#cs storybook

[senchosuwan]

The OUAT ship finally set sail for me, and there's 🪝'Captain Swan'🦢 on it...

This illustration is part of the story I'm currently writing but since it's pretty generic it could fit in the canon, too. I also tried to capture the essence of the storybook illustrations.

And I'm contemplating to draw an illustration for each chapter now...if there's even a demand for it? 🤔

------

[cameronsbabydoll]

it’s just the way i know sometimes when sexist!rafe picks out a dress/outfit for reader , that she was being kinda whiny to put on , he realizes she was right cs that shit was wayyyy to short nd evb is staring at her cs they can see her little lace underwear ns everything , nd rafe is js up behind her the whole day covering her nd tugging the dress down from behind . but when they get home ofc hes not gonna admit anything

-💌

not for their eyes

sexist!rafe x naive!younger!reader

warnings: age gap, ddlg tones, manipulation, sexism, possessiveness, clothing control, voyeuristic tension, power imbalance, public embarrassment, subtle non-consent (in terms of outfit), emotional dependency, rafe being emotionally withholding

you knew it was gonna be short the second he held it up that morning—soft yellow with a little white bow stitched into the waistline and puffy sleeves that made you look like some kind of storybook housewife.

“rafe,” you murmured, already fidgeting with the fabric, “it’s like… really short.”

he didn’t even look at you when he replied.

“good.”

and that was it. that was all he said before tossing it onto the bed and walking off to fix his watch, leaving you standing there like some silly little girl being told what to wear.

you pulled it on anyway, because he liked it. and you liked when he liked things.

it didn’t matter that it barely covered your lace panties or that your chest bounced too much when you walked. he picked it. and that meant it was important.

but now, hours later, under the hot sun and the stares of way too many people, you’re starting to panic.

because you’re not imagining it. the dress is too short. your thighs are constantly exposed, and the hem rides up higher every time you sit or bend. when the wind catches it, you feel air on skin that’s supposed to be covered.

and rafe notices.

he doesn’t say anything—of course he doesn’t—but he’s been behind you the entire day. not beside you. behind. and every time someone walks past, his hand is already on your waist, smoothing down the back of your dress like he’s fixing it. like he’s reminding you who you belong to.

“rafe…” you whisper when the group next to you clearly sees the edge of your panties.

his hand grips your hip a little harder.

“what’d i say earlier?” he asks, voice low near your ear.

you blink, swallowing, “that i’d look pretty.”

“and?”

“that i’d wear what you like.”

“exactly,” he hums, “now stop fussing.”

but you can’t stop. you keep trying to tug it down, even when he swats your hands away lazily like you’re a fidgety child.

by the time you get home, your cheeks are burning and your chest is tight, and he’s acting like nothing happened. like he didn’t see your lips tremble when you caught that guy staring. like he didn’t catch your hand gripping your hem so tight it crumpled the fabric.

“rafe?” you ask when he drops onto the couch and starts scrolling on his phone, one leg thrown wide.

he doesn’t even glance at you. “mm?”

you step in front of him, still in the dress. still shy. still flushed.

“…do you wanna see it again?” you ask, real quiet, twirling a little like a girl showing off a new toy. “i wore it all day for you…”

and that’s what makes him look up.

you’re so eager to please him, so clueless to your own discomfort. and he loves it. he loves that you still want his praise after he spent the whole day ignoring your whines, pretending not to notice the way people stared.

he loves that you trust him more than you trust yourself.

he pats his lap once.

“c’mere.”

you climb into it like it’s routine, the hem riding up again, panties flashing.

“you gonna cry again?” he murmurs, nosing into your neck. “just ‘cause you wore something a little short?”

“i didn’t mean to—” you start, voice already small.

he hushes you with his fingers grazing your thigh.

“i know, baby. but you insisted on wearing it right? didn’t you baby.”

his thumb hooks under the edge of your lace, tugging.

“but now you’re gonna show me how grateful you are, yeah?”

[kmomof4]

12 (Actually 13) Days of Captain Swan Fic Recs !!!

And we are back with Day 5 of my 12 (Actually 13) Days of CS Fic Recs with another writer that I found in my very early days of fan fiction reading, @whimsicallyenchantedrose!! Jen is the absolute QUEEN of fluff and her fics are my go to when I need my spirits lifted.

She is also the final co-writer of our Girls Vacay Fics, so once again, those fics are at the top of my list of favorites of her fics!! And included in that series, is the fic she wrote last year for her travel companions bdays - mine, @jrob64, and @snowbellewells, then ending with her bday last April - The Girls' Trip Fairy Tale Ending - Rated T - Four fandom friends are nearing the end of their annual girls’ trip when they’re suddenly visited by Isaac, the author before Henry. He gives them an each a gift--an opportunity to jump into any scene in the storybook they want and fix it.

And boy did we ever fix those scenes!!! A&E REALLY should have hired us as writers for the show...

But now to the rest of Jen's fics that I've read multiple times over the years.

A Pirate's Christmas Carol - Rated G - CS Christmas Future Fic. With only a month to go before the birth of his and Emma Swan’s first baby, Killian begins to fear he doesn’t have what it takes to be a good father. Three ghosts—from Killian’s past, present and future help him see that he is ready for the adventure that is fatherhood.

The Girl That I Adore - Rated T - Emma wakes from a nightmare one night and finds her husband, Killian Jones, missing from their bed. Emma has a pretty good idea where to find him. Another beautiful blonde has captured his heart-and Emma couldn't be happier.

Until the Stars Are All Alight - Rated T - Written for CSSNS19. CS LOTR au: When Emma Swan steals a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, she has no idea it will lead her toward an adventure filled with danger and intrigue, sacrifice and a love stronger than anything she could imagine. Tasked with bringing the Savior home, the elf, Killian Jones of Misthaven travels to the Land Without Magic. Can he convince Emma to fulfill her destiny before the Dark One regains power and takes over all of the Enchanted Forest?

Under the Apple Tree - Rated T - An Outlaw Queen fic, Jen wrote this one during the summer between s6&7. This fic gave me my OQ happy ending, so it had to be included in the list.

After being hit by the Olympian Crystal, Robin is transported to Seattle, unable to return to any magical realm. When it becomes clear he has no way to return to his family, Robin finally decides to bury his broken heart in work–founding a landscaping business, Sherwood Forestry. Fifteen years later, Robin receives an order from the last person he ever thought he’d see again.

Taking Back Neverland - Rated T - Originally written as a part of Jen's Fluffy Fridays Collection, this fic takes the Neverland arc from the show and puts a FABULOUS twist on it!!

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.

By Land or Sea Series - Rated T - A canon divergent series after 3x11.

A new villain has invaded the Enchanted Forest-the wicked witch of the west, but she is nothing but the lackey of a far greater evil. When Captain Hook hears of an ancient prophecy that details the defeat of the new villain, he knows the prophecy refers to him and Emma. Can he find Emma? Can he restore her memories and make her fall in love with him before it's too late?

And finally, as an Honorable Mention, I can't call Jen the Queen of Fluff and not mention her Fluffy Friday collection. Started as a way to combat the angst left by the s4 finale, the collection now stands at 176 chapters of the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff. I hope you enjoy all these! See you tomorrow for Day 6!!!

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2024–Day 26: Girls’ Trip Fairytale Ending–Jen’s Tale

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Word Count: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 27 28 29 30 31

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

Notes:  This story is the 4th of an eventual 5 chapters of a story I wrote for the birthdays of @jrob64, @snowbellewells, and @kmomof4.

CS Genre: Season 6 fix it fic

Jen didn’t know what she expected transportation via storybook to be like, but she was delighted to discover it was something like entering a snowglobe.  Snowflakes swirled around her, and she watched with delight as they landed on her arms, her shoulders, the ends of her hair.  Each one was different, but each was thoroughly exquisite in its own way.  She knew that most people didn’t get her love of winter and snow but it was beautiful and fascinating, and she would go on loving it despite what anyone else might say.

So engrossed was Jen in the snow swirling around her, that she barely noticed moving from her place in the cabin until the air cleared and she found herself just inside the Charming’s flat.  Her eyes fell first on the tremendous, festively decorated Christmas tree in the sitting area and then the simpler evergreen wreath hanging on the inside of the door.

So it was Christmastime in her version of events?  Well, why not?  Wasn’t Christmas the time for magic?  And she would need some heavy duty, industrial strength magic to fix the mess Isaac had made of the latter part of season 6.

“So Hook….he killed my father?  Okay, that’s a little tough to process.” she heard David say from the kitchen area, and suddenly she knew just exactly where they were in the story. 

She hung back for a moment, trying to figure out just the right time and the right way to intervene.

“I was hoping I didn’t have to tell you,” Emma said, sounding defeated from her perch on the breakfast bar.

“Where the hell is Hook anyway?” David asked, aggressively pacing the kitchen. “He didn’t have the guts to come tell me himself?”

If anything, Emma looked even more dejected. “There’s more.  Hook, he … he left town.”

“What?” David exclaimed, finally coming to a stop and staring at his daughter in disbelief. 

“We had a big fight about him hiding this, and I told him if he wasn’t ready to trust me that, that we shouldn’t talk for a while,” Emma said, “so I guess he wasn’t ready, because Leroy saw him on the docks, and he got on the Nautilus and just…sailed away.”

At this, Jen found herself shaking her head, hurrying forward to intervene.

“Emma,” she said gently, “are you sure?  Are you absolutely SURE that’s what happened?”

Emma looked up, anger and pain written all over her face.  She spread her hands wide.  “He’s not here, is he?  What am I supposed to think?”

“I know how hurt you are by all that happened,” Jen said, “but hasn’t he shown you yet that you don’t need to put up your walls to protect yourself from him?  Hasn’t he proven how much he loves you?”

“Not enough to keep from hiding things from me,” she muttered.

“Kind of like how you hid the truth about the shears and your destiny as savior from him?” Jen asked, being careful to keep any hint of accusation from her tone.

“That’s….that’s different!” Emma spluttered, jumping from the counter and striding purposely toward the coat rack.  “I’ve gotta get to the station. Look, whatever you or I or anyone else might think of him, the facts are the facts, and the fact is that Leroy saw him leave me.  End of discussion.”

As though to punctuate her sentence, she stepped out the door and slammed it behind her.  The Christmas wreath on the door fell to the floor with the violence of the action.  David moved forward to replace the decoration on its perch.

“You know I’m right, don’t you David?” Jen asked.  

He didn’t look at her, instead taking long moments to adjust the wreath just so on the door.  Finally he turned back to face her.  “She’s my daughter, Jen, and she’s hurting, and he’s the cause of it, whatever led to it.  My focus has to be on helping her heal”

“But if things aren’t exactly the way they look…if maybe this is the work of a villain or something,” Jen said, “wouldn’t the ideal way to help her be to figure out the truth?  And you know Killian.  You know how much he loves Emma.  Doesn’t he deserve the benefit of the doubt?”

David frowned, and Jen could tell her words struck a chord in him.  “I suppose you’re right.”

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

With another delightful swirl of snow, Jen found herself transported to the sheriff’s station where David and Emma were discussing digitizing files and the merits of busywork to help dull the pain. She decided to hang back in the shadows, watching to see how this scene played out.

“I’ve got just the thing to mend a broken heart,” Regina said happily, brushing snow off of her coat as she breezed into the station and held up a small piece of paper rolled into a scroll.

Emma eyed it warily. “Whatever spell that is, I don’t want it.  I’m seriously not in the mood for magic.”

“Who said anything about magic?” Regina said unfurling the scroll which was covered in so many images of the season, it looked like Christmas had thrown up all over it.  “It’s a two for one drink coupon for that new club, Aesop’s Tables.  Seems they’re having a big Christmas sale.  It’d be a shame to waste it!”

David stepped up, looking at the coupon and shaking his head. “Really?  You think half priced liquor is the way to go.”

“I certainly do,” Regina said.  “We need a ladies night out, me, Emma and Snow.  We go early enough, we can get back in time for Christmas eve with the family.”

Emma looked unimpressed at the suggestion.  “Remember she’s in a sleeping curse?  She’s at home. Asleep.”

“Well, she doesn’t have to be asleep,” Regina said with a meaningful look at David.

“Oh come on!  I just woke up!” he said.  Regina gave him a look, and he rolled his eyes.  “I guess she doesn’t have to be asleep.”

Emma got to her feet, clearly in no mood for any of this. “I can’t. I’m about to go on patrol, and shouldn’t you be trying to break that curse?”

Regina blew out an exasperated breath. “Well, I’m working on it, but I could use a break.  We all could.  I know you’re hurting, and I know you’re trying to hide it because, well, you’re Emma, but you can’t just run from this.”

Emma gave her a hard look.  “I didn’t run.  Hook ran, so, there’s nothing more to say.”  She placed the last file on the pile in front of her with rather more force than strictly necessary, and then headed toward the door.  It was abundantly clear that she was running from the conversation as much as she was heading out on rounds.

“You know,” David said speculatively as she walked out, “I’ve been thinking.”

Regina snorted, “a dangerous pastime.”

He glared at her and then went back to the topic at hand. “I’m not sure it’s true.  I’m not sure Hook really DID run,” he finished.

“Well he’s not here, is he?” she asked, gesturing around the office to make her point. “Seems your daughter has some reason to think he skipped town.”

“Leroy,” David said.

“I beg your pardon?” Regina said.

“Leroy’s her reason,” David said.  “He apparently saw Hook on the docks, told Emma something about Hook getting on the Nautilus and sailing away.”

Regina tutted derisively.  “Leroy?  Emma’s just going on the word of that gossip girl?”

David shrugged.  “You know how hard it is for Emma to trust, how closely she guards her heart.  She’s hurting, but you and I both know Hook.  That man isn’t capable of loving by half measures.  It doesn’t make sense that he’d decide he doesn’t trust her and just….cut his losses and skip town.”

Jen nodded in satisfaction.  That’s the David she knew, rather than the clueless one Isaac wrote, the one who was ready to believe the worst of Killian at the slightest provocation.

“I guess you have a point there,” Regina conceded, “and we do have a psychopath running around trying to separate Emma from all her sources of support.  I can’t believe I’m saying this, but maybe it’s time to give the pirate the benefit of the doubt.”

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

With another swirl of snow, Jen found herself in the sitting room of Emma’s house.  She smiled as she saw the tall Christmas tree in the corner, bedecked with lights and garland and all manner of  hook, swan, storybook and Disney character ornaments.

The smile slid from her face as she spied Emma and Henry sitting together at opposite ends of the sofa.  Henry played on his phone, earbuds in place while Emma slowly, gently placed Hook’s possessions in his chest. She hesitated as she reached Liam’s ring hanging from its chain.  She held it close, looking down at it, the tears coming to her eyes in spite of herself.

Beside her, Henry seemed to notice her distress.  He pulled the earbuds from his ears.  “Mom, you okay?”

Emma took a deep breath and decisively placed the ring in the trunk and closed the lid.  “Yeah, I’m fine,” she answered. “I have to be,” she added under her breath.  “Henry, can you take this out to the shed later?”

Henry nodded.  “Yeah, whatever you want.”

That was it?  That was all Henry had to say on the matter?  Clearly it was time for Jen to intervene again.

“Take a moment to think about this Emma, Henry,” Jen said.  “Look at what’s sitting before you.  Hook’s chest, filled with all his most prized possessions.  If he was going to leave you, why would he leave all of that behind?”

Jen saw a small glimmer of hope dawn in Emma’s eye, but just as quickly it disappeared.  “I don’t know, but I’ve already told you.  I have to face the facts.  Holding on to false hope only hurts worse.”

Beside her, Henry furled his brow.  “Jen’s got a point, mom,” he said, Jen nodded in satisfaction. Maybe the Truest Believer was ready to work his (metaphorical) magic once more.  “Killian spent two hundred years trying to avenge my grandma Milah.  Once he loves someone, he loves them forever.”

There was that tiny spark of hope in her eyes once more.  It lasted longer this time before it faded. “But sometimes love is not enough.  Seems that’s the case with Hook.”

“Mom, he literally went to hell for you,” Henry said.  “You two were proven True Love.  When Zeus wanted to send Killian to his ultimate reward–to the place he truly belonged–he sent him back to you.  You really think he gave all of that up over an argument?”

Emma took a moment to think this over and seemed to be on the verge of responding when there was a brisk knock on the door, and a moment later David and Regina strolled in.

“Regina…what the hell?” Emma asked, getting to her feet.

“Your Charming father and I have been talking,” Regina said, “and we’ve come to the conclusion that you’re being an idiot.”

“I’d like to point out for the record, that that is not  the conclusion I came to,” David said with an exasperated glare in the direction of his step-mother-in-law.  “I said that I thought your pain might be clouding your judgment.”

“Technicalities,” Regina said with a wave of the hand.

Emma rolled her eyes.  “As much as I’m enjoying the bickering at my expense,” she drawled, “is there a point to your visit?”

“We were thinking,” David said, stepping forward.  “How many times in this town has a villain screwed with things and made circumstances seem different than they are in order to despirit the heroes and further their plan?  How can we be sure Gideon didn’t, I don’t know, do something to make Killian leave?”

There was that hope in Emma’s eyes once more, and this time it stubbornly refused to fade.  “Do you really think that could be the case?” she asked.

“Of course!” Henry said, “and we know what Gideon’s trying to do!  He’s trying to separate Emma from all her sources of support before the final battle!  It would be just like him to get rid of Killian, her true love.”

“But…” Emma said, starting to protest once more, but far more weakly this time.

“Emma he’s your True Love, and that’s a special kind of magic,” David said, placing his hands on her arms.  “Don’t you at least owe him–and yourself–trying to figure out for sure?”

“I suppose you’re right,” Emma said, “but how?  Forget why he left.  We don’t even know where he went.”

Jen stepped up, looking at Regina.  “It’s Christmas time.  Surely there’s some sort of…I don’t know…enchanted Christmas ornament ro something that can help us out.”

“I don’t know about an ornament,” Regina said slowly, “but there is the legend of the Christmas wreath.”

“What legend is that, mom?” Henry asked.

“Well the evergreen wreath is a symbol of everlasting love, right?” Regina asked.  “You know, evergreens never shedding their green needles, the circle the symbol of that with no beginning or end, all of that?”

Emma shrugged.

“Well, apparently, at Christmastime, the wreath has a special, even greater magic,” Regina says.  “The magic of the season enhances its True Love properties, and, in short, if someone is True Love, it’s said they will be able to see their True Love in it, assuming they adorn it with something meaningful belonging to said True Love.”

“One problem,” Emma said.  “I don’t have a wreath.”

“But Grandma and Grandpa do!” Henry said excitedly.  “They made it together and it’s on their door!  That could work, couldn’t it?”

Regina groaned.  “Given how utterly sickening their True Love is, I’d say a wreath they lovingly made together might be the perfect option.”

“And as for something meaningful to Killian,” Emma said, reaching into the trunk and grasping Liam’s ring, “I’ve got the perfect thing.”

“Well, what are we waiting for?” David asked with a broad smile.  “Let’s get back to the loft!”

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

“I don’t see anything,” Emma said dejectedly several minutes later.

Regina had poofed them directly to the loft, and Emma had wasted no time in draping Liam’s ring over her parents’ wreath before staring into the center of it.

“You have to believe, Emma,” Regina said, “truly believe in the strength and everlasting nature of your love.  You need to put all doubts from your mind.”

Emma took a deep breath, closed her eyes for a moment, and then looked back through the center of the wreath.  She gasped, hearing him before she saw him.

“Emma? Emma are you there? I didn’t mean to leave. I was on my way back to you and Gideon, he sent me away.”

Slowly the picture began to emerge from within the wreath.  Killian seemed to be in some exotic place, a place in the desert.  If Emma wasn’t mistaken, he was standing beside…was that Ariel?...and he was speaking into what looked like a seashell.

“Seems he’s trying to communicate via ‘shell’ phone,” David grinned. Regina groaned and Emma shushed them both, concentrating on what she was hearing from the wreath…or shell…or whatever the hell was happening.

“I would never leave you. Emma. He wanted me out of the way, and I love you. I don’t know if you can hear me but I’m trying to get home to you, and I won’t ever stop until I do.”

Tears of relief filled Emma’s eyes and spilled down over her cheeks. “Killian?” she answered.  

Through the wreath, she saw him start and look down in wonder at the shell in his hand.  “Emma?  You’re there?”

“I’m here,” she said tearfully.  “I hear you.  I love you too!”

“I’m trying desperately to get home to you,” he said.  “Christmas is tomorrow, and I couldn’t bear to spend it without you.  Do you have any suggestions?”

Emma looked around at Regina.  “Anything more to that wreath legend?” she asked.  “Can it, like, transport someone?”

“Well,” Regina said slowly, “I suppose it’s possible, if he could find a wreath of his own and something of yours to tether them together.  Maybe the wreath could bring him home.”

“Are you there, love?” Killian asked.

“He can’t hear you?” Emma asked Regina.  

She shrugged.  “Well he’s not my True Love.”

Emma rolled her eyes before telling Killian what Regina had just conveyed to her.  It was a matter of just a moment to get everything arranged.  As luck would have it, Ariel had, among her tremendous collection of random things, a Christmas wreath, and Killian was able to tether it to Emma’s by adding her engagement ring to its boughs.

There was a flash of Christmas lights, and then he was there, back in the room with them.

Jen held her breath, knowing what was coming, thrilled at the prospect of being a witness to it.  She pulled back to give them a bit of privacy, even if she had no intention of withdrawing entirely from a scene of such great importance to her very favorite fictional couple.

“I’m sorry, Emma,” Killian said, taking her hand. “I should have told you what I did to your grandfather all those years ago, and I should never, never have even considered running away.

Jen noticed the tears in Emma’s eyes, her watery smile as she looked up at him. “It’s okay.  I didn’t exactly make it easy for you to tell me the truth.  Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up.”

She turned away, trying to pull him with her, but he held his ground.  “No,” he said, “no, there’s something I have to do before I get pushed into another portal and this time, I’m gonna do it the right way.”

Killian reached into his jacket pocket, wincing with the pain the movement caused his bruised body.  He pulled out the engagement ring and Jen noticed how brilliantly it shown in the light of the Christmas tree behind them.

“Swan,” he continued "I know that you face an uncertain future, but there’s one thing I want you to be certain of–that I will always, always be by your side.”  He sunk to one knee gazing up at her with every ounce of the love and adoration he felt for her. “So, Emma Swan, what do you say?  Will you marry me?”

While normally not nearly as exuberant as Krystal, it was only with great difficulty that Jen restrained herself from squealing.  The scene had been beautiful and romantic when she’d watched it on her TV screen–multiple times–but being there, in person–there were no words.

And then when Emma got to her knees beside him, took his face in her hands, gave him her yes and then kissed him tenderly, there was no way Jen could have held back her ecstatic sigh.

Neither Emma nor Killian, who were thoroughly engrossed with each other and cocooned in their love nor anyone else in the room heard or noticed as the snow swirled one last time to transport Jen back to the cabin.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[catofadifferentcolor]

Terrible Fic Idea #82: The Chronicles of Narnia, but make it ASOIAF

@kyuremking recently asked me how I would go about combining Game of Thrones with The Chronicles of Narnia - and admittedly I was a bit baffled at first. Narnia has never been one of my go-to fandoms - I never liked how CS Lewis handled Susan, as if growing up was a crime worthy of exclusion from paradise, and the religious imagery feels quite heavy-handed considering the century in which they were published.

But I thought. And I mused. And I turned the idea over in my mind. And this is what I came up with: What if the Stark siblings fell into an Old Gods-analog of Narnia?

aka The Chronicles of Winterfell fic

Just imagine it:

One day while exploring beneath the catacombs, young Arya Stark falls into Narnia. It is not quite the Narnia we know, with most of the heavy Christian symbolism of the books being replaced by the beliefs and mythology of the Old Gods.

As the religion of the Old Gods is not overly expanded upon in canon, let's imagine it here as something of a cross between shintoism and folk orthodoxy - polytheist and heavily animist with a notion of "pollution vs purity" and an un-codified moral code, but with localized cults of anthropomorphized saints which over the centuries have picked up certain aspects of certain of the New Gods. The details don't really matter so long as the two most important of these saints, which have taken on aspects of the Smith and the Mother, can be used to replicate the Narnian idea of son of Adam and daughter of Eve.

Arya falls into Narnia. Bran tentatively believes her, but the rest of her siblings think she's telling tales. This leads to some back and forth before Jon and Sansa are separately tasked to pull Bran and Arya out of the catacombs - and end up falling into Narnia after them.

Jon, Sansa, Bran, and Arya free Narnia from an endless winter at the hands of the Corpse Queen, who was trapped there by the Children of the Forest, which weakened the Others enough that the Last Hero was able win the Battle for the Dawn. They then rule Narina as Kings and Queens for forty years, eventually falling back into Winterfell while hunting the White Stag.

The exact details of the Narnia interlude are unimportant, as our story picks up literally the minute they find themselves all in a heap back in the catacombs, child-sized once more.

The rest of their family immediately notices the difference, but has no idea what to make of it. All of a sudden the four middle Stark children seem to have overcome all of their differences. They're not just acting like miniature adults, they're acting like proper lords and ladies - used to commanding and their orders being followed.

The difference is starkest with Arya - who seems have mellowed in the course of a day to warrior queen out of legend - and Sansa - who is no longer dreamy but dangerous in the way all Queens of Winter have always been. But it's there with Jon - who seems surer, steadier, and more comfortable in his own skin even as he looks at Ned with betrayal in his eyes - and Bran - who has gone from wanting to be a storybook knight to being the gallant knight he's always wanted to be.

Additionally, all four seem unspeakably close these days and can often be found whispering together - and slowly going silent when anyone else draws near. They're in and out of each other's chambers to the point where it's honestly strange to find one of them alone.

There's no time to ponder these changes, as the royal party is on their way North.

Ned will regret not paying closer attention for the rest of his life.

For while in Narnia, the Stark children learned two things: 1) That Jon is the son of Rhaegar Targaryen and his second wife, Lyanna Stark. Though it's never outright stated, it's heavily implied that while Lyanna's abduction was willing, her imprisonment in a tower was not, and by the end of it hated her husband more than anyone. Jon will never, ever be sure where his conception fell on the spectrum; and 2) that the Long Night is coming. It may be in their generation, it may be in the next, but Westeros must be strong to ensure the Dawn will come. Everything they've learned about Robert Baratheon suggests that he will not - cannot - be the king Westeros needs. And so Jon, Arya, Bran, and Sansa plot, and scheme in preparation for Jon to take the throne himself.

They're prepared to play the long game - but don't have to after Bran spies Jamie and Cersei in the First Keep. He arranges for the pair to be discovered in a way that is utterly undeniable. The twins are tried, found guilty, and beheaded in short order. Cersei's children are declared bastards - and, after Joffrey draws a sword in protest of this, Joffrey is slain as well. Myrcella and Tommen are remanded to Ned's care until they are old enough to join the Faith, enter the Citadel, or take the Black.

And then Robert does what he does best: drinks and whores, seemingly uncaring that his rule is hanging by a thread.

And so Jon acts - or rather, Jon and Sansa go to Ned so that he can act. They sit him down, explain that they know Jon is the rightful Targaryen heir, and state that if Ned does not declare for Jon now, he is dooming Westeros to a bloody civil war. It is best to act decisively now rather than wait for Robert's vices to kill him.

This conversation takes the better part of the night, but eventually Ned is convinced. When morning comes, Ned orders his guards put the few royal guards not already under watch (the majority Lannister men-at-arms having been imprisoned for rioting after Jamie and Cersei's deaths) and takes Robert hostage.

Jon is named King Jaehaerys III.

A great host marches south to King's Landing, picking up the lords of the Riverlands while fighting off Lannister forces, and takes King's Landing quickly, despite Renly's spirited defense of the city. Forces are sent to mop up Stannis at Dragonstone in echo of the Rebellion and in short order Jon is King of Westeros in truth.

What follows is a montage of Jon doing is best to strengthen the kingdom, put down rebellions, and make Westeros ready for the Long Night.

Bran marries Shireen Baratheon, who is named Lady Paramount of the Stormlands in her own right. Their marriage is one of surprising affection - and one which seems determined to restore House Baratheon to its greatest number through their own efforts. Bran is known as The Noble Wolf, and earns a reputation equal to that of the Dragonknight or Duncan the Tall.

Arya marries Robin Arryn, but it's doubtful they ever consummate the marriage. When he dies two years later, she claims the Vale by right of widowhood, and has already been doing such a good job ruling in his stead that few protest when there are no viable alternatives. No one ever quite knows who fathers her heir, but by that point the Long Night is in full swing and few take issue with it.

Robb marries Margery Tyrell, the closest the Tyrells can get to the crown. It's a successful marriage, if not one of deep affection, and ensures the North is well-fed when the Long Night comes.

Jon marries Sansa, with whom he'd had a relationship in Narnia and who he'd been dancing around after their return to adolescence. They often wonder about the children they left behind in Narnia, which causes some angst when they start having children in Westeros, but are undeniably the happiest royal couple in 200 years.

There are other efforts beyond marriage in the background, including 1) a long sequence during which Theon Greyjoy is installed as Lord Paramount of the Iron Islands after his father rebels. He proves to be remarkably loyal to the crown, marries Lyra Mormont, and turns the Ironborn from pirates into a royal navy in one generation; 2) Rickon is sent to foster in Dorne, which he takes to in a way no one could have predicted. He ends up staying in Dorne for most his life and becomes known as The Desert Wolf - a wilder, fiercer knight than his brother Bran. He never marries, but fathers a bevy of bastards to rival Oberyn Martell - at least half of them with Oberyn's daughter Loreza; and 3) Tywin being in open rebellion for years before Tyrion, in a desperate attempt to ensure a Lannister stays Lord of the Rock after they're assuredly defeated by the combined strength of the rest of Westeros, kills his father, takes his place, and swears his fidelity - just in time for the Long Night to descend.

With their preplanning, the Long Night is not half as bad as it was in canon - but it's still war. Sansa rules in King's Landing while Jon, Arya, and Bran lead the fighting to the north.

The situation goes poorly at first, with royal forces able to hold The Others off long enough for the Free Folk to to safety - but it's still a retreat, with each loss to the living strengthening the dead. The situation is starting to seem desperate by the time the Others reach the Wall.

In the darkest moment of the Battle of the Wall, the dragon Cannibal arrives at Castle Black to aid Jon, while two of his kin go to help Arya and Bran at the Shadow Tower and Eastwatch-by-the Sea. (These dragons being ice dragon cousins of the Targaryen fire dragons of the east, and thus drawn to the Stark bloodline when they bother to take riders at all.) Together they are the three heads of the dragon...

...and they start pushing the Others back. Within two years, they have won and the Night King is destroyed.

Jon goes on to rule for several more decades, beloved and capable in a way that no Targaryen ruler before him has ever been. (His few detractors are quick to point out he's more Stark than Targaryen, but Jon takes that as a compliment.) His queen, Sansa, seems less a consort and more a co-ruler, and is possibly more beloved than her husband. Their rule is one of peace and growing prosperity throughout the Seven Kingdoms and takes up an almost Arthurian place in the later history and mythology of Westeros.

They never speak of their experiences in Narnia to anyone - save Jon and Sansa's eldest son, Robb and Margery's eldest daughter, Arya's heir, and one of Bran and Shireen's middle children, who fall into Narnia themselves while exploring the Red Keep, who help the rightful king retake his throne...

Bonuses include: 1) The relationship between Robb and Jon never quite getting back to where it was before the Narnia interlude. As a result, Robb and Theon become even closer - which may have a strong role in Theon's efforts to turn the Iron Islands away from raiding. Dealer's choice if this relationship is bromance or romance; 2) A revival of the Old Gods and their religion following in the wake of the Targaryen Restoration. They win many converts everywhere the Stark family gains a foothold and godswoods are restored throughout the Seven Kingdoms; 3) A projection of Westerosi power into the lands beyond the Wall. At first this is nominal, but as parts of Beyond The Wall start to build villages and keeps similar to those in the North, things begin to change. Within 100 years most of the area capable of being settled this way is under control of their own Lord Paramount descended from a marriage between Robb and Theon's lines. The lands further north continue their pre-War lifestyles, but are nominally part of Westeros as well; and 4) Daenerys lives a happy life with Drogo in Essos. She watches with pleasure as her son Rhaego forms the largest land empire the world of ice and fire has ever seen - and lives just long enough to see that empire collapse after his death as his heirs scrabble for power. One of her great-grandsons, however, does end up on the throne of Yi Ti. His dynasty will eventually rise to be Westeros' great eastern rivals.

And that is surprisingly more than I thought'd I'd have. @kyuremking, IDK if this is quite what you were looking for, but it's the best I could come up with. As always, feel free to adopt this bun, just link back if you do anything with it.

More GOT Ideas | More MISC Ideas | More Terrible Fic Ideas

[basalamander-corner]

OC Interview: Viridian

Thank you so much for the tag @gummybugg and sorry it took so long for me to get to it, but here I am! This has been in my drafts for soooooooo long so hopefully it lives up to your expectations haha!

This interview features Viridian, from my main wip The Shifting Tides!

I'll tag @hollyannewrites @hallwriteblr @airic-fenn @sparrowrising @tate-lin @lexiklecksi @charlies-storybook @lshark-cs @joswriting @thesorcerersapprentice @hippiewrites and @betweenthetimeandsound! And anyone else who wants to join in, just say I tagged you!

Question 1! Are you named after anyone?

Viridian shifts in his chair a little, seeming perfectly at ease with himself. A smile appears, pearly-white teeth showing in a not-too-friendly sort of way. Rather, he seems joyful at this question, all too eager to answer it.

"My ancestors, quite obviously." He waves a hand dismissively. "Lord Viridian the First. King Viridian the Second. And so on." His eyes suddenly narrowed, and he scoffed. "We don't really talk about Viridian the Third."

Question 2! When was the last time you cried?

As you move on to the next question, he frowns. It seems to catch him off guard, and he wets his lips in focus.

"I don't cry." He lies directly through his teeth. But something flashes behind his eyes... a memory, perhaps? Whatever it is, his hand flung upwards to gently rub at a scar on his wrist. What could it be?

Question 3! Do you have kids?

Your third question has him perking up again, and he drops his hands to smile.

"Not yet," he purrs. "Though I certainly would want some. Adopted, fostered, biological... I don't really care." His eyes turned slightly wistful and glassy, as though he's imagining that day. And who he may have kids with.

Question 4! Do you use sarcasm a lot?

His smile turns into a sneer.

"All the time."

Question 5! What's the first thing you notice about people?

This question makes him think, and he furrows his brows. You're almost worried he won't respond, but then his eyes snap back up.

"Their insecurities, honestly," he admits, almost sheepishly. "It's easy to tell when you look them in the eyes. And once you know what makes them tick, it's easy enough to pick them apart piece by piece."

Question 6! What's your eye color?

He reached up to stretch his eyelids, showing off his eyes. They're a deep emerald green with an almost bluish tint. There's almost... silver speckles like stars within them as well. Curious. He doesn't verbally respond.

Question 7! Scary movies or happy endings?

His sneer comes back, and he answers immediately.

"Scary. Obviously."

Question 8! Any special talents?

He doesn't hesitate before showing off on old scimitar.

"Swordplay. Simple enough, yeah?" He stretched out, crossing one leg over the other. "A good talent for a pirate king, no?"

Question 9! Where were you born?

His brows furrow again, but then he shrugs lackadasically. "No idea. T'was on a ship in the middle of the sea. S'what my father told me, anyway."

Question 10! What are your hobbies?

He points his sword at you, though not in a overly threatening way. Instead, his smile turns chilly and he looks unamused. "Next question."

Question 11! Do you have any pets?

His chilly demeanor is gone, and he easily shrugs. "I think I had a cat when I was younger, but I'm sure she ran away. I would have too with who my father was, heh."

Question 12! What sort of sports do you play?

"Never played any." His words are laced with a smile. "Unless you call running from royal authorities to be considered a sport."

Question 13! How tall are you?

Viridian stands up, and then does a little spin. He's clearly flexing his height over you, since he's quite a bit taller than most. "About this tall."

Question 14! Favorite subject in school?

"Never went to school." He shrugs. "Nothing formal, anyway. I had some tutors and was taught to read, but mostly on my own time. I liked reading about the history of poets." He frowns, realizing he must have revealed too much.

Question 15! Dream job?

At the last question, he looked as though he's breathing a sigh of relief. But he quickly covers it up with one of his arrogant smirks. Still, there's an air about him that seems tired. "Killing innocents, pillaging towns for silver, kidnapping nobles... take your pick."

His eyes give off his lies.

[hoodie-prince-kid-archived]

So is it possible to summarise all the games' lores in a single post/message to someone who knows goose egg about the stories and has only seen boss fight videos but wants to get into the series?

WELL!!!

The good thing about the series is that all the games are perfectly good as standalone content! If you wanna hop in on the ttyd remaster, feel free! The most youll miss out on is easter eggs and callbacks.

HOWEVER!

If you'd like to get into the series as a whole, i suggest playing them in the order i did, which is the order of release. You'll get to experience the evolution of the style of art, story, and gameplay over time!

There are 6 games not including Paper Jam, which is a crossover with the Mario + Luigi series, and I personally consider it to be more of the latter continuity. I would categorize the games as follows:

Classics: Paper Mario (Nintendo 64), Paper Mario: The Thousand Year Door (Gamecube, remastered for Switch). As the earliest games in the series, they have a similar turn-based combat gameplay style, a closed walk-based map, and a system of collecting partners throughout the story in simple JRPG fashion. The stories are divided into chapters and in structure are pretty similar, but still unique from each other. The art style of these two games are what the series is known for, being similar to a pop-up storybook in terms of visuals.

Outlier: Super Paper Mario (Wii). This one is its own category primarily because the gameplay is much closer to a 2D platformer than a turn-based RPG like the prior two, and I personally believe that's important to note before getting into it if you're playing them in order of release, because the contrast can be quite jarring. However, it's also stylistically quite different from the previous two in story structure and art style, being more akin to a cyberspace aesthetic with unique character designs and even other playable characters. I'll also note that the story, albeit in the collect-them-all style of essentially all Mario games, is highly unique when it comes to how things play out and especially the villains.

Comapnion era: Paper Mario: Sticker Star (3DS), Paper Mario: Color Splash (WiiU), Paper Mario: The Origami King (Switch). These three are stylistically much closer to papercraft like Yoshi's Woolly World or Kirby's Epic Yarn, putting much more emphasis on the "Paper" in "Paper Mario". They return to a turn-based combat system with different mechanics, but there are no longer a party of partners- instead Mario is accompanied by a singular companion who helps along the journey in their own unique way that adds to the gameplay. Sticker Star and Color Splash use a system involving material required for attacks, while The Origami King adds on with a rather unique combat stage that also functions as a puzzle system. Sticker Star in particular is a bit devoid of story, but it's still got its merit and is overall highly enjoyable; SS and CS also function with an overworld map much like the 2D Mario games, while TOK returns to the walk-based maps of the classics. The stories are no longer divided into chapters, instead progressing in level-based segments.

All-in-all, you can hop into the series wherever it interests you, but if you want to get into the whole thing, I definitely suggest playing in order of release to follow how the games evolve and change over time- and so you can pick up on Easter eggs as you play further in time!

[riallasheng]

^_^

100% complete scans of TV21 (65-71), TV Tornado (67-68), Joe 90 (69), Countdown (71-73), The three Fleetways - TB, CS, Stingray (91-96), the 6 nCS (05), and Redan (00-05)

incomplete, but I've got 50% + for all of them scans of TV comic (61-64), Lady Penelope Magazine (66-69), Solo (67), Funday Times (91-94)

I AM sadly missing Gold Key (62-63) and Sunday Comics (93-94)

I also have all the 1960s Novels (both Stingray, all 3 Penelope, all 6 TB, all three CS)

on top of that I've got 80% + of the Annuals, Storybooks and Specials

(also have high res of most of the shows up, in my suggested viewing order)

OH!

And some friends and I have been compiling the most complete collection of the various soundtracks as possible on my gDrive, so I can link to the shows and music too if so desired ^^

I'll DM you the comics & novels link right away, and if anyone else wishes for the link, feel free to DM me here or on discord to ask for it ^^

Updated my '5 fastest Anderverse aircraft' chart as I realized I didn't have the cruising rates 'clumped' properly, and I'd had a single maneuvering / cornering speed, rather than a cornering 'plateau' like I should have had.

Also, I just think these two are easier to read / parse

Also also, wanted to have some quick notes about Two and One, as (since I'm a comics gal) both are capable to reaching escape velocity / getting up into space and have been off planet on occasion.

[eastwesthomeisbest]

💜 #Captain Swan 💜 Please don't crop/edit/repost! Thank you!

[elaine-fanart]

My contribution to the Captain Swan Storybook 2017

This cover was created for the story "A Lesson In Muscle Memory". Check out the story here.

Thank you to the amazing @winterbaby89.tumblr.com.  It was fun to work together.

[senchosuwan]

Hook lowers his head slowly towards Emma's face, having kept her close to his body the whole time ever since she slumped into his arms. His eyes are studying her lifeless expression, eyelashes fluttering in expectation, before he softly closes them meeting her lips with his in a sweet touch.  Milliseconds feel like hours to him when he waits for a reaction. But she doesn't even stir. Nothing. Not a flinch. He can't hide his disappointment when he strokes her cheek lovingly, trying to blink away the next wave of despair that rushes over him. 

Illustration for Chapter 3 is finally done:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62272642/chapters/159398758

Was about bloody time Emma is not depicted in a side profile...

[sambethe]

CS FF: Hush

A/N: I wrote a little something for the CS Storybook, Volume 2. I opted for a missing scene that falls at the end of Dark Hollow and before the events of Think Lovely Thoughts picks up. @gingerchangeling did a lovely little piece of Emma sitting by the fire to accompany it - go check it out here!

Summary: Emma just needs a break, figuratively and metaphorically. Hook may be the one to give it to her.

Words: 1400 | Rated: gen | ao3

+++

It’s another day down, and another night with Henry out there, alone. It’s enough to make Emma want to steal Neal’s lighter and burn the island down. Take her – take Neal’s - cutlass and hack a path to Henry. Instead she distracts herself by poking at the fire in front of her, watching the embers spark and pop as she disturbs them with the stick she pulled from the brush earlier.

From the corner of her eye she can see Mary Margaret roll out her bedding next to David’s. They still don’t seem to be talking, exactly, but there's a thaw between them. They have once again slid back into that practiced ease of theirs, moving around and with one another seamlessly. It both warms her heart and makes her burn with jealousy. Leaves her with a whole host of what ifs that she tamps down brutally before they can take up residence in her chest, where she is already too full of wants and worries for Henry.

Emma wishes she could say the same of her and Neal. He’s been quiet since they returned from the hollow and set up the night’s camp, curling up on his own bedroll, his back to the fire – and all of them. She doesn’t know whether to huff a sigh and roll her eyes, or hit him in the chest and tell him to get it together. Petulance isn’t what she needs from anyone at this point. She’s feeling enough of it herself.

She meant what she said back in Echo Cave. It would be easier to put everything with him behind her. She doesn’t want face all of it again, doesn’t want to think about the way every part of her cracks when she sees his face. How the ache forms in her chest and begins to gnaw once more, a steady reminder that she has never been enough for someone stay.

But if Neal being here, being back, means there’s a chance Henry doesn’t have to grow up without him, she would face that age-old ache and then some. Because she’ll be damned if Henry ever has to spend one moment more wondering if he matters, to her or anyone else.

Then there’s Hook.

She stabs at the fire again, sliding the stick deep into the embers, shifting them around even when she knows she should leave them be. He shifts behind her as she does, ducking beneath some branches at the edge of the clearing. She wars with herself about whether she should ask, and the words slip from her mouth before she’s realized she’s made up her mind.

“Where are you going?”

She keeps herself from turning as she asks, though, not wanting to see the hint of a smirk on his face or the teasing lift of his eyebrow. She can hear him pause, the swish of his overlong coat fading, and she wonders if he’s turned back towards her or if he, too, refuses to look.

“There’s a river nearby, thought I would get us some fresh water.”

She turns at that point and finds him with the straps of a few canteens wrapped around his hand. Before he can move further, she stands, brushing dirt from her pants.

He waves her off. “You don’t have to. I’ll be back in a tic.”

Not answering, she grabs the cutlass from the top her own bedroll and moves past him. “Let’s go,” she grunts, hacking at the brush in front of her despite the fact they had cleared it away on their way in.

They aren’t more than a few steps from the clearing when his hand wraps around her wrist, stilling her before she can raise her arm for another useless swipe. She glares back at him but doesn’t shrug him off.

“How about we try for a quieter approach?” he asks, one finger rubbing at the side of her wrist. “Not attract any Lost Boys unnecessarily?”

His thumb at her pulse point makes her want to lean back, to sink against him, but she catches herself before she follows that instinct. Slowly rolling her shoulder, she steps forward. Hook drops her hand and steps past her with a nod, taking the path that forks to the right. He doesn’t look to see if she’s followed and she wants to roll her eyes at that, but falls into line behind him instead.

They are quiet as they walk, allowing the sounds of the crickets and cicadas to settle around them. At least she imagines them to be crickets and cicadas. She doesn’t want to ask and risk finding out that even the bugs on this island are the stuff of childhood nightmares. It isn’t long before the trickle of water joins the chirping, and after another bend, the overgrown path dead ends into small river.

Hook drops the canteens to the ground along the bank and shrugs off his coat. She stands at the edge of the water. The quiet that surrounds them is almost soothing. If she closes her eyes, she can almost pretend they are back in Storybrooke. Home and safe, or whatever counts for that there.

“Take off your shoes, love.”

“Huh?”

Emma turns back to find he has shed his vest as well, leaving him in his thin, billowy shirt. His boots are discarded and he’s rolled up the ends of his pants, exposing his ankles and shins. She’s not sure if she’s ever seen this much of his skin and she’s sure she’s staring with her mouth hanging open.

If she is though, he ignores it and nods to the water as he takes a step forward. “The water runs warm. When nights go cold like this one, it’s a good respite.”

“You came out here to play in the water?”

“There’s nothing more we can do for Henry tonight, and we are no good to your boy if we haven’t rested. This...” He reaches his arm out and gestures for her to join him. “This allows me to relax. Come, try it.”

She narrows her eyes and drops a hand to her hip.

“Swan.”

The way her drawls her name sends a shiver through her that she tries hard to ignore. Rather than answer, she rolls her eyes, but lifts a leg so she can remove her boot. She does the same with her other foot and then leans down to roll up her pants. Hook is smiling by the time she is done and encourages her out into the water.

He’s right, not that she wants to tell him that, and for a brief moment she wishes the water was deep enough to dunk herself in. Then she shakes away the thought. She doesn’t want to think about the last time she’s had a shower, or have a reminder of just how long it has been since Henry was home and safe.

After a few minutes, Hook moves back to the river bank, settling down on the soft grass there, stretching out to leave his feet at the water’s edge. She watches him, drawn to the way the bones of his ankle stand out, the lines and sinews of them tempting. The hair of his legs stops just above the knob of bone, and her fingers itch to follow the swirls of it in the same way he held her wrist earlier.

She stops herself though, sitting down next to him and purposely leaving a decent gap of space between them. Her fingers tangle through the grass beneath them, and she tugs a bit but not enough to pull it up. Keeping her attention at her hand, she quietly asks, “Can you tell me again?”

“What’s that?”

“That we’ll find Henry? That we’ll keep him safe?”

She slaps her toes against the surface of the water, enjoying the small beads that land on the tops of her feet and how their warmth seeps into her skin. Hook extends a foot towards hers, poking at her ankle with his big toe until she finally relents and looks at him.

“You’ll get your boy back, love, of that I’ve never been more sure.”

He then turns towards her, stretching one foot over his extended leg, planting it on the ground and creating a bridge with his leg as he lies down on his side. He props his head in his hand, his hook lying between them.

She shifts to face him and gives him a small smile. “We should go back,” she says, closing her eyes.

“Hush,” he whispers. “We’ve time, just rest.”

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Christmas Reruns 2024–Day 29: New York Christmas Serenade (3/4)

Merry Christmas if you celebrate it and happy holidays if you don’t!  One of the things I love about Christmas is watching reruns of all the old classic Christmas movies–Christmas is a big time for nostalgia.  A few years ago, I decided to incorporate that tradition into my fandom life and post my CS holiday reruns.  So here you go!  Enough holiday (mostly) fluff to get you to New Year’s Day. (With a new story posting on Christmas Day.)

Word Count: 1816

Other chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 30 31

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

CS Genre: Canon Divergence (missing year between 3a and 3b)

“Mom!  Wake up!” Henry said, shaking her shoulder.  “It’s Christmas morning!”

Emma groaned as she woke up.  It was early.  Way too early.  By the look of the sky from her bedroom window, it would still be Christmas morning for another several hours yet.  It could barely even be called dawn.

“Alright, Kid, I’m up,” she said on a yawn, reaching for her robe and slippers.  “I know you’re all about opening the rest of your presents, but you’re going to have to wait for the coffee to brew.  You know I’m not awake before I’ve had my first two cups.”

“Don’t worry about that!” Henry said, “Killian already made coffee.  Now he’s working on breakfast.”

Emma froze.  Killian.  How had she forgotten the handsome stranger was still there?

Not long after Henry opened his gifts, Emma had glanced out the window to see it snowing with a vengeance.  Turning on the TV, she quickly found out why.  They were in the opening stages of a monster blizzard.

Emma shot Killian a concerned look.  “You have a place to stay?” she asked.  “Your home close?”

“I’m afraid not, love,” Killian said.  “I’ve yet to secure lodgings for myself.  It’s no matter, though.  I’ve weathered many a storm.”

The thought of turning him out into the blizzard had seemed beyond heartless.  Who let a guest of theirs go out and freeze to death in a blizzard?  Particularly one her son seemed to have an inexplicable bond with—especially after getting that storybook?  Particularly one she felt such a tie to. 

“Look,” she’d said stiffly.  “It’s nasty out there.  If you want, you can crash on our couch.  Can’t guarantee it’s the most comfortable bed you’ll ever sleep on, but it’s bound to be better than wandering around on the streets of New York in the middle of a blizzard, right?”

His eyes had lit up as though she’d offered him the best gift of his life.  “It would be an honor to sleep on your couch, Swan,” he’d said in wonder.  “You’ve no idea how much it means to me that you’ve offered.”

Now, in the (still barely there) light of day, Emma began to second guess her magnanimous gesture.  What did she even know about this Killian guy really?  What kind of a mother lets a strange guy—who could be a serial killer for all she knew—crash on her couch with her son in the apartment.

You’re safe with him.  He’d never harm you.

Now where had that thought come from?  It made no sense that she’d know that, but somehow she could feel the truth of the statement all the way to her bones.  Killian Jones was no threat to her or to Henry.

(Well…except perhaps to her heart.  Only one night in the man’s company—one very platonic night—and she could already feel herself falling for him.  What was with her?  Emma Swan did not get crushes like that!  She had her heart locked up as tightly as Fort Knox.  No way she lets feelings in!)

Emma took a tentative step from her bedroom and couldn’t help the groan of appreciation that escaped her.  It smelled amazing out there.  Coffee—strong coffee from the scent of it—percolating, bacon sizzling, pancakes on the griddle.  She took it back.  Not only was Killian no threat to her, she may have to just invite him to live with the two of them.

“Morning love,” He called with a cheery smile—how did he look that chipper after only getting a few hours of sleep on a lumpy sofa?  “I trust you slept well?”

“What little amount of time the kid let me sleep,” she said on a yawn.  “He’s lucky it’s Christmas or no way I’d let him get away with waking me up at the butt crack of dawn.”

Killian chuckled.  “No I suppose not.  I know full well a man is taking his life in his hands when he wakes you.  There was one morning on Never…er…I mean…you look like someone who enjoys her sleep.”

“Nice recovery,” Henry said under his breath.  “Making her think you’re crazy is definitely not how you make headway with Operation Captain Swan.”

“Never?  Operation Captain Swan?” Emma asked in bewilderment.  “What are the two of you talking about?  How do you know my sleeping habits?  And when did you and Henry suddenly become best friends? ”

“Not to worry, Swan,” Killian said, scratching away at that spot on his neck again.  “This morning the lad merely told me that the way to your heart is through your stomach.”

“The way to my…Are you…are you saying you want to get to my heart?” No way she was telling him that very organ was pounding so hard at the very notion she was surprised he couldn’t hear it.

In a blink Killian’s embarrassment faded away to be replaced by pure flirtatious mischief.  “Oh darling.  You have no idea,” he purred.

She held his gaze for as long as she could (which…ended up being less than five seconds), and then she hid behind her favorite defense—sarcasm.  “Yeah, well, you gonna take that bacon out of the pan or just let it burn while you act like an idiot?”

He shot her a wounded look.  “Of course I had no intention of burning your victuals, Swan!  It took me quite some time to determine the proper way to utilize your cooking box, and now that I have, I have no intention of ruining a perfectly good breakfast.”

“It’s called a stove, Hook,” Henry muttered under his breath.

Seriously, when did the two of them become all buddy-buddy?  And where was this guy from that he didn’t even know what a stove was?

She had no further time to ponder the big questions of her life, though, as Killian slid a plate of food and a mug of coffee in her direction.  At the first bite, Emma moaned in ecstasy.  The man could cook.

Looking up, she caught the positively sinful look in Killian’s eye.  “I quite like that sound Darling.  Perhaps I might endeavor to elicit it once more…sometime when we’re alone.”

“La, la, la,” Henry said, sticking his fingers in his ears.  “Kid in the room guys!”

Emma felt her face flame, so she did the only reasonable thing, she turned a withering glare at the idiot in leather currently seated at the head of the table.  “In your dreams Jones.”

“You have no idea.”

Emma glared again, expecting to see the same sinful look in his eyes, but what she found instead floored her.  Pure, unvarnished longing.  It was the look of a man desperately in love.  One who feared he’d never have a chance with the girl of his dreams.

The look called to her, and she suddenly had the insane urge to reach over, grab his hand and reassure him that he would find happiness one day.

Fortunately her hand closest to Killian was currently occupied shoveling as much food as possible into her mouth.

Breakfast was a short affair, eaten hastily.  While Henry was normally a pretty patient kid, waiting to open presents on Christmas morning would test the patience of any kid.

“Why don’t you go get your presents organized,” Emma said, getting to her feet.  “I’ll just take care of these dishes and I’ll be there in a sec.”

“Nonsense, Swan,”  Killian said with a hand to her arm…a soft pat that felt almost like a caress.  “Go have Christmas morning with your son.  I’m perfectly capable of righting the galley.”

“You sure?  I hate to have you cook breakfast and then stick you with dishes too.”

“Aye,” he said with a tender smile.  “Believe me when I say your happiness…yours and your lad’s…ensure my happiness.”

She smiled, impulsively reaching over and squeezing his hand.  “Thanks.”

“You are most welcome.”

The following hour passed in a veritable blur, Henry moving from present to present.  She supposed maybe she spoiled him with all the Christmas gifts she’d gotten him, but he was such a good kid and so genuinely grateful for everything he got.  And then, of course, there was always that little lost girl inside of her that would never forget what it was like to wake up on Christmas morning to a bare tree and a lack of family.  If it made her go a little overboard with her kid…that was just the way it was.

Just as the last gift—a brand new journal and gel pen (the kid liked to write)—was unwrapped, the couch seat beside her sagged, and Emma looked over to see Killian by her side.  Not only by by her side, but close enough she could feel the heat of his body against her.  It was…distracting to say the least.

“Um…” she said, clearing her throat and trying not to sound like a complete fool, “I guess that’s it.  The gifts are all unwrapped.”

“Not quite, Swan,” he said in a low, caressing voice.�� “I’ve one yet to bestow on you.”

“Me?” she asked.  “You got me a gift?”

“Aye,” he said with a nod, turning away to rummage through his satchel once again.  I saw this and thought of you.”

“Th…thank you,” she said, taking the long, thin velvet-covered box he held out to her.  Opening it, she found a diamond and opal pendant in the shape of a swan attached to a fine, silver chain.  It was gorgeous.

“I know you don’t remember, love,” he said softly, “but this pendant reminds me of our first adventure…one of the most satisfying adventures of my life, and it belongs with no one but you.”

“The beanstalk!:” Henry said from his place on the floor, still surrounded by his Christmas loot.  “It reminds you of the beanstalk.”

“Aye,” Killian said.  “That it does indeed.”

It should have been completely nonsensical this conversation her son was having with her…pirate (No!  Not her pirate!), but somehow it simply wasn’t.  Something deep within her wanted to nod along and agree with them.

Before she could second guess herself, Emma leaned over and impulsively hugged Killian.  “Thanks!  I love it.  And…I mean, it’s still snowing out there.  If you, you know, want to keep crashing on the couch for the next few days, I’m okay with that.”

Notes:  I wanted to give Emma’s perspective on the things going on, but unfortunately, that didn’t give me an opportunity to show any post-memory gain conversations between Henry and Killian—or explain what Henry meant by “Operation Captain Swan”.  Don’t worry, all will be revealed in the fourth (and last) section of this little story.

–Up next: We learn what kind of plots Emma’s boys have hatched to help her remember—and whether or not they’re successful.  As New Year’s Eve arrives, Henry tells Killian about a certain midnight-on-New-Year’s-Eve tradition in the Land Without Magic.

NEXT CHAPTER->

[not-talking-about-pancakes]

A Pirate’s Treasure

This was my contribution to the Captain Swan Storybook, Part 2 which can be found here. I am just finally getting around to posting it in full here and on A03. I hope you read it and enjoy this little deleted/cannon divergent scene from 6x4-”Strange Case” of Killian moving in and Emma going through his box of memories, kind of like the way he went through her’s in season 3. Enjoy! Art work is by @jemmingart

Find it HERE on A03!

“Well, this was definitely not how I’d imagined today going,” Emma said with a sigh as she unlocked her front door and walked inside, Killian following behind her.

“Aye, love,” he agreed, shutting the door behind them, “though we ought to have learned by now that plans never work out well in this town.”

Today had definitely not gone as planned, though it had started out nice. Her parents had come over with her baby brother to make breakfast for her and Henry under the guise of celebrating her mom going back to teaching. But Emma was pretty sure this had more to do with her father trying to hide the fact he was a little upset his (not so) baby girl was having her pirate boyfriend move in with her. David had come around quite a bit on his feelings towards Killian, but he seemed to be harboring some reservations about something. And she didn’t think it was just a fear of fewer family get togethers at Granny’s like he claimed. (Killian would have teased him about being old fashioned and not wanting his daughter to shack up with a man before she was married. Only Killian would have said it with more fancy words.)

Things had quickly gone down hill from breakfast however when first, Regina and Jekyll showed up at the house to tell them that Hyde had broken out of his cell. While she and David went off to find him, Killian called to say that Gold had showed up and in an effort to protect Belle from Mr. Hyde, had placed a protective spell on the Jolly Roger, effectively trapping Belle on board. He didn’t want to leave her if she was in danger, so had agreed to stay a while.

But naturally, all hell had broken loose when the good guy turned out to be the bad guy, a fight took place and Jekyll and Hyde had both ended up dead. Which of course left Regina believing that the only way to stop her evil half was for both of them to die. Emma wasn’t so convinced, and as the Savior she was determined to find a way to stop the Queen and not harm Regina. But right now, she just wanted to curl up on the couch with her boyfriend, order some take out, and maybe watch a movie before bed.

“I know,” Emma replied as she toed off her boots, letting them fall where they did. “I just wish there’d been another way to stop Jekyll and Hyde.” She shrugged out of her jacket which she tossed towards the coat rack next to the door but didn’t much care whether it actually landed there or not. When she looked back up at Killian he had an eyebrow raised and a crooked smile on his face.

“What?” she asked

“Nothing,” he answered, shaking his head and still smiling at her. “I just fancy observing you in your natural habitat.”

Emma gave him an indignant look. “Are you making fun of me?”

“Not at all, darling,” he assured her, his grin widening. “In fact, I find your untidiness charming.”

Emma’s face softened and she moved to stand closer to him. “I’ll pick them up in the morning, alright,” she promised with a slightly whine in her voice, “It’s been a long day and I’m tired.”

“It’s your house, Swan,” Killian replied, “who am I to judge?”

“Hey,” Emma said, taking his hook in her hand tugging him towards the living room, “this is our house now, and I want you to be happy here.”

She lead him over to the couch and he set the small chest he’d brought with him on the coffee table as they sat down. “You certainly pack light,” she teased. “Is that everything you have?”

“When you live on ship, that doesn’t leave much room for possessions,” he answered with a smile. “Even if you are the Captain and have the largest quarters on board. However, the things in this box are the ones most important to me, and I like to have them close.”

Emma slid closer to him and reached out to run her hand along the top of the box, taking in the carvings and dents worn into wood that had clearly seen better days. She looked from the box to Killian, smiling softly. “May I have the honor?” She asked, repeating the question he’d asked her about her own box of belongs.

“Of course, love,” he nodded.

Emma tenderly opened the box, and was greeted by quite an assortment of objects. Some of them she recognized for what they were, others she wasn’t sure about. But it was clear, even just looking at the items, that they had been around for centuries and she hoped someday he’d tell her the stories on how he had acquired all of them. The first item she picked up was a shark tooth, and she held it up to show Killian.

“So, did you wrestle a great white using only your hook?” She teased.

Killian chuckled. “Nothing of the sort,” he told her. “It was merely a trinket from a sailor I met in a port as a boy. He said it would bring me good luck, and us pirates are a rather superstitious lot, so I’ve held on to it. Just in case,” he said, giving her a wink.

Emma smiled and put the tooth back in the box. Next she pulled out a rather old and weathered piece of paper that was rolled and tied with a ribbon. She opened it up to reveal a charcoal sketch of a woman she recognized as Milah. Emma had only seen her in Underworld, where she had looked a bit tired and worn from years of serving her penance for having turned her back on her son. But this drawing was clearly a younger Milah, who looked quite happy.

She looked from the sketch to Killian, and saw him looking at the drawing his jaw a bit tight and that slightly twitch he got in his cheek when she knew he was holding back a bit of tension. Emma placed her hand over his brace, which drew his gaze to her. “Hey, it’s okay,” she assured him. “I know she meant a lot to you.”

“Thank you, love,” he said, giving her a small smile, and placed his hand over hers. “I only wish I’d a chance to see her one last time before Hades decided to push her into the River of Souls.”

“I know,” Emma nodded. “She wanted to see you, too. And I really wanted you both to have a chance to make amends. I feel terrible.”

Killian sighed and nodded. “Perhaps we still will someday.”

Emma leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek before putting the drawing back, and pulling out a few of the coins from the bottom. “I thought pirates buried their treasure,” she teased. “What are these, your ‘seven pieces of eight’?”

“I’ve no idea what that is,” Killian said, giving her a confused look. “How can you have seven pieces of eight?”

“Never mind,” Emma shook her head. “It’s just a silly thing from a movie. So, are they doubloons or what?”

“Actually,” he replied, taking one gold coin and one silver from her hand, “they, like the shark tooth are a bit of a sailor's good luck charm. Before leaving port for a journey, you would throw a few coins into the ocean as an offering to Neptune, God of the Sea, in hopes of a safe voyage. Then, you’d take a gold coin,” he held one up, “and placed in the keep of the ship for good luck. The silver,” he held up the other coin, “was placed below the mast to ward off storms and keep your crew safe.”

Emma took the coins, turning the over in her hands. “Wow, you pirates are a superstitious bunch,” she said. “Though, I suppose when one is sailing in a realm after The Dark One, you need all the good luck charms you can get.”

“Aye,” Killian smiled. “Not that they were any match for him really.”

Emma put the coins back, and reached for another item, one that was more familiar. “Alright, I definitely know what this is,” she said, holding up a compass. “But I’m betting you didn’t have to fight Cora to get this one.”

“No,” he chuckled. “Actually, it was a gift from Liam. He bought it for me when we were still rather young lads, just before he joined the navy,” he explained. “I begged him to let me come with him, but I was still two years too young.” He took the compass from her, turning it over in his hand. “It’s broken though, I er...might have thrown against the wall of the captain’s quarters one night in a drunken rage. It wasn’t one of my best moments.”

“Well all have those,” Emma told him. “But you aren’t that man anymore, and you know your brother is in a better place. Even if I still don’t think he was a big a fan of me.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Killian scoffed. “He was just protecting me, like he always did. Given time you would have grown on him. Just as you grew on me,” he winked.

“I don’t know,” Emma took the compass from him and placed it back in the box. “But I’m glad you made peace with him and he’s in a better place.”

“As am I,” he agreed. “But I know he’d happy and, despite what you think, I know he’d want us to be happy.”

Emma smiled softly and turned to the box, closing the lid. All the objects tucked safely back in place, Emma closed the lid of the trunk, her hand lingering on the lid. The more she’d gotten to know Killian over the years, she realized how much they really had in common. It was no wonder she’d felt drawn to him almost from the beginning, which is what initially made her pull away. She hadn’t wanted someone getting too close, because she was certain it would only end in heartache when he figured out how broken she was and, sooner or later, he’d leave because he didn’t want to deal with the broken lost girl.

But he hadn’t gone away, even when she’d tried to push him. Instead he broke down her walls, helped her to heal, and had taught her how to open her heart again. He made her feel vulnerable, yet safe enough to tell him her deepest secrets and know he wasn’t going to use them against her. Rather, he comforted her and slowly but surely, she had begun to heal. She trusted him more than anyone.

It was that trust and love that had brought them to this next stage of their relationship. Killian moving in. Yes, Emma was nervous she was going to do something to screw it up, but more than anything she was happy. Happy and excited to start this new chapter of their story, where she got to wake up beside him every morning, and kiss him every night before they went to sleep.

She felt his hand come to rest over hers and realized she must have been lingering too long in her thoughts. She turned to look at him with a soft smile.

“Everything alright, love?” He asked, looking at her with a bit of concern in his eyes.

Emma leaned in and gave him a quick kiss. “Everything is perfect,” she assured him. “Thank you for letting me rummage through your box.”

“Any time, love,” he smiled warmly at her. “But, something is clearly on your mind. Care to share, Swan?” He asked, raising those eyebrows and giving her a look that he knew she was having deep thoughts. She always was an open book to him.

Emma sighed. “I was just thinking about far we’ve come to get to this step,” she answered truthfully. “But, I’m nervous I’m going to screw something up, or you’re going to get tired of me being a slob, or hogging the bed and decide it’s too much and you want to move back onto your ship.”

Killian just laughed softly and used his hook to reach up and brush a stray strand of hair behind her hear. “Emma, you’re not going screw anything up,” he assured her. “ I enjoy your...what did Henry call it? Ah, yes, your ‘quirks,’ at least those I’m aware of so far. I look forward to learning more of them, and I hope you’ll learn to love mine. As for hogging the bed,” Killian slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, “you’re welcome to hog the bed any time. It simply means we get to be closer.”

“Okay, Romeo,” Emma laughed, “I got it. What say we order some takeout and then see just how much you enjoy me hogging the bed? I’m exhausted.”

“I think that sounds lovely,” he smiled and placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Good, I’ll order the food, you get the wine out of the fridge.”

It might not have been their most romantic night, but they enjoyed it nevertheless, and there would be plenty of nights in their future for romance, once Emma figured out this vision of her dying, stopping it, and enjoying her life with the man she loved and her family by her side.

[the-captains-ayebrows]

The Long Road Home - Canon Extension for 3x11 “Going Home”

My contribution to this year's CS Storybook! Check out the cover art by @elaine--captain--swan  who makes very beautiful things, and I highly recommend looking her up on Tumblr.

A series of missing and extended scenes that mostly take place during the Season 3 "Missing Year". It begins with Emma and Killian saying good-bye as Pan's curse rolls in. Lots of internal monologue.  Canon-compliant mentions of Emma and Walsh's relationship. This also contains a favorite headcanon of mine about where Blackbeard gets all those portal beans

Length ~4K words. Rated T for a few swear words. Also on [AO3]

There’s not a day that’ll go by I won’t think of you.

Good.

-- Killian --

One word. One word is all she gave him, but it’s enough. It’ll have to be enough. Because there’s no time now. There’s never enough time. Her friends and family surround her. Then she’s disappearing into that bizarre yellow carriage of hers, and then even that disappears from his view in a wash of purple smoke. But he meant it, what he said to her. He hopes she meant it, too.

-- Emma --

One word. One word is all she could offer. Because there wasn’t enough time. There’s never enough time. And everyone else is around her, hugging her, and when the hell did she become a hugger? Anyway, it’s not the time for heart-to-heart confessions. She and Henry have to run. She always runs. At least she has her son with her this time. At least she’s not alone. But, Hook… he meant it, what he said to her. Her inner lie detector was absolutely silent. She meant it, too, her one word. And she hopes he can hear in that word what she didn’t say.  

Don’t forget me. Don’t give up. You have to remember for the both of us.

But most of all, Bring me home again.

-- Killian --

Will mermaids ever cease to be the bane of his existence? Bloody hell. The Crocodile and Pan are finally dead - rather considerate of the Croc to have taken himself and his accursed father out in one blow - and he would’ve thought all the tribulations he encountered from his centuries in Neverland were behind him. But no. Bloody mermaids. Can’t a man pay off a harlot in peace?

Still, if the lass is telling the truth about Blackbeard and his beloved Jolly Roger, all the sins of her piscine race shall be forgiven, at least as far as he’s concerned. From where he sits, or rather crouches, behind assorted cargo crates with this Ariel person and Smee, it would appear her information is accurate.

By the gods, it's been so long since he’s seen her, the first love of his life. Before Milah, before… that lass whose name he refuses to speak aloud, though it certainly echoes through his thoughts constantly. Before any fair maid had tempted him, there was her. The Jewel of the Realm. The Jolly Roger. His constant companion. His confidant. His home.

Even as he thinks the words, he feels a tug behind his breastbone, a fisherman’s hook (the irony is not lost on him) buried deep in his chest that pulls him in a very different direction from the gangplank before him. He ignores it. He forces the emptiness in his breast into the shape of a gracefully curving hull and towering sails, instead of the softer lines, painted in shades of red and gold and green, that have haunted him of late.

“You know you’re talking about a boat, right?”

Bloody mermaids. “You have your love and I have mine.”

And he does love her, his Jolly. He needs her. Needs to feel like himself again. He feels like he’s losing himself. Losing everything. He lost his revenge, the one thing keeping him alive over the centuries. The Croc now dead by his own hand. He’d lost his ship to Pan’s curse. He’d lost…

But now here the Jolly sits, ready to welcome him back with open yardarms. What is he without her? Without his identity as Captain Hook? He’s a pirate. He’s always been a pirate, just as he told the Prince those months back. He needs to get back to that, back to himself, back home to his beloved ship. It’s all he has left.

And Blackbeard is daft if he thinks he can stand in the way.

-- Emma --

He spilled his coffee on her. Ran smack-dab into her on the street, his latte splattered all over her bright red wool coat. It’s the most cliched of meet-cutes - actually, it reminds her of some story she heard a while back. Maybe an old friend met their fiancee that way? Whatever. But still… since her place in Boston burned down, she really does need new furniture for her new home, and the insurance money was surprisingly generous. He seems nice enough. Mostly harmless, anyway. So, when he gives her his business card and an apparently sincere offer to pay for her dry cleaning, she accepts it.

Walsh Ozman, Antiques and Fine Furniture.

But, here’s the thing… The wood puns may be too much for her to handle.

“Wizard of Oak. Really? Was ‘Shiver Me Timbers’ already taken?”

His smile at seeing her in his shop flickers for a moment, and she senses she’s said something wrong, but she can’t imagine what. Perhaps he’s the one who can’t handle it? His grin is right back in place before she can figure it out. He does, in fact, pay for her dry cleaning, and she buys an end table.

He calls her a few days later to ask if she’s satisfied with her purchase. She is, of course. Something about the scrollwork beneath the table top reminds her of ocean waves, and she finds it strangely calming. She’s caught herself more than once tracing her fingers across it absently as she reads a book on her couch. He asks her to dinner, and she says she’ll think about it.

She does. Think about it, that is. Henry is, first and foremost, the love her life. She thanks whatever deity is listening every day that she decided not to give him up all those years ago. Can’t imagine what kind of a person she’d be without her son. She’d probably be a lot more guarded, more jaded, without seeing every day all the light and hope in his sweet, brown eyes.

Still, it’s been just the two of them for years. She didn’t have time for anything resembling a love life when Henry was little, to say nothing of the lingering wounds Neal had left on her heart. Henry’s not a little kid anymore, though, and she’s in a really solid place in her life. Good apartment. Good job. Maybe a nice guy is the logical next step?

She can admit that she’s been lonely. Every once in a blue moon, when the loneliness got too much for her to bear, she’d been known to send Henry off to sleep over with a friend, while she ‘slept over’ with a stranger. Not that she ever spent the night.

It feels like ages since she’s even had that level of adult contact, though. She literally can’t remember the last time that someone made her feel, well, anything really. Not even base lust, and certainly not anything resembling an actual emotion.

Even as she thinks the words, something pricks at the back of her mind. It’s not a memory exactly. Or really, it’s more like a memory of a memory? Is that even a thing? Like a Xerox of a photograph. Faded, corrupted, colorless, but still there. Pieces of a dream, maybe. Has to be. Who the hell would wear black leather in a jungle in real life? As if she’s ever even seen a jungle.

Emma Swan is far too pragmatic to let herself get bogged down in fantasy. So yeah, after getting the official go-ahead from Henry, she agrees to go to dinner with Walsh. And he’s kind, and he likes Henry, and there’s something familiar and appealing about his dark eyebrows and messy hair.

So, she tells herself to hope that this, this is what’s been missing. This is the thing that’s finally going to make her feel like she’s found a home.

And she’s not about to let some stupid dream stand in her way.

-- Blackbeard --

By Neptune’s left testicle, look what the tide’s washed in! That bloody ponce has some gall to show his face in here. He knows full well this is the regular gaming establishment patronized by Blackbeard’s crew. Wonder how he feels seeing the Captain himself in residence this evening?

Perhaps he thought his old nemesis had been swept up in this latest curse, but even a scurvy git like Hook should know better. He’s not the only sailor on these waters with the sense to steer clear of an onslaught of purple smoke. If he only knew how easily Blackbeard could extract himself from any… unfortunate situation.

He’d have used a bean when Hook made him walk the plank if that little mermaid hadn’t saved him the trouble. He’s always got a handful on him at any given time, and when he runs low, he simply uses one to transport himself to the uncharted island where he grows the blasted things. Oh, everyone believed that all the beans had been destroyed when Prince James (the original, not his insipid twin) and his little strumpet Jack defeated the Giants of the Beanstalk. Certainly, Blackbeard’s taken great pains (and inflicted great pains - ha!) to ensure that is the only story being told.

In truth, the Prince had managed to steal a small cache of the beans before the last giant set the fields ablaze, then paid Blackbeard a ludicrous sum of gold to hide them from King George. Probably planning a patricidal coup or some such thing. Blackbeard swears the Prince would’ve made an excellent pirate, not that it matters anymore. The Prince went and got himself killed, and there was no other living soul to know Blackbeard still had possession of the beans.

So, he’d made a little investment of them. He’d located a tiny island not found on any map, gathered up a crew of… shall we say, 'indentured workers' to plow and plant for him, and now he’s got a field full of lovely little stalks growing as many beans as he could possibly need. Even used one to pay off a former fairy for a bit of cloaking magic, to ensure his plantation is never discovered.

Honestly, you’d think someone would’ve noticed by now. How he can be in Arendelle in the morning and the farthest reaches of the Maritime Kingdom by tea time. Bloody idiots, the whole lot. Heads firmly up their own arses.

Ha! Oh, but this is too delicious. Hook absolutely reeks of desperation, and apparently, one such bean is the object of his desire. No. Check that. It’s a woman. Captain-bloody-Hook has been bested by a woman!

This is rich. Simply glorious! He swears by all the gods, this is the best day of his life. He shall not take a single coin of Hook’s gold. No, no. The son of a codfish tried to kill him. His utter humiliation is a far better price. Blackbeard wants Hook’s ship - the very ship they dueled over before - and he’ll accept nothing less. Far be it for him to tell Hook he’s got hundreds of the damn beans at his disposal.

Let the fool trade away his pride. His ship. His home. And all for some damned wench! Ha!

-- Henry --

He knows. She hasn’t said anything, but he knows. Henry’s a pretty smart kid, after all. And it’s been just the two of them - he and his mom against the world - for too long for him not to notice.

Walsh really seems like a good guy. He’s got terrible taste in music and his store has, like, the lamest name ever, but Henry can tell the guy actually likes his mom. Like… like , likes her.

It just... Doesn’t seem like enough? He can’t explain it. His mom still seems like something is holding her back. Like her brain and heart aren’t talking to each other. She loves Walsh - says she does anyway - but Henry is grown up enough now to know there’s a difference between love and Capital-L Love .

Henry knows his mom loves him , though. Capital L truly loves him. No question. That doesn’t mean she isn’t still lonely. For, you know, the other kind of love. He worries about her. He’s the kid and she’s the parent - she likes to remind him of that when he’s acting ‘too grown up’ - but he still does.  And she’s definitely, totally, lonely.

He just… he wishes they could find that missing piece, you know? So, he asks her to go with him to his usual thinking spot. That big fountain right beside the library. The books kind of help him focus, and the water… well, that’s what fountains are for. Wishing.

He feels - he’s always felt - like there’s something about this place. Something special. Magical.  That’s stupid, he guesses, but he can’t think of a better word for it. So, he tosses his coin and makes a wish.

He knows his mom thinks he’s upset about something from school, and he should tell her he’s worried about her. He should. But there’s something holding him back, too. Something he can’t quite remember. He doesn’t know how to tell her what he thinks is missing because he really doesn’t know. There’s just this empty space, you know?

So, he tosses a coin and he wishes - more than he’s ever wished for anything - for their little family to be complete. He isn’t even sure what he means by that. He just feels like they’re waiting for something. That something is out there waiting for them. An adventure, a future, a home.

-- Emma --

What. The hell. Just happened. Emma blinks once, twice, and again, licking her lips before she can think better of it. She can’t really think of anything. Her brain feels like a cat in a YouTube video frantically scrambling on a freshly waxed floor, but never actually getting anywhere.

“Mom? Who was that?”

“No idea. Someone must’ve left the door open downstairs.”

Because no. She had no idea who he was. Just some crazy person. He had to be, but she…

Sh- she…

She froze . Emma Swan absolutely vapor locked. It was weird enough that she opened the door without looking out the peephole first - especially since the way he’d pounded on the door already had her on high alert, but even so. A strange guy dressed like a freaking pirate is standing in her hallway sighing her name as if she’s an oasis in the desert and she just, what? Stands there with her mouth hanging open, squinting at him, listening to his voice, trying to place him.

Why would she do that? Why not just slam her door in the face of the weirdo in his elaborate costume? Nope. She asked him if she knew him. As if she’d forget that face. Or that outfit.

What the hell is wrong with her? Why did he seem so familiar?

And, and, and -

God, he telegraphed that kiss. Like, every nerve ending in her body could sense it coming from the way he was looking at her alone, not to mention the awkward full body twitch before he leaned in. Even if she wasn’t a pro at reading body language, the guy practically had a neon sign over his head that said, ‘I’m about to reach for you.’

And she stood there. And let him. She didn’t step back. She didn’t grab his wrist and twist it behind him and shove his pretty face into the wall and shout for Henry to bring her handcuffs.

She stood there and closed her eyes and… time stopped. She was in a jungle, the one from her dream. Everything smelled leafy and sweaty and a mosquito was biting the back of her neck, but she didn’t give a single fuck because his lips were touching hers, and it felt like - it felt like…

Funny thing about time stopping. When it starts back up again, it zooms ahead even faster to catch up to where it should have been. It also makes a noise that sounds very much like your own voice screaming in your ear, “WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING?”

The kick to his balls was a (literal) knee-jerk reaction. But even then - even then - she still stood there talking to him. A random stranger kisses her on the mouth and she gives him the chance to explain himself. Like he’d tell her the truth.

He was telling her the truth.

Just because he believes it, that doesn’t make it true.

Oh, sure, she threatened to call the cops and finally managed to remember that her door does, in fact, close. But god, the whole interaction…

There shouldn’t have been a whole interaction. Who even is she today?

Maybe she’s overly tired. She’s been working a lot of late nights recently. Maybe tonight she’ll take a sleeping pill so she’ll get a good night’s rest. No...unwanted dreams. Unwanted in the sense that she doesn’t want confirmation of exactly where she’s seen his face before.

Maybe her blood sugar is out of whack and she just needs some pancakes and hot cocoa.

“Come on. Let’s eat.”

-- Henry --

What. Was. That. Let’s eat? That’s all she’s gonna say? Henry’s twelve, he’s not deaf and blind. Fine. If that’s how she wants to be, Henry can play it cool, too.   And he’ll do it better than her, without all the out-of-breath huffing. He can keep a secret after all. He hasn’t told her that Walsh is about to propose, even though it’s been a week since he asked for Henry’s blessing. So, fine. He won’t talk to her about this either.

But like… really? He knows what he heard. There was some guy at the door - he definitely heard a guy’s voice - and that guy was talking about  Cs mom having a family and that her family was in trouble and, well… Henry’s also about 99% sure his mom punched the guy or something. But then she kept talking to him? What even is that?

It was kind of like she knew the guy, but she didn’t at the same time, if that makes any sense. She never opens the door for people she doesn’t know or isn’t expecting. She says it's because of all the skips she’s put in jail. Never know when one might try to come after her. Or him. She’s really protective of him. She wouldn’t even let Walsh come over until they’d been dating for months .

Really, his mom is being super weird, even now that the guy is gone. She never acts like this. Her face is flushed, she keeps licking her lips and it’s not because of the pancake syrup. She hasn’t even touched her food which is also very un-momlike behavior. She loves food. About the only time Henry ever sees her this way is when she’s really close to solving a big case, like right on the edge of figuring it out.

Maybe that’s all this is. Maybe that guy is part of some big case she’s trying to crack.

Or… maybe she’s just being weird because she’s got a date with Walsh at some fancy restaurant tonight and she’s figured out what he’s going to do. That’s probably it. He really wants his mom to be happy, and if marrying Walsh will do that, then he’s cool with it. But, he’s not sure. It could be Walsh is the missing piece for their family like Henry had wished, but it doesn’t seem to fit somehow. He’s not sure why.

Speaking of that wish, Henry can’t stop thinking about what the strange guy yelled right before his mom slammed the door. “You have to remember, ” he’d said. Like it was the most important thing ever.

Family. They have to remember. It’s all so… Henry’s not sure, but it sends a shiver down his spine. It was seriously just a couple of days ago that he’d made that wish. That their family would be complete. Because it felt like there was something out there that he couldn’t quite remember. It’s spooky and way too much of a coincidence to let slide.

So, maybe magic isn’t so stupid after all? Maybe some strange guy showing up is somehow connected to his wish? And his mom just slammed the door in the guy’s face!

-- Killian --

That went… about as poorly as he should have expected. Nothing is ever easy with that lass. Crumpled on the floor outside her door, Killian isn’t sure which hurts more, his manhood or his heart. She did a rather stunning job of crushing both.

He’s a bloody idiot. He should have known, should have realized that she didn’t… that she wasn’t…

Gods above and below, he actually attempted to give her True Love’s Kiss. They’d only ever shared one kiss of any kind. One soul-shattering, life-altering kiss, to be sure but…

A one-time thing. Don’t follow me.

It was just a kiss. How is that your darkest secret?

He should have known, but he had hoped. He’d hoped in a way that he didn’t think he would ever be capable of doing again. She’s given him that, and even as he sloshes through a mire of self-loathing disappointment, he’s grateful to her.

I never thought I’d be capable of letting go of my first love, of my Milah… that is, until I met you.

She is his new dream, his beacon guiding him out of the storm into a fair harbor. It matters not that she doesn’t return his feelings. He came here to save her, not to make love to her. He will find a way. He will bring her back to the people who love her. All the people who love her. He shall bring her home and she’ll save the day once more, not because she’s ‘The Savior’, but because she’s Emma-bloody-Swan and he’s yet to see her fail.

He must not give up. He must encourage her to remember who she is, her true self, not whomever Regina’s blasted false memories have conjured her into thinking she is. Emma is a smart woman, practical, but with a keen intuition. He’ll need hard evidence to get her to listen to him. Once she does, he hopes (there’s that word again) that her innate ability for detecting lies will convince her he’s speaking the truth.

But what evidence can he possibly offer? He racks his brain as he drags his sorry carcass off the floor and stumbles down the hallway. Gods, but this is a strange land. All these people living in what amounts to nothing more than little crates all stacked on top of each other into towering monstrosities. He’s seen tenement buildings in his travels, of course, but nothing like…

Wait. He’s seen exactly this kind of tenement before. It was here, in this very land. Baelfire’s - that is to say, Neal’s - place. He found it once. Perhaps he can locate it again? He’s grasping at straws, he knows, but this may very well be his only chance. The only place he can find something to make Emma believe again.

And when she believes, when she remembers… No. He tries once more to snuff out the tiny spark inside him that should have been fully doused when her knee connected with his groin, and yet it persists.

When I win your heart, Emma, and I will win it, it will not be because of any trickery. It will be because you want me.

There’s not a day that’ll go by I won’t think of you.

Good.

Perhaps she did want him. Perhaps she does… No. No, no, no. No. At the very least, he cannot waste time thinking on it now.

For now, he must focus on the task of getting her to believe. To remember. Once she does, he will bring her home.

Whatever happens after that, well… That’s up to her. As for him, he’s made his decision. Even before he made the deal with Blackbeard. Home is where the heart is, after all, and his heart is with Emma Swan.

[stophookingatmeswan]

We’re Strange Allies with Warring Hearts

Rated M (for sexual imagery and language, because that’s how I roll)

It’s CS Storybook time!

My contribution is a deleted scene down by the water from 3x14 in the aftermath of the super-angsty “if it can be broken, it means it still works” moment in the woods. The stunning artwork is by @somethingalltogether. 

Many thanks to @flslp87​ and @whimsicallyenchantedrose​ for putting this together, and to everyone who had a hand in bringing the storybook to life with words, art or work behind the scenes.

CS Storybook, Vol. 2

“Is that enough humor for you?”

The words haunted him in the dark, the stars overhead dimmed by fog, an unintended assist by nature to help reflect his mood. There was something beyond a chill in the air; Killian was cold to his bones even through layers of leather and rum, and he laughed humorlessly – a short staccato that reverberated on the water – at the metaphor of it all. 

Those hero types, always talking about hope. And for once, he’d had hope in spades. Hope that he could find a magic bean. Hope that the offer to trade his ship would be enough, and that the accord with Blackbeard wouldn’t be too bitter a pill to swallow. Hope that when he found Emma, True Love’s kiss would break the curse and cause her memories would return. Hope she would come with him back to Storybrooke. 

Hope that there would be an us. 

One by one, those final hopes were dashed until he was left sitting alone at her kitchen table as she went to tend to the us she had with another man. Monkey or not, he’d had her heart, at least far more of it than Killian had ever had. It was a bitter pill to swallow and burned as much as his first sip of rum all those years ago and sat in his gut just as heavy and burdensome. 

That acidity had bubbled up and over as they walked in the woods searching for Zelena as Emma questioned him about how he’d spent his time during the missing year. He’d lied and doubled down when she called him on it, and then brazenly changed the subject, simultaneously guarding his own heart and breaking it as he asked about the proposal. 

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