the middle, and a glass with a slowly spinning spoon, keeping pace to all of the madness. Next to it: a fairy, transfixed.

Tink was dusty, but she was live. Sophie could see her breathing. Tink was alive. Sophie was alive. The Witch was dead. She was dead, and neither of them were and she had done it. It was done. They were done.

Sophie moved forwards, and carefully plucked the spoon from the glass. Nothing natural moved on it’s own like that, and frankly, Sophie didn’t want anything to do with it. The effect was almost immediate.

“Tink?” She said. “A-Are you-- you-- you-- you okay? I-It’s done-- i-it’s over.”

#c: Tink Bell #saga: the end begins #t-t-t-t-t-thats all folks!

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hakunamy-tatas-blog · 7 years ago

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Graduation || Timink

Timon had done a fucking shit ton to get to this point in her life. She’d left home, she’d worked her ass off - both in school and at work - for four years, she’d put up with all kinds of bullshit, and finally she got to reap the rewards. It was about fucking time. As she was called up to walk the stage, Timon was absolutely beaming, accepting her scroll gratefully and turning back to the crowd momentarily to make eye contact with Tink, winking happily. Her friend had come out to support her, and she couldn’t be more grateful for that.

After everything was over and everyone else was going to find family, Timon ran over to Tink, sweeping her up in a tight hug. “I’m fucking done with that hell!”

#c: Tink Bell #c: Timon Suricate #bdrp #p: Graduation

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sionnachrua-blog · 8 years ago

Conversation

Texts || (To Tink and Shego)

Tod: Hey, so, you know that whole embracing my powers thing?

Tod: Well, I'm giving it a shot.

#c: Tod Sionnach #c: Tink Bell #c: Sheila Go #bdrp #p: texts

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walviemort · 3 years ago

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Fairy Godfather, part 1

Summary: The fairies have asked a monumental favor of Killian: be the surrogate for their babies—all nine of them. He's been pregnant before, but this? This is a whole other level. What has he gotten himself into? And just how big will he get?

A/N: As usual, the muse has gone off and done whatever it wants to do, rather than, y'know, work on a WIP. Alas. The idea for this came about when I sent @sancocnutclub this picture of a woman who was supposedly pregnant with 10 babies; it has since come out as a hoax, but dang—her BUMP. Subsequent doodling and headcanoning brought about this story (also partly inspired by a conversation with SherlockianWhovian a while back), and here we are! I should note that this also takes place after a couple of past one-shots, which can be found here and here. Hope you like it!

rated T / 3k words / AO3

Of all the requests put in front of Killian in his long life, this was by far the oddest.

“You want me...to carry babies...for how many of you?” he asked, trying to wrap his head around the query.

“Nine,” Blue answered matter-of-factly. “Normally, it wouldn’t be so many, but we’re past due for a brood. There was just no one around who we thought could handle it.”

“And he can?” Emma was at his side in the booth at Granny’s, where Blue and Tink had requested to meet with them. Their daughter, Hope, was sitting in the high chair at the end of the table, making a mess of some oatmeal.

“It helps if they’ve given birth before,” Tink replied. Well, he had done that—not intentionally, but he had been the one to carry and birth Hope, who was 10 months old now.

And while it had ended up being a beautiful experience, he obviously had reservations. “Yes, but that was only one baby—and you genuinely think I can handle nine?”

“We do,” Blue confirmed. “And we’d obviously provide as much help as we can.”

“It also wouldn’t be like a normal human pregnancy,” Tink added. “No morning sickness or cravings, or anything like that.”

“No, I’d just be massive,” he sighed; memories of his own perceived whale-like proportions toward the end of his pregnancy with Hope were still fresh; this had potential to put that to shame.

“Well, fairy newborns are smaller than the average human infant—less than 4 pounds. But yes, you would go full term.” Blue was awfully clinical in her statements.

Killian glanced down at his midsection, which had yet to fully regain its previous flatness, and he doubted it ever would. Especially not if he agreed to this. “I’m really your only option?” he asked again. “What about David?”

“It’s too soon,” Blue answered. David gave birth a couple months prior to their daughter Ruth, and as promised, Killian was at his side. However, he’d had to have a C-section, which slowed his recovery a bit compared to Killian’s. “And it must be done at the upcoming winter solstice, or we’ll have to wait another few years.”

Killian was about to suggest that until Tink jumped in. “Plus, you kind of still owe us for the whole hat thing.”

“That was the Dark One and you know it,” Emma snapped back, but they both knew Killian still harbored a fair amount of guilt over that. It was a low blow on their part, but not undeserved.

She most likely saw the acceptance in his eyes when they exchanged a glance, but he also saw she wasn’t quite there. “Does it really have to be a guy?” she enquired, turning back to the fairies. “I mean, there are lots of women here who meet your criteria, too.”

“It does,” they said simultaneously, though Tink at least looked somewhat apologetic.

Emma was ready to protest again, but he put his hand over hers on the table and told her with a look that it was okay. She reclined in her seat while he turned back to the pair. “I’ll agree, but with one condition: you’ll have to help pick up my slack—around town and at home,” he said evenly. He was sure he’d get to a point when it wasn’t feasible for him to continue as deputy, or at the library, or even keep up with Hope, who was dangerously close to walking.

“Actually, one more,” Emma added. “He’s not on the hook for any, like, actual fatherhood, right? You won’t be coming after him for child support or anything?”

“No, he's simply the surrogate,” Blue confirmed.

“And we’ll definitely help out—whatever you need,” Tink added.

Emma gave him a tentative but supportive look. “Then I’ll do it,” he told them.

“Excellent,” Blue stated with less enthusiasm than he expected. “We’ll send you more information soon, but the most important thing is to be at the convent next Saturday. Green,” she then turned to Tink, “come; we have much to do to prepare.” (Which was a polite way of asking her to slide out of the booth first.)

Tink rolled her eyes and stood up. “I’ll text you,” she said, and the two flitted out of the diner.

Killian and Emma were silent for a long moment after they left, other than making sure some oatmeal actually ended up in Hope’s mouth.

Emma started to clean up the baby and then said, “I know it’s too late now, but are you sure about this?”

“Not entirely,” he confessed, “but they were right—I do owe them.”

“You don’t,” Emma said matter-of-factly, “even though I know you think you do.” She wiped the mess off Hope’s face. “But if this will finally relieve some of that guilt, then I get it, and I’ll support you.”

“Thank you, love,” he sighed, and pressed a kiss to her temple. “I’m going to need it, I think.”

“Oh, you are,” she said wryly. “And you should probably start planning how you’ll tell my dad.”

“Bloody hell,” he cursed, then dragged a hand down his face. “He’s going to be relentless.” What had been playful ribbing during their respective pregnancies was likely about to be amplified.

“Maybe you can talk to Belle? See if she knows anything on what to expect? Pun not intended.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” he agreed, then followed Emma as she slipped out of the booth. He pulled Hope from the high chair and settled her in his left arm, then grabbed her diaper bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Guess we’ll pick her brain now. See you later.” They kissed farewell and headed off to their respective jobs that day—Emma at the station, Killian at the library, where he’d taken something of an assistant librarian position (and could keep an eye on Hope and her “cousin” Gideon in between reshelving and assisting patrons).

Belle was surprised when he told him about the morning’s turn of events, but then got an almost academic excitement. “I can’t say I know much about their physiology, and I didn’t know this about their reproduction, but let’s see if we have anything.”

She dove into research while he took care of normal library functions, but by midday, didn’t have much to show for it.

“They’re so secretive! Obviously their existence is documented, and there’s mention of someone other than Blue being in charge at some point in the past, and that their young mature faster than average, but that’s it. What did they tell you?”

“Not much,” he answered, relaying what little he’d been told. “But they did call it a ‘brood’, so it sounds like multiples are common. Just not quite so many.”

“Do you think they’d let me take notes?” she wondered. “It’s not like there's any research journals on magical beings I could submit a paper to, but more for my own study.”

“If they don’t let you, I won’t do it,” he commented. “Do you still have everything from last time?” She’d done quite a bit of documentation on his first pregnancy, considering it was the product of a misunderstood spell.

“Of course; David’s, too.” Then she laughed. “Of all the things I imagined becoming an expert in, magical male pregnancy was not one of them.”

“Someone had to,” he countered.

“That’s true!”

---------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the week was fairly uneventful, save for a text from Tink telling them when to arrive at the convent, and to make sure he ate lots of greens and wore something comfortable (which he took to mean stretchy). And they assented to Belle’s presence, too, which didn’t change anything but did make him feel more at ease.

David was something between amused and horrified about what Killian had agreed to, but ultimately glad they hadn’t asked him.

The afternoon of the solstice, before they headed to the convent, Belle took some notes and measurements of Killian as a baseline for her study—and honestly, he was kind of glad, if the proportions on this were going to be as overlarge as he expected. “How big do they make those maternity pants?” he asked Emma as Belle was making note of his waist size (not significantly larger than it used to be, he was at least proud to say).

Emma’s eyes grew large. “I don’t know; I think the fairies are gonna have to help with that one.”

“Let’s hope that’s a ways off, then,” he settled.

They dropped Hope off at Snow and David’s on their way to the convent, where they were greeted by Blue herself. She ushered them in without a word, and a couple other fairies were there to gather their belongings, before Blue guided them further into the building. Killian was both surprised and not to see that they were all in their traditional attire, though he was a bit shocked that they were all still large and not the miniscule size they were known for. Belle had had a similar question a few days ago; they’d ask at some point.

They were led into a large, candlelit room, where Tink suddenly appeared in front of him. “Drink this,” she commanded, holding a mug of steaming liquid, “and take off your shirt.”

“Is that necessary?” he asked as he took the mug.

“I mean, I already know what’s under there, so I wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t,” she countered with a wink.

He complied with a sigh. The drink was a potion of some sort, he gathered almost immediately; a warm, tingly feeling took over his body as he drank it, eventually settling in his stomach, which made sense. Weirdly, though, when he removed his tshirt, there was a slight glow under the skin of his abdomen. (Belle was off to the side, furiously taking notes; Emma was next to her, trying to keep a straight face and surreptitiously taking pictures.)

Blue was watching a clock, and when it struck a seemingly random time—the peak of the solstice—she began chanting in a tongue he didn’t quite recognize, with others gradually joining in and forming a circle around him. The glow under his skin got brighter, especially in his midsection, although he didn’t feel any different—yet.

“Human,” Blue finally addressed him. “You have agreed to be the vessel for our young. Do you promise to protect them with your life, and care for them until they are ready to join our world?”

“I...yes,” he answered, as confidently as he could manage. “I will.”

Blue continued briefly in the foreign tongue, as did the others. “Now, let the gravidation commence.”

One of the fairies approached him with her hands cupped as the rest continued to chant; she was dressed all in pink, and he thought he’d seen her spending time with Grumpy on occasion. As she got closer, he saw a small ball of pink light pulsing her palm that she was murmuring to, until she was close enough to touch him.

And she did, guiding the ball of light toward his navel and then—it disappeared inside him as she pressed her hands against his stomach. He felt a small twinge inside as it settled within, but no pain—just a spark. The glow from his midsection briefly took on a pinkish hue, but then returned to the white color it had been emanating.

Each of the nine fairies did the same thing, one by one. He did wonder how it was decided who would be reproducing, given that there were far more than nine fairies present, but that was another question for a later date. They appeared before him in all colors of the spectrum—purple, seafoam, navy, yellow, fuschia—and then Tiger Lily’s deep orange joined the array of hues, followed by Tink’s bright green.

Blue was the last to approach, and her orb seemed to be the biggest of them all, which he supposed was no surprise. However, her hands lingered on his abdomen and she continued to chant, the intensity and volume increasing as everyone’s voices joined in.

He suddenly felt a slight cramp within—still nothing painful, but like his insides were being gently rearranged, which they probably were. Then his stomach glowed brighter, casting all the colors of the fairies whose offspring he was now carrying around the room.

“Gods above, watch over this man; let he be exalted among the fairies, and let no harm befall him nor our bairns,” Blue called out with a sense of finality.

The glow grew brighter, until it was too bright for him to look at, but then was gone in a flash. The fairies gave a collective hum that seemed to resolve the ceremony, and then began to file out of the room, although Tink approached and wrapped him in a soft robe.

He felt...he wasn’t sure. Content, at the very least, but also like he might float away were it not for the sensation of a weight within him holding him down. His hand drifted to his midsection, and if he wasn’t mistaken, it was ever so slightly rounder than it was before he arrived; with nine babies in there, he supposed that made sense. He couldn’t feel any sensations of kicking yet, but it was probably too early—and honestly, he still kind of tingled all over. The analytical side of him wondered where they would be considered in their development relative to a human fetus—and if they’d even show up on an ultrasound.

“How are you doing, Captain?” Blue was still in front of him, but in the afterglow (literally) of the spell, he’d lost sense of anything else around him.

“I’m good,” he answered. “Possibly too good.”

Blue gave a small, knowing smile. “That tends to happen. Come, let’s sit; you must have more questions.” She gestured toward the door the fairies had exited out of and then moved toward it herself, expecting him to follow.

Emma was suddenly at his side, and Belle not far behind. “You okay?” she asked, brow furrowed in concern.

“I seem to be,” he replied. “Have I ever told you how bloody beautiful you are?”

She grinned, amused. “Many times. What was in that cup?”

“Potion of some sort,” he shrugged as she started pushing him in the direction of the door. “Why?”

“Seemed like some really potent potables,” she quipped. Yeah, he did feel a little drunk.

He somehow ended up on a very plush couch, with Emma on one side and Belle on the other, sitting across from Blue, Tink, and Tiger Lily. Someone gave him a glass of water, and there was food on a coffee table, but he wasn’t much hungry.

Honestly, he was mostly fascinated with the stained glass windows in the room, and with inspecting whatever was going on in his stomach, until he did hear Belle ask a pertinent question:

“So why men?”

“Well, we’re all women,” Blue answered. “It does take two.”

“But I thought you said he was just a surrogate,” Emma countered. “Are these actually his babies? Because we didn’t agree to that.”

“No, they’re not; I suppose in modern terms, you’d say that we reproduce asexually. But nature still seems to demand the involvement of a man and a woman. So that’s why a willing male carries the brood.”

“Are there always so many?” Belle asked.

“No; usually only 4 or 5. But no one was available at the last solstice.”

Killian didn’t really pay attention to the next several questions regarding fairy reproduction—he’d read Belle’s notes later when he was a bit more focused—but he did eventually get to interject one of his own: “Why are you big right now, though? And why aren’t the babies going to be tiny?”

The fairies chuckled—he supposed his statement wasn’t as coherent as it sounded in his head—but still replied. “Shrinking is an acquired skill,” Tink said. “That’s why we weren’t small when we didn’t have our powers,” she explained, nodding at Tiger Lily.

“But once we learn, it’s our preferred size,” Blue added. “It’s easier to do our job then.”

That made sense.

“So, what else can he expect,” Emma asked. “I know you said it’d be different, but how much?”

“Well, the size, obviously—and you will still gain weight to support that,” Blue explained. “Increased appetite is to be expected, but no cravings or anything like that.”

“Your hormones will be altered, similar to a normal pregnancy,” Tiger Lily added. “But that just helps the body prepare for birth.”

“Bloody hell, what will that be like?” he wondered aloud.

“Nowhere near as difficult,” Blue laughed.

“Wait—if my hormones are affected…” He trailed off, remembering how much those threw him for a loop last time—particularly, certain desires. “I can still have sex, right?”

Emma covered her face with her hands at his blunt question, but it was important.

“Of course,” Blue said plainly. “Do whatever you need to—within reason, of course.”

“Although, don’t forget—you’ll be at least twice as big as last time,” Tink reminded. “At least. That might make it harder.”

More difficult, maybe, but it hadn’t altered either person’s desires the last time around. He turned to give Emma (what he thought was) a salacious look, but she just burst into giggles.

“Just—listen to your body,” Blue finally said. “For everything: rest, food, activity. The spell you drank will last the whole pregnancy and keep things going. We trust you, though.”

“I’ll guard them with my life,” he said, suddenly emotional, covering his stomach with his hand.

“Aaaand there’s the hormones,” Emma commented. “Come on; let’s get you home.”

He was suddenly very sleepy. “Aye; that’s a good idea.”

“Yes, he’s going to be tired the next couple of days,” Blue added. “But otherwise—see you in 40 weeks.”

Emma wrapped her arm around him, said goodbye, and poofed them straight back to their bedroom. He was nearly asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow, but had one last thing to ask Emma.

“You’ll still find me sexy when I’ve got a big, huge belly, right?”

She kissed his forehead. “Incredibly so. Sleep tight.”

------------------------------------------------------

thanks for reading! tagging @wyntereyez @jennjenn615 @superadam54 @ashley-knightingale @justsomewhump @teamhook (let me know if you want a tag!)

#cs ff #killian mpreg #fairy godfather #my ff

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shadottie · 3 years ago

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Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3

The popping in the distance; the roar of explosions, the battle cries of countless men, all the sounds of war rang out into the night-- a night Sha only knew for a short while. Dark, towering clouds trailed up into the sea of stars. A hazy veil of clouds curtained the moon behind. Another great roar rocked through his chest, but this time it came from a beast. He turned. The maw of a great serpentine beast snapped out with fire. Spires of purple pulled into existence. He felt himself jump back for space, the weight of a gunblade in his right hand. Nearby were two others in battle, one tall, the other shorter, but both with white hair. Another roar, and the crisp shatter of crystal erupted in Sha’s ears. Those spires yanked in every which direction-- towards him.

He crumpled to the ground like a sack of lead. The rush of heat swirled about, until it all fell to a sour chill.

“NO--!”

“No-... No, not another-- no, please--...”

Alphinaud…?

“No, no, Morgan-- wake up, please--!”

Alphinaud, it’s me--... not-

“How could this happen? How could we let this happen?”

Alisaie? Alisaie, it’s me, Sha!

Moving blurs faded in a coming darkness.

“Sha..”

...Morgan? “Sha, I ...c...an’t…”

----

The viera snapped awake with a yelp, alone under the cool blue light in his humble Pendant apartment. He caught his breath, running a hand through a sunset mane. Icy beads of sweat rolled down his face. His gaze darted about.

This was indeed his room.

...Not wherever that was.

“...Morgan…?” He mumbled to himself. His gaze trailed to the small trinket on the nearby nightstand, a small, orange crescent crowned blade shape, no larger than a coin, glowing brighter than usual under the braids of twine fashioning it as a pendant.

Sha lurched up and out of bed after snatching it up. He looked to the window. He rationally looked to the door next. Who does he tell? Oskna? Beq Lugg? Nobody here had contact with the other side-- except-...

Sha threw on a presentable matter of clothes, racing down the iron spiral staircase in the quiet Pendant tower. The front desk was empty. Good. He was a wild mess of a hunter, clutching a necklace in one hand and-- Wicked White-- he forgot shoes.

Cold stone turned to dewy grass. Only a sliver of a coming dawn lined the iron frames of the Crystarium domes, where Night otherwise ruled for now. Down a hill, and up some stairs, invading the very empty Wandering Stairs-- back down stairs again and to a decorated jade bell painted in gold filigree, perched on a pole on the outskirts of the Musica Universalis.

PRING! PRING PRING! PRING!!

Sha batted at that bell. Its soft chimes tinked in an echo through the quiet market hall. Impatience only gave the silence a moment before he batted his palm at the bell again, and again, and again.

“A’right! A’right! I hear ye, y’ pesky phooka!” harped a mote of light spinning out of the bell. In a fiery orange, it took form of a small, just the same fiery pixie, with two pigtails much like barbed red flowers themselves. “Wot’s got ye ringin’ me here at this hour!”

“Your majesty,” Sha dipped his head just so slightly, “It’s Morgan-- your- your Sapling?” “Aye.”

“I-I think something’s wrong. You’ve said before you visit other places. How? I think he needs me! They need me! Alphinaud, Alisaie, the Scions--...” Sha swallowed on a lump in his throat. It was harshly dry.

“Somethin’ does seem amiss, aye but….” Feo Ul, or rather, a smaller part of King Titania gave pause for a moment. Their gaze fell to the warm glow peeking through a tightly closed fist at Sha’s side. “Ahhh.” They put their hands on their hips, “If y’can give a certain someone puppy dog eyes, they might be willin’ to help ye, and I will be a branch as well~.”

“Wh-... Who?” Sha frantically asked, hasty than to give himself a moment to think. Who indeed, but the only one who made passage possible for the Scions, for the Exarch’s memories? He gave himself a curt nod, “Beq Lugg. ...Will you come with me, your Majesty? Please?”

“Aye, aye!” came with a lilt and a sigh, as if this was troublesome business of children, “If my sapling’s in trouble, then someone’ll get an earful if they don’t cooperate!”

“Thank you, your Majesty. W-With haste then!” “Oh! Knockin’ while the homebody might still sleep, I see!” the pixie tittered behind a hand, “Yes, lets~!”

#shadoodles #FFXIV #Morgan Olivey #Sha #Final Fantasy XIV #viera

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ryik-the-writer · 3 years ago

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CHAPTER 29: Instincts

A03

Chapter 1: Pan meets a Wendy

· Chapter 2: Scars (Felix’s Story)

· Chapter 3: Day One

· Chapter 4: Revenge and Fireflies

· Chapter 5: Brighter than Stars

· Chapter 6: filler: The Tigress

· Chapter 7: Operation Spotless!

· Chapter 8: Operation Spotless: Reporters Down

· Chapter 9: A Dance with the Devil

· Chapter 10: filler: Felix and the Pancake

· Chapter 11: The Girl with Blue Eyes pt. 1

· Chapter 12: The Girl with Blue Eyes pt. 2

· Chapter 13: The Girl With Blue Eyes: Underground

· Chapter 14. Recovery

· Chapter 14.2 Recovery some more

· Chapter 15: Trapped

Chapter 16: Filth

Chapter 17: Fairydust pt. 1

Chapter 18: Fairydust pt. 2

Chapter 19: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 3

Chapter 20: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 2

Chapter 21: The Mystery of the Dead Nun pt. 3

Chapter 22: Reflections pt. 1

Chapter 23: Reflections pt. 2

Chapter 24: Closing

Chapter 25: Felix is helping Pan

Chapter 26: Temporary Fix

Chapter 27: The Search Begins

Chapter 28: The Missing Pan

So this is what death feels like? It’s not terrible, just incredibly long.

Dehydration had long set in, so much so that even Pan’s eyes were dry.

Jones was refusing to give him food and water until he “revealed what he knew.”

Pan would, of course, tell him to fuck himself. Nevermind that he had no idea what the fuck he was talking about.

Maybe it was journalistic instincts or his own, but Pan wanted to know what Jones was going on about, why he thought kidnapping him would give him what he wanted.

He had been waiting for the man to finally spill, but Jones seemed to be as clever as he was.

Pan would die a slow painful death with an unknown secret. He could only hope it tore Jones to pieces.

But it was harder for him to focus on disemboweling Jones when his own demise were front and center.

It was odd how unafraid he was. Annoyed and pained, yes, but not necessarily scared.

He remembered wanting to die on plenty of occasions: when he was a snot-nosed little punk in Scotland and his father used to wail on him, when he found out Belle was in love with his fucking brother of all people. When he’d be on a high after writing an amazing story that ruined someone’s life. Even in between the better moments of his life, when he was investigating with Felix or having drinks with Tink and Lily, when he just couldn’t find peace.

When he was with Wendy and he felt so grounded he couldn’t take it.

Shit. He swore he wouldn’t think about her. Wouldn’t think about any of the people he gave a shit about.

Yeah, now that he was on death’s door, he could finally admit to himself that he kind of gave a shit about something.

His pride and his ambition had stood in the way for so long, he had plenty of time to realize when those walls had come down.

Wendy fucking Darling.

She’d gotten under his skin, into his veins. He’d become desperate for her presence, for her validation.

For her smile.

“She’s really beautiful you know,” Jones had gloated to him last night as he drunk from that damned flask of his. “Really something. I might just get a taste of her myself.”

A weak snarl was all Pan was able to muster, but his brain was burning with all the things he was going to do to him the second he had these fucking cuffs off.

Maybe that’s part of the reason he was still hanging on. He wanted Jones’s blood to soak his lips, give him the hydration he had denied him for days now.

Or maybe he truly had gone soft and he wanted to see her and everyone else again.

All the people who hated him and cared for him…he was going to be lost to them now.

It was true then: Peter Pan didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to be forgotten about.

And he wanted to see her again.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

“What are we doing?” Wendy laughed as Killian drug her up the boat.

Jones hid his smile well. “You shall soon see, Miss Darling.”

Wendy shrugged and followed, charmed that he still referred her to something so gentle. He’d been courting her for three days now, and each time they were together she found herself a bit more star struck.

Killian was so far advanced in the world than she. He had seen things, been places she’d only seen on maps, lived as a person she was far from being.

But Wendy ate up his stories, usually told over brunch or a nice picnic.

Tonight however would be the first time they’d have dinner, and have it on his vast ship she’d been admiring from the dock for some time now.

She was grateful for his company just as much as she was for the distraction from her current dilemmas.

Pan still had yet to return or make his location known. They were both set to return to the Mirror in a few days with their suspension ending, and she only hoped he thought to come back by then.

She could honestly care less at this point, she had decided, squashing the guilt she felt. Pan had made his decision, had chosen to push her so far away he could never find her again. She wouldn’t be the one to try to make amends if he returned.

The “if” part was what was keeping her from falling asleep at night. If he’d been more ceremonial in his departure, she might be more relaxed. But he just vanished. No note, no hints. Not even a plan for his cat. He pretty much left the poor thing to starve.

Wendy still checked in on the creature, but had slowly made the transition to her own apartment. Sometimes at night, when she was getting out of the tub or combing her hair, she’d look down her window at his building and spare the thought that he was coming back soon.

But it was just a flutter of a thought, and she would return to the present. Story ideas for when she returned to work, making peace with Tink, and Jones.

Wendy would be the first to admit she was naïve when it came to dating. Her first and only beau, Edward, had been more boring than a sack of flour and their breakup had been a celebration for her.

What she had with Pan was more of a fight to the death speckled with quick moments of peace. It was stimulating but painful all at once.

Whatever she was building with Jones excited her. It wasn’t the back and forth screaming match she had with Pan. It was tamer, and felt unabashedly like romance.

“You know, the last time my view was obstructed I solved a nearly decade’s old mystery in this town,” Wendy deadpanned as she felt a railing under her hand. They were going up something. And they were on the docks judging by the scent of salt in the air.

Killian’s chuckle rumbled through her back. “I’ve heard a great many about your adventures in town. You’ll have to tell me all about them.”

Wendy felt around until she found his hand, and he paused.

“I haven’t finished learning about you,” Wendy pointed out, her heart speeding up.

She felt Killian’s warm breath on the edge of her ear. “I have to keep some of my secrets, love.”

Wendy swallowed hard. Damn. Now it was more than the darkness that made her heart swell.

Thankfully though, that part soon passed and Killian removed the blindfold.

Her eyes adjusted quickly to the setting sun, and then the sight before her made her gasp.

A well-set table decorated the deck of Killian’s ship, complete with a bucket of ice and what looked like champagne.

She could smell garlic in the air, not doubt encased in whatever was under the metal dishes on the table.

Killian had passed her and began lighting the elongated candles on the table.

“What is all this?” Wendy laughed.

“An anniversary dinner of sorts,” Jones winked.

“We’ve barely been acquainted a full week,” Wendy pointed out, following him when he motioned for her to sit in one of the chairs that he had pulled out.

“Then we have something to celebrate,”

Wendy watched him, amused as he popped open the champagne and poured them each a glass. He raised his, tipping it towards her.

“To five days of a beautiful relationship,”

Wendy scoffed. She could toast to that, and she did, tapping her glass to his.

She took a slow sip of the bubbly drink, stilling her flinch at the strong alcohol. She’d never had anything stronger than a glass of wine at her college graduation and she knew her tolerance would be very low.

He drained his glass quickly but made no attempt to refill his or hers.

“And now,” he bowed, lifting the lid off their plates.

Wendy witnessed a well-crafted dish of crispy fish surrounded by colorful vegetables in a sort of white broth.

She glanced up at Killian and noticed the slight hesitation in his eyes.

Oh my gods, she thought, he’s nervous about his food!

Wendy picked up her fork, getting a bite of everything on the utensil. The vegetables were a bit salty for her preference, but the fish melted on her tongue.

She chuckled. Of course someone who lived on a ship would know how to cook a good fish.

She smiled as to ease Killian’s mind.

“Delicious.”

He glowed at the compliment and comfortably began to eat his own dish.

Wendy continued to examine him, wishing more than anything that she could figure out his game. Jones didn’t make her uncomfortable, not really, but he did make her question his motive and his interest in her.

“You’re quite distracted for someone eating some of the highest quality crawfish on this side of Maine,” Jones joked when he noticed her inquisitive expression.

He’d been taking small circles around her, disguising his intentions. Tonight was the final test, one last go before he decided—not if—but how he would eliminate her.

He was starting to doubt that she knew anything at all.

“I was just thinking about you,” Wendy said boldly.

Jones stopped chewing, the slightest tension curling his fingers.

“Aye?” he said, keeping his demeanor.

“I was thinking of me as well,” she admitted. “How I know so little of you yet came onto your ship—lovely craftsmenship, by the way.”

“Thank you,” he nodded, easing a bit. Wendy was young, and hopefully easily distractible.

“I feel like I should be afraid of you,” she continued, not feeling the least bit foolish about the reveal of such a personal thought. She’d fought off maniacs and barely escaped with her life; she wasn’t afraid to admit if she was scared or not.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know you, and for all I know you poisoned the very food I just ate, or you plan on knocking me cold and dumping me into the harbor.”

One out of two, not bad, he thought.

Still, he to keep the game going, had to pull her out of that state of uneasiness if he wanted to win.

“Allow me to put you more at ease,” he offered. He stood and made his way across the deck where he had set up an old vinyl player.

Wendy gasped when he turned on a gentle tune, looking up at him with stars in her eyes when he came back to her and held out his hand.

“Care for a dance, Miss Darling?”

Wendy’s stomach twisted, the memory of Pan twirling her around the club downtown causing a periscope of emotions to crash over her.

She took Jones’s hand and squeezed it, praying the memory would leave her.

As Jones guided her down the deck and positioned his hands like a true gentlemen, she decided she could leave it indeed.

“Now,” he said as they moved. “Allow me to ease your mind. Ask me a question, anything you like, but I want to ask you one in return.”

“I’m a journalist, Mr. Jones, I’m fairly good at asking questions.”

“Then make them count,” he grinned.

She accepted his challenge, licking her lips as she laid out in her mind exactly what she wanted to know.

“Do you live on this ship?”

“Oh yes,” he said. “Now it’s my turn.”

“Hey now,” she chastised.

Jones chuckled. She really was a delight.

“It was an antique I restored for one of my clients,” he said. She didn’t need to know that said client had been disemboweled by him on the very deck they were dancing on.

“He practically gave it to me when I finished.”

“You’re a carpenter then. A traveler as well?”

“One question at a time, Miss Darling,”

“Not a question. More like an observation.” she corrected.

He smiled. Witty as well.

“Tell me, how did such a well-established lady like yourself end up in Maine of all places?”

Wendy scoffed, the life she had before Storybrooke seeming so long ago.

“An internship. It was really an excuse to leave home and see a bit of the world, but I decided to try to make it a career. It’s been…”

Jones’s smile faded when Wendy’s tenseness caused them to stop. As if sensing her distress, the vinyl player abruptly stopped its song.

“Are you alright,” Jones inquired.

Wendy gulped, memories of that devil woman Cruella and that sick bastard Jekyll crawling through her brain.

“It hasn’t been easy being here,” she said.

It hasn’t been easy being with Pan, she wanted to say.

“That lad, the one who abandoned you” Jones pushed. “Does he have anything to do with that?”

Of course, Jones knew the answer to that, having had said lad in his company for several days now.

“More than you could ever know.”

Jones tilted his head. It was really tragic, watching such a vibrant creature fade over such a wretched little creature.

He cupped her cheek and turned her to him, rubbing his thumb over her soft skin.

“Let him go, love,” he said. “He’s not worth it.”

Wendy Darling was innocent, both in spirit and in the crimes he had stacked against her. It didn’t stop what he had to do, but he would prefer that her last memories were pleasant.

But Wendy was plagued by the pandemic that was Pan. She told him in her message to him that she had to let him go, there was no room anymore to wait on him.

Yet he was still in her mind. She wanted to let him go, needed to.

She looked into Jones’s smiling eyes, this enigma of a man who had wondered into her life. Maybe it was fate’s way of telling her to move on, or perhaps just a coincidence.

Either way, she needed his help.

She cupped the hand on her face, keeping him where he was.

He didn’t move, perhaps sensing what she wanted to do, needed to do.

She leaned in, leaning up just enough so that their lips touched.

Kissing Killian was like tasting the rarest of liquor: it was addictive, intoxicating, dangerous. Wendy weaved her fingers into his hair, her other hand unsure quite where to venture next.

But Jones did. He led it to his chest, one of his hands cupping her waist with purpose, the other traveling to tangle in her locks.

He felt Wendy tensed under his touch and he pulled back.

“Please, not my hair,” she said, ashamed.

He nodded, uncertain and shocked when his heart lurched at her pained expressin. “Do you want to stop?:

Wendy wasn’t sure what she wanted to do. Was she really about to go through with this? Have relations with someone she’d only known a few days?

She thought about all the morals that had been lodged into her mind since girlhood. They seemed so faint now, a side effect, she thought, of being in the presence of someone as moralless like Pan.

Truth was she wanted to do it, wanted to fill that emptiness Pan had created in her.

“Where…is there…”

He nodded, knowing her mind and lead her to his sleeping quaters.

He sat her down on his bed, hands twitching by his side while the rest of him remained still.

This had to be her choice. He couldn’t continue unless she made the first move.

They stared at each for a moment, their heavy breathing subsiding as Wendy made up her mind.

She reached a hand out, inviting him.

A small smile curled on his lips. He took it and got down on one knew, hands guiding up her smooth knees.

Wendy leaned forward and began to remove his shirt as he lifted his arms up to let her.

The weight of her inexperience began to thrive as she gazed upon his lean, mature form. He had little knicks and scars on his arms and chest, tales of a life he . Just like her.

She felt so small compared to him, so young. She considered calling this whole thing off—she knew he’d respect it.

“Nervous, love?” he inquired.

He intertwined his fingers in the hand that had undressed him.

“Let me lead, Wendy,”

She allowed it. Allowed his hands and lips to seek her out.

He was gentle. He wanted to be.

Wendy wasn’t like the other women he’d bedded in the past. She had this air of sophistication he hadn’t known before, cutting deeply into the innocence she wore like a torn coat.

But her passion, bless her. She allowed the instinct to take over, to guide her hands and lips to places he wants them to be.

He’s struggling to contain himself, his own instinct telling him to conquer, but Wendy doesn’t deserve that.

It was part of the game, after all. Seduce the pretty girl woman, kill her and be done with it. One last round of euphoria before he moved on to the next target.

His kisses are heated, biting, but patient – she allows him to remove her clothes, carefully.

He moans when her soft, round lips mouth down his neck, and he wraps his arms around her waist, caressing her bareness possessively, greedily. He soon draws her mouth to his own once more.

“Wendy,” he breathes, almost trembling. Her name alone is so delicate.

She looks at him and he is so proud of the fire in her eyes.

“I…” she begins, stopping and laughing nervously.

He couldn’t stop his own from breaking free. He picks her up just enough to spread her on his sheets, ready for the next bit.

“Do you trust me?” he asks. It’s a line he’s used on his targets before as he’s reeled them in. The answer’s always the same. Of course they do, why wouldn’t they?

But something in Wendy’s expression changes. There’s no hesitation in her eyes, but an unwavering defiance that changes everything.

“No, Killian,” she said with a sad smile. “I don’t trust you at all.”

Indeed, those few words change everything.

When she leans up to kiss him, he doesn’t return the gesture right away.

Wendy Darling is indeed not like the other women he’s dealt with. She’s young, charismatic, and worst of all, far from a fool.

Her hand strokes his jaw, turning him back to her.

“But I still want you,” she says, her very being glowing. “Is that alright?”

The man between her legs accepts her in earnest, those predatory eyes fluttered shut as he pressed into her hand.

Oh Wendy, run, he wants to say.

“That it is, love,” he says instead, sealing her fate.

Hours later Jones examined her in the fading moon light. The game had stopped. Maybe it had been over the second he asked Wendy her name.

She was breathing so tenderly, so calm despite the fact that she had just slept with someone who had been killing people longer than she’d been alive.

Unperturbed that she and her little friend below were teetering on death’s door.

He rose and dressed quietly, slipping the sheet fully around her body, but he didn’t kiss her temple despite how he desperately wanted to.

He heads below, pausing to grab a bottle of water, an act that surprises even him.

He makes his way below deck slowly, the form of his captive becoming clearer the closer he gets. Within a moment he make out the lad’s deadly glare.

“You fucker,” he wheezes.

Jones smirks. “Oh, so you heard?”

Pan lurched forward, thwarted by his shackles but the malice in his eyes didn’t die.

“I’ll fucking kill you for this!”

Jones chuckled, pulling a barrel forward as he reveled in one-upping the pious lad.

His smirk faded though as he thought of Wendy.

He was due to report back to his contact tomorrow afternoon. He was expected to report two deaths and he hadn’t managed to kill off the one before him.

Now as he stared at the glaring youth and his thoughts stayed on the blonde goddess above his head, for the first in his like Killian Jones was having second thoughts…about everything.

“You don’t know anything, do you?” Jones tested. Of course Pan didn’t respond.

Jones sighed. He couldn’t just let him go. He had been noticed by now. Jones heard whispers in the street of his disappearance. He needed to be dealt with now.

Jones uncapped the bottle he brought with him. Pan struggled to keep his eyes from following the sloshing of the water.

His capture held it out to his cracked lips. “Take it.”

Pan turned his head. No matter how much he needed it, he wouldn’t give in.

Jones growled and grabbed Pan by his hair, forcing his head down. He squeezed the bottle and water spewed all over Pan’s face and hair, the lad struggling fruitlessly in his grip as he cough and wheezed.

Jones threw him back, glaring at him as he cursed and shook the water off.

“What the fuck do you want!” Pan yelled.

Jones stood and backhanded him. “Shut up. You’ll wake her.”

Blood oozed from Pan’s right nostril, moistening his lips.

“I’m going to break your fucking neck!”

“I’m afraid you won’t get the chance,” Jones sighed as he flicked stray water droplets off his hands. “You see, boy, I have to end you soon.”

Pan’s eyes narrowed.

“Don’t fret, I’ll be quick, simple. I’ll grant you that.”

“It’s lasted for days,” Pan reminded him with a snarl.

Jones shrugged. “As for our lovely Miss Darling …”

Pan paused, dreading the words that would come from his mouth next.

“Tell me,” Jones said, his tone sincere. “Do you think she’d dig further if I let her alone? Do you think she’d try to find your murderer once your bloated corpse washes up on shore?”

Pan gritted his teeth. Hearing her passion had disturbed him. He had yet to picture her in such a way, let alone with his damn kidnapper.

Now she was above him more close to death than he was, and he couldn’t save her.

And then there was the question of would she try to avenge him.

He hoped not. He truly did.

Jones tilted his head as Pan’s mind raced. He almost felt sorry for the boy, having such a lovely creature so close to his closed-off heart.

He stood, his decision made.

“Good night, boy,” he sighed, closing the door on his returning remarks.

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Wendy’s eyes opened, the earliest rays of a new day awakening her.

She hadn’t meant to spend the night here, didn’t expect she’d be welcome.

Yet her bed partner was sleeping comfortably beside her, one his arms draped loosely on her waist, and she did indeed feel welcomed.

Maybe she could stay here a bit longer and enjoy the smell of sea air and warmth.

But natured called, and she did have to at least check her phone.

Maybe Pan…

No, she wouldn’t think about him.

Let him go…

She sighed and regrettably removed herself from Jones’s hold, blushing when the sheets scraped her naked skin.

It was hard to believe. She’d been beaten and traumatized but the idea of giving up her womanhood was what was having the most profound effect on her.

She wasn’t a virgin anymore. It was the last thing she’d managed to hold on to from before Storybrooke before all its insanity got its hooks into her.

Now, with her short hair and circled eyes, she truly wasn’t the same girl who’d left London over two months ago.

She was new, darker.

Pan had given her her start; Jones had pushed her over the edge.

And, despite the morals swimming in her head, she was glad.

She was glad it had been her choice, that it was something she had had complete control of.

She smiled as she put on her underthings and dress, stalling her movements to prevent from making a noise. Perhaps Jones would be interested in hearing her revelation when he awoke?

Perhaps he also wouldn’t mind if she searched for substance in his kitchen? That crawfish from last night was long gone.

She located her bag and cellphone and quietly escaped the room, swiping through app notifications that had all but drained her battery.

She stopped in the hallway when she saw she had seven missed calls, three of which were from Tink.

She had a series of missed texts from her as well.

Wendy, please call me.

Wendy, it’s important.

I know I hurt you, but please I need you to call me.

Do you know what happened to Pan? Have you see him at all?

Wendy glanced around and found a random door. The room seemed to be an office of sorts, or a collection room judging by all the memorabilia, but quiet enough to make a phone call.

She called Tink, her stomach turning with apprehension. It seemed she wasn’t the only one who had noticed Pan’s absence then.

Tink answered after two rings.

“Wendy!” she said, her voice winded.

“Hey,” Wendy answered uncertainly. “What’s—”

“Where are you?” she cut in. “You – here – as soon as –”

“Tink?” Wendy said, moving around the room for a better signal. “You’re breaking up. What’s going on?”

“Wend—”

The line abruptly went quiet and Wendy cursed when she saw her phone had died.

She tossed her bag on Jones’s desk and untangled her charger from the rest of her belongings.

She squatted down to search under the desk, hoping to see a charging port, but there were too many boxes in the way.

She made a note to tease Jones’s about his hoarding as she pulled boxes out of the way, one of which was surprisingly lite and came out easily.

She stumbled a bit, tipping the box over and causing its contents to spill.

“Bloody hell,” she growled, her hands gathering the sheets of papers that had slipped out.

She shouldn’t have looked. Maybe it was journalist instincts that caused her to look down. It was defiantly trauma that made her bolt back when she saw the face on the paper.

Jekyll.

“No.”

No…no no…

It couldn’t be. How could Jones … why would he …

Her opposite hand fluttered around her, searching desperately for something to grab on to.

It brushed against something hard—a beeper? Hand’s shaking, she picked it up. She wasn’t sure what force was making her turn it on. She should be throwing it.

But it came to life and revealed its secrets.

WHY HAVEN’T YOU RESPONDED?

COMPRIMISED. BLUE EYES FOUND.

“Blue eyes,” Wendy pondered before the bluest pair of eyes she knew flashed across her mind. “Belle?”

PITY. YOU ARE NO LONGER OF ANY USED TO ME THEN.

GOODBYE.

That was it, and if Wendy had to guess Jekyll had had his brains blown out after receiving that message.

She dropped the beeper, wiping her hands frantically on her dress, not wanting any part of her on him.

She had been searching for Pan that night at the club. He had disappeared. She thought he abandoned her.

Jones had it. All this evidence that had been taken from…where? His secret lab under the hospital…

The car his corpse had been rotting in?

“I … I …”

Panic was setting in. The roots of her hair were standing straight up.

She could see Jekyll’s rotting corpse so clearly.

Pan had been there too. Talking to her. Keeping her from losing her mind.

She was searching for him in a sea of strangers. She felt so lost.

There had to be a logical explanation, right? Jones just picked up the beeper, found it somewhere …

She glanced at the overturned box again, full of Jekyll’s fucking face.

He didn’t pull them out of a dead man’s car, did he?

“Wendy?”

He heard him stop, seeing the mess around her.

She looked up at him and saw everything. The guilt of being caught, the secret of a man who had too many secrets.

And she knew right then that Jekyll wasn’t the only one.

It was like an arrow had gone straight through her skull, carrying a physical rage and boiling hurt that settled into one acidic fire.

She shot around, staring at the man who shot her, but only one thing—one person—had squirmed past the pain.

Pan hadn’t abandoned her…

And she needed him now.

She abandoned him.

“Where is he?”

0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0

Yeah, I don’t write sex scenes sorry ;p

Still, sorry for the, what, year-long wait? Yikes. Going through some stuff and I just haven’t felt like writing. Trying to get into again, so hold on tight!

#darling pan #darling pan fic #papers and sleuthers #wendy darling #peter pan #ouat #ouat fic #ryik's fics #captain hook #killian jones

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magicalmanips · 4 years ago

Text

Grounded

“They’re gone...aren’t they?” the pixie jingled weakly. “My wings are gone....”

The captain looked down at her with a pained expression, his dark eyes--those eyes that had so often burned with anger--now brimming with pity. This was a pain he understood in a manner that few others could. At his side, the claw twitched, invisible fingers clenching in a sudden spasm as the hand that was no longer there uncomfortably tingled and cramped. He shuddered.

The fairy was going into shock, her tiny form shivering, her face pallid with a sheen of sweat. "I-I'm c-cold..." she whispered.

He knelt down in the grass beside her, pulling a satin handkerchief from his sleeve and--taking the fairy in his hand--draped it gently around her shoulders, covering the long, bloody gashes that ran along her spine just beneath the shoulder blades. It was ironic, that this handkerchief--the same one he'd once offered her in mock sympathy when the Wendy-girl had been on the island--now brought her comfort and warmth. The muscles in her back quivered for a moment, the missing wings instinctively folding down as she pulled the cloth tightly around her and she gasped, the movement sending an awful burning sensation rippling down her spine.

"If...if I don't m-make it...t-tell Peter...I'm sorry I couldn't say goodbye...."

Hook had been nearby when it happened, heard the sound like the tearing of fine silk and the agonizing scream that to most would have sounded only like the discordant jangling of a hundred tiny bells. He had seen the occasional fairy with damaged wings--most from an unfortunate encounter with a hawk. These pixies bore their tattered wings as proudly as the pirates and lost boys bore their battle scars...but hers...hers were just gone. He remembered the feeling of white hot pain in his wrist, slick rocks beneath his boots, water turned to wine with the stain of his blood.... He may have been a pirate by trade, but he was musician and artist at heart. The crocodile had taken more than his hand.... It had taken a part of his soul. Fairies were born to fly. A fairy without wings was like a mermaid who couldn't swim, a bird who couldn't sing...a pianist without a hand....

"You'll not die," he reassured her, "though it may feel like it at present." He went on, "It will take some getting used to...but you will learn to live without them. You will survive.”

She slipped into a reclining position, her eyes growing heavy as her vision blurred. She wanted to sleep. "I'm...so...tired...."

"You must stay awake," he cautioned, recalling how Smee had done anything and everything he could to keep him from falling asleep when he'd lost too much blood. He'd hated the bosun for it in the moment but knew in hindsight that if he had been allowed to slip into unconsciousness for too long in that state, he might very well have never woken up at all.

Beneath the handkerchief, Tink rolled over, curling herself into a little cocoon. Already the blood from her wounds was seeping through the fabric, and he could feel the warm, sticky liquid on the palm of his hand.

"Just...need...to rest...." she mumbled quietly.

"Not now, my dear," he chastised. "Not yet."

He stood, cradling her limp little body in the only hand he had as carefully as though he were handling a precious trinket made of glass.

"Captain?" she whispered hoarsely. "...Thank you."

#manips #my manips #edits #my edits #disney manips #peter pan disney #captain hook disney #tinkerbell #tink #tinkerbelle #fanfic #fanfiction #blood #gore #tw: blood #tw: gore #tw: injury

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atomic-taco-muffin · 4 years ago

Text

The Lost Princess Chapter 20

Warnings: fluff/angst

Rating: SFW

Sora and the others left Halloween Town and flew through space in the gummi ship.

"Uh, a big ship is catching up to us," Goofy said. The ship flew past them, its sails clearly visible.

"Quit gawking! That’s a pirate ship!" Donald said. The Jolly Roger turned and headed straight for them.

"It’s going to ram us! Hold tight!" Sora said. The gummi ship was taken aboard the Jolly Roger. Sora walked along the deck and turned around.

"I didn’t think you’d come, Sora," Riku said. Sora gasped, looking up at Riku on the main deck.

"Good to see you again," he said.

"Where are Donald and Goofy?" Sora asked.

"Are they that important to you? More important than old friends? Instead of worrying about them, you should be asking…" Riku moved over.

"…about her," he said. Sora saw Kairi, sitting on the floor beside Riku. She was breathing but making no reactions to anything around her.

"Kairi!" Sora said.

"That’s right. While you were off goofing around, I finally found her," Riku said.

"But what about (Y/N)? Have you found her?"

"Maybe I did maybe I didn't. I won't tell." Sora started to run towards them, when a hook blocked his path.

"Not so fast. No shenanigans aboard my vessel, boy," the man said. Sora looked up to see the pirate captain smirking as he was surrounded by Pirate Heartless.

"Riku, why are you siding with the Heartless?" Sora asked.

"The Heartless obey me now, Sora. Now I have nothing to fear," Riku said. Sora glared at Riku and his careless eyes.

"You're stupid. Sooner or later they’ll swallow your heart," Sora said.

"Not a chance. My heart’s too strong," Riku said.

"Riku..."

"I’ve picked up a few other tricks as well. Like this, for instance." Riku raised his hand and Sora's shadow lifted out of the ground. Sora stared at it in astonishment.

"You can go see your friends now," Riku said. A trapdoor opened underneath Sora and he fell through.

"Let’s get under way, already. And keep Sora away from Kairi until we’re ready to land," Riku said to the Captain as he walked towards the Captain’s Hold.

"That scurvy brat thinks he can order me around!" the Captain said to his First Mate.

"What should we do, Captain Hook?"

"Nothing! The hold is crawling with Heartless," Hook said, frustrated. He made flourished movements as he spoke.

"Let them keep an eye on the brats," he said.

"But, Captain, you-know-who is also down—"

"Shh… Did you hear that, Smee? Oh, that dreadful sound!" Smee looked around.

“No, Captain,” he said.

“Are you quite sure? Did I imagine it? Oh, my poor nerves…” Hook said as he shook smee. Down in the Hold, Sora told Donald and Goofy about Kairi.

“You don’t say?” Goofy asked.

“Yeah, it was definitely Kairi. I’ve finally found her,” Sora said.

“All right! A-hyuck! Then let’s go up and talk to her.”

“Yeah!”

“Sounds great. But what about (Y/N) and how are we gonna get out of here?” Donald said.

“Riku won’t tell me anything about her which makes be believe that he did something to her like he did to Kairi,” Sora said.

“Don’t worry, Sora. We’ll find her. Now, let’s look for a way out of here,” Goofy said. They started looking around and Sora peered through a window.

“Ahem!” someone said. Sora jumped down from the window and they stared at the barrels in the corner of the room.

“How ya doin’ there? Looking for a way out?” the person asked. Out jumped a young boy in green tights, carrying a dagger in a scabbard at his waist. He wore a green cap over his fiery hair that had a red feather in it.

“Who are you?” Goofy asked.

“I’m the answer to your prayers,” the boy said with a smile on his face. Donald tapped his foot, giving off a squawk in disbelief.

“Okay, then. Fine. Have it your way,” the boy said.

“But you’re stuck in here too, aren’t you?” Sora asked.

“No. I’m just waiting for someone,” the boy said as he crossed his arms.

“Who?” A bright light flew into the room and swirled around Sora, giving off magical dust. It flew up to the boy.

“Tinker Bell, what took you so long?” the boy asked. The bright light faded and revealed a tiny pixie in a small leaf-like dress. Her wings fluttered softly behind her blond updo as she spoke to him through light and sound.

“Great job. So you found Wendy?” he asked. She continued making sounds that Sora couldn’t understand.

“Hold on. There was another girl there, too?” the boy said. Tinker Bell crossed her arms.

“Are you crazy? There’s no way I’m gonna leave Wendy there!” he said.

“Aha. She must be pretty jealous,” Donald said. Donald laughed and Tinker Bell turned around, stamping her foot in the air and glaring at him. She flew over to him and kicked him on the beak, making him dizzy. She flew out of the room in a huff.

“Wait! Did this girl happen to have (H/L) (H/C) and had a dagger with her?” Sora asked. Tinker Bell looked at Sora and shook her head.

“Oh. Sorry for bothering you,” he said. She flew over to Sora and patted his head with her hand as if saying that it would be alright.

“Come on, Tink! Open up the door!” the boy said.

“Ahem!” Donald smirked, much to the boy’s chagrin.

“ I’m Peter Pan,” the boy said as he held out his hand.

“I’m Sora.” He held out his hand to shake Peter’s but the boy pulls back.

“Okay, we’re in this together, but only ‘til we find Wendy,” he said. He put his hands on his hips petulantly. They left the room thanks to Sora’s Keyblade and were attacked by a swarm of Heartless. Sora’s Shadow appeared in front of them, taunting them while floating in the air. Sora struck it and they defeated the Heartless, making their way through the ship undetected. They walked through another hold as Peter Pan flew above them.

“So, uh, how come you can fly?” Goofy asked.

“Anyone can fly. You wanna try?” Peter said. He whistled and Tinker Bell flew into the room.

“Aw, haven’t you cooled off yet, Tink?” Peter teased. He took her by the wings and held her over Sora, Donald, and Goofy, sprinkling magical dust on them

“Just a little bit of pixie dust. There. Now you can fly,” he said. Donald jumped into the air, swinging his arms up and down, but he fell to the floor. Tinker Bell flew down and laughed at him, as he tapped his finger on the floor. Meanwhile, Riku was in the Captain’s Hold talking to Captain Hook.

“What? So Wendy’s not one of the chosen ones?” Hook asked.

“There are seven, supposedly, and Maleficent says she’s not one of them,” Riku said as he faced the door.

“Hoist anchor as soon as possible. Leave all the dead weight behind, including her,” he said.

“After the trouble of capturing her? And why those seven? What is Maleficent planning, anyway?” Hook asked.

“Who knows? As long as it means getting Kairi’s heart back and having (Y/N) all to myself, I couldn’t care less.”

“You’re wasting your time! The Heartless has devoured that girl’s heart. And that spirit is full of light! She’ll never side with you! I’ll stake me other hand it’s lost forever.”

“I will find it no matter what.”

“Uh, Captain...” Smee said. Captain Hook walked over to a speaking tube, where Smee’s voice was coming from.

“What?” he asked.

“The prisoners have escaped. What’s more, Peter Pan is with them,” Smee said.

“Blast that Peter Pan! All right, then! Bring the hostage to me cabin, Smee! Hop to it!” Hook said, annoyed. In the Galley, Tinker Bell was flying up near the ceiling, getting Peter Pan’s attention.

“What is it, Tink?” he asked. A young girl in a blue dress was sitting on her cot in the room above. There was a grate in the floor with which to see and hear through. She turned her head towards the sound.

“Peter? Peter Pan?” she asked. She stood up cordially and rushed to the grate in the floor, kneeling.

“Wendy!” Peter said.

“Please hurry! The pirates are coming!” she said.

“What! I’ll be right up there! Just hold on!”

“Wendy?” Sora asked. She turned her head to look at him.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Are there two girls over there with you?” he asked.

“There is one girl here. I didn’t see another one come in. But the girl in here seems to be asleep. She hasn’t budged an inch.”

“Kairi? Kairi!” Sora could see part of Kairi’s leg through the grate. Her arm fell next to her with the movement of the ship. He held out a hand with a sad, but hopeful face. Wendy stood up and grabbed hold of a dresser. Kairi’s fingers twitch, putting a smile on Sora’s face. The door opened and Kairi was dragged away. Wendy cried out as she was taken away and the door shut.

“Wendy! Hey, let’s get up there!” Peter said. They reached a higher level of the ship in the hall where Wendy’s cabin was. Peter Pan banged on the locked door.

“Wendy, are you in there?” he asked. They entered another door into a room with a ladder. They climbed up to the Captain’s Hold. Sora ran ahead and saw Riku.

“Riku, wait!” he said. Riku held Kairi in his arms as a shadow flowed in from under the door behind him. Riku backed away towards the door and the shadow leapt out of the floor. It looked just like Sora, staring eerily with glowing eyes. Riku escaped and the shadow crawled along the floor underfoot. Jumping up at Sora, striking him with a dark duplicate of the Keyblade. It moved like Sora, attacking and deflecting blows just the same. Sora went after it, but it sunk back into the floor, splitting into three copies. The room crowded, Peter Pan flew forward striking them with his shadow and giving a loud crow. He destroyed two of the shadows, leaving the real one at the mercy of his blade. Anti-Sora vanished into a burst of darkness and turned invisible. Catching Sora off guard, he swiped at him in the air, visible for only a second, before disappearing. Anti-Sora made no sound due to its status as a shadow, so they didn’t have the help of following its footfalls. Donald attempted to bring it out with Thunder spells, but it wore him out and came up empty. Without you, it was hard for Donald to regenerate spells. It struck at Peter Pan, but Goofy’s shield blocked it. Sora used Strike Raid, tossing his Keyblade through the room. It flew through the air, spinning wildly until it made contact with Anti-Sora, who freezed on the spot, it’s darkness dripping to the floor. It stood there motionless like a statue before falling into the dark pool. Sora’s shadow returned to him and they dropped down through the floor into Wendy’s room. They found her lying on the floor with her eyes closed. Peter Pan floated down next to her and picked her head up.

“Wendy!” he said. Tinker Bell flew around in the air above him.

“Come on, Tink! Not now!” Peter said as he waved her off and she flew away.

“Well, this is as far as I can go. I’ve gotta help Wendy,” he said. He picked her up and flew out of the room, leaving Sora, Donald, and Goofy by themselves. They returned to the Captain’s Hold and took the doorway to the Main Deck, where they found Captain Hook and his army of Heartless.

“Quite a codfish, that Riku—running off with that girl without even saying goodbye,” Hook said as he waved in the air.

“Run off where? Tell me, where did he go?” Sora asked as he swept at the air with his Keyblade.

“To the ruins of Hollow Bastion, where Maleficent resides. But you won’t be going there,” Hook said. He took an unlit lantern from Mr. Smee, holding it up. Tinker Bell was trapped inside with her hands on the glass and Sora gasped.

“Unless you intend to leave your little pixie friend behind?” Hook asked. He held his hook up to the lantern scraping the glass with it, scaring Tinker Bell. Sora sighed in exasperation, dispelling the Keyblade. The Pirate Heartless surrounded them, knives bared.

“Hand over the Keyblade and I’ll spare your lives. Be glad I’m merciful, unlike the Heartless. So, which will it be? The Keyblade, or the plank?” Hook said. He pointed his hook in the direction of the plank, a wooden board hoisted off the side of the deck. He heard a sound in the air and looked to see a sharp-toothed crocodile in the water, the clock inside its belly ticking away.

“It’s him! The crocodile that took me hand! Oh, Smee! He’s after me other hand! I can’t stay here!” Hook said, terrified as the crocodile stared up at him, hungrily.

“Go away! Oh, I can’t stand the sight of him!” Hook said as he retreated to his cabin.

“Smee, you take care of them!” he said. The Pirate Heartless forced Sora onto the plank, who backed slowly towards the ocean. When he reached the edge of the plank, the crocodile opened its wide mouth and Sora heard Peter Pan’s voice.

“Fly, Sora! Just believe, and you can do it!” he said. Sora closed his eyes and leapt backwards off the plank. He descended toward the crocodile, who jumped at him, but at the last second he flew into the air over the deck. Peter Pan swooped down and took Tinker Bell from Smee, who was distracted by Sora. Sora and Peter Pan landed on the deck in front of the flabbergasted first mate. Peter Pan opened the lantern, setting Tinker Bell free.

“Thanks, Peter,” Sora said.

“Hey, don’t mention it. You didn’t think I’d leave you and Tink behind, did you?” Peter said. Tinker Bell floated down next to them and Smee ran away, leaving them to deal with the Heartless swarming the deck.

“You’re all going down!” Sora said. They started attacking the Heartless on the ship and in the air. Sora held a hand to his chest and the Keyblade flashed. He threw it into the air and caught it. Magic sparks burst out of the tip of the blade uncontrollably and he lost his grip on it. In a final burst of magic, it created blue smoke which billowed upward. Genie appeared inside the smoke with a huge grin on his face. He yelled and flexed his muscles, spinning around and giving Sora a high five. Genie targeted the surrounding Heartless and shot them with several magic spells.

“Toodle-oo!” he said as he waved and disappeared. Once the Heartless were taken care of, Sora and Peter Pan waited outside the Captain’s Hold. Peter knocked on the door with a devilish grin.

“Is that you, Smee? Did you finish them off?” Hook asked. Peter laughed silently to himself and pinched his nose to sound like Smee.

“Aye, Captain. They walked the plank, every last one of them,” he said. Captain Hook ran out past them and looked around, seeing nobody there, before Peter Pan poked him with his dagger. Hook shouted and jumped into the air, stumbling over his words.

“P-Peter Pa—blast you!” he said as he glared at the boy.

“Ready to make a splash, you codfish? Now it’s your turn to talk the plank!” Peter said as he pointed toward Hook. Battleship Heartless appeared in the air, raining down cannon fire on them. Donald and Goofy flew in the air after the Heartless while Sora and Peter Pan went after Hook, who slashed in the air frantically at them.

“Fire!” Hook said. Hook threw a box at Sora, which exploded in his face as Peter Pan charged at him with his dagger. Hook blocked and knocked Peter back.

“Come and get me!” Hook mocked. Sora slid towards him and attempted to strike with the Keyblade, but Hook jumped back near the rudder. Sora flew up and after him. He sent a Fira spell at the Captain, which set his trousers on fire, causing him to run around hysterically. He ran over the guardrail of the top deck, and Peter Pan knocked him into the water, making a big splash. He surfaces in front of the crocodile, who opened his mouth happily, his tongue lolling about as he pounced at Captain Hook. The captain ran on the water, screaming, as the crocodile chased him out of sight. Later, Sora stood at the guardrail away from Donald, Goofy, and Peter.

“Uh, Kairi couldn’t wake up, so maybe she’s really lost her—” Goofy said as he put his hands over his chest.

“Shh!” Donald interrupted. Goofy made a gulping sound.

“Sora,” Peter said.

“I still can’t believe it,” Sora said as he looked into the night sky, smiling.

“I really flew. Wait ‘til I tell Kairi. And (Y/N). I wonder if they’ll believe me. Probably not,” he said.

“You can bring them to Never Land sometime. Then they can try it herself,” Peter said.

“ If you believe, you can do anything, right? I’ll find them. I know I will. There’s so much I want to tell them—about flying, the pirates, and everything else that’s happened.” Tinker Bell flew in and spoke to Peter.

“What’s that, Tink? What about the clock tower? You say there’s something there?” he asked. They flew off the ship away from Never Land to a quaint city where the moon was shining brightly over the large clock tower. The tower had four faces, a clock on each side. As they approached, a cloaked Heartless flew alongside them. Sora looked over and it stared at him beneath its hood, darkness trailing in the air behind it. They stopped and it faced them in front of the tower, gathering magic in its fingers. The numbers of the clock started to glow and the minute hand began to move forward. Donald saw this and quickly casted stop on the clock. The Phantom Heartless swooped forward and attempted to claw at Sora with its sharp fingers. A bright orb of magical energy appeared at the base of the Heartless’s cloak. Sora struck it with his Keyblade and it turned red in color. Donald shot a Fira spell at it and it turned blue. Smiling, Donald aimed a Blizzara spell, and the orb disappeared. The Phantom recoiled, enraged. It spun around and released a dark fireball. Sora tried to fly away but it struck him in the back. Goofy tossed him a Potion and they continued their magic strategy until the Phantom began to falter in the air. Its hands covered its stomach, bending over in front of the clock. From beneath its cloak, a heart floated out, and the Phantom fell and faded away. Wendy sa at the clock tower as they flew towards her. She stood up as they landed. Soon, the clock struck midnight and the Keyhole appeared, shining bright enough to be seen from a distance, flashing between the 2 and 3 on the clock. Sora aimed his Keyblade at it and locked it. It glowed and disappeared, releasing a gummi block. Meanwhile in Hollow Bastion, Riku’s memories flashed through his mind. He recalled the day nearly 9 years ago when he, you, and Sora discovered the Secret Place.

“Hey, Sora. (Y/N),” he said. You and Sora turned to look at him.

“When we grow up, let’s get off this island. We’ll go on real adventures, not this kid stuff!” he said as his eyes grew wide with anticipation.

“Sure. But isn’t there anything fun to do now? Hey, you know the new girl at the mayor’s house? She arrived on the night of the meteor shower!” Sora said.

“Yeah. I heard that she’s kind of like me,” you said. You and Sora exited the cave, and Riku followed you two, before stopping to look back at the wooden door. A golden Keyhole had appeared on the door and he stared at it in fascination. Riku snapped back into reality, a light from the ceiling casting its glow on him. He was kneeling on the floor, entirely out of breath. He breathed heavily as green torches burn on the walls. Maleficent stood over him, holding her staff strongly, looking down on him with dominating eyes.

“It was reckless to bring her here without at least using a vessel. Remember, relying too heavily on the dark powers could cost you your heart. And let’s not forget about the spirit. Her power could be dangerous if you can’t control it the right way,” she derided. A booming roar resounded from outside the castle, causing Riku to stand and look toward the source of the noise. Maleficent smiled.

“A castaway,” she said. Riku narrowed his eyes at her.

“Though his world perished, his heart did not. When we took the princess from his castle, he apparently followed her here through sheer force of will. But fear not. No harm will come to you. He is no match for your power. Or the spirits,” she said.

“My power?” Riku asked.

“Yes, the untapped power that lies within you. Now, child, it’s time you awakened that power and realized your true potential.” A green aura surrounded Riku and he felt stronger. Meanwhile, Wendy walked along the clock tower as Peter floated near her.

“Peter, are you really going back to Neverland?” she asked.

“Afraid so. But we can see each other any time. As long as you don’t forget about Never Land, that is,” he said. He floated closer and they held hands. Tinker Bell saw this and crossed her arms in jealousy. Donald laughed at her until she turned around and glared at him. He clamped his beak shut and the pixie flew over to Peter and Wendy, spinning angry circles around them. Then she does the same to Sora.

“Oh, boy. She’s getting’ steamed again. Do me a favor. Look after her for me, will ya?” Peter said. Tink floated up to Sora and spun around.

“What?” he asked. He walked up to Wendy and started talking to her.

“Peter remains with me as long as I remember him. You will find Kairi and (Y/N) if they remain in your heart. You’ll find them Sora. Just don’t give up,” she said.

“Thank you,” Sora said.

~~~~

You felt your power radiating off of you to the point that it hurt. You had a hard time staying conscious because of how much pain you were in. Not only that, but you felt like you had a fever. You felt so hot that you were afraid that you might explode. You heard someone walk in and glared at them when you saw that it was Riku and Maleficent.

“Don’t make that face, spirit. Ladies are supposed to have kind faces,” she said.

“Unlike your face,” you said, tiredly. She growled and squished your cheeks together with one hand to make you look at her.

“Just wait till the door opens. Then you’ll see,” she said. She let go of your face and told Riku to keep watch over you. She left the room and you heard Riku sigh.

“Before you ask, no I didn’t do this because of you,” he said.

“Then why are you doing this?” you asked.

“She promised that I would see the worlds. She wasn’t wrong. It just wasn’t how I pictured it.”

“You can still change. There’s still time.”

“No. I need to do this. But don’t worry. It’ll be over soon.” The two of you stopped talking and you closed your eyes and fell asleep.

#kingdom hearts #kingdomhearts #kingdom hearts imagine #kingdom hearts x reader #kingdom+hearts+x+reader #kingdom+hearts+imagines #kingdomhearts x reader #kingdomhearts imagines #kingdomhearts+x+reader #kingdomhearts+imagines

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swynlake-spill · 4 years ago

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God but imagine getting stuck between Jake Long and Franny Robinson at a party and they talk you ear off about Vietnam and Cambodia like you’re actually going to remember a damn thing they said.

Here is a list of things I would rather do than that.

1. Endure the Ashleys insulting my outfit for two straight hours.

2. Wait in line at [name redacted] while Death Cab for Cutie’s entire discography plays on loop

3. Get stuck in an Uber with Mei and Lock in the backseat as they snog the entire 20-minute ride to NTO

4. Hand write party invites to the Robinsons, every single Robinson and therefore inflict carpal tunnel upon myself

5. Organize Simba Lyons’ desk for him-- either at the Secondary or in Town Hall

6. Be trapped alone with Hades after dark with no witnesses

7. Attend a dinner party at Seamus’s mansion where he shows me his copious collection of cigars and then asks me which of his leather jacket suits him best

8. Be stuck on a group project with Louie Mallard with the deadline of TOMORROW

9. Forced to play truth or dare with Ting-Ting, John S, and John D (I’d start to cry out of boredom).

10. Go to Tom Harrington’s birthday party tonight in a hoodie made out of tea bags and forced to compliment Phillip Knightley on his outfit

11. Get lectured by Ting-Ting on Twitter

12. Trust Tink Bell with my financial information

13. Get murdered in Pride U Library by Dipper Pines and his latest demon crush

14. Let Mabel paint obscenities (and unicorns) all over my face

15. Sit at lunch with Su and her rat

16. Sit at lunch with Mei K and her ghosts

17. Listen to Ian tell me about his latest DnD campaign

18. Think Rose Whitman is saying hi to me so I say hi back but really she is saying hi to the person behind me and so I’m forced to go through sublimation on the spot

19. Babysit Mason Sykes b/c somehow I’d mess that up and then Roscoe Sykes would call a hit on me

20. Disappoint any of the Blackwells

21. Mop the floors at the Moon Market while Jun Moon yells at me to sign yet another petition

22. Polish every single shoe in Zapatos Riveras

23. Rank the milfs and dilfs of Swynlake

24. Clean the bathrooms of Hatters after a Swynlake disaster has locked half the town inside

25. Spend a night at the Hauntley Inn, you know, the place run by actual vampires.

#daily spill #no i am not tagging you #Anonymous

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tokusatsumixup · 5 years ago

Text

Alter Ego Class Servant - Peter Pan/Tinkerbell

A new servant idea I’ve been playing around with for a while now.

Partly inspired by @transjinako‘s Oppy and @hasmashdoneanythingwrong‘s playable Tiamat

Rarity: 5 Star

Alignment: Chaotic Neutral

Attribute: Earth/Sky

Alt names: Pan, Tink, King of Never-Ever Land, Leader of the Lost Boys, Fairy Reject

Deck Set-up: AAQQB

Hit counts: A (3) Q (5) B(1) E (4)

Stats:

Max ATK: 11,500

Max HP: 13,500

Grail ATK: 13,000

Grail HP: 15,000

Star Absorption: 120 Star Generation: 20% NP Charge ATK: 1% NP Charge DEF: 5% Death Rate: 3%

Paramaters:

Strength: C-

Endurance: C

Agility: A

Mana: B

Luck: EX

NP: A

Traits: Divine, Earth or Sky, Humanoid, King, Weak to Enuma Elish,

Passive Skills:

Item Construction (Imaginary) EX: When Peter imagines food Tinker Bells magic can create it for him to eat, making it much better to him. (Increases Healing and Buff effectiveness by 12%)

Ruffian EX: Peter’s life style of living on Never Ever Land, and battling pirates every day has taught him to fight dirty. He can invoke these skills in battle, increasing his Quick Card Effectiveness and Critical Strength. (7% Each)

Riding A++: Tinker Bell’s fairy dust allows her and others to ride the winds, with Peter being the only one to freely gain any access to it. (increases Quick card effectiveness by 11.5%)

Magic Resistance B+: Constant exposure to fairies and other magic has given Peter something of an immunity to it. (Increases Debuff Resistance by 18%)

Neverland Natives: Peter searches to recreate his lost boys in Chaldea (Increases bond points gained by child servants when Peter’s in the party by 10%)

Active Skills

Flight of the Fairies: Peter flies into the skies, applying Evade and Strength Up VS. Earth attribute enemies. (until hit or for 3 turns, 15% at level 10 for 1 turn)

Childish Demands: Peter takes any Quick Stars from his party, giving them only what’s leftover. (Increases Crit star absorption by 1500% for 1 turn at level 10)

Broken Rules: Upon the enemy breaking rules of Peter’s game he punishes them, sealing off their abilities and decreasing their Defense and Attack (Skill and NP sealed for one turn, ATK and DEF decrease 25% for 3 turns at level 10)

Noble Phantasm

Join My Lost Boys!

Rank: A

Classification: Anti-Unit

Type: Arts

Hit Count: 7

Effect: Deal damage to one enemy (900% at level 1, 1600% at level 5) Chance to apply a 1 turn unique Debuff - ‘Childify’, changing the enemy servant into their child self(Cuts all stats in half, 1 turn, 2 at 100% overcharge, 6 at 500%).

In Universe: Peter and Tinker Bell summon their Reality Marble around their enemy, making the enemy play by the rules of Never Ever Land. This includes Peter’s rule that only Children are allowed in. This alters the enemy into a child while under effect of the reality marble, dramatically weakening them in the process.

Bio

Peter Pan was born in Victorian England, one day when he was still a baby he heard his mother talking about him one day growing up and he hated the idea. his stroller rolling towards the wharf on it’s own. once it rolled into the ocean Peter was carried off to sea where he was found by fairies, the small group of fairies took the boy to their home in Never Ever Land. Thanks to the magic of the airies and Never Ever Land once he turned 12 Peter stopped aging. Peter began to get lonely, even with his loyal friend Tinker Bell by his side. He began to collect abandoned and lonely children to be his friends and they took on the name Lost Boys. As time went on the pirate Captain Hook and his crew set out to discover Never Ever Land, but are thwarted each time they try by Pan and his Lost Boys. Pan eventually left to find new adventures, eventually finding you in Chaldea.

My Room Lines

Peter

Summon: “So this is Chaldea…? There are a lot of grown ups, but a bunch of kids too, I think I’ll hang around! That alright, Master?!”

Level up: “This is what growing feels like? I don’t hate it, but hey! I ain’t changin’!”

Level up (Super success): “Woah! talk about a growth spurt!”

1st Ascension: “This means I’m Stronger right? Let’s do it again!”

2nd Ascension: “Hey! it was more fun this time!”

3rd Ascension: “You mean we can only do it so many times? How many are left?! Just one?!”

4th Ascension: “Aww… it feels super awesome… I hope we can find more ways to get stronger together, Master!”

Battle Start 1: “Right, ready Tink?”

Battle Start 2: “Let’s have some fun!”

Skill 1: “How’s it lookin’ down there?!”

Skill 2: “Hey! those are mine!”

Skill 3: “Uh, uh, uh, that’s against the rules, buddy!”

Attack 1 2 3: “Cha!” “Nice one!” “Hey!”

Extra Attack: “Time out!”

Noble Phantasm selected: “A new one for the group eh?”

Noble Phantasm selected 2: “Okay Tink, Full speed ahead!”

Noble Phantasm 1: “Second star to the right, straight on to morning… fly with me and… JOIN MY LOST BOYS!”

Battle Victory 1: “Another one for the lost boys!”

Battle Victory 2: “Did you see that master?! Aren’t I awesome?!”

Normal damage 1: “Gah!”

Normal damage 2: “Hey no fair!”

Normal damage 3: “That really hurt…”

Normal damage 4: “This game’s no fun.”

Defeat 1: “Master… It okay if I stop playing…?”

Defeat 2: “Sorry Tink…”

Voice Line 1: “Eh? You wanna play master? Fine, but I won’t go easy just cuz your old…”

Voice Line 2: “Time to train, come on! you ain’t worn out, are ya?”

Voice Line 3: “Maybe we can go visit Never Ever Land… you’d stand out, but we can fix that~!”

Likes: “Oh, candy, games, My Lost Boys, a whole bunch of stuff!”

Dislikes: “Huh… well, Pirates, Grown-ups, Vegetables…. some other stuff I guess”

Bond 1: “This place ain’t half bad, and neither are you, Master.”

Bond 2: “So you still think you can keep up with me? Sure, if you wanna try”

Bond 3: “You’re pretty cool for an old timer, Master!”

Bond 4: “I think you’re growin’ on me, master, so let’s play sometime, okay?”

Bond 5: “If I ever decide to grow up… I think I’d wanna be like you, Master”

Event: “Eh? Somethin’ big’s going on! Let’s go check it out!”

Birthday: “You’re even older today? Just lemme know if you want that fixed, okay?”

Tinker Bell

Summon: “Forgive Peter, he’s very excited. We are Peter Pan and Tinkerbell, of the Alter Ego class.”

Level up: “Yes, I believe it is, Peter”

Level up (Super success): “Teehee, that’s quite the analogy…”

1st Ascension: “Yes, indeed it does, Peter”

2nd Ascension: “Now now, patience is key”

3rd Ascension: “Well, Saint graph ascension can only be done so many times Peter. I believe there’s only one more left”

4th Ascension:”Teehee, that’s the Peter we know and love, always out for another adventure, right?

Noble Phantasm 1: “Now, as I summon thee forth! Bring out our Home Land!”

Battle Victory 1: “Yes! We did it!”

Defeat 1: “Master… please take care of Peter…”

Voice Line 1: “Make sure Peter eats enough, okay Master?”

Voice Line 2: “Is he having fun with his new Lost Boys? That’s good…”

Voice Line 3: “Those other children seem quite enamored by me, don’t you think…?”

Likes: “Seeing Peter happy and healthy.”

Dislikes: “Peter being upset is the only one I can think of…”

Bond 1: “Hmm… I still don’t quite trust you with my Peter but…”

Bond 2: “Well if you keep proving yourself… I may just trust you yet.”

Bond 3: ”Wonderful! I mean…. that was quite well done, Master…”

Bond 4: “I… I should keep that cheerful attitude… I-I have no idea what you mean!”

Bond 5: “You are quite interesting, Peter is quite fond of you… as am I, Master”

Event: “I concur, let’s go see what the fuss is all about”

Birthday: “As Peter said, just give the word and we can fix that”

#Fate/Grand Order #fate #fgo

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 6 years ago

Text

Taking Back Neverland--Chapter 2 of 10

Pairing: Captain Swan

Rating: G or a soft T

Summary: AU. After actress Emma Swan’s lead role in a popular TV show is at an end, she is offered the leading role in the Regina Mills film, Taking Back Neverland, a fresh retelling of the Peter Pan story. It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. Only problem? She’ll be starring opposite Killian Jones, who she positively can’t stand. (Originally part of my Fluffy Fridays collection.)

Previous chapter: (1)

Notes: So this is an old story, originally written about 3 years ago as part of my Fluffy Fridays collection, but @kmomof4 made the amazing above pic-set for it as a birthday gift, (Thanks Krystal! It’s perfect!), and I decided it was time for a reissue. Enjoy!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chapter 2

“You really should check out this script, mate,” Robin said, “it’s bloody perfect for you.”

Killian took a swig of his rum, grinning to himself. “Let me guess…it’s a Regina Mills production?”

Robin grinned back, taking a healthy swig of his beer before continuing. “It may be my fiancée’s current project but that makes it no less perfect for you. I know you don’t have any pressing projects at the moment. What would it hurt to just check it out?”

“Alright, I’ll bite,” Killian said, “what exactly is so perfect about this particular script?”

“It’s got action, adventure, a bit of whimsy, and romance,” Robin answered. “You’d be taking the role of Captain Hook.”

“A villain?”

“Well, perhaps more of a reformed scoundrel,” Robin allowed. “He is the male romantic lead, after all.”

Killian was silent for several moments, warring with himself. The sounds of the bar, The Rabbit Hole, washed over him. Finally, he reached up, scratched at the spot behind his ear and spoke again, refusing to look at his mate.

“You know full well I haven’t taken an action role since…it happened,” he said, taking a fortifying swig of rum. He held up his slightly-atrophied left hand and stared at it in disgust. “Not much place in action movies for a bloke who only has one working hand.”

Robin clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ve been over this. You could act circles around half the leading men in Hollywood right now even with their two hands.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” Killian said under his breath.

He flexed his left hand, the motion weak and taking painfully long, and his mind went back to the accident. The moment his life changed forever. Not only had he lost his love, his Milah in that automobile crash, but his hand had been crushed. After extensive surgeries, the doctors had managed to save the hand (it had been touch and go for a while, the doctors all preparing him for the possibility that amputation may be necessary), but they told him he’d never get more than minimal functionality from it again.

“Well I am,” Robin said bracingly. “And besides. Your disability will be no factor in anything that’s required of you in this particular film. If you’ll recall, Captain Hook came by the name after a crocodile ate his left hand.”

Well, that did provide some interesting possibilities. He couldn’t deny he missed starring in action-heavy roles. They had been his staple before the accident. He’d made quite a name for himself. Since it had happened…well, he’d spent most of his acting time playing the protagonist in rom-coms. He’d been blessed with good looks, and he’d acquired more than his fair share of female fans thanks to those roles, but he hungered for another role of real substance.

“Very well,” Killian said, pushing aside his tumbler of rum and preparing to settle his tab, “I’ll give it a read.”

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Read it he had, and he’d promptly fallen in love. This was the role of a lifetime. Quite a fresh and imaginative take on the tale of Peter Pan, with Hook the romantic hero and Pan the bloody demon. It hit everything that made a story great—action, adventure, romance, witty dialogue, and the happiest of happy ending (particularly for Captain Hook and the protagonist Anna Swan).

Robin was right; this was a role he simply couldn’t turn down. Truth be told, it was as though the part had been written for him. He saw himself in the resilient fighter Captain Hook was, the melancholy hero who had endured far too much loss in his life.

The theme of a rather lonely little boy reconnecting with his birth mother likewise touched something deep inside. There was something healing in reading about that little boy’s healing—and the way he healed his mother—that soothed (at least in part) the wound Killian carried from his own father’s abandonment so many years ago. True, Anna Swan had given up her infant to give him his best chance while his father had abandoned him and Liam out of nothing but sheer selfishness, but an orphan’s an orphan.

The very next morning, he’d called Regina Mills directly (there were certainly perks to being best mates with the fiancé of one of Hollywood’s biggest directors) and expressed interest in the role. She’d immediately called him in for an audition—a process she’d assured him was nothing but a formality. Killian had made quite a name for himself over the years, and Regina had assured him the part was his for the taking.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

And so it was that two weeks later he found himself striding into the studio for a chemistry test with the female lead, Emma Swan.

He knew very little about his on-screen love interest. He’d caught a few episodes of her television show, but a man can’t very well get a read on a person based solely on her performance as an actress. He could tell that she was bloody gorgeous and had more than her share of talent, but as to the rest? Who was to know?

He fervently hoped they hit it off. As the two of them were scene partners in nearly every scene they were involved with, they would be spending long, grueling hours together over the next few months. Far better to spend that time with someone he genuinely liked than someone who got on his last nerve.

His agent, who insisted he call her Tinker Bell for some unaccountable reason, had playfully suggested maybe the two of them would not only get along, but get along. She’d nudged him, winking playfully, asking if he knew what she meant.

Aye, he knew exactly what she meant, but it wasn’t going to happen. No matter what this Emma Swan may be like, his heart had been broken so definitively it would never be mended again. For the first few years after Milah’s death, he’d buried the pain in rum and passionate nights with as many anonymous women as he could find.

But eventually he realized how utterly empty his life had become. He’d loved Milah with a burning passion, and their life had been good. Losing himself in meaningless encounters with women did nothing to mask the pain, only made him realize how pointless his life had become. Truth be told, he was no longer interested in meaningless sex. If anything, he wished for a real, true, meaningful relationship.

But that ship had sailed when his love had died. No use wishing for something he would never again allow to be his.

The studio door opened, cutting short Killian’s melancholy musings, and then she walked through, and every thought in his head suddenly fled. He knew Emma Swan was beautiful; he’d seen that clear enough when he’d viewed her TV show, but nothing could have prepared him for the punch to the gut seeing her live and in person gave him.

She wore her long, luscious blonde hair in an artfully messy ponytail high on hear head. Her green eyes sparkled. And there was just a certain, indefinable something about being in the same room with her that made him tingle with awareness.

Love at first sight, Tink would have supplied in a sing-song voice. He definitively shoved that thought aside. Where he and Emma Swan were concerned, the only “falling in love” that would happen would be of the on-screen kind.

He took a deep breath and let it out, trying desperately to get ahold of himself. He was going to keep this professional if it killed him. When he finally felt like he could talk to the goddess without making an utter fool of himself, he walked over to her, keeping his expression pleasantly friendly.

“Hello love; my name’s Killian Jones.”

He offered his hand, and she looked at him suspiciously for a moment before taking it and shaking it tentatively. “I’m Emma Swan.”

He smiled at her like an idiot. This whole “remaining professional” business was going to be a fair bit more difficult than he’d expected.

~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~c~s~

Emma glanced away, desperately needing to put some distance between them. A woman could drown in those blue eyes of his.

No wonder he’s had nearly every woman in a 100-mile radius falling all over themselves over him, she thought to herself. And that was enough to bring back reality. She wasn’t, absolutely wasn’t going to be just another conquest.

So, she straightened, and looked down at the script again while they waited for the casting director (a rather bad-tempered man named Leroy) to signal that they were ready for the chemistry test.

She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the scene Leroy had pulled out for them to read. She’d been afraid he’d pick the scene—the big, passionate kiss that changed everything for both Anna and Hook (although it took Anna a considerably longer time than Hook to admit it). Stage kiss or not, no way was she ready to lock lips with Killian Jones. She was going to have to psych herself up for that.

Luckily, that wasn’t the scene picked, but one a couple of acts later. This one was all dialogue. Romantic and emotional dialogue, yes, but strictly dialogue none the less. Not even a stray brush of hands in the script for this one.

She’d be fine; just fine.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road,” Leroy said from his seat just beyond the stage. “Haven’t had breakfast yet, and if Granny’s runs out of bacon before I get there, there’s gonna be hell to pay.”

“I’m quaking in my boots,” Killian said under his breath, only loud enough for Emma to hear.

She smiled in spite of herself. “You should be,” she whispered back. “He looks like he means business.”

“Hey, break it up!” Leroy growled. “Save the flirting for the stage!”

Emma felt her face flame. Leroy thought she was flirting with Killian? Ugh! Making this film was going to be the longest couple of months of her life.

“Right,” Leroy said again with a nod. “So in case you’re not that familiar with the context yet, your scene comes a couple hours after the Echo Caves confession. Hook and Baelfire are both sniffing after Anna and she just wants to get to Henry. Bae just took the cutlass and went off looking for Dark Hollow. And that’s where you two love birds pick it up.”

Emma closed her eyes, pictured the scene to come, imagined the emotions running through Anna at the moment—fear for her son’s safety, a strange mixture of relief and panic at Bae’s return, desire—and maybe the starting of something more—for Hook. She still felt a bit overwhelmed about how much her life had changed over the past few months.

So, sky-high walls. She could do sky-high walls.

Emma opened her eyes and became Anna.

Anna shot Hook a suspicious look, putting her hand out to stop him from stepping past her and following Bae.

“What was that about.”

Hook looked aside, clearly uncomfortable. “I assumed he’d heard my secret. I also assumed you’d told him of our shared moment.”

Of course he’d go there , Anna thought to herself. She rolled her eyes. “Why would you assume that?”

He stepped forward, his deep, deep blue eyes boring into hers and not giving up. Anna felt her heart pound at his nearness. “Because I was hoping it meant something.”

Anna wasn’t going there. She wasn’t going anywhere near there. Best to change the subject. “What meant something was that you told us that Bae was still alive. Thank you. I realize you could have kept Pan’s information to yourself.”

“Why would I have done that?” He sounded as though he genuinely didn’t know the answer.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe Pan offered you a deal. Why else would he tell you?”

“It was a test,” Hook said, his voice softening—even as it shone with sincerity. “He wanted to see if I’d leave an old friend to die, even if the old friend happens to be vying for the same woman I am.”

“And you chose your friend?” Emma let a hint of breathlessness enter her voice.

“Does that surprise you?”

Uh, yeah, it did. “You are a pirate.”

“Yeah, that I am.” Hook looked down, and Anna’s heart twisted at the hint of self-deprecation she saw in the gesture. This guy really was good.

And then he turned on the intensity, and Emma found it difficult to think at all. “But I also believe in good form. So when I win you heart, Anna, and I will win it, it will not be because of any trickery; it will be because you want me.”

He stepped even closer; so close that she could feel his breath against her face. His eyes held hers, shining with sincerity. She felt like a moth in the presence of the flame. She wanted nothing more than to sway into him.

Well why not? Anna’s supposed to be falling in love, isn’t she?

She let her face show how much Hook’s words affected her. She saw his eyes darken in response, and it took way, way more effort than it should to pull back and let Anna try to put some emotional distance between them once again.

“This is not a contest, Hook.”

He gave her no quarter, no lessening of his particular earnestness. “Isn’t it? You’re going to have to choose, Anna; you realize that, don’t you, because neither one of us is going to give up.”

That was way, way too much for her. “The only thing I have to choose is the best way to get my son back.”

He smiled proudly. “And you will.”

Emma knew enough about Anna to know she was not used to anyone putting her first; she wasn’t used to anyone having faith in her. She let a touch of wonder enter her voice. “You think so?”

“I’ve yet to see you fail,” he let his smile turn playful, flirtatious. “And when you do succeed, well, that’s when the fun begins.”

For several moments after the scene wrapped, Emma and Killian continued staring at each other. That was…that was…intense.

She didn’t realize she was effectively staring longingly into Killian Jones’ eyes until Leroy chuckled. “Oh yeah. I don’t think chemistry is going to be any problem between the two of you.”

Emma blinked, and then felt the heat creep up into her cheeks. How was she ever going to survive making this damn movie?

She did what she did best. She stormed away.

“Yeah, well,” she said over her shoulder as she walked away, “what can I say? We’re really, really good actors.”

And she told herself it was the truth. She’d just managed to really get into character; that was all that had happened out there on that stage. It was Anna’s emotions she was feeling, not her own. Not anywhere close to her own.

#cs ff #cs au ff #my fanfiction #taking back neverland #reruns

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sophiehadder-blog · 6 years ago

Text

In which Tink goes to a meeting in disguise || (Sophink)

[In which the plan is put into action, and Tink bites off more than she can chew]

This makes no sense! Part 1: In which Sophie leaves Swynlake in several directions at once

[tws: uh, slimy witches, some bad thoughts, uh, hypnotism, nothing too graphic or anything]

@tink-bell

TINK

For the record, Tink did not absolutely hate this plan. It wasn’t even a bad plan. She thought it was pretty good, honestly. Going to the Witch of the Waste to find help for the one thing she hadn’t been able to fix was doable. Hell, it was even believable. Because, yeah, Tink really did want her wings fixed. They were the one part of her that really made her feel like a fairy. Without them all she had was tinkering and she’d never considered that much of a talent. Anyone could turn scraps into something else. It wasn’t a fairy trait. Not like some of the others.

Those thoughts swirled around her as she made her way through the town of Ingary. Just like before she couldn’t help but marvel at all that was around her. It almost seemed like everyone in the town had magic of some sort and not a single one of them were afraid to flaunt it. And again it made her wish for magic of her own. Something more than two broken wings and a knack for tinkering.

Grandma had told her where to go, she had told her what to say. Tink had even practiced it in the mirror as she got ready that morning. Before she’d put her tattered shirt on and let her mangled wings slip free from the holes in the back. The broken fairy had tried her hardest not to look at them as she pinned her hair up and lined her eyes perfectly. She’d even given Grandma the brightest smile she could muster before making her way from the room.

All of that brought her up to this moment. The moment of truth she was calling it. Her fist knocked on the door, three rapid knocks, and then she took a step back, attempting to look as forlorn as possible for when the witch inevitably opened the door.

THE WITCH

There was always something about Ingary’s air early in the morning. It brimmed with possibility, and fright. Yes, you see, air could be afraid. When you thought about it, it wasn’t really that surprising, either. For everywhere that it was, for all it heard, no wonder the air was afraid. It knew when things were about to happen, it could guess better than most on the outcomes.

This morning, the air was afraid.

It coaxed forwards the tattered fairy who walked on early. It ignored the glances she got from the passersby, the ones unaccustomed to such a sight, because Ingary was not Swynlake. Rarely ever did the magic here get out of whack. Rarely here did things ever go poorly. The air knew this wasn’t true.

It lingered when she knocked on the door. It willed the noise to go unheard, the halls to be unroamed, but it knew the outcome of that too.

The door creaked open, and behind it the terrible woman with a gorgeous smile.

The Witch raised an eyebrow, tilting her head and jostling her wiry hair at the fairy on her doorstep.

“I don’t take appointments on Sundays. In fact, it’s very rude for you to be here but--” She purred, her eyes narrowing. Intrigue, was the look. “You are not a regular customer, are you? I can see it all around. Who might you be, exactly?”

TINK

No matter how much Sophie and Tink had talked about this exact moment, nothing prepared her for the feeling she got when the door opened and the Witch appeared before her. In that moment Tink wanted to doubt their plan because this woman was… She was nasty. The fairy could feel the evil coming off of her.

But they had a plan and Tink wasn’t going to fail.

She squared her shoulders, held her head high despite her broken wings and her secret wish. This Witch wasn’t going to shame her for doing what she wanted. She wouldn’t let her.

“I apologize,” she started with, looking to the Witch apologetically (or as apologetically as she could knowing who and what this woman was). “I heard about you… About how powerful you are and how you might be able to help.” It was an embellishment, only meant to get the Witch to want to allow her in. Flattery was always the way to a sorcerer’s heart. Especially one like this.

“My town… someone summoned a demon around April Fool’s.” Just the thought of it made her eyes water as she thought back on what happened in that strange apocalyptic event. “One of the things he created did this. She--- It ripped off my wing over and over and over. It never healed.” She turned partially and showed off the one wing that was more a half formed stump now. “And the other-- I don’t remember exactly. It was… Some man. He-- He got off on it. On mutilating me.” This time her tears did fall and she wiped at them and drew in a shaky breath. “Please… Please fix them. Fix me. I’ll do anything.”

THE WITCH

Now, the Witch was wily. The air knew that. They knew she was unkind, and stubborn, but it also knew she was curious, like a bird drawn to shiny things. She looked over the fairy’s wings with muted interest, like she was something that could be added to a collection.

And she was. Despair, sorrow, pain, pixie dust, these were all potent things with many many different uses. It wasn’t the first time the Witch had come across someone like the fairy, though every time felt like it. If she could brim with anything at all, maybe it’d be delight at such a sight. That being said--her glass was undoubtedly half-empty.

The corners of her mouth curled up into a tight-lipped smile, masked and brightened by her own magic so as to look sincere. She peered down at the fairy like a school teacher might a malnourished student; with concern, and a job to do.

“It’s not everyday i make exceptions like these, dear, but come in,” At once the door swung open further, and the Witch stepped aside to reveal the sprawling mansion behind the glamour of her outwards townhouse. “Please, take a seat. I’ll assess, we can discuss your situation. And it’ll be--all sorted. You’ve come to the right place.

TINK

It would be a lie to say that a small sense of relief passed through Tink as the Witch invited her in. It would be an even bigger lie to say that it had only to do with the fact that so far the plan was going well. A small part of her had truly hoped that the Witch would be able to fix her broken wings. That maybe, just maybe, she’d be able to fly again. It didn’t matter that she knew this woman was evil and terrible. That she cursed people for no reason at all.

Hope was a silly thing like that, you know.

Still, Tink followed the Witch in easily and sat on the actually very comfortable seat. It was exactly the kind she’d want for her office. Probably not what she should be thinking about in that moment but it was true. If she made it out of this (she was only fairly certain she would), she would buy ten chairs like these.

“Have you dealt with a lot of fairies like me?” She asked after a moment of settling and looking around. The mansion was filled with interesting and terrifying odds and ends. Everything you expected to find in an evil witch’s home. It made Tink’s skin prickle, thinking that maybe she’d end up one of those little trinkets on a shelf.

She let her gaze find the Witch’s again, eyes wide and almost doe like. An attempt at innocence. “I’ve always heard there’s deals that go with these kinds of things. Is--- Is that true?”

THE WITCH

The walls of shelves, row upon row of them, stacked all the way to the ceiling, all the way down the hall, shuddered in some sort of recognition, and at once, jars began to fly off of them. The Witch meandered around the room, glancing about, concerning herself far more with what was going on in the air then the fairy behind her. She already knew everything she needed to know.

It wasn’t a matter of who, let alone what or how just--when.

Those jars glided down and landed on the bar counter up against the parlour wall, in its very own space carved out amongst the shelves. A bottle of absinthe floated up from out of the cabinet under the little table and settled itself among the jars, a single solution in which to mix solvents.

It was a misconception, actually, to associate Witches with cauldrons or bonfires. Some still preferred those methods--your local kitchen witch wouldn’t be caught dead without a large pot in which to brew--but the same magic could be done in a tumbler. The higher society preferred cocktails, and if you wanted to be a Witch of the highest society, you learned to adapt.

“It is true, and it is untrue, child.” Replied the Witch. A chair floated her way, and raised slightly to catch her descent. She sat, finally peering at the fairy once more. “It depends on the case. Some Witches fancy themselves doctors, others are more nefarious in their purposes it is all… Relative.”

She tilted her head to the side, glancing at the bar. A lone spoon turned in it’s glass, stirring nothing.

“But in your case--for such a tragic predicament--some kind of… Deal, to use your words, would be necessary, yes. You must understand, girl, that I’m not your everyday Witch. You have come to the right place indeed, and right places are not often cheap. And now, my prices are my own, of course, and perhaps… Perhaps you have not come prepared. I tend to the likes of kings and queens, diplomats, and celebrities, and they--know better than to disturb me on a Sunday.” She raised an eyebrow, taunting. “Since you were unaware, how am I to assume you know my prices, see, that would be silly, wouldn’t it?”

TINK

Everything about this read ominous and a sliver of that feeling was beginning to churn in Tink’s stomach. This Witch wasn’t like Howl. She wasn’t like anyone Tink had met. Of course, Tink had never come to a witch or a wizard for any sort of help like that. Her problems were her own and if she truly needed something she went home. There wasn’t anything like fairy dust and the skilled hands of a nurse talent fairy.

But even the nurse talent fairies hadn’t been able to fix her wings. After everything they’d done all they could give her were sad looks and apologies. It was shitty for Tink but it had helped in formulating this plan.

Tink ignored the feeling for now, instead focusing on the way everything seemed to come alive as the Witch moved. Jars flying from the shelves, different bottles following it. She even caught sight of the bottle of absinthe; the sight of which still made her throat incredibly dry simply from the want of alcohol.

“I’m sorry… for disturbing you. I didn’t— I didn’t know. They just told me to see you. That you could help. And I didn’t want to wait. It’s been months since I was able to fly, to feel like a fairy.” Her words came out softly as she looked towards the Witch. “As for cost or.. or deals, I’m prepared to do whatever it takes. Whatever the cost. I just want to fly again.”

THE WITCH

“I know what I want.” The Witch replied, lips pursed. “Or rather--I know what I could take. You may not see it, but you have a lot to give, little fairy.”

She glanced lazily to the side, and at once the jars on the table slid onto the little cart that matched seamlessly with the set. The spinning spoon set the beat, one jar, then another, then another, the bottle of absinthe, until everything was precariously placed on the cart. The spoon counted in its own movement, and the moment it was settled, the cart began to glide forwards. It skirted around the two chairs, and settled in the middle of the rug, equi-distance between the fairy and the witch.

“But that’s no fun, see--” She leaned forwards in her seat, bringing a hand up to rest under her chin. “I believe I’ve already made it quite clear that this isn’t a normal business venture, so name your price.”

She paused, the spoon continued to twirl.

“Tell me what you think is worth your flight, and if I agree, I’ll grant it to you. If I don’t, you have to sweeten the pot. And--if you think you’ve nothing to give, we can go over my own terms.”

The Witch crossed her legs, leaning back in her chair once more, a real queen on her throne.

“Go ahead.”

TINK

From the beginning Tink knew that this was going to be a tricky encounter to navigate. Her and Sophie hadn’t really rehearsed any sort of dialogue, any possible terms. Something that seemed sort of silly now that Tink looked back on it. But there was nothing to be done and she had a strong feeling that no amount of rehearsing could have prepared her for this witch.

Her eyes fixated on the spoon, watching it almost curiously as it spun around and around; it’s pace never speeding up or slowing.

The Witch spoke and Tink listened, wondering just what she should offer. She knew nothing of regeants or even what a witch would want. She wasn’t like the fairies back home. Didn’t have a talent like speed or light or anything. All she had was her tinkering ability. What value did that have in the grand scheme of things? None, in her opinion. All she really had were her earthly possessions. The things she’d brought to Ingary with her.

Round and around the spoon went.

“I-- Uh. Well. I have my talent. I’m a tinker fairy. But I don’t know how interesting that would be. Or if you’d even want it.” Her eyes never left the spoon. “I would trade my talent for my flight. Or-- if you want something more physical I have things I could part with. Things with sentimental value. I’ll give anything to fly again.”

THE WITCH

The jars on the cart in the middle of the room began to shake ever-so-slightly, as if the momentum of the spoon was rocking the cart, or the earth, itself. But it wasn’t. Those were special jars you see, magic jars, hermetically sealed to keep and seek the finest purest regents. They could tell something was brewing. This fairy, judging by the glassy look in her eyes, could not.

Pity for her.

The witch narrowed her eyes, barely giving the fiary any inkling as to her thought process. The moment dragged on, perhaps she was letting it do so on purpose. To see. To test.

Nothing shifted, the spoon kept spinning.

“Anything?” She echoed, unimpressed. People always said they’d give anything, but this was rarely ever true. Anything could mean a lot of things.

“I want the amulet around your neck.” She replied, thin lips curling into a smile. “Seems to me it’s not even yours to begin with, is it?”

TINK

There was a voice in the farthest part of Tink’s mind that screamed ‘NO!’ at the Witch’s words. It was the part of Tinker Bell that knew she couldn’t let go of the amulet because of its importance. Without it Sophie wouldn’t be able to break her curse. They wouldn’t be able to start their life of adventure. Without that amulet that had steadily been gathering magic from the Witch, nothing would change and this entire trip would be for nothing.

But that voice was so faint, so quiet, that it was just barely a whisper. Drowned out by the Witch and by Tink’s other thoughts. Thoughts of having her wings and being a proper fairy again.

Unconsciously her hand went to the amulet around her neck, fingers playing over it’s smooth surface slowly. “No… it’s— it’s my girlfriend’s,” she gave a soft smile at the mention of Sophie. “She loved flying, you know.” As she spoke her hands drifted to the back of her neck, her fingers fiddling with the clasp until she was able to pull the chain from around her neck.

“I think that’s the first thing I’ll do once you’ve fixed me. Take her flying again. She’ll love that.”

THE WITCH

It all clicked into place, and the Witch stood from her seat. It creaked like a wretched thing, both the seat itself and the floorboards under her weight, but she paid no mind, eyes dead set on the amulet in the fairy’s hand instead.

She plucked it from her fingers without any fuss, the chain sliding out of her loose grasp. Her attention was elsewhere, you see, and the spoon still wrung around the rim of the glass, ringing and intoxicating from afar. She held the amulet up to the light, watching as her own magic pooled inside of it, growing in colour at her touch, swirling like the dust in the air. It grew and it grew until it nearly eclipsed the small flicker of green that had been there before. It didn’t go unrecognized. The witch knew what to expect. She had known since the two girls had come to town the other day, foolish in their plots and lazy in their disguises.

“Something tells me that that won’t be case.” She said, finally pocketing the amulet somewhere in the folds of her dress. She turned, then, back to peer down at her stunned visitor. “Fairies make fine pets, you know. I suppose even if your girl’s the coward I know, this might still be worthwhile to me.”

The Witch laughed, shaking her head as she skirted around the edge of the chair.

“Worthwhile, worthwhile, nothing’s ever worthwhile. Nothing. And you’ve been played for a fool if you think otherwise.” She stopped in the doorway to the parlour, glancing back over her shoulder. She laughed. “Now, stay here. We’ll see how this pans out before the day is done. And--if you’re nice, maybe you’ll earn yourself a drink.”

#c: Tink Bell #saga: the end begins

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